SDF 105: Attempts of Distraction
Segment: Attempts of Distraction
the cast | the story list
Notes: *sigh* It was bound to happen sooner or later with these two. Doesn't mean I enjoyed writing it.
Wesley smiled to himself as he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and a warm body press against his back. Soft lips kissed the side of his neck, before pulling away with a sigh. Charles sat up in bed and Wesley watched him with blurred vision as he stretched. It took Wesley a moment to get up, grabbing his glasses off of the bedside table so he wouldn't trip over the clothing they had discarded the night before in their desperation to get to the bed.
Wesley followed Charles to the kitchen, watching the slouched curve of Charles' shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Charles grunted as he opened the refrigerator. Charles glanced over the top of the refrigerator door, his eyes tainted with some kind of worry.
"I really don't think you are," Wesley commented, softly. Charles' eyes narrowed and he turned back to the depths of the refrigerator. "Is this about Xander?"
"I don't want to talk about it, man," Charles snapped, pulling out the milk.
Wesley winced at his tone and nodded. Charles sighed and, after rummaging in the cabinet, handed him a container of English Breakfast tea. Wesley stared down at the unopened package, before smiling almost shyly. Fighting down a blush, he set about making his morning tea.
"God, English, you have got to be the only guy I know that blushes over tea, but not when I'm sucking your--"
"Oh, honestly," Wesley interrupted, turning bright red. Charles showed the slightest grin, which Wesley was thankful for. Still, he wished it hadn't been at his expense. It wasn't that Wesley didn't want to talk about their sex life, he just felt rather uncomfortable doing it unless it was in the middle of the moment. It wasn't like they were shagging like bunnies daily, anyway. They had only gotten that far twice, last night being the second time.
They fell into a moment of silence. When Wesley finally looked up he saw Charles sitting at his small table, staring at the sofa with a thoughtful look on his face. Wesley wasn't entirely inept a reading someone else's body language and knew that Charles was thinking about what Wesley had mentally come to dub as The Xander Problem.
Wesley knew Charles didn't want to talk about Xander, so the only logical solution was to keep distracting him. Which is what Wesley had managed to do most of the week. Wesley cleared his throat, hoping it would catch Charles' attention. Instead, Charles merely glanced at him, took a bite of his cereal, before returning to his sofa gazing.
"I was thinking that perhaps we could go out today," Wesley suggested, sitting down next to Charles. "The weather is wonderful. Then again, this is California, so it's always sunny."
"I don't feel like it," Charles replied.
Wesley took a sip of his tea to keep himself from saying something rude. "I suppose we could stay in. Maybe get a movie?"
"Wes, I love you, truly, but I don't really feel in the mood for it today," Charles snapped. Wesley stared at him. That was the first time Charles had actually told Wesley he loved him, but Wesley had never expected it to be said in that kind of tone. It was the tone that said I love you, but I really don't want to right now.
Wesley poured his tea into the sink and rinsed out the cup. "I suppose I should just go, then."
"What the hell, English?" Charles demanded, standing to follow Wesley through the living room. Wesley made it to the hallway before Charles grabbed his elbow and dragged him back. "This isn't about you, okay?"
"I realize that," Wesley said, slowly. "I was simply trying to distract you from whatever it is that is bothering you."
"Yeah, I noticed you doing that all week," Charles pointed out, scowling. "And what about last night? ...That's why you wanted to fuck, isn't it? You were trying to distract me."
Wesley winced and let out what could be considered a painful sound. To hear what they had done being called 'fucking', like it held no emotion at all, hurt more than Wesley thought it should. Suddenly, Wesley felt very, very angry. Glaring, Wesley jerked out of Charles' grip. "Maybe it was."
"Nice, Wesley," Charles growled.
"I'm leaving," Wesley informed him, a bit colder than he intended. "I suppose I'll see you at work."
He was being stupid. Literally, Wesley was proving all of the things that his father had told him he would be when he got older: idiotic to a fault, with no common sense at all. Wesley lowered his head; ignoring the look Charles was giving him, and went to gather his things.
He didn't say goodbye to Charles as he left. Instead he walked past the man, who had sat back down at the table, a look of misery radiating around the man. Wesley made it to his car before giving into the shuddering his body had wanted to do since the words 'I love you' had left Charles' in that horrible tone.
the cast | the story list
Notes: *sigh* It was bound to happen sooner or later with these two. Doesn't mean I enjoyed writing it.
