Valentine's Day - Writers' Time.
Hey, all! So, Valentine's Day has come and gone, and, as is only appropriate, there is much lateness. Of course. *eyeroll* But late's better than never, so here's my contribution.
This one's for dawnie1970, who asked for Angel/Wesley with glimpses of happiness and family. I didn't get to include Baby Connor here, which was on my options list, but I hope the family comes through anyway. It's untitled. Thanks big bunches to the superfast beta duo of lady_alatariel_ and dessert_first.
"Okay. Everyone knows what to look for, right?" Angel's team nodded determinedly, competence showing in the easy way they handled their weapons. "Gunn, you take the street, dig up whatever you can on electrical disturbances around town. Fred and Cordy, talk to Mrs. Big-And-Spiny, let her know her husband's gonna be staying with us until we figure out what put the whammy on him. She gives you any trouble, get out of there. Meantime, Wes, you're with me. We'll hit the books and see if we can track down this mage guy."
Everyone nodded brusquely, and the teams split off through the Hyperion's lobby. The tranquilizers were evidently working on the bespelled Kithuri demon in the basement, as the bellowing had slacked off to the occasional whimper. Wesley walked purposefully into the office while Gunn, Cordy and Fred headed out the garden gate. Angel watched them go, then bowed his head and took a deep breath, trying to stem a little of the nervousness that buzzed at the base of his spine. Okay. No more putting it off. Everyone's out of the hotel for at least three hours and everything's set up, so it's now or never. I spent fifty bucks on the stairs alone, I can't back out now.
Shaking his head, he glanced into the office, then checked himself over quickly to see that everything was in place. One final touch to his hair, and one last calming breath, and Angel walked into the office, feeling resolute and trying to look casual. "So," he said quietly, feeling the old rush of intense awkwardness that came, it seemed, whenever he was trying to do something other than put an axe in something's head. Oddly, he was getting almost used to it. "This is probably gonna be a long night. We should get comfortable, y'know, settle in…"
"What do you propose?" asked Wes, not even glancing up from the books. "Of course," he murmured absently. "It's Etruscan…"
"I thought… since we're gonna be here all night, and you needing to eat and all, maybe… we should get some dinner?" Angel was sweating, nervous, couldn't focus. The words all sounded wrong and too awkward; surely Wes would realize something was up, and then the whole plan would be shot.
"Hmm?" said Wesley absently, thumbing through pages in a book.
"Wes?" Angel ducked his head and tried to catch Wesley's eyes, smiling a little. The nervousness was fading a little, the situation so familiar. Come on, Wes, look up out of the book. I know it's asking a lot, but… Wesley shook his head a bit and then lifted his gaze, looking owlish and bewildered and just generally endearing. Angel smiled and walked around behind Wes's chair, pulled it back just a little, coaxing. "Come on, get up out of the chair. Come on…"
Slowly, with an air of amused distrust and a wary smile on his face, Wesley stood. "Angel, really, there's work to be done."
"Chicken tandoori and thousand year old tomes don't mix well, Wes. Now come on, upstairs." He put a gentle hand at the small of Wesley's back and guided him to the stairs, and Wes wearily let himself be guided, pressure of the case obviously weighing on him.
Angel led the way to the stairs, and Wes followed after. Before they even reached the first step, Angel saw him spot the tiny purple flowers strewn all over the carpet, leading the way upstairs. "What's all this?" he asked, eyebrow raised as he turned inquisitively.
"You have to walk on them," Angel said, unable to hold in his enthusiasm anymore, nervous discomfort returning full steam. "The guy at the store said they were great for people who work too hard - you walk on the petals and you get the scent, and it's, y'know... relaxing... what?"
Wesley, staring at Angel with an odd expression on his face, just shook his head and started up the stairs. Angel followed, hearing the fluid, echoing sound of Wes breathing in deeply. "It's not too... girly, is it? Because I thought it might have been a little..." He wobbled his hand back and forth, remembering his indecision in the store. But the guy had seemed very convincing.
