Schmoop Ficlet: Boldly Going (Wesley/Illyria)
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Boldly Going
Pairing Wesley/Illyria
Rating PG13 (one word, tut tut)
Prompt Drunken confession of love
Word Count 610
A/N All my responses for the bingos so far are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation. Set c2015. Wesley and Illyria have been in a wary but genuine relationship since the end of the (AU) Not Fade Away.
It must be the beer. There was no other excuse for what had just occurred.
“I’m terribly sorry,” said Wesley. “I don’t know what to say.”
Illyria was very still. Even for her. The fact that Wesley had noticed that suggested she might actually have turned to stone. He was very hot. Tired. Embarrassed. Drunk. He was absolutely not in control of himself and not in the least fit to have this conversation.
Illyria’s face had frozen into the usual lines. Until then, he had barely noticed how much she had loosened up before. Her voice was back to expressionless too. “It matters not. We will discuss it no further. Such a slip must not occur again.”
“No. Quite.”
*
They had forgotten, somehow. Who they were. What they were. It had been a happy day. Too happy, perhaps, to be wise. The current class of Slayer Support Operatives had reached breaking point the day before, hard driven through a series of group challenges that, on the whole, they had overcome admirably. Till yesterday, when all had gone wrong. They would re-game it soon, but meanwhile, the discouraged group were given completely free rein for a couple of days.
Their priority had been to hit the beach. Somehow, Wesley and Illyria had joined them.
Not that they needed chaperones, they were all adults and spoke a certain amount of English. Angel, Lorne and Harmony were entirely beach-impossible anyway, and no one usually thought that Wesley or Illyria was the tanning type. So, when invited, they found they didn’t have a polite way of saying no.
It was, surprisingly, fun. Wesley had paddled. Got sand stuck on the lashings of suncream which attempted to protect his pale indoor complexion from total annihilation. Illyria reduced her covering to approximate swimwear, though it remained a distinctly un-manmade fabric had anyone got close enough to inspect. On the whole, the class steered clear; even the more outrageous among the psychics. Perhaps especially those.
But Illyria had been... normal. Not her normality, naturally, but human normal. Running, laughing, hair tossing in the sea breeze. She had condescended to Frisbee, something Wesley would previously have bet his life against.
The evening ended with beer, a bonfire and blankets. Lazy chatter turned back to work, particularly demons. Particularly seductive demons and what a good little SSO was to do if the Captain Kirk question ever arose. Which led to an explanation for the non-Trek watchers of the ‘Show me this thing you humans call... love.”
Which led, inexorably, to Illyria, back at the Hyperion, laughing still and relaxed, sprawled over his chest... and saying it.
“Wesley, I do believe this is that thing you humans call love.”
And he hadn’t known what to say. Which had been the worst possible option.
*
His cold No. Quite was still ringing in the air.
What could he say? You killed Fred. I’ll fuck you but you’ll never ever be forgiven?
You’re not human. You don’t understand human emotions. You’re not worthy of my love?
He’d been living with those bitter thoughts for many long years, to the point where they had become mere background assumptions, liveable but painful in the silence of their relationship. But he didn’t say the words. They weren’t true. Not for Wesley, not for now, not with Illyria still salt-crusted, sea-tasting, losing the glow of a happy day at the beach with friends... He thought of her wonder over their not-quite family, her distress at the loss, how much he’d tried to remedy it, how close they had become in their grief.
So instead, he said, “I’m sorry. You surprised me. I suppose I never expected...
“I think you might be right. I think I love you too.”
Illyria smiled. And he knew she was right.
*
Title Boldly Going
Pairing Wesley/Illyria
Rating PG13 (one word, tut tut)
Prompt Drunken confession of love
Word Count 610
A/N All my responses for the bingos so far are set in the Rulesverse, a post-Chosen AU in which the Slayer Council develops into a fully rounded organisation. Set c2015. Wesley and Illyria have been in a wary but genuine relationship since the end of the (AU) Not Fade Away.
It must be the beer. There was no other excuse for what had just occurred.
“I’m terribly sorry,” said Wesley. “I don’t know what to say.”
Illyria was very still. Even for her. The fact that Wesley had noticed that suggested she might actually have turned to stone. He was very hot. Tired. Embarrassed. Drunk. He was absolutely not in control of himself and not in the least fit to have this conversation.
Illyria’s face had frozen into the usual lines. Until then, he had barely noticed how much she had loosened up before. Her voice was back to expressionless too. “It matters not. We will discuss it no further. Such a slip must not occur again.”
“No. Quite.”
*
They had forgotten, somehow. Who they were. What they were. It had been a happy day. Too happy, perhaps, to be wise. The current class of Slayer Support Operatives had reached breaking point the day before, hard driven through a series of group challenges that, on the whole, they had overcome admirably. Till yesterday, when all had gone wrong. They would re-game it soon, but meanwhile, the discouraged group were given completely free rein for a couple of days.
Their priority had been to hit the beach. Somehow, Wesley and Illyria had joined them.
Not that they needed chaperones, they were all adults and spoke a certain amount of English. Angel, Lorne and Harmony were entirely beach-impossible anyway, and no one usually thought that Wesley or Illyria was the tanning type. So, when invited, they found they didn’t have a polite way of saying no.
It was, surprisingly, fun. Wesley had paddled. Got sand stuck on the lashings of suncream which attempted to protect his pale indoor complexion from total annihilation. Illyria reduced her covering to approximate swimwear, though it remained a distinctly un-manmade fabric had anyone got close enough to inspect. On the whole, the class steered clear; even the more outrageous among the psychics. Perhaps especially those.
But Illyria had been... normal. Not her normality, naturally, but human normal. Running, laughing, hair tossing in the sea breeze. She had condescended to Frisbee, something Wesley would previously have bet his life against.
The evening ended with beer, a bonfire and blankets. Lazy chatter turned back to work, particularly demons. Particularly seductive demons and what a good little SSO was to do if the Captain Kirk question ever arose. Which led to an explanation for the non-Trek watchers of the ‘Show me this thing you humans call... love.”
Which led, inexorably, to Illyria, back at the Hyperion, laughing still and relaxed, sprawled over his chest... and saying it.
“Wesley, I do believe this is that thing you humans call love.”
And he hadn’t known what to say. Which had been the worst possible option.
*
His cold No. Quite was still ringing in the air.
What could he say? You killed Fred. I’ll fuck you but you’ll never ever be forgiven?
You’re not human. You don’t understand human emotions. You’re not worthy of my love?
He’d been living with those bitter thoughts for many long years, to the point where they had become mere background assumptions, liveable but painful in the silence of their relationship. But he didn’t say the words. They weren’t true. Not for Wesley, not for now, not with Illyria still salt-crusted, sea-tasting, losing the glow of a happy day at the beach with friends... He thought of her wonder over their not-quite family, her distress at the loss, how much he’d tried to remedy it, how close they had become in their grief.
So instead, he said, “I’m sorry. You surprised me. I suppose I never expected...
“I think you might be right. I think I love you too.”
Illyria smiled. And he knew she was right.
*