There's a teeny little smile on his face when I lace our fingers together. That's a good sigh, that means I've managed not to screw this up too badly. Unless... Unless what? Stop listening to those voices in your head, Pryce. They're not going to help you now, they only tend to lie at you. You know that, so knock it off.
Cutting of my inner monologue before Angel thinks I'm ripe for the insane asylum, I look back at him to see if he understands any of what I've just told him. He looks confused as though he had no idea that he was doing that. And I'll bet my life on the fact that this much is true. He had no idea he was making me feel this way, and if I don't tell him, he'll never know.
"I'm not *more* capable then any of you," I point out gently, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone. "But I *am* capable." I'm less capable then the rest of them. They all have their special talents. What do I have? Books, anyone of them can look things up in books, that's no big deal. "I know you care Angel, and that's why you do it. I get that. But... I just thought you should know why-why I was acting like a complete pratt."
And now he's the one who looking miserable. This is going smashingly isn't it? "Angel," I start softly, shifting a bit closer to him and biting down on a wince. A small one, but we're getting there. Rome wasn't build in a day and all that. "I didn't tell you to hurt you. I would never hurt you." I pause, searching his eyes while my face moves closer to his. "I love you. If you want to believe anything, I hope you believe that." I hesitate only for a moment before I press my lips to his for a gentle kiss.
Well, at least he realizes he was being a "prat," as he puts it. Yeah. Not your punching bag, Wes. I mean, I want to be there for him, but I don't want to be walked all over either, especially when I have no idea why I'm being walked on. Never really was one for getting walked on, and Angelus certainly wasn't. But, I don't want to make him feel like he can't talk to me just because he thinks it won't go over well. I guess we got past that, but still, I would have preferred going the talking route without the snapping in between.
I still don't know what to do, and I'm not really sure how much I can do, because, sometimes Wes needs to have someone be forceful, otherwise he'll just let himself do what he thinks he has to do without asking for help. I guess I'm not the judge of what's too much for him though. Maybe that's what will help. Definitely feeling a little lost with this, but I feel him shift closer and I glance up.
I open my mouth to say something in response, but his mouth is already one mine. It's soft and gentle, and loving. That makes me feel like I've got all of his heat licking through my body. I could drown in that feeling, and it's not easy to let him go because of that, but I do, giving his lips a little lick as we part. I notice my hand's moved up to tangle in his hair. Yet another thing I don't know I'm doing. I sigh at little before catching myself.
"I know," I whisper, still hanging on to him. "I love you, too, and I don't want to hurt you either. I want to just say I can fix it so that I won't *keep* hurting you." I scoot closer, and lean in so just our foreheads touch. "Can we compromise? You try not to push yourself so much, and I'll try not to...be controlling? And then can we kiss again?" I ask a little hopefully. It's dumb, but I missed him while Gunn and I were battling the vision demon. I'm becoming co-dependent... Not exactly the Scourge of Europe anymore, am I?
Part of me was afraid he’d pull away from the kiss. That I’d angered him with my behavior, my frustration about his behavior. Talking, oddly enough, when it comes to these kinds of things are not my strong point. Far from it in fact, they are a weak point. I’ve never had to do it before, my family certainly wasn’t one for sharing any feelings. Or showing them for that matter, heaven forbid anyone showing some kind of affection or love. Couldn’t have that, would make one weak. But the thing is, I feel vulnerable when telling him this, not weak.
So it’s with a sense of relief that I find him kissing me back. His hand moves up to tangle in my hair, which makes me realize for some insane reason that I need a haircut soon. Lips touching mine, cool and soft, making me moan into his mouth as they part. The kiss is longer then I anticipated, but I don’t mind at all. I could do this all day if we’d not be having an important conversation at the moment. Or what passes as a conversation for the two of us anyway.
