He seemed confused when I asked him to stay. Probably because we usually wanted him to stop hovering and go away. Or Cordelia would give him a speech and then start about his hairgel or his blood or something rather.
But the point was that I was afraid. I wasn't going to admit that to him of course. Hell, I could hardly admit it to myself. I was to be alone right now. No matter how embarrassing and humiliating this was. I as afraid I'd stop breathing and then I'd die alone. Not that I was expecting this. If that would be the case, I assumed that would've happened by now.
I watched his face through half lidded eyes. Normally his face would have very little expressions. Either brood, or broodier as Cordelia would say. But once you gotten to know him better, you learn to see the smaller details. The finer pointers if you will. And as I look at him now, I'd have to say he's...brooding. Figures, probably doing the whole guilt ridden redemption thing again. I really wish he'd understand it when Cordy, Gunn and I told him it had been our choice to stay with him and fight the good fight. And if we'd gotten hurt, it was on us.
I opened my eyes wider when I felt his hand on my shoulder, giving him a puzzled look. When he finally asked his question I stared at him blankly for a moment at first. Then I blinked slowly, blinked again and chuckled. It hurt, but I couldn't seem to stop it. I guess I was lucky to be paralyzed now or it would've been a full blown laughter.
"No," I whispered. "I was...expecting us to...drink tea."
I blinked, then grinned at Wes, a genuine smile. I knew I did that rarely, especially lately.
"Well, I can make some tea if you want," I said, perfectly serious. Maybe he did want tea... after all, when I had been following Darla, hadn't he wanted to have tea and a talk? Maybe that was the way things worked back in England, whenever a male friend had problems. Wes and I had had tea before, but not... talks.
My smile faded, and I regarded Wes seriously. If he wanted tea, I could try, but the way his face was after Cordy tried to make him tea before... I couldn't really guarantee anything.
"Well, tea'd be a good thing, I mean later, if you want. I just didn't think that as soon as I came out of my room, I would be back here so soon." I offered a small smile, then said, "At least this time I have someone to talk to, other than myself..." I trailed off again, feeling the awkwardness in my words heavily. I didn't know if Wes even felt it, but I did.
He smile. Not that awkward lopsided grin he usually sports. But he really smiled. *Angel* smiled And of course I'm not in a position to actually appreciate it. All I can do is gape at him. And I doubt even that is clearly to see, considering I have trouble getting my mouth to work. Doesn't seem to stop me from uttering utter bollix most of the time.
I blink at him as his smile fades, wonder what brought that on. Ah. I close my eyes and smile a small smile. He thought I really wanted tea. Though that would probably be good at any time, I had been joking when I said that of course. "Angel..." I wait for him to stop rambling and look at me again. "Was...joke...tea." Good lord, I sound like some cave man who just learned English.
Sighing, I try to bring my hand up to rub my forehead. Of course my hand's not moving, nor my arm. Can't even really wrinkle my nose. This is so frustrating! And Angel is getting more awkward with the minute. This locking himself up in his room really did give him a setback didn't it? "Can have...tea later," I try to comfort him.
And it's back to being awkward and the tense silence. This is really not good. I suppose we can talk about mundane things like the weather or some such. But that would be terribly cliche. Especially if one considers my way of talking at the moment. I could ask him to read to me, but that would probably be childes. Even though his voice does have a soothing effect.
What I wish is to be at least wearing some sodding pants. I feel naked. Alright, I *am* naked, but I feel it too. Vulnerable. Slowly I start to pull the sheets back up again, squirming a little. It's still to hot, but I'm feeling very exposed.
"Later is good," I told him absently, then frowned. He was pulling the blankets back up over himself... was he cold? I could still feel the heat radiating off of his skin, so I didn't think that he was cold...
"Are you cold, Wes?" I asked, concerned. If he was cold, but was still burning up this much, I wasn't sure what to do next. After all, if he was cold, generally I should help him with the blankets, but if he was still hot, then cold... then we might have problems, coming back to the part where maybe I should take him to the hospital, and come up with something.
I reached over, taking the edge of the sheet in my hand, trying to help him as I waited for an answer. I watched as he squirmed, and debated pulling my hand away for a split second, wondering if I was too close for comfort right then. After all, I wasn't sure if I was hovering or not.
No, I wasn't cold. And if I'd had the energy, I'd have raised an eyebrow at him. Not, mind you, that it didn't try to do that automatically. The muscles just weren't working. It was amazing to find out just how many muscled the human body has. Far to many, I figured, now that I couldn't move them.
