Wes tried to puzzle out the well-worn page. "N'tog n'tokkla hahchtoh ehc," he spoke, trying the words out.
"Maybe it's the vocative. So it's 'N'tog n'tokklehnh hahchtoah ehc,'" Bryce suggested as he pulled off his shirt in front of the closet.
Wes tried not to be distracted by the sight as he murmured, "Yes, vocative, good thinking." It was annoying, in a respect, how good Bryce was at languages. Especially demon variations of ancient languages, when a few short weeks ago, Bryce didn't even know there were demon dialects.
He didn't even know there were demons. Not the literal kind.
----------------
They met when Bryce was attacked by some vamps. Wes had saved him.
Most people are confused and terrified in that situation. Bryce saw that they the beasts attacking him turned to dust when staked, had about a half second of what the fuck, then grabbed a sharp broken broomstick out of a dumpster and dusted the last vamp right as he was about to get the jump on Wesley.
Wesley told him it would be better to forget what he saw and be careful. The guy demanded answers. He was charming about it, sure, but Wes knew a dangerous man when he saw one, so he left with a line about knowing not to pull threads you don't want to unravel. He felt he delivered with a sense of knowing menace and that the man would surely listen.
When Wes came home that night - to his secret spell-protected well-hidden weapons-packed home - Bryce was waiting. He smiled beautifully and asked his questions again. Wes told him to leave, repeatedly, until he considered drawing a gun on the man just to scare him.
He hadn't looked toward his own weapon for more than an instant when Bryce had disarmed him and pushed him against the wall.
"Who are you?" Wes rasped, seething in rage, embarrassment.
The man was cool, calm. Except he was swallowing, his chest was moving up and down.
"These things. Monsters.... These weapons you have - you fight them?" Bryce said.
"I kill them. Unless they're my friends. I mean - just - never mind. Now. Who are you?"
"Were the things - vampires I guess - are they it? Is Burbank safe now?"
"No. You should leave town."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "There are resources I could use. To stop you from doing your job."
"You mean MY gun?"
"I mean an army. Literally."
"That wouldn't be wise. Though it does tell me something about who you are."
Bryce sighed. "I took a leave of absence from who I am. Officially. I heard you grill those things about someone. Some bigshot vampire?"
"A demon who's controlling them, actually."
"Terrific. Look, I'm not... I don't have your experience. But I have skills. And I can get my hands dirty, and don't act like you don't know it. And everything I care most about is in this town, and if there's something evil here, I'm taking it on. You can show me how this demon-killing thing works and we can be allies or we can get in each other's way."
Wes stared at him a long time before slowly, cautiously, nodding. And suddenly the cold, thinned lips turned to a big, pink grin. "I'm looking forward to working with you. So what's with all the cool books you hid under the floorboards?"
Bryce was a quick study. He was as good at Wes at arms and hand to hand, and Wes tried not to think about the fact that this man spent his life learning to do to humans what Wes trained to do to things. But he was dedicated, good at tactics, good at tricking vamps and other low level evil to revealing more information than they intended. And he wanted to know all of it - the history and the practical things. He wanted to help with the research -- he already knew several languages, including some fictional ones from some television program, and so he was able to do his share. He learned, in fact, so quickly that Wes felt a twinge of resentment -- if they had attended university together, he would have surely been outshone.
But there were good things about having Bryce there.
It was nice to have regularly conversations with someone. Besides monsters you were intimidating for info.
It was strange, but Wes got the impression that Bryce was just as alone as he was. There was obviously someone or something he cared about in Burbank. At first, Wes thought Bryce was being cautious, that he didn't want their demon-hunting project to lead danger to his loved ones. But when he offered to trail Bryce to make sure nothing evil followed him to that thing he loves, Bryce just said "It's not necessary."
There was something about the way he said it that made Wes think he understood something, that he had actually managed to see something about Bryce. Wes thought of Bryce's violence, of his determination, of his intelligence that occasionally verged on arrogance. Of his stubborn insistence on joining Wes when he found that monsters were real and that - more importantly - they could be killed. He could see that if Bryce thought he were doing the right thing, he would do what was necessary, no matter the consequences - and he was perfectly happy to disappear into Wes' world, probably not telling anyone what he was doing or that they were the reason he was doing it.
Wes remembers the times when he has acted this way, he remembers all the reasons he is no longer with the ones he loves, and he understands how someone like Bryce might end up alone.
-----
Bryce is (at least) his equal in intelligence, clever comebacks, strategy, and speed and strength. Wes gets over his mild jealousy easily enough since they work well together. But Bryce is far more reserved than Wes is, he holds more back, and the idea that an American is making him look emotionally open by comparison is really quite irksome.
