fluffython fic 1: Wes/Angel + Baby!Connor
Title: "Korvish"
Fandom: Angel: the series
Pairing: Wes/Angel (with a side of baby!Connor)
Rating: PG
Summary: An expected reunion
Notes: Fluffython fic for blueswan9, who requested W/A with baby!Connor and explaining Valentine's Day. Not quite as fluffy as it could be (thus, a second fic will be posted shortly).
Wordcount: 1,267
Korvish
Angel caught up with them halfway between LA and Colorado City. Wesley sensed his coming, had perhaps accepted it as inevitable since they'd crossed the California state line early that morning. He cuddled Connor closer to his chest instinctively, stopped the car, waited. He was prepared to die protecting him if that was what it took, and for a moment his vision grayed, and he could only see himself dying, Angel devouring both of them, Angel, grieving, remembering that Wesley had died saving his son.
He shook aside his morbid fantasies and opened the car door, carefully balancing Connor as he slipped out of his car and faced Angel.
Angel walked slowly, deliberately, till he was about ten paces away from them, then stopped. "It was a lie," he said.
Wesley looked at him, tightening his grip on Angel's son, refusing to look down. His hand moved towards the revolver by his right hip, though he knew that it would be useless against Angel (against Angelus).
"Or at least, it was misleading," Angel continued. "No -- it was a lie. A demon, name of Sahjean, real chip on his shoulder --"
Wesley felt tendrils of hope start to bind his heart. He tried to fight them back, to think rationally, to remember that the last time he'd had a moment of hope, the building had crumbled around them, fire poured from the floor, and Angel had looked at Connor like he was food. He refused the gift of hope.
"It's true," said Angel. "Trust me." He tossed a scroll to Wesley, and Wesley bent down to pick it up, careful not to jostle Connor. He read it to himself, once, twice. Why couldn't I have found this two days ago?
He took a deliberate step towards Angel, then, pushing down his pride, he said, "I'm sorry, Angel. I am sorry."
Angel gave him a long, layered look, then closed the gap between them, till he was almost close enough to snatch Connor out of Wesley's arms.
"So you're ready to trust me with him again?"
Wesley considered that. "Will you trust me?"
The reluctance was visible in Angel's eyes -- he loved his son irrationally, irresponsibly, and he didn't want to relinquish the care of him to anyone. But Wesley didn't look away, and finally Angel said, "You aren't really giving me a choice, are you?"
"Not really," Wesley said mildly, and was rewarded with a tiny smile. "We should go," he said presently, realizing with a start that they were stopped at an abandoned weigh station while hundreds of cars hurtled past them through the darkness. The rest of the world had vanished as soon as Angel had stepped out of his car. Angel, as always, had consumed Wesley's mind.
"Yeah," said Angel. "Somehow, I don't think we're getting back to the Hyperion before sunrise."
"Doubtful," said Wesley. "We should get a room."
He felt vaguely vindicated when Angel smirked at him, but the smirk faded when they began the intense negotiations over whose car Connor would ride in that night. Wesley finally ended up in Angel's passenger seat, Connor tucked snugly between them, contentedly sleeping through the whole reunion.
~~~
Wesley flicked the news on and off impatiently, hoping he was annoying Angel, who was curled up on his chosen bed, alternately staring at Connor adoringly and glancing up at the television screen to see if Los Angeles had burned to the ground in his absence. Wesley took a deep breath, muted the television so he could hear himself think, and pondered Angel, whose infinite complexity he thought about only slightly less than he was sure Angel himself thought about it.
Tonight, for a change, Angel wasn't thinking, brooding, or examining his conscience. He was almost bouncing, teasing Connor with a rattle when he woke up, stroking his hair gently when he slept. Wesley let himself smile a little, still wary of Angel being so close to his son, but realizing that he couldn't spend the rest of his life watching Angel out of the corner of his eye, worrying.
Angel happened to glance up at that moment, and, seeing Wesley smiling, he hauled himself off the bed and over to Wesley's side of the room. "You know what day it is today?" he asked, voice all innocence and lightness.
Wesley glanced at his watch. "The fourteenth of February," he said. "Why?"
Angel gave him a look that Wesley was sure he'd learned from Cordelia. He racked his brain, trying to recall if there was any reason for the date to be important. Angel didn't celebrate his birthday, for reasons which weren't entirely clear to Wesley, and he hadn't celebrated the date of his turning since the late eighteen hundreds. (There were records of the celebrations before that, massacres that Darla and Angelus had wrought in the name of gaiety. But Angel was not Angelus, and he had been turned in the summer. It was winter now.)