I looked at him and sighed, wondering how to explain that I was embarrassed. About the whole situation, about getting in this situation in the first place, about being in Angel's bed...naked. About Angel having to haul my bare naked butt out of the shower. How to explain how embarrassing and humiliating that was. Is.
Managing to shake my head once, I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a moment. This would probably work better if I weren't looking at Angel. "Not...cold," I grated out, "Just....embarrassed." There. I'd said it. And now that I was appropriately and effectively not moving, Angel could laugh at me. I pried one eye open and then two. If he was going to laugh at me, he could do it right in my face.
Not that I could do anything about it. Hell, I couldn't even do anything about it before this mess.
I looked at Wesley, confused for a moment. Embarrassed? I could understand why, but... if he wanted me to just leave him alone in his situation, that wasn't going to happen. If he could barely move, and hardly talk, what would happen if he stopped breathing, or needed something? It wasn't like he could call for help...
"Wes," I said quietly after a moment, "It's fine. I don't mind helping you..." I shrugged slightly, meeting his eyes seriously, before looking away. I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to say- after all, if this was embarrassing for him, what else could I say? It wasn't like I was one with the humor like Gunn was, and I wasn't brisk yet caring the way Cordy was, the way she cared for everyone, being herself yet failing to annoy anyone with her banter. I was just... me. Me, who wasn't talkative to begin with, and who wasn't even really sure about what I was doing?
I sighed, then ran a hand through my hair, looking back up at Wes. "So, um... Is there anything I can do, to, you know, make you less embarrassed?" I asked awkwardly. Somehow, I doubted I could do anything, save leave the room, or fast-forward time until he was better. Both, as far as I could tell, weren't happening.
The part where I was embarrassed flew right over Angel's head. I could tell just from the look in his eyes. Well, not everyone had centuries of practice when it came to laying around naked in other peoples beds and the likes. Though, I doubt Angel actually knew what it was like to not be able to move. And be afraid your lungs would stop too. Or your heart or that matter. Best not think about that.
I stared at him when he asked if there was anything he could do to make it less embarrassing. Some clothes would be nice. But that would mean that he'd have to put them on, because I can't bloody move! Quite the contrary isn't it? Typical again. Good lord, I just wish this was over with. I wonder how much time has past yet. Wouldn't be surprised if it was only ten minutes since the last time I asked. Or even less.
And it's still too hot here. Dammit.
So what could he do to make me more comfortable. I have no idea. I want him to leave so I can be by my stupid, embarrassed self. Yet, I don't want him to go. Want to feel that reassuring touch again, want to know I'm not alone right now. Even though he couldn't do much to help me.
"Uhm..." I looked at him helpless for a moment. "....read?"
My eyes widened, then I looked at Wesley, confused. He wanted me to read to him? Was that what he meant? That was kind of an odd request from him- after all, I didn't really read out loud...
"Read? You mean... to you, or to myself?" I asked awkwardly. "I mean, it's been a while since I've read to anyone..." I shrugged, trailing off and looking at Wes. I didn't have a problem really reading to him, if he needed the contact, but it wasn't something I would have expected from him. After all, sometimes I had problems even talking to other people, as well as Wesley, but... this couldn't be tood bad, right? Especially since it was reading the book, which meant that I didn't have to come up with anything.
I looked at Wes, before standing up awkwardly. There weren't really any interesting books lying around, and after a moment, I picked up a book of poetry I had been reading lately anyway. Not anything modern, but something that realxed me anyway. It didn't remind me of Buffy, which had been a good distraction over the summer; it had reminded me of the simple summers before I had been turned. I didn't really remember those very clearly a lot of the time, but... the memories were still there, nice and simple.
Letting out a rather large sigh, I stared up at him a little bit annoyed. Who the hell *cares* whom he reads to. Doesn't he understand anything I say? Isn't it obvious that the darkness around us make me feel uncomfortable? Not to mention the silence? No, of course he doesn't. He was doing so very well before Buffy died. Now? He's as I've never seen him before.
Awkward, insecure, sky, confused. Hell, he could be me if it weren't for the lack of a pulse.
Good lord, no wonder people were so annoyed with me.
"Angel," I sighed, watching him putter around the room hesitantly. "Never...mind. I'll just..." Lay here, panic or be bored out of my wits. "...try to...get some sleep." Which I've been trying since god knows when. It just doesn't seem to be working. But I can pretend.
At least then Angel is free to do whatever he likes and I can wait for this to be over and hope he's not around when I can finally get out of his bed. Naked. And then tip toe into the bathroom and put on the clothes he's borrowed me.
