Not only am I likely to forget my own head, but I've become even more clumsy then usual lately. Its ridiculous. I knew I had a tendency to forget my glasses here and there, but lately I find Angel running after me to hand them over. I hadn't even *remembered* about them and would've gone on researching until I had the grand mother of all headaches. And then I'd still wonder why. Reaching up to pat the pocket Angel just put them in is also a bad idea I realize when I stumble down the stairs moments later.
Luckily I was already on the last step and all it does is make me look like an utter fool while I stumble through the lobby. I just hope no one saw that. Sighing, I pull my glasses out, blaming it on the fact that I wasn't wearing them, and make my way over to my office. It doesn't take me long to gather my research.
It takes me quite a while longer to tear myself away from a very interesting book which had been delivered here yesterday. I love going to old book stores myself, but lately my feet and legs had made that impossible. Another thing I wasn't about to share with anything. Cordy's lessons on how to shop online when we were both bored sure as hell paid off now though.
It's not until I hear Angel's voice more then the knock on my door that I jerk my nose out of the book. I look at him guiltily when he finally comes into the office with a look on his face which tells me he's been calling me for some time now. Of course I hadn't noticed nor heard. At least that's not any different after that spell. A lot of things had, but all in all, it had been worth it. My bond with Angel was so much stronger now and my love for him had only grown.
"Ah..." Sheepish I look around guiltily, anywhere but at Angel for a brief moment. This would be he time where he'd try to lecture me. Lecture *me*, imagine that. But since we don't wish that I quickly gather up the supplies I wanted to take with, putting them in what Cordelia stubbornly insist on calling my man-purse. It's just a bag, but she really knows how to get under your skin at times.
As I walk over to Angel, hefting a bag over my shoulder that seems to have grown more heavy then it looks, I give him another pleading look. "Are you certain you cannot take Gunn, love? I really have a lot of work to do." Mostly I just want to go back to bed, try and sleep some more but probably ending up with a bucket or in the kitchen eating more and more.
Nose right there in a book, right where it always is whenever Wes stops in his office. I definitely knew Wes wasn't going to end up sneaking off somewhere. Yeah, I think I could send him in here for a paper clip and he'd return two hours later to ask me what I had wanted earlier. Of course he would remember that I'd asked him for something, because Wes always remembers...just not always at the right time.
So I wasn't worried that I'd have to go hunt him down. No, I was pretty sure I'd have to pull him out of his desk chair though, so I smile fondly at him when he looks up finally, startled as though he had been on another planet. "Not so tired?" I ask, trying to hide my amusement. Maybe this would be easier than I thought, especially with the books he's bringing along.
"I can take that to the car, if you want?" I offer when Wes struggles with the bag. It doesn't look that heavy... I've already got a hand on the small of his back though once he's out of the office. Just got to keep him moving so he doesn't realize that we're leaving until we're already outside.
"It won't take long. But I really need your expertise," I tell him, pointing our trip towards the downstairs doors. The walk through the plants outside will hopefully distract him too. Though not too much. Don't want him stopping for a lecture on night-blooming jasmine or something like that. Hey, it *has* happened. "And I think Gunn's got his hands full with some project he's helping Lorne with." Namely the pool downstairs that we're trying to keep quiet with some of Lorne's mystical mojo so it can be a surprise for Wes. Maybe a daily swim will help him snap out of this illness thing.
Not really sure, but I think I'm being manhandled. Now don't get me wrong, I usually love getting manhandled by Angel, but this one makes me slightly suspicious. He's very eager for me to come along on this strange trip of his he hasn't told me anything about. He keeps saying he needs my expertise but fails to tell me what sort of expertise this entails. Which tend to worry me a little bit.
Angel's surprises, while always very sweet, also have a habit of being something to worry about. For me at any rate. Then again, I'm confused about a lot of things lately. Or not so lately but no one needs to know that. There things people say to me that make very little sense while I get the feeling they should. Like Angel asking me if I'm not tired for example. I've no idea what he means, while I get the feeling I should. But I manage to hide my puzzled expression the way I've been able to the last few months.
It helps that I'm to busy dragging this bag of books around. When did these books become so heavy? I'm out of breath before we even reach the stairs! I'm in fact so focused on getting some air into my lungs I don't even have any left to scold Angel for pushing me around. He might not be, but that's how it feels to me. What with his hand pushing my back to make sure I'm not going where he doesn't want me to go. I'm not a bloody child!
The bag keeps slipping from my shoulder so I keep having to heft it on there again and again while Angel rambles on. I know Angel is up to something when he rambles on and keeps me moving. Usually its not something good. "Angel, love, I can walk," I pant as he rushes us though the courtyard, past the flowers and bushes to one of the cars in such a speed it makes me wonder if we even walked.
My feet tell me I most definitely did, as does the rest of my body. You'd think with the way I feel right now I've been running up and down *all* the Hyperion stairs over and over again.
"Gunn is helping out Lorne?" I murmur, giving him a confused look while I wait for him to open the car. "I don't know of any project they have?" How can they have a project? I've not given them any project! Who's the bloody boss around here! Dammit! Even more confused I get into the car, wincing when the bag filled with books slips from my shoulder again and crashes to the floor.
"Oh... bugger... " I whisper, looking at it crestfallen before large eyes and a wobbly lip move to look at Angel. Blurred Angel. Oh. Glasses. Never mind that. I just hurt my books!
We made it. We actually made it to the car. That's got to be half the battle, really. I mean, Wes can't get out of a moving car, right? That would be not smart. And I'm sure I can get him into the office... Well, maybe. But really, just getting him out of the hotel seems like something I should be getting a new battle axe for accomplishing.
