Angel/Wesley fluff
The slashficathon pairing I was given was I suspect chosen deliberately to confound. It's working. *g* I've done much research, and I finally came up with a plot for these two impossible characters. Unfortunately what I just did instead was to write an Angel/Wesley outtake instead of the actual story with the appropriate pairing.
It's short and gives away nothing of the plot from the slashficathon story, definitely not the pairing. So it's probably OK to post my Angel/Wesley fluff now?
Journal, August 24, 2003
I have decided to keep a journal. Angel is being excessively dull, and evil has apparently taken the weekend off. Fortunately as I’m sitting at the desk “translating” nobody is sufficiently interested to come near me. Except Fred, obviously, and she is at the all-you-can eat burger bar with Gunn. They may be gone for some time. This indifference the others have to my fascinating demon texts is also highly useful when I wish to read slash fan-fiction hidden behind them.
Fuck, I’m bored. Angel has been more broody than usual lately; this tendency of his to frequent darkened rooms after every apocalypse is extremely tedious. Let him get the phone. He needs a distraction, and he’s not talking to me. Ah, here he is, shooting me a filthy look. I am not his secretary. Look at him. Black clothes; well actually that’s quite normal. His whole attitude is quite depressing. Amazing how attractive Angel is when he’s sulking.
He’s answering the phone. Oh, that’s more interesting. He’s shouting. No actual words, but incoherent grunts now. I wonder what’s so upsetting. Now he’s lowered his voice. How irritating. He’s talking for the first time in days, and I can’t hear what he’s saying. No Englishman would eavesdrop on another’s conversation. My father did have a tendency to be somewhat pompous. I might go over there and ascertain what the problem is. It could be a case. That would be relevant to me, as well as to Angel. I should go over there.
Oh dear, that was loud. I suspect we may need a new phone. That’s a new development for present day Angel. His normal level of emotional expressiveness is barely functioning. But lately he would make a Stoic appear overly demonstrative. Is he walking over here to talk to me? That would be different. He’s currently sitting there staring at me, arms folded. Nice pants, I mean trousers. I seem to be going native. I wonder what pants he is wearing. I’m regressing to babbling in writing about Angel’s naked body. Angel’s naked body. I wonder if he knows what effect he can have on me. Somehow I doubt it. For somebody over two hundred and forty years old he is remarkably obtuse. Or depending on how one counts it - over three hundred and forty.
He is actually talking, apparently to himself. The only words I have been able to distinguish are: “Those two. No. Not those two. That’s just wrong. On so many levels. It’s just the most unlikely [didn’t hear this]” I wonder whom he is talking about. Possibly Giles and Buffy have eloped. Well, perhaps not. However, I suspect it is a romantic entanglement he’s referring to. He asked me if I could believe it. Having not been told what, I couldn’t answer. I pointed this out. He has subsided back into mutterings again. He is a terribly frustrating vampire. I suspect I should try to distract him.
Two hours later:
Well, that was remarkably successful. Angel really is most inventive. I wish it had occurred to me before to nibble on his ear. He is also a very impressive kisser. He definitely seemed satisfied, but not perfectly. It could be considered cruel to mention his resemblance to a Powerpuff girl while in the throes of passion. However, given his condition, I deem it quite justified. Perhaps there are some useful texts on eroticism in vampires I ought to read. However, I have no idea why he should mumble “Well second most unlikely couple” just before he fell asleep. He does look adorable, if somewhat disturbingly dead, while he sleeps. As soon as I have destroyed this journal, I’m going to join him. Perhaps he’ll be up for a second round in the morning. I certainly hope so.
Hope I'm forgiven for that piece of um... The proper story will get written, honestly.
It's short and gives away nothing of the plot from the slashficathon story, definitely not the pairing. So it's probably OK to post my Angel/Wesley fluff now?
Journal, August 24, 2003
I have decided to keep a journal. Angel is being excessively dull, and evil has apparently taken the weekend off. Fortunately as I’m sitting at the desk “translating” nobody is sufficiently interested to come near me. Except Fred, obviously, and she is at the all-you-can eat burger bar with Gunn. They may be gone for some time. This indifference the others have to my fascinating demon texts is also highly useful when I wish to read slash fan-fiction hidden behind them.
Fuck, I’m bored. Angel has been more broody than usual lately; this tendency of his to frequent darkened rooms after every apocalypse is extremely tedious. Let him get the phone. He needs a distraction, and he’s not talking to me. Ah, here he is, shooting me a filthy look. I am not his secretary. Look at him. Black clothes; well actually that’s quite normal. His whole attitude is quite depressing. Amazing how attractive Angel is when he’s sulking.
He’s answering the phone. Oh, that’s more interesting. He’s shouting. No actual words, but incoherent grunts now. I wonder what’s so upsetting. Now he’s lowered his voice. How irritating. He’s talking for the first time in days, and I can’t hear what he’s saying. No Englishman would eavesdrop on another’s conversation. My father did have a tendency to be somewhat pompous. I might go over there and ascertain what the problem is. It could be a case. That would be relevant to me, as well as to Angel. I should go over there.
Oh dear, that was loud. I suspect we may need a new phone. That’s a new development for present day Angel. His normal level of emotional expressiveness is barely functioning. But lately he would make a Stoic appear overly demonstrative. Is he walking over here to talk to me? That would be different. He’s currently sitting there staring at me, arms folded. Nice pants, I mean trousers. I seem to be going native. I wonder what pants he is wearing. I’m regressing to babbling in writing about Angel’s naked body. Angel’s naked body. I wonder if he knows what effect he can have on me. Somehow I doubt it. For somebody over two hundred and forty years old he is remarkably obtuse. Or depending on how one counts it - over three hundred and forty.
He is actually talking, apparently to himself. The only words I have been able to distinguish are: “Those two. No. Not those two. That’s just wrong. On so many levels. It’s just the most unlikely [didn’t hear this]” I wonder whom he is talking about. Possibly Giles and Buffy have eloped. Well, perhaps not. However, I suspect it is a romantic entanglement he’s referring to. He asked me if I could believe it. Having not been told what, I couldn’t answer. I pointed this out. He has subsided back into mutterings again. He is a terribly frustrating vampire. I suspect I should try to distract him.
Two hours later:
Well, that was remarkably successful. Angel really is most inventive. I wish it had occurred to me before to nibble on his ear. He is also a very impressive kisser. He definitely seemed satisfied, but not perfectly. It could be considered cruel to mention his resemblance to a Powerpuff girl while in the throes of passion. However, given his condition, I deem it quite justified. Perhaps there are some useful texts on eroticism in vampires I ought to read. However, I have no idea why he should mumble “Well second most unlikely couple” just before he fell asleep. He does look adorable, if somewhat disturbingly dead, while he sleeps. As soon as I have destroyed this journal, I’m going to join him. Perhaps he’ll be up for a second round in the morning. I certainly hope so.
Hope I'm forgiven for that piece of um... The proper story will get written, honestly.