I sat down in a chair, and brushed my fingers over the cover of the book for a moment. I glanced up as Wesley sighed, and flinched slightly. I was irritating and frustrating him... I seemed to be doing pretty well at that.
I didn't mean to be hovering, but I was concerned. We hadn't had anything like this happen yet, and I was unsure how I was supposed to be handling this. I knew how Cordelia and Gunn would handle this, but then... they had all been together for those few months when I was chasing after Dru and Darla. They had that common bond, whereas I was still trying to figure out where I fit back into their group.
I knew I was a good person to have around for a fight, but... I wasn't sure where I fit in emotionally yet. Whether I was supposed to be caring and helping Wesley out right now, or if I was supposed to just leave him alone, let him be all stoic and 'manly'. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do the latter, and didn't even want to. What that left was an awkward, unsure me, which wasn't helping very much, from the look of things.
I lowered my book slightly, looking at Wesley concernedly. He hadn't been tired a moment ago... was he getting worse? I put the book aside for a moment, studying him seriously for a moment.
"You do look like you need the sleep," I admitted. I sat back, surveying him calmly. Now that I didn't have to focus on reading to him, I could pretend that this was something we were on control of, something that we had encountered before... like I knew how to help.
Yes, I suppose I do look tired. That wasn't the problem. Well, it was part of the problem. The large problem was that I couldn't seem to sleep. No matter how tired I was...am. I am tired, very tired. Exhausted really. Rather odd if one considers I can't move around much. I guess that's tiring on it's own.
And watching Angel flounder around it tiring as well. I want to reassure him that I'm fine, that everything will be okay. Take away that awkwardness. But I can't, and I've no idea how to do that anyway. It's not at though we both know how to really talk. When it comes to that I guess we can compete for the title of 'most stoic one'. I just don't want him to sit here and brood.
"Yes," I sigh, managing a tiny nod. Look at that, progress. Good lord, now I'm being sarcastic to myself again. Bugger it all. "Am tired." Now all I need is to actually sleep. My eyes close on their own again and I try to regulate my breathing, try to fall asleep. It's not really working. Frustrating again. I wonder if Angel would notice I'm faking being asleep.
"Okay... try and get some rest, then." I said quietly. Then I sat back in my chair, quietly reading my poetry as I watched over Wes. He was trying so hard to pretend to sleep, to control his breathing so I'd think he was asleep... and I let him. Hopefully, sooner or later, he could actually fall asleep, but for now, I just went along with Wesley, allowing him his pretense.
I knew that I probably had made this whole thing worse by hovering over him. He was trying to give himself, as well as me, a way out of the awkwardness... I sighed slightly, then turned my attention to the book of poems.
As we sat there in silence, I glanced at the clock after a while, wondering how much time had passed. My eyes widened as I realized an hour had already passed... which meant two had passed since this whole thing had started. Only anothe couple to go... I listened to Wesley's breathing again, trying to figure out if he was still awake or not... either way, he was still breathing, which was reassuring enough in its own right.
I cannot help but wonder. Is he pretending like I am? Or has he told himself I'm actually tired and half asleep? I'm thinking the first. He can hear my breathing and my heart rate can't he? Why am I even asking myself that. I know he can, I'm a bloody watcher, I *know* these things.
Keeping my eyes closed wasn't the problem. Falling asleep was. Everytime I thought I was about to come close to dozing of, a sharp pain shot up my leg. It did seem to get less and less, but maybe that was because I was getting used to it. Expecting it. Much like I had with the gunshot wound. After a while I'd gotten used to the pain.
Still, no sleeping. And when one is not sleeping, one's brain is still working. And for some particular reason, mine keeps on working. Sighing, I pried one eye open and squinted toward the clock. Great, I can't really see it without my glasses. Good lord, this is so useless. Now I really wish I was home, so I could be miserable alone, *alone*. "Angel," I sighed at last. "Don't you have...things to do?"
But the point was that I was afraid. I wasn't going to admit that to him of course. Hell, I could hardly admit it to myself. I was to be alone right now. No matter how embarrassing and humiliating this was. I as afraid I'd stop breathing and then I'd die alone. Not that I was expecting this. If that would be the case, I assumed that would've happened by now.
I watched his face through half lidded eyes. Normally his face would have very little expressions. Either brood, or broodier as Cordelia would say. But once you gotten to know him better, you learn to see the smaller details. The finer pointers if you will. And as I look at him now, I'd have to say he's...brooding. Figures, probably doing the whole guilt ridden redemption thing again. I really wish he'd understand it when Cordy, Gunn and I told him it had been our choice to stay with him and fight the good fight. And if we'd gotten hurt, it was on us.