"February fourteenth?" Angel said, looking hard at Wesley. "Ringing any bells?"
After a beat, Wesley remembered. "The feast of St. Valentine," he said. "You suspect a Korvish demon is around, exploiting the romantic energies that --"
"Wes, do you ever relax your guard?"
If he relaxed his guard, then Angel turned to Angelus. If he relaxed his guard, then Angel devoured his son, Faith went bad, Buffy died, Fred and Gunn and Cordelia and Connor died, if he was negligent, even for a moment... "No."
"It's Valentine's Day," said Angel. "A celebration of love and of lovers." Wesley felt uncomfortably close to Angel all of a sudden. "We should celebrate. Especially since it's Connor's first Valentine's Day." He pondered that for a minute. "Not, of course, that he'll be allowed to go out with anyone for at least twenty years."
"But it's important that he learn what love is," Wesley said faintly. "He'll always be surrounded by loving aunts and uncles, and by his father."
"Exactly," said Angel, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And we should start by celebrating Valentine's Day properly, as a family."
Wesley, still sitting primly on the double bed, considered his phrasing carefully, but he finally blurted out, "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"Never better," said Angel, smiling.
"I think perhaps dating a seventeen-year-old girl has affected you more than you'd like to admit."
"The only Sunnydale Valentine's Day I remember I spent with an inexplicable urge to bite Xander."
"Ah."
"The year after that, we celebrating by slaying some Korvishes who were trying to raise the spirit of their ancient progenitor."
"I see. You're saying that this romanticism is just... you?"
"Why? Do you think I'm not romantic?"
Gulp. There really was no right answer to that one. Wesley's head hurt. Twelve hours ago, he had been driving away from LA, convinced that he would never see Angel again, and now the man was, well, if he was perfectly honest, Angel was trying to seduce him. And, if previous experience was any indication, he was probably going to succeed.
"I didn't get you a card or anything," Angel said. "When I left LA, I was kind of..."
"Panicked," said Wesley. "So was I. Somehow, I'm feeling much better now."
"Me too." Angel kept playing with his hands awkwardly. It occurred to Wesley that they were equally nervous.
He smiled a genuine smile and stood up. "Well, shall we do this thing properly?"
Angel nodded hesitantly, and Wesley took that as his invitation. He bent ever so slightly and kissed Angel.
He'd missed this so much.
Fandom: Angel: the series
Pairing: Wes/Angel (with a side of baby!Connor)
Rating: PG
Summary: An expected reunion
Notes: Fluffython fic for blueswan9, who requested W/A with baby!Connor and explaining Valentine's Day. Not quite as fluffy as it could be (thus, a second fic will be posted shortly).
Wordcount: 1,267
Korvish
Angel caught up with them halfway between LA and Colorado City. Wesley sensed his coming, had perhaps accepted it as inevitable since they'd crossed the California state line early that morning. He cuddled Connor closer to his chest instinctively, stopped the car, waited. He was prepared to die protecting him if that was what it took, and for a moment his vision grayed, and he could only see himself dying, Angel devouring both of them, Angel, grieving, remembering that Wesley had died saving his son.
He shook aside his morbid fantasies and opened the car door, carefully balancing Connor as he slipped out of his car and faced Angel.
Angel walked slowly, deliberately, till he was about ten paces away from them, then stopped. "It was a lie," he said.
Wesley looked at him, tightening his grip on Angel's son, refusing to look down. His hand moved towards the revolver by his right hip, though he knew that it would be useless against Angel (against Angelus).
"Or at least, it was misleading," Angel continued. "No -- it was a lie. A demon, name of Sahjean, real chip on his shoulder --"
Wesley felt tendrils of hope start to bind his heart. He tried to fight them back, to think rationally, to remember that the last time he'd had a moment of hope, the building had crumbled around them, fire poured from the floor, and Angel had looked at Connor like he was food. He refused the gift of hope.
"It's true," said Angel. "Trust me." He tossed a scroll to Wesley, and Wesley bent down to pick it up, careful not to jostle Connor. He read it to himself, once, twice. Why couldn't I have found this two days ago?
He took a deliberate step towards Angel, then, pushing down his pride, he said, "I'm sorry, Angel. I am sorry."
Angel gave him a long, layered look, then closed the gap between them, till he was almost close enough to snatch Connor out of Wesley's arms.
"So you're ready to trust me with him again?"
Wesley considered that. "Will you trust me?"
The reluctance was visible in Angel's eyes -- he loved his son irrationally, irresponsibly, and he didn't want to relinquish the care of him to anyone. But Wesley didn't look away, and finally Angel said, "You aren't really giving me a choice, are you?"