"There we go," I say, starting to open the door for Wes, who actually gets in with a minimum of questions- Oh, damn. That sucks. Well, we'll get the books gathered up and be on our way. Right?
The look on Wesley's face tells me I could be very wrong about that.
I'm already crouched down picking up the books when I notice the way his lip is trembling. ....What the hell? I didn't hurt them! I didn't!! They're fine, the books are fine, which I'm about to protest, but...something tells me I shouldn't. "I've got 'em, tiger." I give him a tentative smile as I gather them all up and shuffle them carefully back into his purs- bag. "They're safe." I hold the bag for Wes to take, hoping he'll fold himself into the car as well.
...Now I know Wes is sensitive about his books, but nearly crying about them spilling out of his bag...is not normal. I'm more likely get a scolding and a disapproving look. Or I used to be.
"Alright, in you go. Then we can get you back and be napping before you know it."
He's treating me like a bloody child! All of them have been treating me like a bloody child! Cordelia with her hounding me to eat. Gunn with making sure I don't get into the fighting with the demons. He has that in common with Angel and Cordelia I'll say. Lorne with that eerily mysterious smile on his face everytime he looks at me. They're driving me insane, I can tell you that much. Good *lord*.
And now I've dropped my books. They'll be damaged. They've gotten hurt and they'll never forgive me. Books have-- Alright, where did that come from? I give myself a confused shake when I realized I've caught myself crying over the silliest things lately. Even inanimate things like these books. Luckily I've been alone all these times since I was never able to actually stop myself. But this time Angel's here.
I bite down on my bottom lip hard while I watch him shove the books into the bag and then handing them over to me. "Thank you," I get out in a chocked up whisper. A hand comes up to wipe over my eyes and I'm half afraid they'll come away wet. Doesn't seem to be the case. Yet. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. But I really can't seem to stop myself. So I sit there, nodding at whatever Angel tells me, clutching the bag with books close to me.
I'm so engrossed with my own confusing thoughts, that I don't pay much attention to where we're going. Probably some sewer or some dirty old shop where we're going to meet an informant. I've no idea why Angel would want me along. Meeting informants is something I usually do on my own... Then again, Angel or the others wont let me go *anywhere* on my own lately.
But when Angel announces that we've arrived, I don't expect to find some very old, but very well kept and rich mansion to show up in my view. A frown creases my forehead while I turn to look at Angel confused. "Doesn't that-- demon doctor live here?" I ask, watching as Angel drives under the house. Of course a demon doctor would think of everything.
"Is one of his patients a new client of ours?" Could be. I mean, abuse is not just a human thing, or stalking, or-- divorce due to cheating spouse. Still, confusing. I hope I can find the loo quick enough, because I'm feeling my breakfast play tricks on me again.
It's really bizarre how distraught Wes sounded. Like I was going to rip all his books up, toss them in a fire and then dump the ash in a sewer. There was definite lip trembling, I think as I steer us through what passes for light traffic in Los Angeles and up into the hills.
Thank God, he got in the car. I wasn't sure if I was going to have to bodily shove him in with the way Wes was reacting, but I think Wes was too focused on cradling the books carefully and not letting that beautiful lip of his wobble into full-blown tears. Which is just *weird* even for Wes.
When we finally pull through the gates at the address that Lorne gave me, Wes seems to snap out of it a little, eyes going wide at the sight. Can't say mine aren't taking in the scenery a little too.
I'm kind leaning towards not answering Wes' question, but that seems like an even more ineffective method than lying. "Uhh, yeah," I say, stopping at the head of the arced driveway. "We're doing a little undercover work." I bite my tongue to keep from adding that we're checking out how he treats his patients, i.e. Wes is gonna be one of them. And wouldn't that send Wes screaming for the hills.
I get around the car in a flash to open his door when I see that look on his face. That one he's had a lot lately that says he's not going to be keeping anything in his stomach for long. There's already a nurse type woman...demony thing coming out to meet us, her little bit of a pink tail sweeping around. "Is there, umm, a bathroom we could use?" I say, helping Wes out of the car, and wondering if we're going to make it that far.
The way this-this whomever this woman is, demon woman something rather? At any way, the way she's looking at me doesn't sit well. She looks at me the way nurses have looked at me when one of the others managed to drag me into the ER and called ahead with a warning. Just because that one time I snuck off and had hidden in the loo, or that one time I said to go for some fresh air and went home. And alright there was that one time that--
-- that's the way she's looking at me. With the narrowed eyes of someone who's been forewarned. Now why would she look at me in such a way when we're only here for some research. To meet with a client. why would she look at me in such a matter then? That's just bizarre, since neither Angel nor I need a doctor, let alone a demon doctor.
"Yeah, sure," the nurse woman demon says, her tone of voice rather nasal. Which is when I notice she had a very flat nose. In fact, one could say she has no nose at all. Fascinating! I wonder what sort of demon she is? No nose, tail, pinkish skin hmmm... Wait. Why does Angel need to go to the bathroom? I give him a confused look at that when my own stomach acts up again and I have to reach up to press my hand in front of my mouth.
"Oh bloody.." I whisper, giving the woman a grateful look when she waves a hand - either those are nails or claws and I don't care at the moment - in the general direction. I don't have much time before rushing in and falling down on my knees in front of the loo. There's not much to throw up of course, since I've bloody well done a festive round of retching at home! I'm also extremely disturbed by the look this nurse gave me.
Especially when I hear her murmur to Angel, "Now I'm no expert of course, but speaking from past experience...?" The rest of what she says goes lost when I start to heave again, feeling like my head my explode and tears are falling down my face. This is utterly humiliating. Not just embarrassing, but humiliating.