I opened my eyes wider when I felt his hand on my shoulder, giving him a puzzled look. When he finally asked his question I stared at him blankly for a moment at first. Then I blinked slowly, blinked again and chuckled. It hurt, but I couldn't seem to stop it. I guess I was lucky to be paralyzed now or it would've been a full blown laughter.
"No," I whispered. "I was...expecting us to...drink tea."
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"Well, I can make some tea if you want," I said, perfectly serious. Maybe he did want tea... after all, when I had been following Darla, hadn't he wanted to have tea and a talk? Maybe that was the way things worked back in England, whenever a male friend had problems. Wes and I had had tea before, but not... talks.
My smile faded, and I regarded Wes seriously. If he wanted tea, I could try, but the way his face was after Cordy tried to make him tea before... I couldn't really guarantee anything.
"Well, tea'd be a good thing, I mean later, if you want. I just didn't think that as soon as I came out of my room, I would be back here so soon." I offered a small smile, then said, "At least this time I have someone to talk to, other than myself..." I trailed off again, feeling the awkwardness in my words heavily. I didn't know if Wes even felt it, but I did.
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I blink at him as his smile fades, wonder what brought that on. Ah. I close my eyes and smile a small smile. He thought I really wanted tea. Though that would probably be good at any time, I had been joking when I said that of course. "Angel..." I wait for him to stop rambling and look at me again. "Was...joke...tea." Good lord, I sound like some cave man who just learned English.
Sighing, I try to bring my hand up to rub my forehead. Of course my hand's not moving, nor my arm. Can't even really wrinkle my nose. This is so frustrating! And Angel is getting more awkward with the minute. This locking himself up in his room really did give him a setback didn't it? "Can have...tea later," I try to comfort him.
And it's back to being awkward and the tense silence. This is really not good. I suppose we can talk about mundane things like the weather or some such. But that would be terribly cliche. Especially if one considers my way of talking at the moment. I could ask him to read to me, but that would probably be childes. Even though his voice does have a soothing effect.
What I wish is to be at least wearing some sodding pants. I feel naked. Alright, I *am* naked, but I feel it too. Vulnerable. Slowly I start to pull the sheets back up again, squirming a little. It's still to hot, but I'm feeling very exposed.
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"Are you cold, Wes?" I asked, concerned. If he was cold, but was still burning up this much, I wasn't sure what to do next. After all, if he was cold, generally I should help him with the blankets, but if he was still hot, then cold... then we might have problems, coming back to the part where maybe I should take him to the hospital, and come up with something.
I reached over, taking the edge of the sheet in my hand, trying to help him as I waited for an answer. I watched as he squirmed, and debated pulling my hand away for a split second, wondering if I was too close for comfort right then. After all, I wasn't sure if I was hovering or not.
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I looked at him and sighed, wondering how to explain that I was embarrassed. About the whole situation, about getting in this situation in the first place, about being in Angel's bed...naked. About Angel having to haul my bare naked butt out of the shower. How to explain how embarrassing and humiliating that was. Is.
Managing to shake my head once, I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a moment. This would probably work better if I weren't looking at Angel. "Not...cold," I grated out, "Just....embarrassed." There. I'd said it. And now that I was appropriately and effectively not moving, Angel could laugh at me. I pried one eye open and then two. If he was going to laugh at me, he could do it right in my face.
Not that I could do anything about it. Hell, I couldn't even do anything about it before this mess.
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"Wes," I said quietly after a moment, "It's fine. I don't mind helping you..." I shrugged slightly, meeting his eyes seriously, before looking away. I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to say- after all, if this was embarrassing for him, what else could I say? It wasn't like I was one with the humor like Gunn was, and I wasn't brisk yet caring the way Cordy was, the way she cared for everyone, being herself yet failing to annoy anyone with her banter. I was just... me. Me, who wasn't talkative to begin with, and who wasn't even really sure about what I was doing?
I sighed, then ran a hand through my hair, looking back up at Wes. "So, um... Is there anything I can do, to, you know, make you less embarrassed?" I asked awkwardly. Somehow, I doubted I could do anything, save leave the room, or fast-forward time until he was better. Both, as far as I could tell, weren't happening.
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I stared at him when he asked if there was anything he could do to make it less embarrassing. Some clothes would be nice. But that would mean that he'd have to put them on, because I can't bloody move! Quite the contrary isn't it? Typical again. Good lord, I just wish this was over with. I wonder how much time has past yet. Wouldn't be surprised if it was only ten minutes since the last time I asked. Or even less.
And it's still too hot here. Dammit.