"Not really," Wesley said mildly, and was rewarded with a tiny smile. "We should go," he said presently, realizing with a start that they were stopped at an abandoned weigh station while hundreds of cars hurtled past them through the darkness. The rest of the world had vanished as soon as Angel had stepped out of his car. Angel, as always, had consumed Wesley's mind.
"Yeah," said Angel. "Somehow, I don't think we're getting back to the Hyperion before sunrise."
"Doubtful," said Wesley. "We should get a room."
He felt vaguely vindicated when Angel smirked at him, but the smirk faded when they began the intense negotiations over whose car Connor would ride in that night. Wesley finally ended up in Angel's passenger seat, Connor tucked snugly between them, contentedly sleeping through the whole reunion.
~~~
Wesley flicked the news on and off impatiently, hoping he was annoying Angel, who was curled up on his chosen bed, alternately staring at Connor adoringly and glancing up at the television screen to see if Los Angeles had burned to the ground in his absence. Wesley took a deep breath, muted the television so he could hear himself think, and pondered Angel, whose infinite complexity he thought about only slightly less than he was sure Angel himself thought about it.
Tonight, for a change, Angel wasn't thinking, brooding, or examining his conscience. He was almost bouncing, teasing Connor with a rattle when he woke up, stroking his hair gently when he slept. Wesley let himself smile a little, still wary of Angel being so close to his son, but realizing that he couldn't spend the rest of his life watching Angel out of the corner of his eye, worrying.
Angel happened to glance up at that moment, and, seeing Wesley smiling, he hauled himself off the bed and over to Wesley's side of the room. "You know what day it is today?" he asked, voice all innocence and lightness.
Wesley glanced at his watch. "The fourteenth of February," he said. "Why?"
Angel gave him a look that Wesley was sure he'd learned from Cordelia. He racked his brain, trying to recall if there was any reason for the date to be important. Angel didn't celebrate his birthday, for reasons which weren't entirely clear to Wesley, and he hadn't celebrated the date of his turning since the late eighteen hundreds. (There were records of the celebrations before that, massacres that Darla and Angelus had wrought in the name of gaiety. But Angel was not Angelus, and he had been turned in the summer. It was winter now.)
"February fourteenth?" Angel said, looking hard at Wesley. "Ringing any bells?"
After a beat, Wesley remembered. "The feast of St. Valentine," he said. "You suspect a Korvish demon is around, exploiting the romantic energies that --"
"Wes, do you ever relax your guard?"
If he relaxed his guard, then Angel turned to Angelus. If he relaxed his guard, then Angel devoured his son, Faith went bad, Buffy died, Fred and Gunn and Cordelia and Connor died, if he was negligent, even for a moment... "No."
"It's Valentine's Day," said Angel. "A celebration of love and of lovers." Wesley felt uncomfortably close to Angel all of a sudden. "We should celebrate. Especially since it's Connor's first Valentine's Day." He pondered that for a minute. "Not, of course, that he'll be allowed to go out with anyone for at least twenty years."
"But it's important that he learn what love is," Wesley said faintly. "He'll always be surrounded by loving aunts and uncles, and by his father."
"Exactly," said Angel, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And we should start by celebrating Valentine's Day properly, as a family."
Wesley, still sitting primly on the double bed, considered his phrasing carefully, but he finally blurted out, "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"Never better," said Angel, smiling.
"I think perhaps dating a seventeen-year-old girl has affected you more than you'd like to admit."
"The only Sunnydale Valentine's Day I remember I spent with an inexplicable urge to bite Xander."
"Ah."
"The year after that, we celebrating by slaying some Korvishes who were trying to raise the spirit of their ancient progenitor."
"I see. You're saying that this romanticism is just... you?"
"Why? Do you think I'm not romantic?"
Gulp. There really was no right answer to that one. Wesley's head hurt. Twelve hours ago, he had been driving away from LA, convinced that he would never see Angel again, and now the man was, well, if he was perfectly honest, Angel was trying to seduce him. And, if previous experience was any indication, he was probably going to succeed.
"I didn't get you a card or anything," Angel said. "When I left LA, I was kind of..."
"Panicked," said Wesley. "So was I. Somehow, I'm feeling much better now."
"Me too." Angel kept playing with his hands awkwardly. It occurred to Wesley that they were equally nervous.
He smiled a genuine smile and stood up. "Well, shall we do this thing properly?"
Angel nodded hesitantly, and Wesley took that as his invitation. He bent ever so slightly and kissed Angel.
He'd missed this so much.