She's got this amused smile on her face and she doesn't look upset either. In fact, she looks kind of like she thinks this is nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about? I don't think so, I think as Wes runs in the direction she points. I'm barely listening to what she says, and I think she adds, "I think he may be having a..." but I'm already following after Wesley, worried, really worried this time. He keeps throwing up. For over a month. Nearly every morning. This is not good. Very not good.
My hand is rubbing gently over Wes' back while he clutches the toilet like a lifeline. I like it when he does that to me, but the toilet? Not so much. I can feel the nurse watching us, but hopefully Wes won't notice. His face is flushed, and I'm guessing it's not from fever.
I grab a damp paper towel ready to help cool him down once he's through. Don't like watching his ribcage rise and fall like that. So heavy and weak at the same time. This really takes it out of him. Don't like it at all.
Gingerly, I help him when he seems to be done, taking my cues from him. I let some cool water run so he can rinse out his mouth. My hand is still there gently rubbing over his back, of course. Can't seem to stop. Have to have *something* to do to make him feel better.
"You okay, tiger?" I ask so that only he can hear.
"The doctor's ready to see you now. I can show you to the exam room whenever you're ready," comes the voice from the hallway, somewhat nasally. She even kind of sounds like she's smiling I cringe a little, and hope that Wes isn't paying any attention to the words 'exam room.'
"We'll, umm, be there in a minute," I say, unsure what to say, but very happy just to let Wes lean against my for the time being until he can function again. All the more reason why we need to get to that doctor though.
When exactly Angel joined me in the bathroom I'm not certain. In fact I didn't even know he was there until I felt his hand rubbing my back. The moment I feel it there's a sense of relief washing through me at once. As well as the urge to just burst into tears because I'm so ashamed that his has happened with one of our clients. Hardly professional! Angel must be so embarrassed.
By the time the dry heaves finally stop, I'm nearly hyperventilating, chest heaving up and down painfully. I manage to pull myself upright and away from Angel, staggering toward the sink to wash my face and try to *not* look as though I just vomited for no particular reason. I hadn't even eaten anything! Bloody... This is truly getting ridiculous. Whatever but I have inside me to cause this, it should've ran it's course by now.
"Y-yes, I'm-I'm fine, Angel. Thank you," I rasp, rinsing my mouth and splashing some water on my face. By the time finally seem myself reasonably presentable - it'll have to do - I right myself and quickly glance over at Angel with a look of shame. Humiliation. This is the reason I'm not going along with these things the last few-- month's.
"I'm so sorry," I mumble, "I've no idea what--" Whatever I wanted to say next is drowned out when I suddenly hear the nurses voice nearby. I actually find myself jumping at the sound of it, having forgotten she was there. If I thought I was blushing with embarrassment before, it's nothing compared to what it's doing now.
I'm so busy trying to find a hole to crawl in for-- oh possibly the next decade, I almost mist her words. Exam room? Why-why would a client see us in an exam room? Even if they are a doctor. Eyes narrowing with suspicion they turn away from the door and focus on Angel. That is a little strange. As is the way Angel looks suddenly rather guilty. I've seen that look before.
"He never seemed the type to be short on cash," I point out more then a little weary. "He should be able to afford an office. Why is he asking us to meet him in the exam room? Is it--" A frown while I glance from Angel to the door where the nurse left moments ago, "Is it haunted?"
Quickly making myself busy with tossing away the paper towel in my hand, and cleaning up the sink - not that there was really anything to clean but a few splashes of water - I look back at Wes trying not to cringe at the narrow eyed look being thrown my way. So he did catch the part about the exam room.
"Uhh, yeah. Haunted. Some patient did some spell accidentally the other day. Doesn't know what spell it is," I say, holding out a hand towards the door to let Wes go first. I know better than to leave him any kind of escape route when around doctors. "That's what I need you here. Erm. To observe."
I hustle Wes out of the bathroom towards the waiting nurse. I can only imagine what this is going to be like if we have to come for follow-up visits. Wes hates doctors, hospitals, and anything associated with that stuff.
"Alright, gentlemen, it's right through here. If you'll just put on the gown on the table, the doctor will be with you in a moment."
"A spell?" Giving him an incredulous look I find myself wondering why Lorne isn't here instead. He's far more versed in spells then I am and he's a demon so it's not as though this doctor would get an utter shock at seeing Lorne. Of course Angel told me Gunn was helping Lorne with a project something or other. I could be the man was busy. It's possible.
Like it or not, when it comes to magic and spells? I am the next best thing after Lorne. Though-- "Why would a patient do a spell here?" I mutter confused, thinking how little sense that makes. Come to think of it, Angel has been making very little sense lately. All - as Cordy and Gunn would say - jumpy when I enter a room. Actually, Cordelia and Gunn act as such as well. As does Lorne.
"You want me here to observe? Observe what?" I ask perplexed while being all but manhandles out of the bathroom. "Really Angel, there's no need to--" And there's that nurse again. With that look on her face. And that whole posture that seems to scream something I can't put my finger on. I really wish she would not look at me in such a way. That smile is making my skin crawl.
She leads us into the exam room with the usual cold clinical professionalism these people all over the globe seem to have. My brain must be affected by whatever this bug is because once again her words don't fully register after my politely muttered "Thank you, Madam" and until she closes the door. With a sound that has an air of finality.
Crossing my arms over my chest I slowly turn around and glare at Angel. One eyebrow raised as I glance at aforementioned gown and then back at him. "Which one of us is supposed to be putting that gown and... why?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes as my suspicion grows. I'm not a fool. I can do the math. I'm sick, Angel's worried, and this is a doctor. Ergo-this visit is going to not take place I'm thinking.
