"I understand all too well how it is to not to be able to be as mobile as it would like, and I'm afraid in the interest of keeping you occupied, and well, quite a selfish desire to spend more time conversing with you, I've made quite the wrong impression."
"What -"
"I enjoy your company, Wes. Simple as that," Giles chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. Wesley's expression was utterly priceless - totally gobsmacked.
"I don't give a tinker's damn whether or not you work from your hospital bed for me, Angel the Council, the Reformed Brotherhood of Hammer-Tossing Donkeys, or bloody Wolfram & Hart. I just want to you get well, and hopefully not be bored out of your mind while you heal. So please, if I've given you any impression that I'm just visiting to wheedle knowledge out of you, I'm dreadfully sorry.
There was a long pause as Wesley contemplated this. I enjoy your company, Wes. . That, combined with the man's presence, gave him a
( ... )
"Quite an attractive option, yes? Well, if you're going to work with them you'll have to make the calls yourself as I've never got on with the lead ass. He tossed a hammer at me," Chuckling, Giles cut his sandwich into two and handed half to Wesley with a chuckle at the man's expression.
"Uh, no, I--"
"Eat," Giles insisted, though he kept his voice soft. "I can pick up something on my way to the office, later. You, however, have to live with whatever they give you and, frankly, I don't think they're too happy with you."
Wesley accepted the plate with a chuckle. "It really is delicious," he said with a small smile to Giles as he dug in to the other half of the sandwich. The two of them sat in a fairly comfortable silence as they ate. Giles watched Wes out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the delighted faces the man made. Those small, half stifled groans and moans were not making things particularly easy on him, but he wasn't about to tell Wes that.
Wesley? Could you please stop moaning over that sandwich? You're
( ... )
Well, thank god. That went well. Giles congratulated himself. Taking a page from Spike's book and not letting the man get a word in edgewise works beautifully. Not that I'd ever tell Spike that.
And he didn't mind the entirely sexy noises Wes made while he was eating, either, but made a note to himself that he probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself for meals over two courses at the moment. Though I do wonder what would happen if I made him one of his favorites? He bit back a chuckle, so as not to wake Wes.
Brushing the crumbs from his hands as the set the dishes on the small side table, he turned back to see if Wes was still asleep. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed and his breathing was slightly heavier than normal.
"Wesley, are you alright? Are you having a nightmare?" Giles hurried across the room to lay a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder, and shook him gently.
Wesley gasped at the feel of Giles' hand, his eyes snapping open to find the man staring down at him--and really, no ones eyes should be that damned green"Uh, I'm . . . fine, just . . . dreaming." He whispered the last word, eyes flicking away from Giles' face. "Really, it's nothing
( ... )
"Ah, well," Wesley said, looking up at the ceiling to collect his thoughts - and to get himself under a modicum of control. "It seems that I at some point in time, took great exception to jelly donuts, but I do have quite a sweet tooth." He opened his eyes and looked at Giles. "Did I give any sort of reason for battering the good people of this house with pastries?"
Giles contemplated Wesley for a moment, his head tilted to the side, he smile deepened and his eyes twinkled. "You took great exception to what one of the nursed wanted you to wear, and wouldn't hear otherwise from anyone. So, whoever expressed an opinion was pelted soundly, and treated to a rather colorful stream of abuse." He rubbed his nose, remembering the explosion of filling coursing down his face. "You have marvelous aim
( ... )
"Hmmm," Wesley smiled and Giles wanted to get closer. Still, he thought that moving his chair any nearer might be a bit too much. He wanted to take this slow, give Wes plenty of time to pick up on the signals, plenty of time to recover and figure out what he wanted. After all the man had been through, he couldn't expect Wes to have his head sorted so soon. "Well, I've always been partial to chocolate cake."
"That’s it?" Giles' eyes widened. "And here I worried I'd have to make . . . baked Alaska or some such thing . . . if I lost. The question is, if I win, what will you give me
( ... )
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"Yes, Wesley, I do apologize. I'm sure -"
"But -"
"I understand all too well how it is to not to be able to be as mobile as it would like, and I'm afraid in the interest of keeping you occupied, and well, quite a selfish desire to spend more time conversing with you, I've made quite the wrong impression."
"What -"
"I enjoy your company, Wes. Simple as that," Giles chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. Wesley's expression was utterly priceless - totally gobsmacked.
"I don't give a tinker's damn whether or not you work from your hospital bed for me, Angel the Council, the Reformed Brotherhood of Hammer-Tossing Donkeys, or bloody Wolfram & Hart. I just want to you get well, and hopefully not be bored out of your mind while you heal. So please, if I've given you any impression that I'm just visiting to wheedle knowledge out of you, I'm dreadfully sorry.
There was a long pause as Wesley contemplated this. I enjoy your company, Wes. . That, combined with the man's presence, gave him a ( ... )
Reply
"Uh, no, I--"
"Eat," Giles insisted, though he kept his voice soft. "I can pick up something on my way to the office, later. You, however, have to live with whatever they give you and, frankly, I don't think they're too happy with you."
Wesley accepted the plate with a chuckle. "It really is delicious," he said with a small smile to Giles as he dug in to the other half of the sandwich. The two of them sat in a fairly comfortable silence as they ate. Giles watched Wes out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the delighted faces the man made. Those small, half stifled groans and moans were not making things particularly easy on him, but he wasn't about to tell Wes that.
Wesley? Could you please stop moaning over that sandwich? You're ( ... )
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And he didn't mind the entirely sexy noises Wes made while he was eating, either, but made a note to himself that he probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself for meals over two courses at the moment. Though I do wonder what would happen if I made him one of his favorites? He bit back a chuckle, so as not to wake Wes.
Brushing the crumbs from his hands as the set the dishes on the small side table, he turned back to see if Wes was still asleep. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed and his breathing was slightly heavier than normal.
"Wesley, are you alright? Are you having a nightmare?" Giles hurried across the room to lay a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder, and shook him gently.
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Giles contemplated Wesley for a moment, his head tilted to the side, he smile deepened and his eyes twinkled. "You took great exception to what one of the nursed wanted you to wear, and wouldn't hear otherwise from anyone. So, whoever expressed an opinion was pelted soundly, and treated to a rather colorful stream of abuse." He rubbed his nose, remembering the explosion of filling coursing down his face. "You have marvelous aim ( ... )
Reply
"That’s it?" Giles' eyes widened. "And here I worried I'd have to make . . . baked Alaska or some such thing . . . if I lost. The question is, if I win, what will you give me ( ... )
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