When we finally pull away, he puts his forehead against mine. It’s a small gesture, but it makes my smile a little bit. The look in his eyes however is the cause that is slides away again somewhat. He’s about as lost as I am or feel about this whole thing. This relation ship thing we find ourselves in now. Neither of us have any idea what to do, or how to act or… It’s different then any other relation ship I’ve ever been in before. This is….real, serious…. Mine. He’s mine and I’m his.
My heart aches when he says he doesn’t want to hurt me. I know that. I don’t want to hurt him either, but sometimes it just happens without us meaning to do so. We’ll just have to keep talking to prevent it from happening again in the future. And that’s what’s the difficult part. Neither Angel or myself are talkers when it comes to this. The corners of my mouth twitch at his compromise proposition.
“We can give the first a try, but I vote we definitely move onto your second proposal.” In fact, my bed isn’t all that small is it? Not as big as his.. that reminds me. “I don’t have a bath. But I think my shower can….errr…that is to say….uh…t-there’s room enough for two?”
It's a relief when I notice the corners of his mouth twitch. I was getting worried that we were going to go another twenty rounds and still be nowhere, or actually, I was more worried mentioning him not pushing himself so much.
He does push his limits, and that's kind of what I've liked about him from the beginning. Even as a clumsy, embarrassed, "prat" of a Watcher, he never gave up, never stopped trying. Even when it seemed like the best thing to do would be to leave him at home, he wouldn't give in and be shoved aside. And a lot of the time he succeeded against some pretty long odds, namely Buffy and Faith. And maybe me once in awhile.
He doesn't give up even when he should, and I admire him for that. Doesn't make it any less stupid. It certainly doesn't make it any easier for me to stop wanting to protect him from himself. I smile though when he says we should try my compromise. His suggestion gets an even bigger smile from me. A shower could be good. I do feel kind of grungy from the demon, and even a tiny bit sore. Must have hit the storage pallets in that warehouse harder than I thought.
"Well, maybe we should find out. Just to make sure." I grin at him, again, relieved to be getting back into familiar territory. If it involves touching, I can handle it. Talking, not so much. Really, not at all. I like hearing the words, I just having trouble saying them back. Or really, understanding much of them that come my way.
"Want a hand?" I ask when I see him kind of scooting around the bed to find a good position to get off it. I almost asked if he needed any help, but figured that would only trigger the "I can do this, I don't care what it looks like" mechanism. Working on the not treating like a five-year-old thing. I'm sure I can manage that...somehow. If he doesn't want any help then I can do that too...or not do that as the case would be.
It's not until one actually lets out a rush of air that one notices one is holding it. Which would be the case with me. It's not until I slowly let my breath out that I notice I was holding it. Half afraid he's wanted to talk some more. Half afraid he wasn't buying my explanation or my words, or didn't believe them. I mean, not like that was surprising, most people hardly listen to what I say at any rate. But I seem to be forgetting that Angel is about as much as a talker when it comes to these things as I am. Probably even worse then I.
"I think I can manage," I say, looking around for the best way to get of this bed. And its not until the words left my mouth once again that I realize I've said them. Well, at least I said 'think' and not 'I can manage'. Progress in small steps as they say. Swallowing hard, I scoot toward the edge of the bed and then put my hands flat down, pushing myself up. I knew what I was doing when I bought this bed. It may have been the only expensive thing in this whole crummy place, but it allowed me to actually show up for work in the morning. Afternoon, evening...whichever.
Giving him a small smile, I walk past him, brushing my hand over his as I make my way over toward the bathroom. "There it is," I say, pointing out the one obvious place the bathroom would be. "It's-it's not as big as yours..." Oh god! Freudian much? Maybe he didn't notice? "Y-your bathroom I mean. Err... and-and I know the bed isn't as big either but-but I think we should be able to manage. And I've some...no wait, that's not true, I need to get you some new."
Aaand, I'm babbling. Bloody marvelous. He already thinks I'm some crazy person who needs to be looked after for his own best interest. I was going to tell him I had some blood in the icebox, but I don't. I had to toss that out last month when it was getting stale. Haven't gotten around to getting some new, since I've no idea when he'd be back. Clearing my throat, I shake away that though for now - we can cross that bridge when we get there - and open the door of the bathroom.