"Accidentally. The patient, you know, freaked out during an exam or something," I explain lamely. I can already tell Wes isn't buying it. Okay, I could tell that back at the hotel.
I follow him through the door, grateful to Wes' brain for making him fall into that automatic polite response he has of doing what he's told. "Observe, umm, the room. You know, there are some poltergeist things happening, I think. Books flying around, that sort of thing," I babble, relieved finally when the door closes.
Only to find a glare. A very big glare awaiting me. A very not impressed glare. A glare that says Wes is going to not be speaking to me for several hours after this. Or days.
"I, erm. You. For protection. You know, human, crazy magic running around, I'm a vampire, so it won't, you know..." I trail off in the face of that never ending glare. "Please?" I say, after several moments of silence, resorting to my last resort. He knows I don't like to use that word very often.
"You're not well, Wes," I murmur, making sure that I'm standing in front of the door without looking obvious about it. "We're all really worried," I add quietly, looking at him with the emotions clear on my face. Very worried. Very, very worried. What is Connor going to do if something happens to his Papa? Not to mention Cordy and Gunn. And I-- Yeah, heart constricting - I wonder if Wes can feel that now with the mark... - not thinking about that.
Oh he has got to be joking! Is he seriously thinking I'm buying all this crap? Why is he doing this? I'm fine! Just a little sick lately, but I'm human, it happens. He's seen me with the flu before, he's seen me with a cold. Hell, he's even seen me after we got slimed all over and all of us humans got sick. Yes, alright, it's been going on a little bit longer then your usual flu, or cold or stomach bug but really...
"Because you can't observe books when they fly around?" I mutter, some irritation staring to shine through. And as per usual this wake up my sarcasm. I'm usually very capable of curbing it, unless it's around Cordelia who's expecting it. But really these sort of weak excuses really wake up that habit without fail.
The one about the gown is even more ridiculous. I actually do a double take before straightening to my full height. Which is usually makes me slightly taller then Angel except lately is just doesn't feel that way. I feel small, and weak and *fat*! Fat. I never thought I'd feel fat but there you have it.
"You really expect me to believe that a flimsy gown," I start in that calm, dark tone of voice I rarely use while picking up said flimsy gown, "paper even," I add, waving the thing in front of his face, "is going to protect me from *anything*? Really Angel, I would have thought you of all people would give me a little more credit."
For heavens sake. Does he think me that stupid? Or, I realize moments later, he is that desperate. It's the small please and murmured 'you're not well' which has me deflating a little. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and put the damn gown back on the table. I'm not putting that on, not in a million years. It has no back for starters! And--
"Really Angel, I'm fine. Just a little bug that's been well-- bugging me. There's nothing wrong with me," I tell him, inching closer to the door and wondering why Angel seems to be moving with me.
"Why don't I'll be the judge of that," a booming voice suddenly echo's through the room, making me jump again. "I am the doctor here after all. Unless you're a doctor Mister," the tall man looks at his clipboard,"Wyndam-Pryce?"
And when I say tall, I do mean tall. As in rather huge. I think it's quite possible this man - demon - is capable of looming over Angel. And yet he's smiling. That medical 'everything is fine' smile, the one which makes me so nervous.
"Err.. No, Sir, I'm-I'm not but..."
The gown is thrust into my face in a no nonsense matter and a sharp finger points at a door. "Good. You can change over there while I talk to your-- erm.. Mister Angel." There's a look being aimed at me, reminding me far to much of the one my father used to give me and I find myself scurrying for that changing room rather hastily. Hopefully there's another door there.
"Don't worry," I hear the doctor say as I close the door, "there's only one door. Now, Mister Angel. One the phone you mentioned--"
Bugger. Bugger it all. Oh Angel is going to be hearing about this. Count on it.
"He's sick. Nausea, throwing up, every morning. Every morning," I tell the doctor hastily once Wes closes his door, relieved to finally have someone that will listen, and might have something productive to actually make of the situation, other than enigmatic smiles and shrugs, or worst, worried looks.
"It's been months," I add while the doctor nods, not really jotting down things like I'd been hoping he would. "Umm, and then he eats...all day. Everything in sight," I say, quieter so that only the doctor can hear, because I'm betting that would embarrass the hell out of Wes. "And he has to pee all the time. His back is killing him, his feet- He always wants a foot massage..." Finally I raise my voice to a more normal level, "Do you think it's bad?"
The doctor...actually chuckles. I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. Uh, okay, no. This is serious! Wes could be really sick! I look towards the door and back at the doctor who's smiling and pulling out some large-ish...machine thing. With a tv screen. Huh. "I'll, uhh, just...check on him." Yeah, knowing our luck with Wes and hospitals, he'll just stay in there until he thinks we've left or something.
"Wes?" I knock before turning the handle peeking in a sliver in case he's not decent. "Need any help?
"Bloody... hell," I mutter under my breath when I realize the chap was right. There is indeed only one door here. An inspection of the walls doesn't result in my finding some sort of secret passage or anything of the likes. I guess I am stuck in here. I stubbornly contemplate not changing and just sitting in here until it's time to go home, I even rehears what I'm going to tell Angel once we're in private. Hauling me over here for a check-up, all the lies he's told me.
But then I hear his quiet please and see the look on his face. Slumping down I sigh and glance at the flimsy gown between my fingers. *Really* flimsy town. A bloody paper towel is ticker! Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I put it down on the chair there and start to undress. Shirt goes easy, pants a little less. I'm so very much not taking off my boxers. But when I want to go further I've arrived at something that's becoming more and more of a problem.
Balls, I really need to stop sodding eating. I can't even get my shoes off without-- "Hell..." Pulling on the gown, I sigh again and sit down on the chair. It's more of a flop down actually. One that makes me feel every movement in my back. It's with a lot of effort and a lot of groaning of the none pleasant variety that I bend forward into the direction of my problem. My dilemma. Shoes. I can't bloody well get my shoes off!