"It's fine," Wesley said, sounding slightly amused. "I think it's working, actually. Aromatherapy has a long tradition among indigenous peoples, the lavender flower mainly used for mediation and healing, I believe."
"Healing, that's what he said."
They moved together, following the trail of little bell-like flowers, until they reached Angel's room. "I hope you don't mind eating in here," he said as Wes reached for the door handle. "It was just the only place that felt… well, ‘lived in' is sorta the wrong word…"
"I understand what you mean," Wes assured him, still wearing that tolerant, fond smile. He walked into the room and to the small table Angel had set up, lifted one of the lids on the silver trays and inhaled deeply, sighing with pleasure. Angel smiled - Wes's fondness for Indian food was well known around the office, and both Cordy and Gunn took great delight in standing around, trading jokes when Angel and Wes sat down for some. ‘Five Alarm Vampire' and ‘White Hots' were not uncommon dishes in the made-up restaurant of Chase & Gunn. Angel liked the spices, and the little place they ordered from knew them well enough by now to make it extra hot.
At the table, Wes put the lid back on the chicken and turned to look at Angel. "So…?" His hands slid into his pockets, and his sharp eyes studied Angel's face.
"What?" Angel asked, trying to brush it off. "It's not the first time we've ordered Indian when we're on book duty."
"No," Wesley agreed, "but it's certainly the first time you've called for a supper break before we've even got started."
Angel searched for an easy answer to that, but came up empty. Oh, well. He'd been expecting this. He braced himself, squared his shoulders and then looked Wesley in the eyes. "Look, Wes, you've been working too hard lately. You're gonna burn out if you're not careful, and I just thought you could use a little… break."
Wesley crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Angel carefully. "Cordy, Gunn, Fred?"
Angel ducked his head sheepishly. "Movies."
"And our case, where the usually-peaceful demon attacked some beachcombers… isn't under a spell at all. He never did get violent at the pier, he's..."
"I paid him," Angel supplied, shrugging a little even as he winced, anticipating the lecture about money. Wesley, however, just kept looking at him, penetrating eyes assessing.
"And you did all this because… you think I'm working too hard, and you wanted me to have an evening to relax?"
Angel paused, searching his brain for a better answer, but Wes had pretty much covered it. "Yep."
Wesley pursed his lips and nodded, lowering his gaze before walking across the room, toward Angel. Angel tensed, not sure what to expect. Nothing he was considering as a possibility even came close to what happened.
Wesley closed the distance between them, stopped only an inch or two from Angel's chest, reached up to cup the back of Angel's neck in one hand and drew him gently down. Angel just moved as Wesley wanted, mind only working so far as he's not yelling at me, and, hey, good. And so, when Wesley's lips so gently brushed his own, Angel was shocked into total stillness.
The kiss was slow and tentative, a soft meeting of mouths and breath and heat. Barely-there sensation of fingers on his neck, rough touch of the wool of Wesley's sweater on his cheek and the scent of Wes's patent leather loafers, shoeshine. Wesley's own scent and flavor poured into Angel's senses, slamming into him with the force of a Mack truck despite the care Wes was taking, and Angel's body reacted instantly. Arms wrapped around Wesley to pull him closer, hard up to Angel's chest, and mouth deepened the kiss without the need for thought.
Within a moment, though, Wes was pulling back, breathing a little heavy as he gently extracted himself from the embrace. When he stood in front of Angel again on his own two feet, he straightened his clothes, turned around and walked back to the table. Drawing back the chair, he sat down, unfolded his napkin and laid it over his lap, and then folded his hands there and waited, looking back at Angel, still standing dumbstruck in the middle of the room.
"Chicken's getting cold," Wesley noted, sounding patient and kind… and faintly smug. Needing no further encouragement, Angel hurried to join him.