"And here we are." Why am I so nervous? Because you don't want him to think you're as pathetic as your apartment, with the small spaces and the ten year old furniture. Oh. Right. Great, *now* I'm talking to myself again.
I wait for him to get off the bed, so he can lead the way. I don't even have to fight back the urge to help. Well, not much anyway. He does seem to be doing better, I'll admit that. Standing, I follow, and feel what can only be described as a little flutter when his hand brushes mine. I remember when I used to have to force myself not to think about little touches like that.
I look at him slightly amused as he flushes and stumbles through a comparison of what I think was supposed to be our bathroom sizes, or possibly he was referring to...other big things. Or maybe it was the door he was referring to? And there was a bed reference too. Whatever he was talking about it's managed to get him more than a little flustered. And the pictures that are currently running through my head can't be far from his, so that's probably not helping keep that pink from rising up his neck. I can't believe I make him blush so easily.
"You need to get me some new?" My forehead crinkles a little at that. That sentence made less sense than the rest. I shrug out of my duster and fold it over a little chair he's got in the corner. So I'm neat, sue me. I walk over to meet him in the doorway, wondering a little at what's got him in such a twitter. It's only a bathroom.
"Cozy." I say, slipping my hands around his waist. Now that is certainly cozy. Us. "And here. We. Are." I say, stepping in a little bit closer with each word. He looks so worried. I like that it's small. Feels intimate. Meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before letting them settle on his mouth, I lift my lips that fraction of distance that makes him taller than me and kiss him. It's meant to be reassuring, comforting, but I can't help the small edge of hunger it has.
Since he said the words shower and two, I think my brain started turning off and the predator started taking over. We probably can't do much of anything what with his back, but I can't help thinking about him naked, and naked Wes... well, my reaction to that is probably going to be pretty obvious in a little while. I should probably make sure we're on the same page.
"Am I making a leap here that maybe you wanted to...enjoy more than a shower?" I don't want to get in too deep here. A little control would probably be good for both of us. We aren't going to be able to go around taking showers and...other stuff all the time. I should try to reign myself in a bit. I should.
“Uh yes,” I stammer. “Blood. I ah, h-had some blood in there but it’s gone sta- anyway, I-I need to get you some new.” Lord, I wish I’d stop stammering like some idiot. What is it about him that makes me so nervous at times? The fact that I want things to be perfect? Need them to be perfect if I’m honest here. If they’re not perfect he’ll realize that I’m not what he wants or needs and he’ll be out of here so fast. I don’t think I could… alright, ‘live without him’ would be overly dramatic, but it’s pretty damn close.
Nervously waiting in the bathroom, I watch as he takes off his duster and folds it over the chair. I guess that’s one thing we’ll never have to argue about. He’s a neat freak, as Cordelia likes to say, just as I am. Well, aside from the research, or most people would think. Books all over the place, papers everywhere, but I know where to find things and that’s what’s important. Oh. I’m torn out of my thoughts as Angel’s arms slip around me. Now that *is* nice. Tilting my head, I look at him and the moment I do, our lips meet. My own hands land on his hips as I give myself over to the kiss.
Not that difficult, giving myself over to him when it comes to kissing, or touching. Especially since we’re not in a public place. We’re at my place where the chances of anyone stomping in are next to nill. Now there’s a very good thought. No need to worry about Cordy or Gunn barging in, or Fred needing something. Just Angel and I. Kissing. Though, air would be nice too. When we pull away, I suck in some much needed oxygen into my lungs and blink at him. Yup, brain freeze, it never seems to fail.