In fact, even bending forward while sitting down doesn't seem to be enough. I still can't reach my shoes! And when I look up I can see myself in a mirror that's hanging there. Pants down to my ankles, wearing that stupid flimsy gown, looking utterly fat and undesirable and-- I can see more then feel the tears flowing down. I guess the fogged up glasses might have something to do with it.
The moment I hear the knock on the door, I jump though, quickly pulling off my glasses and wiping my eyes. God, what's *wrong* with me! Angel can't take me anywhere it seems without my behaving despicable. And perhaps he's correct to bring you here, isn't he?
"Fine," I squeak, cursing myself when I hear the tremble in my voice. "I'm fine I-- " putting my glasses back up I suck in a deep breath and let it out again. "Can't get my shoes off," I mutter in a whisper, half hoping he doesn't pick up on it, and half hoping he does.
The sight that greets me when I open the door is one of wet cheeks and a miserable expression that speaks of anything *but* fine. "Wes," I murmur softly before slipping inside. "I'll, umm- We'll only be a minute," I turn to tell the demon doctor.
"Wes," I murmur as I squish myself in with him and kneel down, having heard perfectly well what he said. "We'll get you new shoes tomorrow," I reassure him, already prying one shoe off the first foot. I contemplate peeling off his sock too and then decide against it since Wes freezes at a small breeze let alone a cold floor, and instead ease his trousers over his foot.
Looking up with a gentle smile, I lean in to kiss his knee. "I love you," I remind him at the miserable look on his face before getting to work on the other shoe. The second one takes a little more wrestling - are his feet really that swollen? I give his foot a brief massage before removing his pants completely and standing up to give him a hand up.
"Alright, tiger, let's get this over with, okay?" Leaning in, I give him a very soft kiss to his forehead and slip my hand into his with a squeeze before opening the door back up. Stepping back out into the more brightly lit room, I tow Wes along with me so he won't be hiding in that changing room.
"Welcome back, gentlemen. Now if you'll just hop up here, I think we have a very simple cause for your condition, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce," the doctor says, already fiddling with dials and things on the machine thing.
Luckily I was already on the last step and all it does is make me look like an utter fool while I stumble through the lobby. I just hope no one saw that. Sighing, I pull my glasses out, blaming it on the fact that I wasn't wearing them, and make my way over to my office. It doesn't take me long to gather my research.
It takes me quite a while longer to tear myself away from a very interesting book which had been delivered here yesterday. I love going to old book stores myself, but lately my feet and legs had made that impossible. Another thing I wasn't about to share with anything. Cordy's lessons on how to shop online when we were both bored sure as hell paid off now though.
It's not until I hear Angel's voice more then the knock on my door that I jerk my nose out of the book. I look at him guiltily when he finally comes into the office with a look on his face which tells me he's been calling me for some time now. Of course I hadn't noticed nor heard. At least that's not any different after that spell. A lot of things had, but all in all, it had been worth it. My bond with Angel was so much stronger now and my love for him had only grown.
"Ah..." Sheepish I look around guiltily, anywhere but at Angel for a brief moment. This would be he time where he'd try to lecture me. Lecture *me*, imagine that. But since we don't wish that I quickly gather up the supplies I wanted to take with, putting them in what Cordelia stubbornly insist on calling my man-purse. It's just a bag, but she really knows how to get under your skin at times.
As I walk over to Angel, hefting a bag over my shoulder that seems to have grown more heavy then it looks, I give him another pleading look. "Are you certain you cannot take Gunn, love? I really have a lot of work to do." Mostly I just want to go back to bed, try and sleep some more but probably ending up with a bucket or in the kitchen eating more and more.
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So I wasn't worried that I'd have to go hunt him down. No, I was pretty sure I'd have to pull him out of his desk chair though, so I smile fondly at him when he looks up finally, startled as though he had been on another planet. "Not so tired?" I ask, trying to hide my amusement. Maybe this would be easier than I thought, especially with the books he's bringing along.
"I can take that to the car, if you want?" I offer when Wes struggles with the bag. It doesn't look that heavy... I've already got a hand on the small of his back though once he's out of the office. Just got to keep him moving so he doesn't realize that we're leaving until we're already outside.
"It won't take long. But I really need your expertise," I tell him, pointing our trip towards the downstairs doors. The walk through the plants outside will hopefully distract him too. Though not too much. Don't want him stopping for a lecture on night-blooming jasmine or something like that. Hey, it *has* happened. "And I think Gunn's got his hands full with some project he's helping Lorne with." Namely the pool downstairs that we're trying to keep quiet with some of Lorne's mystical mojo so it can be a surprise for Wes. Maybe a daily swim will help him snap out of this illness thing.
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Angel's surprises, while always very sweet, also have a habit of being something to worry about. For me at any rate. Then again, I'm confused about a lot of things lately. Or not so lately but no one needs to know that. There things people say to me that make very little sense while I get the feeling they should. Like Angel asking me if I'm not tired for example. I've no idea what he means, while I get the feeling I should. But I manage to hide my puzzled expression the way I've been able to the last few months.
It helps that I'm to busy dragging this bag of books around. When did these books become so heavy? I'm out of breath before we even reach the stairs! I'm in fact so focused on getting some air into my lungs I don't even have any left to scold Angel for pushing me around. He might not be, but that's how it feels to me. What with his hand pushing my back to make sure I'm not going where he doesn't want me to go. I'm not a bloody child!
