preciousthingsx: Picking up the pieces...in the most unexpected place
Nick had come home late that night.
Wesley wanted to ask him what had happened, but the look on his face had told him to wait. He would talk about it soon enough when he was ready. Instead, they had fallen into bed, Wesley just holding him the way they had grown accustomed to over the last few months whenever the other needed it. Sometimes it led to sex, sometimes it didn't.
That night, Nick had fallen asleep, and Wesley had found himself watching him. Part of him was still a bit gobsmacked at times that they were here, like this. Just six months ago, he had thought that he would never care about anyone again after his heart had been torn out the night Fred had died. And seeing that demon walking around in her body had been killing him little by little each day. Not even whiskey could numb that.
After he had found the letter addressed to Nick in her desk - realized that this was the man that she had referred to but had never actually spoken about, that this was the one she had left behind when she had been pulled into the life that had enslaved and ultimately killed her - he had decided that he had to get out of Los Angeles and go see him. At first, he hadn't been sure that Nick would want to see him. After all, he was the one that had ended up with Fred when she had decided not to disrupt his life by coming back into it after five years away and bringing with her knowledge of a very dark, evil side of the world few people knew about.
But in Nick, he had found a kindred spirit - someone who saw the dark side of humanity every night, someone who had loved Fred as much as he had and knew the pain of losing her abruptly. They had bonded, first over their grief, then over their places in the world. And somewhere along the way, they ended up sharing a bed, both for sex and comfort. And slowly, they had started building a life together. For themselves and for Owen.
Just then, his son started crying, so Wesley gently pulled away from Nick and went into the room they had set up as a nursery across the hall. Owen was standing up in the crib, looking up at him with big blue eyes.
"Hello there, little man," he said, reaching down and picking him up to cuddle him. "Do you need a change?"
Taking him over to the changing table, Wesley quickly got rid of the soiled nappy and put on a new one. Besides Nick, Owen was the most important thing in his life - the greatest gift Fred had given him besides her love. Because of Owen, both he and Fred had been able to see Jasmine for what she was, allowing them to put into motion the means to stop her. And because of Owen, he had the strength to put the whiskey bottle down and leave Los Angeles instead of wallowing in self pity and grief.
After he had changed Owen and given him a bottle, he placed his son back in his crib once he was asleep and headed back to the master bedroom, crawling in beside Nick to take him back into his arms.
Wesley wanted to ask him what had happened, but the look on his face had told him to wait. He would talk about it soon enough when he was ready. Instead, they had fallen into bed, Wesley just holding him the way they had grown accustomed to over the last few months whenever the other needed it. Sometimes it led to sex, sometimes it didn't.
That night, Nick had fallen asleep, and Wesley had found himself watching him. Part of him was still a bit gobsmacked at times that they were here, like this. Just six months ago, he had thought that he would never care about anyone again after his heart had been torn out the night Fred had died. And seeing that demon walking around in her body had been killing him little by little each day. Not even whiskey could numb that.
After he had found the letter addressed to Nick in her desk - realized that this was the man that she had referred to but had never actually spoken about, that this was the one she had left behind when she had been pulled into the life that had enslaved and ultimately killed her - he had decided that he had to get out of Los Angeles and go see him. At first, he hadn't been sure that Nick would want to see him. After all, he was the one that had ended up with Fred when she had decided not to disrupt his life by coming back into it after five years away and bringing with her knowledge of a very dark, evil side of the world few people knew about.
But in Nick, he had found a kindred spirit - someone who saw the dark side of humanity every night, someone who had loved Fred as much as he had and knew the pain of losing her abruptly. They had bonded, first over their grief, then over their places in the world. And somewhere along the way, they ended up sharing a bed, both for sex and comfort. And slowly, they had started building a life together. For themselves and for Owen.
Just then, his son started crying, so Wesley gently pulled away from Nick and went into the room they had set up as a nursery across the hall. Owen was standing up in the crib, looking up at him with big blue eyes.
"Hello there, little man," he said, reaching down and picking him up to cuddle him. "Do you need a change?"
Taking him over to the changing table, Wesley quickly got rid of the soiled nappy and put on a new one. Besides Nick, Owen was the most important thing in his life - the greatest gift Fred had given him besides her love. Because of Owen, both he and Fred had been able to see Jasmine for what she was, allowing them to put into motion the means to stop her. And because of Owen, he had the strength to put the whiskey bottle down and leave Los Angeles instead of wallowing in self pity and grief.
After he had changed Owen and given him a bottle, he placed his son back in his crib once he was asleep and headed back to the master bedroom, crawling in beside Nick to take him back into his arms.