I feel a growl rising (he's obviously not okay, but not willing to let a few things slide to take care of himself), along with the urge to be protective and tell him what he needs to do. He never puts himself first, always work, so now's my chance to try to get him to take a break and sleep or grieve or whatever. But I don't do either. He’s not my property. I should get used to that. This is work, and he knows what’s best. We didn't get this far by having me tell my top researcher to take the day off just because we had sex. Can't let this interfere with what needs to be done. One concession now and I'll be telling him all about the Circle, and letting him convince me not to do it
( ... )
The moment I draw back and pull up the wall again, I can actually see him recoil from it. Is it because of what we shared just now that I see this? Or did I just not want to see how he did it before? Or did I simply not see it? It hurts, it hurts as much as the walls around me. They come up easily these days. Walls which took years to carefully construct. New walls wrapped in insanity to keep sanity and the horrible pain away
( ... )
I'm going to miss that smile. Even if it's only until tonight. It's a beautiful thing, Wes smiling. But the fact that he doesn't remember what we were talking about makes me wonder what else is going on in his brain. I try to hide my curiosity when I look across the desk at Wes. Normally, he'd be telling me what we were talking about. Guess he was in a worse place than I thought. Or you really wore him out just now. The thought makes me want to smile, but there's Hamilton to talk about so any residual happiness fades fast.
"He's a nuisance. Worse than Eve. I need him out of my way for awhile, Wes." I look around his office, and notice the books everywhere, and the spilled whiskey on the floor. Is he really going to be able to handle this? And come back to you the same man? "I can't just tell him to go away though, he'd be even more curious about why I want him gone. I need someone to handle him for me. Be my liaison liaison." I smile a little at my play on words, but immediately fall back into serious mode
( ... )
Trying to get comfortable, while sitting down, after our activities, isn’t really something that is actually possible. I’m guessing I’ll be feeling this for days to come. Which brings a smile to my face, as it really don’t mind this kind of pain. It seems to ground me, make me feel what Angel and I shared was real. That it wasn’t one of my rather frequent illusions of late. And I’d had a lot of those. Wasn’t sure they were really gone. They seemed to come and go whenever they wished
( ... )
When he leans forward that little bit with that unasked question in his eyes, the desk seems impossibly wide and he seems impossibly far away and I know I'm asking too much of him. I'm always asking too much of him. My hand moves of its own accord to the desk edge, and I find myself leaning forward too, wanting to reach further, reach for his hand, touch him again and know that he's not so far. But my hand just rests on the desk, another aborted attempt at touching him. Or, really, trying not to touch him. This isn't going to be easy.
more dangerous, cunning and clevererThe same could be said of Wes before Illyria put the last nail in his casket. All the more reason why I'm hoping he'll be able to understand Hamilton. If he's still got it in him. Maybe before he could have... I don't know why I have so much faith that he'll be able to get to Hamilton now when it looks like a small breeze could blow him over. It doesn't make me feel any less guilty about what we just did when I knew he was so fragile. Doesn't make me feel
( ... )
The tone of his voice took me by surprised. I actually sat back in my chair as though putting some physical distance between us would make me less taken aback. Closing my mouth with an audible snap, I swallow hard and wonder what happened to make the Angel I’d seen in his office come back. Was it something I did? All I did was wonder if Hamilton would actually fall for such a thing. Question his plan, nothing I’d not done before. And he had reacted in similar ways before as well. And yet…
“Hurts huh?”
My eyes glanced to the side, and I noticed Cordelia walking around, looking at my office with interest. She was dead, I knew that much. But here she was, again, walking around as though nothing ever happened. She turned to me and gave me a sad smile before here eyes slid to angel. “On the bright side? At least you go to third base.”I looked at her confused at that, but then realized that she had loved Angel as much as I did. I wonder what would’ve happened if Cordelia had lived and would be here. Angel and I would’ve never gotten
( ... )
The storm of frustration churning and spreading inside was ready move out full force and then Wes whispers all tiny and small and it's gone. He needs me. I think
( ... )
He seems puzzled for a moment by my question, but his answer is very fast. I can’t help but give him a small smile for that, even if he had no idea what he’d denying. “Cursed,” I whisper, as thought saying the word twice will make it less true. “I’m thinking I might be,” I mutter, more to myself then to Angel in particular. “Everyone I’ve love a certain way
( ... )
Hell. I don't what I did, but he's looking off into space and rambling on about being cursed. Why couldn't I have saved Fred? She'd be able to take care of him. But then, he wouldn't need taking care of if she were still around. My hand balls into a fist. I don't know what to do here, this is not my area of expertise. I brood, I fight, and I hurt people. I don't put them back together. I tried with Faith, I tried with Connor, you tried with Lindsey and look where it got me. Nowhere. I'm no one's savior.