The bag keeps slipping from my shoulder so I keep having to heft it on there again and again while Angel rambles on. I know Angel is up to something when he rambles on and keeps me moving. Usually its not something good. "Angel, love, I can walk," I pant as he rushes us though the courtyard, past the flowers and bushes to one of the cars in such a speed it makes me wonder if we even walked.
My feet tell me I most definitely did, as does the rest of my body. You'd think with the way I feel right now I've been running up and down *all* the Hyperion stairs over and over again.
"Gunn is helping out Lorne?" I murmur, giving him a confused look while I wait for him to open the car. "I don't know of any project they have?" How can they have a project? I've not given them any project! Who's the bloody boss around here! Dammit! Even more confused I get into the car, wincing when the bag filled with books slips from my shoulder again and crashes to the floor.
"Oh... bugger... " I whisper, looking at it crestfallen before large eyes and a wobbly lip move to look at Angel. Blurred Angel. Oh. Glasses. Never mind that. I just hurt my books!
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"There we go," I say, starting to open the door for Wes, who actually gets in with a minimum of questions- Oh, damn. That sucks. Well, we'll get the books gathered up and be on our way. Right?
The look on Wesley's face tells me I could be very wrong about that.
I'm already crouched down picking up the books when I notice the way his lip is trembling. ....What the hell? I didn't hurt them! I didn't!! They're fine, the books are fine, which I'm about to protest, but...something tells me I shouldn't. "I've got 'em, tiger." I give him a tentative smile as I gather them all up and shuffle them carefully back into his purs- bag. "They're safe." I hold the bag for Wes to take, hoping he'll fold himself into the car as well.
...Now I know Wes is sensitive about his books, but nearly crying about them spilling out of his bag...is not normal. I'm more likely get a scolding and a disapproving look. Or I used to be.
"Alright, in you go. Then we can get you back and be napping before you know it."
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And now I've dropped my books. They'll be damaged. They've gotten hurt and they'll never forgive me. Books have-- Alright, where did that come from? I give myself a confused shake when I realized I've caught myself crying over the silliest things lately. Even inanimate things like these books. Luckily I've been alone all these times since I was never able to actually stop myself. But this time Angel's here.
I bite down on my bottom lip hard while I watch him shove the books into the bag and then handing them over to me. "Thank you," I get out in a chocked up whisper. A hand comes up to wipe over my eyes and I'm half afraid they'll come away wet. Doesn't seem to be the case. Yet. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. But I really can't seem to stop myself. So I sit there, nodding at whatever Angel tells me, clutching the bag with books close to me.
I'm so engrossed with my own confusing thoughts, that I don't pay much attention to where we're going. Probably some sewer or some dirty old shop where we're going to meet an informant. I've no idea why Angel would want me along. Meeting informants is something I usually do on my own... Then again, Angel or the others wont let me go *anywhere* on my own lately.
But when Angel announces that we've arrived, I don't expect to find some very old, but very well kept and rich mansion to show up in my view. A frown creases my forehead while I turn to look at Angel confused. "Doesn't that-- demon doctor live here?" I ask, watching as Angel drives under the house. Of course a demon doctor would think of everything.
"Is one of his patients a new client of ours?" Could be. I mean, abuse is not just a human thing, or stalking, or-- divorce due to cheating spouse. Still, confusing. I hope I can find the loo quick enough, because I'm feeling my breakfast play tricks on me again.
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Thank God, he got in the car. I wasn't sure if I was going to have to bodily shove him in with the way Wes was reacting, but I think Wes was too focused on cradling the books carefully and not letting that beautiful lip of his wobble into full-blown tears. Which is just *weird* even for Wes.
When we finally pull through the gates at the address that Lorne gave me, Wes seems to snap out of it a little, eyes going wide at the sight. Can't say mine aren't taking in the scenery a little too.
I'm kind leaning towards not answering Wes' question, but that seems like an even more ineffective method than lying. "Uhh, yeah," I say, stopping at the head of the arced driveway. "We're doing a little undercover work." I bite my tongue to keep from adding that we're checking out how he treats his patients, i.e. Wes is gonna be one of them. And wouldn't that send Wes screaming for the hills.
I get around the car in a flash to open his door when I see that look on his face. That one he's had a lot lately that says he's not going to be keeping anything in his stomach for long. There's already a nurse type woman...demony thing coming out to meet us, her little bit of a pink tail sweeping around. "Is there, umm, a bathroom we could use?" I say, helping Wes out of the car, and wondering if we're going to make it that far.
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The way this-this whomever this woman is, demon woman something rather? At any way, the way she's looking at me doesn't sit well. She looks at me the way nurses have looked at me when one of the others managed to drag me into the ER and called ahead with a warning. Just because that one time I snuck off and had hidden in the loo, or that one time I said to go for some fresh air and went home. And alright there was that one time that--
-- that's the way she's looking at me. With the narrowed eyes of someone who's been forewarned. Now why would she look at me in such a way when we're only here for some research. To meet with a client. why would she look at me in such a matter then? That's just bizarre, since neither Angel nor I need a doctor, let alone a demon doctor.
"Yeah, sure," the nurse woman demon says, her tone of voice rather nasal. Which is when I notice she had a very flat nose. In fact, one could say she has no nose at all. Fascinating! I wonder what sort of demon she is? No nose, tail, pinkish skin hmmm... Wait. Why does Angel need to go to the bathroom? I give him a confused look at that when my own stomach acts up again and I have to reach up to press my hand in front of my mouth.
"Oh bloody.." I whisper, giving the woman a grateful look when she waves a hand - either those are nails or claws and I don't care at the moment - in the general direction. I don't have much time before rushing in and falling down on my knees in front of the loo. There's not much to throw up of course, since I've bloody well done a festive round of retching at home! I'm also extremely disturbed by the look this nurse gave me.