It takes me some time to realize he’s saying something, and then some more seconds to figure out *what* he’s said. “Oh,” I say weakly, turning to look at my very small shower booth. Enjoy more then a shower. I’d love too, but I doubt there’s room. “It’s a bit small,” I say softly, a note of apology in my voice. “But uhm…maybe we can get…errr….creative?” Not as though I’d know, I mean all my experience was in the rather large showers at school. Which weren’t very enjoyable.
Blood? He had blood for me? Huh. That's umm, good? I think. I'm about to tell him he doesn't need to get me any but that sounds like a pointless argument waiting to happen. Not being controlling, remember? It would be ridiculous to argue. He's just being thoughtful. He's not trying to suggest that you always need blood, or emphasize that you've got a different diet. Just being thoughtful.
This kiss had better do the trick. I don't want him to be so nervous with me all the time. I like hearing his heartbeat, but I don't like hearing it do that. His mouth meets mine easily, and I'm happy to take advantage of that. His mouth is sweet, and I slide closer without thinking. Seems to distract him a little. Distract him enough that he gets this fuzzy look on his face and doesn't seem to realize a word of what I'd said.
I raise an eyebrow at 'creative'. Oh, I like this part of Wes. The part that always aims to please, and can solve any problem. We don't have to be creative, though. Washing is good. Creative can come later. Or... God, I am useless at not wanting him all the time. I should be locked away, not allowed free reign of temptation.
"Either way, maybe we should start with less clothes, hmm?" I say already steadily working the buttons on my- his shirt open. Letting that drift to the floor, I dip my fingers beneath the t-shirt and start sliding that up over his head, with my hands taking some side trips, of course.
Cutting of my inner monologue before Angel thinks I'm ripe for the insane asylum, I look back at him to see if he understands any of what I've just told him. He looks confused as though he had no idea that he was doing that. And I'll bet my life on the fact that this much is true. He had no idea he was making me feel this way, and if I don't tell him, he'll never know.
"I'm not *more* capable then any of you," I point out gently, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone. "But I *am* capable." I'm less capable then the rest of them. They all have their special talents. What do I have? Books, anyone of them can look things up in books, that's no big deal. "I know you care Angel, and that's why you do it. I get that. But... I just thought you should know why-why I was acting like a complete pratt."
And now he's the one who looking miserable. This is going smashingly isn't it? "Angel," I start softly, shifting a bit closer to him and biting down on a wince. A small one, but we're getting there. Rome wasn't build in a day and all that. "I didn't tell you to hurt you. I would never hurt you." I pause, searching his eyes while my face moves closer to his. "I love you. If you want to believe anything, I hope you believe that." I hesitate only for a moment before I press my lips to his for a gentle kiss.
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I still don't know what to do, and I'm not really sure how much I can do, because, sometimes Wes needs to have someone be forceful, otherwise he'll just let himself do what he thinks he has to do without asking for help. I guess I'm not the judge of what's too much for him though. Maybe that's what will help. Definitely feeling a little lost with this, but I feel him shift closer and I glance up.
I open my mouth to say something in response, but his mouth is already one mine. It's soft and gentle, and loving. That makes me feel like I've got all of his heat licking through my body. I could drown in that feeling, and it's not easy to let him go because of that, but I do, giving his lips a little lick as we part. I notice my hand's moved up to tangle in his hair. Yet another thing I don't know I'm doing. I sigh at little before catching myself.
"I know," I whisper, still hanging on to him. "I love you, too, and I don't want to hurt you either. I want to just say I can fix it so that I won't *keep* hurting you." I scoot closer, and lean in so just our foreheads touch. "Can we compromise? You try not to push yourself so much, and I'll try not to...be controlling? And then can we kiss again?" I ask a little hopefully. It's dumb, but I missed him while Gunn and I were battling the vision demon. I'm becoming co-dependent... Not exactly the Scourge of Europe anymore, am I?
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So it’s with a sense of relief that I find him kissing me back. His hand moves up to tangle in my hair, which makes me realize for some insane reason that I need a haircut soon. Lips touching mine, cool and soft, making me moan into his mouth as they part. The kiss is longer then I anticipated, but I don’t mind at all. I could do this all day if we’d not be having an important conversation at the moment. Or what passes as a conversation for the two of us anyway.