So what could he do to make me more comfortable. I have no idea. I want him to leave so I can be by my stupid, embarrassed self. Yet, I don't want him to go. Want to feel that reassuring touch again, want to know I'm not alone right now. Even though he couldn't do much to help me.
"Uhm..." I looked at him helpless for a moment. "....read?"
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"Read? You mean... to you, or to myself?" I asked awkwardly. "I mean, it's been a while since I've read to anyone..." I shrugged, trailing off and looking at Wes. I didn't have a problem really reading to him, if he needed the contact, but it wasn't something I would have expected from him. After all, sometimes I had problems even talking to other people, as well as Wesley, but... this couldn't be tood bad, right? Especially since it was reading the book, which meant that I didn't have to come up with anything.
I looked at Wes, before standing up awkwardly. There weren't really any interesting books lying around, and after a moment, I picked up a book of poetry I had been reading lately anyway. Not anything modern, but something that realxed me anyway. It didn't remind me of Buffy, which had been a good distraction over the summer; it had reminded me of the simple summers before I had been turned. I didn't really remember those very clearly a lot of the time, but... the memories were still there, nice and simple.
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Awkward, insecure, sky, confused. Hell, he could be me if it weren't for the lack of a pulse.
Good lord, no wonder people were so annoyed with me.
"Angel," I sighed, watching him putter around the room hesitantly. "Never...mind. I'll just..." Lay here, panic or be bored out of my wits. "...try to...get some sleep." Which I've been trying since god knows when. It just doesn't seem to be working. But I can pretend.
At least then Angel is free to do whatever he likes and I can wait for this to be over and hope he's not around when I can finally get out of his bed. Naked. And then tip toe into the bathroom and put on the clothes he's borrowed me.
Yup. Things are looking up.
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I didn't mean to be hovering, but I was concerned. We hadn't had anything like this happen yet, and I was unsure how I was supposed to be handling this. I knew how Cordelia and Gunn would handle this, but then... they had all been together for those few months when I was chasing after Dru and Darla. They had that common bond, whereas I was still trying to figure out where I fit back into their group.
I knew I was a good person to have around for a fight, but... I wasn't sure where I fit in emotionally yet. Whether I was supposed to be caring and helping Wesley out right now, or if I was supposed to just leave him alone, let him be all stoic and 'manly'. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do the latter, and didn't even want to. What that left was an awkward, unsure me, which wasn't helping very much, from the look of things.
I lowered my book slightly, looking at Wesley concernedly. He hadn't been tired a moment ago... was he getting worse? I put the book aside for a moment, studying him seriously for a moment.
"You do look like you need the sleep," I admitted. I sat back, surveying him calmly. Now that I didn't have to focus on reading to him, I could pretend that this was something we were on control of, something that we had encountered before... like I knew how to help.
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And watching Angel flounder around it tiring as well. I want to reassure him that I'm fine, that everything will be okay. Take away that awkwardness. But I can't, and I've no idea how to do that anyway. It's not at though we both know how to really talk. When it comes to that I guess we can compete for the title of 'most stoic one'. I just don't want him to sit here and brood.
"Yes," I sigh, managing a tiny nod. Look at that, progress. Good lord, now I'm being sarcastic to myself again. Bugger it all. "Am tired." Now all I need is to actually sleep. My eyes close on their own again and I try to regulate my breathing, try to fall asleep. It's not really working. Frustrating again. I wonder if Angel would notice I'm faking being asleep.
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I knew that I probably had made this whole thing worse by hovering over him. He was trying to give himself, as well as me, a way out of the awkwardness... I sighed slightly, then turned my attention to the book of poems.
As we sat there in silence, I glanced at the clock after a while, wondering how much time had passed. My eyes widened as I realized an hour had already passed... which meant two had passed since this whole thing had started. Only anothe couple to go... I listened to Wesley's breathing again, trying to figure out if he was still awake or not... either way, he was still breathing, which was reassuring enough in its own right.
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Keeping my eyes closed wasn't the problem. Falling asleep was. Everytime I thought I was about to come close to dozing of, a sharp pain shot up my leg. It did seem to get less and less, but maybe that was because I was getting used to it. Expecting it. Much like I had with the gunshot wound. After a while I'd gotten used to the pain.
Still, no sleeping. And when one is not sleeping, one's brain is still working. And for some particular reason, mine keeps on working. Sighing, I pried one eye open and squinted toward the clock. Great, I can't really see it without my glasses. Good lord, this is so useless. Now I really wish I was home, so I could be miserable alone, *alone*. "Angel," I sighed at last. "Don't you have...things to do?"
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