Especially when I hear her murmur to Angel, "Now I'm no expert of course, but speaking from past experience...?" The rest of what she says goes lost when I start to heave again, feeling like my head my explode and tears are falling down my face. This is utterly humiliating. Not just embarrassing, but humiliating.
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My hand is rubbing gently over Wes' back while he clutches the toilet like a lifeline. I like it when he does that to me, but the toilet? Not so much. I can feel the nurse watching us, but hopefully Wes won't notice. His face is flushed, and I'm guessing it's not from fever.
I grab a damp paper towel ready to help cool him down once he's through. Don't like watching his ribcage rise and fall like that. So heavy and weak at the same time. This really takes it out of him. Don't like it at all.
Gingerly, I help him when he seems to be done, taking my cues from him. I let some cool water run so he can rinse out his mouth. My hand is still there gently rubbing over his back, of course. Can't seem to stop. Have to have *something* to do to make him feel better.
"You okay, tiger?" I ask so that only he can hear.
"The doctor's ready to see you now. I can show you to the exam room whenever you're ready," comes the voice from the hallway, somewhat nasally. She even kind of sounds like she's smiling I cringe a little, and hope that Wes isn't paying any attention to the words 'exam room.'
"We'll, umm, be there in a minute," I say, unsure what to say, but very happy just to let Wes lean against my for the time being until he can function again. All the more reason why we need to get to that doctor though.
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By the time the dry heaves finally stop, I'm nearly hyperventilating, chest heaving up and down painfully. I manage to pull myself upright and away from Angel, staggering toward the sink to wash my face and try to *not* look as though I just vomited for no particular reason. I hadn't even eaten anything! Bloody... This is truly getting ridiculous. Whatever but I have inside me to cause this, it should've ran it's course by now.
"Y-yes, I'm-I'm fine, Angel. Thank you," I rasp, rinsing my mouth and splashing some water on my face. By the time finally seem myself reasonably presentable - it'll have to do - I right myself and quickly glance over at Angel with a look of shame. Humiliation. This is the reason I'm not going along with these things the last few-- month's.
"I'm so sorry," I mumble, "I've no idea what--" Whatever I wanted to say next is drowned out when I suddenly hear the nurses voice nearby. I actually find myself jumping at the sound of it, having forgotten she was there. If I thought I was blushing with embarrassment before, it's nothing compared to what it's doing now.
I'm so busy trying to find a hole to crawl in for-- oh possibly the next decade, I almost mist her words. Exam room? Why-why would a client see us in an exam room? Even if they are a doctor. Eyes narrowing with suspicion they turn away from the door and focus on Angel. That is a little strange. As is the way Angel looks suddenly rather guilty. I've seen that look before.
"He never seemed the type to be short on cash," I point out more then a little weary. "He should be able to afford an office. Why is he asking us to meet him in the exam room? Is it--" A frown while I glance from Angel to the door where the nurse left moments ago, "Is it haunted?"
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"Uhh, yeah. Haunted. Some patient did some spell accidentally the other day. Doesn't know what spell it is," I say, holding out a hand towards the door to let Wes go first. I know better than to leave him any kind of escape route when around doctors. "That's what I need you here. Erm. To observe."
I hustle Wes out of the bathroom towards the waiting nurse. I can only imagine what this is going to be like if we have to come for follow-up visits. Wes hates doctors, hospitals, and anything associated with that stuff.
"Alright, gentlemen, it's right through here. If you'll just put on the gown on the table, the doctor will be with you in a moment."
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Like it or not, when it comes to magic and spells? I am the next best thing after Lorne. Though-- "Why would a patient do a spell here?" I mutter confused, thinking how little sense that makes. Come to think of it, Angel has been making very little sense lately. All - as Cordy and Gunn would say - jumpy when I enter a room. Actually, Cordelia and Gunn act as such as well. As does Lorne.
"You want me here to observe? Observe what?" I ask perplexed while being all but manhandles out of the bathroom. "Really Angel, there's no need to--" And there's that nurse again. With that look on her face. And that whole posture that seems to scream something I can't put my finger on. I really wish she would not look at me in such a way. That smile is making my skin crawl.
She leads us into the exam room with the usual cold clinical professionalism these people all over the globe seem to have. My brain must be affected by whatever this bug is because once again her words don't fully register after my politely muttered "Thank you, Madam" and until she closes the door. With a sound that has an air of finality.
Crossing my arms over my chest I slowly turn around and glare at Angel. One eyebrow raised as I glance at aforementioned gown and then back at him. "Which one of us is supposed to be putting that gown and... why?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes as my suspicion grows. I'm not a fool. I can do the math. I'm sick, Angel's worried, and this is a doctor. Ergo-this visit is going to not take place I'm thinking.
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I follow him through the door, grateful to Wes' brain for making him fall into that automatic polite response he has of doing what he's told. "Observe, umm, the room. You know, there are some poltergeist things happening, I think. Books flying around, that sort of thing," I babble, relieved finally when the door closes.
Only to find a glare. A very big glare awaiting me. A very not impressed glare. A glare that says Wes is going to not be speaking to me for several hours after this. Or days.
"I, erm. You. For protection. You know, human, crazy magic running around, I'm a vampire, so it won't, you know..." I trail off in the face of that never ending glare. "Please?" I say, after several moments of silence, resorting to my last resort. He knows I don't like to use that word very often.
"You're not well, Wes," I murmur, making sure that I'm standing in front of the door without looking obvious about it. "We're all really worried," I add quietly, looking at him with the emotions clear on my face. Very worried. Very, very worried. What is Connor going to do if something happens to his Papa? Not to mention Cordy and Gunn. And I-- Yeah, heart constricting - I wonder if Wes can feel that now with the mark... - not thinking about that.