When we finally pull away, he puts his forehead against mine. It’s a small gesture, but it makes my smile a little bit. The look in his eyes however is the cause that is slides away again somewhat. He’s about as lost as I am or feel about this whole thing. This relation ship thing we find ourselves in now. Neither of us have any idea what to do, or how to act or… It’s different then any other relation ship I’ve ever been in before. This is….real, serious…. Mine. He’s mine and I’m his.
My heart aches when he says he doesn’t want to hurt me. I know that. I don’t want to hurt him either, but sometimes it just happens without us meaning to do so. We’ll just have to keep talking to prevent it from happening again in the future. And that’s what’s the difficult part. Neither Angel or myself are talkers when it comes to this. The corners of my mouth twitch at his compromise proposition.
“We can give the first a try, but I vote we definitely move onto your second proposal.” In fact, my bed isn’t all that small is it? Not as big as his.. that reminds me. “I don’t have a bath. But I think my shower can….errr…that is to say….uh…t-there’s room enough for two?”
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He does push his limits, and that's kind of what I've liked about him from the beginning. Even as a clumsy, embarrassed, "prat" of a Watcher, he never gave up, never stopped trying. Even when it seemed like the best thing to do would be to leave him at home, he wouldn't give in and be shoved aside. And a lot of the time he succeeded against some pretty long odds, namely Buffy and Faith. And maybe me once in awhile.
He doesn't give up even when he should, and I admire him for that. Doesn't make it any less stupid. It certainly doesn't make it any easier for me to stop wanting to protect him from himself. I smile though when he says we should try my compromise. His suggestion gets an even bigger smile from me. A shower could be good. I do feel kind of grungy from the demon, and even a tiny bit sore. Must have hit the storage pallets in that warehouse harder than I thought.
"Well, maybe we should find out. Just to make sure." I grin at him, again, relieved to be getting back into familiar territory. If it involves touching, I can handle it. Talking, not so much. Really, not at all. I like hearing the words, I just having trouble saying them back. Or really, understanding much of them that come my way.
"Want a hand?" I ask when I see him kind of scooting around the bed to find a good position to get off it. I almost asked if he needed any help, but figured that would only trigger the "I can do this, I don't care what it looks like" mechanism. Working on the not treating like a five-year-old thing. I'm sure I can manage that...somehow. If he doesn't want any help then I can do that too...or not do that as the case would be.
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"I think I can manage," I say, looking around for the best way to get of this bed. And its not until the words left my mouth once again that I realize I've said them. Well, at least I said 'think' and not 'I can manage'. Progress in small steps as they say. Swallowing hard, I scoot toward the edge of the bed and then put my hands flat down, pushing myself up. I knew what I was doing when I bought this bed. It may have been the only expensive thing in this whole crummy place, but it allowed me to actually show up for work in the morning. Afternoon, evening...whichever.
Giving him a small smile, I walk past him, brushing my hand over his as I make my way over toward the bathroom. "There it is," I say, pointing out the one obvious place the bathroom would be. "It's-it's not as big as yours..." Oh god! Freudian much? Maybe he didn't notice? "Y-your bathroom I mean. Err... and-and I know the bed isn't as big either but-but I think we should be able to manage. And I've some...no wait, that's not true, I need to get you some new."
Aaand, I'm babbling. Bloody marvelous. He already thinks I'm some crazy person who needs to be looked after for his own best interest. I was going to tell him I had some blood in the icebox, but I don't. I had to toss that out last month when it was getting stale. Haven't gotten around to getting some new, since I've no idea when he'd be back. Clearing my throat, I shake away that though for now - we can cross that bridge when we get there - and open the door of the bathroom.
"And here we are." Why am I so nervous? Because you don't want him to think you're as pathetic as your apartment, with the small spaces and the ten year old furniture. Oh. Right. Great, *now* I'm talking to myself again.