There are other things they have in common. Wes notes with appreciation that he never has to tell Bryce to "mind the 700-year old book, please, it's not an advert for groceries," as he has so often before. Instead, Bryce gently slides the pad of his finger enough to softly turn each page, having both the respect and the skill to treat the tome as it deserves. He cleans his weapons with care as well, is vicious but careful to avoid injury when they spar, and asks thoughtful, penetrating questions when Wes tells him about the worlds he doesn't know. There is a delicacy to Bryce's work, a precision, that Wes find beautiful. As beautiful as the man himself.
In bed, they fall together easily. The constant near-death, the isolation, the mutual dependence on the job, the close quarters -- sleeping with someone on the team is common enough, Wes knows, and he suspects it's the same in Bryce's line of work too, since neither ever once needs to talk about how and why and what if and what then.
Most people that Bryce has slept with have been mere acquaintances, really. Few knew who he was, much less what he did, and he was courteous with them, cautious because of his strength, because of their fragility, even when taking on the appearance of roughness. Those more serious relationships tended to be with people far stronger than him, stronger than humans could probably be. They were inescapable, their cold mass leaning onto him, into him, sheer power surrounding him until he felt like he was disappearing into them, until he felt like he was nothing.
With Bryce, it is different. He is strong too, strong enough that a slip of the hand, a moment of lost control, could kill Wes, could take his breath from him, could bleed him, could do anything to him. It never does, of course - Bryce is too careful, and besides, even Bryce can't control everything. Even as Bryce is over him, fingers pushing dark spots into his hips, Wes sees his vulnerability, sees his throat, soft and exposed, sees Bryce's ribcage grow and contract as his lungs suck in air more and more quickly, hears the heartbeat, the sound of warm blood coursing through Bryce's flesh, his breakable, malleable flesh. It was an intoxicating blend, and it made Wes wonder why it was so rare, why he had so rarely had it until now.
-----
When the demon in Burbank was finally found and dispatched, Bryce left Wesley. They had been together for almost a year, but Wes wasn't surprised.
"It was good working with you," Wes said. "But you'll be glad to get to less macabre ways of saving the world. Not that you'd tell me anything about that," he said with a grin.
"It'll be nice to be somewhere where if you shoot something, you can be pretty sure it's dead." Bryce smiled wryly, but there was a sadness there. Wes wondered if perhaps it had been good for Bryce to find that sometimes good and evil were actually just exactly that -- no moral ambiguities, no tempation to imagine the humanity of the enemy. If maybe that was why the existence of real evil didn't seem so unbearable when Bryce first found out.
"Are you going to see those people before you leave town? The ones you care about?" It was only the second time Wes had mentioned them, but a distance slid over Bryce's eyes like a screen, as if the good-bye's were done and the Bryce he had lived with were already walking out the door.
"Not likely," Bryce said, and the discussion was done. Wes told him to call if he ran into any more problems of the supernatural kind, but they both knew that Bryce had learned enough to handle most things on his own, and if they saw each other again, it would probably be if some agency threw Wes into a dark room and demanded assistance. As much as Wes had developed a soft spot for the man, he saw him clearly, and he knew that Bryce was the kind who could love fiercely and protectively and even deeply, but it still wouldn't change the fact that the mission always comes first.
Wes learned to recognize love like that long ago.
Before Bryce left, they kissed, and there was no fire in it this time, not like every other time. There was only a dull pain, a slow warmth, something not quite an apology but something like it, something close.
Bryce walked out the door then.
By himself in his tiny room, Wes felt a pang of something. It would be sadder without Bryce there. A little colder, a little more dangerous.
:D You lovely, lovely woman, you! This is perfect! It is indeed a gift :D And it wins, 1) because it's so unexpected; 2) I love the dynamic between Bryce and Wes; 3) I love the way you characterized Bryce's reaction to finding out about the supernatural world; 4) Bryce's knack for languages and Wes's irritation; 5) the quiet Bryce/Chuck in the background; and...
This:
"I kill them. Unless they're my friends. I mean - just - never mind. Now. Who are you?"
:D
Not to mention this:
He is strong too, strong enough that a slip of the hand, a moment of lost control, could kill Wes, could take his breath from him, could bleed him, could do anything to him. It never does, of course - Bryce is too careful, and besides, even Bryce can't control everything. Even as Bryce is over him, fingers pushing dark spots into his hips, Wes sees his vulnerability, sees his throat, soft and exposed, sees Bryce's ribcage grow and contract as his lungs suck in air more and more quickly, hears the heartbeat, the sound of warm blood coursing through Bryce's flesh, his breakable, malleable flesh. It was an intoxicating blend, and it made Wes wonder why it was so rare, why he had so rarely had it until now.