Wesley smiled to himself as he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and a warm body press against his back. Soft lips kissed the side of his neck, before pulling away with a sigh. Charles sat up in bed and Wesley watched him with blurred vision as he stretched. It took Wesley a moment to get up, grabbing his glasses off of the bedside table so he wouldn't trip over the clothing they had discarded the night before in their desperation to get to the bed.
Wesley followed Charles to the kitchen, watching the slouched curve of Charles' shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Charles grunted as he opened the refrigerator. Charles glanced over the top of the refrigerator door, his eyes tainted with some kind of worry.
"I really don't think you are," Wesley commented, softly. Charles' eyes narrowed and he turned back to the depths of the refrigerator. "Is this about Xander?"
"I don't want to talk about it, man," Charles snapped, pulling out the milk.
Wesley winced at his tone and nodded. Charles sighed and, after rummaging in the cabinet, handed him a container of English Breakfast tea. Wesley stared down at the unopened package, before smiling almost shyly. Fighting down a blush, he set about making his morning tea.
"God, English, you have got to be the only guy I know that blushes over tea, but not when I'm sucking your--"
"Oh, honestly," Wesley interrupted, turning bright red. Charles showed the slightest grin, which Wesley was thankful for. Still, he wished it hadn't been at his expense. It wasn't that Wesley didn't want to talk about their sex life, he just felt rather uncomfortable doing it unless it was in the middle of the moment. It wasn't like they were shagging like bunnies daily, anyway. They had only gotten that far twice, last night being the second time.
They fell into a moment of silence. When Wesley finally looked up he saw Charles sitting at his small table, staring at the sofa with a thoughtful look on his face. Wesley wasn't entirely inept a reading someone else's body language and knew that Charles was thinking about what Wesley had mentally come to dub as The Xander Problem.
Wesley knew Charles didn't want to talk about Xander, so the only logical solution was to keep distracting him. Which is what Wesley had managed to do most of the week. Wesley cleared his throat, hoping it would catch Charles' attention. Instead, Charles merely glanced at him, took a bite of his cereal, before returning to his sofa gazing.
"I was thinking that perhaps we could go out today," Wesley suggested, sitting down next to Charles. "The weather is wonderful. Then again, this is California, so it's always sunny."
"I don't feel like it," Charles replied.
Wesley took a sip of his tea to keep himself from saying something rude. "I suppose we could stay in. Maybe get a movie?"
"Wes, I love you, truly, but I don't really feel in the mood for it today," Charles snapped. Wesley stared at him. That was the first time Charles had actually told Wesley he loved him, but Wesley had never expected it to be said in that kind of tone. It was the tone that said I love you, but I really don't want to right now.
Wesley poured his tea into the sink and rinsed out the cup. "I suppose I should just go, then."
"What the hell, English?" Charles demanded, standing to follow Wesley through the living room. Wesley made it to the hallway before Charles grabbed his elbow and dragged him back. "This isn't about you, okay?"
"I realize that," Wesley said, slowly. "I was simply trying to distract you from whatever it is that is bothering you."
"Yeah, I noticed you doing that all week," Charles pointed out, scowling. "And what about last night? ...That's why you wanted to fuck, isn't it? You were trying to distract me."
Wesley winced and let out what could be considered a painful sound. To hear what they had done being called 'fucking', like it held no emotion at all, hurt more than Wesley thought it should. Suddenly, Wesley felt very, very angry. Glaring, Wesley jerked out of Charles' grip. "Maybe it was."
"Nice, Wesley," Charles growled.
"I'm leaving," Wesley informed him, a bit colder than he intended. "I suppose I'll see you at work."
He was being stupid. Literally, Wesley was proving all of the things that his father had told him he would be when he got older: idiotic to a fault, with no common sense at all. Wesley lowered his head; ignoring the look Charles was giving him, and went to gather his things.
He didn't say goodbye to Charles as he left. Instead he walked past the man, who had sat back down at the table, a look of misery radiating around the man. Wesley made it to his car before giving into the shuddering his body had wanted to do since the words 'I love you' had left Charles' in that horrible tone.