The Next Morning
The alarm went off and my hand immediately slammed down on it, pushing snooze or off or whatever. I blinked my eyes a few times to adjust to the light, but it was still pretty dark in the room. The curtains were drawn - thank fucking God - and I rolled over onto my stomach, stretching out over the bed. I think it was the nicest fucking bed I'd slept in. Biggest, at least.
Sitting up slowly, I reached over for the left-over cigarettes from last night and fumbled for one, snagging a match from the pretty matchbook the hotel had given and lighting up. Last night had been...interesting.
I had finally danced for a bit, trying to just wind down, lose some of the fucking energy I had. Wes had kept true to his word, and had stayed at our table - not dancing - but it felt good for me. I'd gotten buzzed, never really drunk, which was fine by me. Didn't wanna wake up with a shitty hangover, after all.
We still hadn't fucking talked about...well, about anything. We'd kinda danced around the whole issue of him leaving L.A. and Angel - yeah, we were gonna talk about that one soon - and the whole Watcher thing? Fuck if I knew exactly what went through his head. Like, ever.
"Wes?"
I hopped outta bed, rolling my neck as I looked around for him. Guess that whole thing about us sharing the same bed hadn't been an issue......
"Wesley?"
Ok, so he'd either bailed on me or had something he needed to 'take care of', like he'd mentioned last night. Whatever. I actually figured it would be the last one, since we'd clinked glasses and everything, toasting to us. I sat down on the edge of the bed, cig in one hand and remote in the other as I flipped through the channels on our fucking awesome T.V. that came up outta nowhere.
It got me thinking, which, y'know? Never good. Wes had been cold to me back when he'd broken me outta jail, trying to get under my skin to kill. I wouldn't though, I just...I couldn't. I owed Angel a helluva lot, and...that just wasn't me anymore. I kept telling myself that over and over as I replayed me torturing Wes, me getting ready to kill him after he'd pushed me to the edge that one time...
What the fuck was he doing hanging around me? I wasn't some fucking girl to be saved, to be rescued, to...shit. Running a hand through my hair, I sighed cuz I did need him. Giles had been right...I needed someone and...well, Wes was the only one I think who could really help me.
Shit. It was too early to be thinking about all of this.
((Open to Wesley))
Sitting up slowly, I reached over for the left-over cigarettes from last night and fumbled for one, snagging a match from the pretty matchbook the hotel had given and lighting up. Last night had been...interesting.
I had finally danced for a bit, trying to just wind down, lose some of the fucking energy I had. Wes had kept true to his word, and had stayed at our table - not dancing - but it felt good for me. I'd gotten buzzed, never really drunk, which was fine by me. Didn't wanna wake up with a shitty hangover, after all.
We still hadn't fucking talked about...well, about anything. We'd kinda danced around the whole issue of him leaving L.A. and Angel - yeah, we were gonna talk about that one soon - and the whole Watcher thing? Fuck if I knew exactly what went through his head. Like, ever.
"Wes?"
I hopped outta bed, rolling my neck as I looked around for him. Guess that whole thing about us sharing the same bed hadn't been an issue......
"Wesley?"
Ok, so he'd either bailed on me or had something he needed to 'take care of', like he'd mentioned last night. Whatever. I actually figured it would be the last one, since we'd clinked glasses and everything, toasting to us. I sat down on the edge of the bed, cig in one hand and remote in the other as I flipped through the channels on our fucking awesome T.V. that came up outta nowhere.
It got me thinking, which, y'know? Never good. Wes had been cold to me back when he'd broken me outta jail, trying to get under my skin to kill. I wouldn't though, I just...I couldn't. I owed Angel a helluva lot, and...that just wasn't me anymore. I kept telling myself that over and over as I replayed me torturing Wes, me getting ready to kill him after he'd pushed me to the edge that one time...
What the fuck was he doing hanging around me? I wasn't some fucking girl to be saved, to be rescued, to...shit. Running a hand through my hair, I sighed cuz I did need him. Giles had been right...I needed someone and...well, Wes was the only one I think who could really help me.
Shit. It was too early to be thinking about all of this.
((Open to Wesley))