Mmmm. That is so lovely and so, so sexy! I am so happy right now! Thank you so much, dear!
Re: Squeee!!!daria234December 18 2011, 04:22:22 UTC
:) lol I intended to just write a drabble but it got away from me. I really got into the idea of Wes remembering Angel and Bryce remembering Chuck and both of them finding a common bond but it's them so it's about THE WORK lol
i would never have thought of wes/bryce, but of course once you say "i know no one will write this," obviously that makes me want to ;) but what a creative idea you had! I'm so happy you like it :)
"Maybe it's the vocative. So it's 'N'tog n'tokklehnh hahchtoah ehc,'" Bryce suggested as he pulled off his shirt in front of the closet.
Wes tried not to be distracted by the sight as he murmured, "Yes, vocative, good thinking." It was annoying, in a respect, how good Bryce was at languages. Especially demon variations of ancient languages, when a few short weeks ago, Bryce didn't even know there were demon dialects.
He didn't even know there were demons. Not the literal kind.
----------------
They met when Bryce was attacked by some vamps. Wes had saved him.
Most people are confused and terrified in that situation. Bryce saw that they the beasts attacking him turned to dust when staked, had about a half second of what the fuck, then grabbed a sharp broken broomstick out of a dumpster and dusted the last vamp right as he was about to get the jump on Wesley.
Wesley told him it would be better to forget what he saw and be careful. The guy demanded answers. He was charming about it, sure, but Wes knew a dangerous man when he saw one, so he left with a line about knowing not to pull threads you don't want to unravel. He felt he delivered with a sense of knowing menace and that the man would surely listen.
When Wes came home that night - to his secret spell-protected well-hidden weapons-packed home - Bryce was waiting. He smiled beautifully and asked his questions again. Wes told him to leave, repeatedly, until he considered drawing a gun on the man just to scare him.
He hadn't looked toward his own weapon for more than an instant when Bryce had disarmed him and pushed him against the wall.
"Who are you?" Wes rasped, seething in rage, embarrassment.
The man was cool, calm. Except he was swallowing, his chest was moving up and down.
"These things. Monsters.... These weapons you have - you fight them?" Bryce said.
"I kill them. Unless they're my friends. I mean - just - never mind. Now. Who are you?"
"Were the things - vampires I guess - are they it? Is Burbank safe now?"
"No. You should leave town."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "There are resources I could use. To stop you from doing your job."
"You mean MY gun?"
"I mean an army. Literally."
"That wouldn't be wise. Though it does tell me something about who you are."
Bryce sighed. "I took a leave of absence from who I am. Officially. I heard you grill those things about someone. Some bigshot vampire?"
"A demon who's controlling them, actually."
"Terrific. Look, I'm not... I don't have your experience. But I have skills. And I can get my hands dirty, and don't act like you don't know it. And everything I care most about is in this town, and if there's something evil here, I'm taking it on. You can show me how this demon-killing thing works and we can be allies or we can get in each other's way."
Wes stared at him a long time before slowly, cautiously, nodding. And suddenly the cold, thinned lips turned to a big, pink grin. "I'm looking forward to working with you. So what's with all the cool books you hid under the floorboards?"
----
Reply
But there were good things about having Bryce there.
It was nice to have regularly conversations with someone. Besides monsters you were intimidating for info.
It was strange, but Wes got the impression that Bryce was just as alone as he was. There was obviously someone or something he cared about in Burbank. At first, Wes thought Bryce was being cautious, that he didn't want their demon-hunting project to lead danger to his loved ones. But when he offered to trail Bryce to make sure nothing evil followed him to that thing he loves, Bryce just said "It's not necessary."
There was something about the way he said it that made Wes think he understood something, that he had actually managed to see something about Bryce. Wes thought of Bryce's violence, of his determination, of his intelligence that occasionally verged on arrogance. Of his stubborn insistence on joining Wes when he found that monsters were real and that - more importantly - they could be killed. He could see that if Bryce thought he were doing the right thing, he would do what was necessary, no matter the consequences - and he was perfectly happy to disappear into Wes' world, probably not telling anyone what he was doing or that they were the reason he was doing it.
Wes remembers the times when he has acted this way, he remembers all the reasons he is no longer with the ones he loves, and he understands how someone like Bryce might end up alone.
-----
Bryce is (at least) his equal in intelligence, clever comebacks, strategy, and speed and strength. Wes gets over his mild jealousy easily enough since they work well together. But Bryce is far more reserved than Wes is, he holds more back, and the idea that an American is making him look emotionally open by comparison is really quite irksome.