He comes back to me and then it's all garbled sense about Virginia and kissing, and dying. He looks terrified. Wes doesn't look terrified. How often does he let his emotions go to look happy? If he's looking at me like I'm going to disappear any second, something is seriously wrong. I get up and before he says dust I'm next to his chair. Screw the not touching. I have to do somethingI kneel down so we're closer to eye level and I can hold on to his hand. I like holding Wes's hand. It comforts me, too. "Right here
( ... )
And suddenly he’s moving so fast I hardly have time to blink before he’s right in front of me. Which is probably a good thing. Just having time to blink, means having time to think. And Angel getting up would usual mean he’s leaving and I’ve done something to scare him off. Which had not been my intent. But he’s not leaving, he’s right in front of me, looking at me with those brown eyes I’m drowning in them. He had gorgeous eyes.
My hand in his is warm and the cool one clasping mine feels more real then the reality around me. He’s real. He’s here. I have to keep telling me that. My eyes dart up to look over his shoulder to see what Cordelia thinks of this. But she’s gone, the moment Angel touched me she seems to have left. Glancing back at Angel, I nod when he says he’s right there. And he’s just a vampire with a… wait a minute.
“A boy? I realize you’re older then I am technically, Angel. But I’m hardly a boy.” I scowl at him a bit, but then recall my fathers visit. He was always calling me boy. Is. He is always calling me boy. I
( ... )
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"He's a nuisance. Worse than Eve. I need him out of my way for awhile, Wes." I look around his office, and notice the books everywhere, and the spilled whiskey on the floor. Is he really going to be able to handle this? And come back to you the same man? "I can't just tell him to go away though, he'd be even more curious about why I want him gone. I need someone to handle him for me. Be my liaison liaison." I smile a little at my play on words, but immediately fall back into serious mode ( ... )
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more dangerous, cunning and clevererThe same could be said of Wes before Illyria put the last nail in his casket. All the more reason why I'm hoping he'll be able to understand Hamilton. If he's still got it in him. Maybe before he could have... I don't know why I have so much faith that he'll be able to get to Hamilton now when it looks like a small breeze could blow him over. It doesn't make me feel any less guilty about what we just did when I knew he was so fragile. Doesn't make me feel ( ... )
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“Hurts huh?”
My eyes glanced to the side, and I noticed Cordelia walking around, looking at my office with interest. She was dead, I knew that much. But here she was, again, walking around as though nothing ever happened. She turned to me and gave me a sad smile before here eyes slid to angel. “On the bright side? At least you go to third base.”I looked at her confused at that, but then realized that she had loved Angel as much as I did. I wonder what would’ve happened if Cordelia had lived and would be here. Angel and I would’ve never gotten ( ... )
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He comes back to me and then it's all garbled sense about Virginia and kissing, and dying. He looks terrified. Wes doesn't look terrified. How often does he let his emotions go to look happy? If he's looking at me like I'm going to disappear any second, something is seriously wrong. I get up and before he says dust I'm next to his chair. Screw the not touching. I have to do somethingI kneel down so we're closer to eye level and I can hold on to his hand. I like holding Wes's hand. It comforts me, too. "Right here ( ... )
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My hand in his is warm and the cool one clasping mine feels more real then the reality around me. He’s real. He’s here. I have to keep telling me that. My eyes dart up to look over his shoulder to see what Cordelia thinks of this. But she’s gone, the moment Angel touched me she seems to have left. Glancing back at Angel, I nod when he says he’s right there. And he’s just a vampire with a… wait a minute.
“A boy? I realize you’re older then I am technically, Angel. But I’m hardly a boy.” I scowl at him a bit, but then recall my fathers visit. He was always calling me boy. Is. He is always calling me boy. I ( ... )
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