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"Because you can't observe books when they fly around?" I mutter, some irritation staring to shine through. And as per usual this wake up my sarcasm. I'm usually very capable of curbing it, unless it's around Cordelia who's expecting it. But really these sort of weak excuses really wake up that habit without fail.
The one about the gown is even more ridiculous. I actually do a double take before straightening to my full height. Which is usually makes me slightly taller then Angel except lately is just doesn't feel that way. I feel small, and weak and *fat*! Fat. I never thought I'd feel fat but there you have it.
"You really expect me to believe that a flimsy gown," I start in that calm, dark tone of voice I rarely use while picking up said flimsy gown, "paper even," I add, waving the thing in front of his face, "is going to protect me from *anything*? Really Angel, I would have thought you of all people would give me a little more credit."
For heavens sake. Does he think me that stupid? Or, I realize moments later, he is that desperate. It's the small please and murmured 'you're not well' which has me deflating a little. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and put the damn gown back on the table. I'm not putting that on, not in a million years. It has no back for starters! And--
"Really Angel, I'm fine. Just a little bug that's been well-- bugging me. There's nothing wrong with me," I tell him, inching closer to the door and wondering why Angel seems to be moving with me.
"Why don't I'll be the judge of that," a booming voice suddenly echo's through the room, making me jump again. "I am the doctor here after all. Unless you're a doctor Mister," the tall man looks at his clipboard,"Wyndam-Pryce?"
And when I say tall, I do mean tall. As in rather huge. I think it's quite possible this man - demon - is capable of looming over Angel. And yet he's smiling. That medical 'everything is fine' smile, the one which makes me so nervous.
"Err.. No, Sir, I'm-I'm not but..."
The gown is thrust into my face in a no nonsense matter and a sharp finger points at a door. "Good. You can change over there while I talk to your-- erm.. Mister Angel." There's a look being aimed at me, reminding me far to much of the one my father used to give me and I find myself scurrying for that changing room rather hastily. Hopefully there's another door there.
"Don't worry," I hear the doctor say as I close the door, "there's only one door. Now, Mister Angel. One the phone you mentioned--"
Bugger. Bugger it all. Oh Angel is going to be hearing about this. Count on it.
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"It's been months," I add while the doctor nods, not really jotting down things like I'd been hoping he would. "Umm, and then he eats...all day. Everything in sight," I say, quieter so that only the doctor can hear, because I'm betting that would embarrass the hell out of Wes. "And he has to pee all the time. His back is killing him, his feet- He always wants a foot massage..." Finally I raise my voice to a more normal level, "Do you think it's bad?"
The doctor...actually chuckles. I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. Uh, okay, no. This is serious! Wes could be really sick! I look towards the door and back at the doctor who's smiling and pulling out some large-ish...machine thing. With a tv screen. Huh. "I'll, uhh, just...check on him." Yeah, knowing our luck with Wes and hospitals, he'll just stay in there until he thinks we've left or something.
"Wes?" I knock before turning the handle peeking in a sliver in case he's not decent. "Need any help?
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But then I hear his quiet please and see the look on his face. Slumping down I sigh and glance at the flimsy gown between my fingers. *Really* flimsy town. A bloody paper towel is ticker! Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I put it down on the chair there and start to undress. Shirt goes easy, pants a little less. I'm so very much not taking off my boxers. But when I want to go further I've arrived at something that's becoming more and more of a problem.
Balls, I really need to stop sodding eating. I can't even get my shoes off without-- "Hell..." Pulling on the gown, I sigh again and sit down on the chair. It's more of a flop down actually. One that makes me feel every movement in my back. It's with a lot of effort and a lot of groaning of the none pleasant variety that I bend forward into the direction of my problem. My dilemma. Shoes. I can't bloody well get my shoes off!
In fact, even bending forward while sitting down doesn't seem to be enough. I still can't reach my shoes! And when I look up I can see myself in a mirror that's hanging there. Pants down to my ankles, wearing that stupid flimsy gown, looking utterly fat and undesirable and-- I can see more then feel the tears flowing down. I guess the fogged up glasses might have something to do with it.
The moment I hear the knock on the door, I jump though, quickly pulling off my glasses and wiping my eyes. God, what's *wrong* with me! Angel can't take me anywhere it seems without my behaving despicable. And perhaps he's correct to bring you here, isn't he?
"Fine," I squeak, cursing myself when I hear the tremble in my voice. "I'm fine I-- " putting my glasses back up I suck in a deep breath and let it out again. "Can't get my shoes off," I mutter in a whisper, half hoping he doesn't pick up on it, and half hoping he does.
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"Wes," I murmur as I squish myself in with him and kneel down, having heard perfectly well what he said. "We'll get you new shoes tomorrow," I reassure him, already prying one shoe off the first foot. I contemplate peeling off his sock too and then decide against it since Wes freezes at a small breeze let alone a cold floor, and instead ease his trousers over his foot.
Looking up with a gentle smile, I lean in to kiss his knee. "I love you," I remind him at the miserable look on his face before getting to work on the other shoe. The second one takes a little more wrestling - are his feet really that swollen? I give his foot a brief massage before removing his pants completely and standing up to give him a hand up.
"Alright, tiger, let's get this over with, okay?" Leaning in, I give him a very soft kiss to his forehead and slip my hand into his with a squeeze before opening the door back up. Stepping back out into the more brightly lit room, I tow Wes along with me so he won't be hiding in that changing room.
"Welcome back, gentlemen. Now if you'll just hop up here, I think we have a very simple cause for your condition, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce," the doctor says, already fiddling with dials and things on the machine thing.
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