There are other things they have in common. Wes notes with appreciation that he never has to tell Bryce to "mind the 700-year old book, please, it's not an advert for groceries," as he has so often before. Instead, Bryce gently slides the pad of his finger enough to softly turn each page, having both the respect and the skill to treat the tome as it deserves. He cleans his weapons with care as well, is vicious but careful to avoid injury when they spar, and asks thoughtful, penetrating questions when Wes tells him about the worlds he doesn't know. There is a delicacy to Bryce's work, a precision, that Wes find beautiful. As beautiful as the man himself.
Reply
In bed, they fall together easily. The constant near-death, the isolation, the mutual dependence on the job, the close quarters -- sleeping with someone on the team is common enough, Wes knows, and he suspects it's the same in Bryce's line of work too, since neither ever once needs to talk about how and why and what if and what then.
Most people that Bryce has slept with have been mere acquaintances, really. Few knew who he was, much less what he did, and he was courteous with them, cautious because of his strength, because of their fragility, even when taking on the appearance of roughness. Those more serious relationships tended to be with people far stronger than him, stronger than humans could probably be. They were inescapable, their cold mass leaning onto him, into him, sheer power surrounding him until he felt like he was disappearing into them, until he felt like he was nothing.
With Bryce, it is different. He is strong too, strong enough that a slip of the hand, a moment of lost control, could kill Wes, could take his breath from him, could bleed him, could do anything to him. It never does, of course - Bryce is too careful, and besides, even Bryce can't control everything. Even as Bryce is over him, fingers pushing dark spots into his hips, Wes sees his vulnerability, sees his throat, soft and exposed, sees Bryce's ribcage grow and contract as his lungs suck in air more and more quickly, hears the heartbeat, the sound of warm blood coursing through Bryce's flesh, his breakable, malleable flesh. It was an intoxicating blend, and it made Wes wonder why it was so rare, why he had so rarely had it until now.
-----
When the demon in Burbank was finally found and dispatched, Bryce left Wesley. They had been together for almost a year, but Wes wasn't surprised.
"It was good working with you," Wes said. "But you'll be glad to get to less macabre ways of saving the world. Not that you'd tell me anything about that," he said with a grin.
"It'll be nice to be somewhere where if you shoot something, you can be pretty sure it's dead." Bryce smiled wryly, but there was a sadness there. Wes wondered if perhaps it had been good for Bryce to find that sometimes good and evil were actually just exactly that -- no moral ambiguities, no tempation to imagine the humanity of the enemy. If maybe that was why the existence of real evil didn't seem so unbearable when Bryce first found out.
"Are you going to see those people before you leave town? The ones you care about?" It was only the second time Wes had mentioned them, but a distance slid over Bryce's eyes like a screen, as if the good-bye's were done and the Bryce he had lived with were already walking out the door.
"Not likely," Bryce said, and the discussion was done. Wes told him to call if he ran into any more problems of the supernatural kind, but they both knew that Bryce had learned enough to handle most things on his own, and if they saw each other again, it would probably be if some agency threw Wes into a dark room and demanded assistance. As much as Wes had developed a soft spot for the man, he saw him clearly, and he knew that Bryce was the kind who could love fiercely and protectively and even deeply, but it still wouldn't change the fact that the mission always comes first.
Wes learned to recognize love like that long ago.
Before Bryce left, they kissed, and there was no fire in it this time, not like every other time. There was only a dull pain, a slow warmth, something not quite an apology but something like it, something close.
Bryce walked out the door then.
By himself in his tiny room, Wes felt a pang of something. It would be sadder without Bryce there. A little colder, a little more dangerous.
He wasn't sure yet if it would feel more lonely.
Reply
This:
"I kill them. Unless they're my friends. I mean - just - never mind. Now. Who are you?"
:D
Not to mention this:
He is strong too, strong enough that a slip of the hand, a moment of lost control, could kill Wes, could take his breath from him, could bleed him, could do anything to him. It never does, of course - Bryce is too careful, and besides, even Bryce can't control everything. Even as Bryce is over him, fingers pushing dark spots into his hips, Wes sees his vulnerability, sees his throat, soft and exposed, sees Bryce's ribcage grow and contract as his lungs suck in air more and more quickly, hears the heartbeat, the sound of warm blood coursing through Bryce's flesh, his breakable, malleable flesh. It was an intoxicating blend, and it made Wes wonder why it was so rare, why he had so rarely had it until now.
Mmmm. That is so lovely and so, so sexy! I am so happy right now! Thank you so much, dear!
Reply
i would never have thought of wes/bryce, but of course once you say "i know no one will write this," obviously that makes me want to ;) but what a creative idea you had! I'm so happy you like it :)
Reply
Leave a comment