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I look at him slightly amused as he flushes and stumbles through a comparison of what I think was supposed to be our bathroom sizes, or possibly he was referring to...other big things. Or maybe it was the door he was referring to? And there was a bed reference too. Whatever he was talking about it's managed to get him more than a little flustered. And the pictures that are currently running through my head can't be far from his, so that's probably not helping keep that pink from rising up his neck. I can't believe I make him blush so easily.
"You need to get me some new?" My forehead crinkles a little at that. That sentence made less sense than the rest. I shrug out of my duster and fold it over a little chair he's got in the corner. So I'm neat, sue me. I walk over to meet him in the doorway, wondering a little at what's got him in such a twitter. It's only a bathroom.
"Cozy." I say, slipping my hands around his waist. Now that is certainly cozy. Us. "And here. We. Are." I say, stepping in a little bit closer with each word. He looks so worried. I like that it's small. Feels intimate. Meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before letting them settle on his mouth, I lift my lips that fraction of distance that makes him taller than me and kiss him. It's meant to be reassuring, comforting, but I can't help the small edge of hunger it has.
Since he said the words shower and two, I think my brain started turning off and the predator started taking over. We probably can't do much of anything what with his back, but I can't help thinking about him naked, and naked Wes... well, my reaction to that is probably going to be pretty obvious in a little while. I should probably make sure we're on the same page.
"Am I making a leap here that maybe you wanted to...enjoy more than a shower?" I don't want to get in too deep here. A little control would probably be good for both of us. We aren't going to be able to go around taking showers and...other stuff all the time. I should try to reign myself in a bit. I should.
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Nervously waiting in the bathroom, I watch as he takes off his duster and folds it over the chair. I guess that’s one thing we’ll never have to argue about. He’s a neat freak, as Cordelia likes to say, just as I am. Well, aside from the research, or most people would think. Books all over the place, papers everywhere, but I know where to find things and that’s what’s important. Oh. I’m torn out of my thoughts as Angel’s arms slip around me. Now that *is* nice. Tilting my head, I look at him and the moment I do, our lips meet. My own hands land on his hips as I give myself over to the kiss.
Not that difficult, giving myself over to him when it comes to kissing, or touching. Especially since we’re not in a public place. We’re at my place where the chances of anyone stomping in are next to nill. Now there’s a very good thought. No need to worry about Cordy or Gunn barging in, or Fred needing something. Just Angel and I. Kissing. Though, air would be nice too. When we pull away, I suck in some much needed oxygen into my lungs and blink at him. Yup, brain freeze, it never seems to fail.
It takes me some time to realize he’s saying something, and then some more seconds to figure out *what* he’s said. “Oh,” I say weakly, turning to look at my very small shower booth. Enjoy more then a shower. I’d love too, but I doubt there’s room. “It’s a bit small,” I say softly, a note of apology in my voice. “But uhm…maybe we can get…errr….creative?” Not as though I’d know, I mean all my experience was in the rather large showers at school. Which weren’t very enjoyable.
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This kiss had better do the trick. I don't want him to be so nervous with me all the time. I like hearing his heartbeat, but I don't like hearing it do that. His mouth meets mine easily, and I'm happy to take advantage of that. His mouth is sweet, and I slide closer without thinking. Seems to distract him a little. Distract him enough that he gets this fuzzy look on his face and doesn't seem to realize a word of what I'd said.
I raise an eyebrow at 'creative'. Oh, I like this part of Wes. The part that always aims to please, and can solve any problem. We don't have to be creative, though. Washing is good. Creative can come later. Or... God, I am useless at not wanting him all the time. I should be locked away, not allowed free reign of temptation.
"Either way, maybe we should start with less clothes, hmm?" I say already steadily working the buttons on my- his shirt open. Letting that drift to the floor, I dip my fingers beneath the t-shirt and start sliding that up over his head, with my hands taking some side trips, of course.
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