If he could, Wesley would've glared at the boy. Then again, for all he knew he might be giving the boy a pretty good glare after all. As far as he could while blinking his eyes this way.
"No," he said, annoyance seeping thought his voice. "It's those eyes drops. Maybe it's a small allergic reaction. It's not the glasses." Oh he was *so* going to remember his prescription next time. He recalled this happened to him once before, when he was a child. Though, only once. And of course when his father had to take him. Typical.
Good lord, had he just actually thought 'so'? He'd been in Sunnydale far to long. Sighing, Wesley rubbed Giles arm and then moved his hand up to rub over his eyes. "And why didn't you listen to me?" he asked Connor quietly.
"Because..." Connor muttered with a shrug.
"They'll be fine soon," Wesley assured Giles, as well as Connor. Though, he was still very annoyed at the boy. “Did you get any further with the research?”
"Don't feel bad, love," Giles said with a snort, glancing at Connor and smiling. "He'd have told on me as well."
Connor nodded and muttered. "Well, if you guys would just grow up and tell each other when you're feeling bad, I wouldn't have to."
Giles raised an eyebrow at Connor, but said nothing, instead leaning in to get a look at Wesley's eyes. "Hold still, Wes. Let me look. Perhaps we should take you back to the doctor."
Wesley was glad he was already blinking; otherwise he might just have spent a few minutes blinking at Connor. "And this from the boy who wanted to go out with the flu." There, when it came that, Connor was just as bad. Just because he healed and got better faster, which simply wasn't fair.
At the word 'doctor' Wesley froze. "No, no," he said hastily, swallowing hard. The word alone was enough to make him pause and consider running for the hill. Poor eyesight or not. "I'm sure they'll be fine soon. They're just irritated."
Nodding at that, he moved back a bit when a large shadow loomed before his vision. When he figured out it was Giles though, me gave the man an apologetic look and held still. "I'm sure it's nothing. It happened when I was a child once too, it was over within a day." Well it was. It just seemed longer because his father would just go on and on about it. Because, according to him, it was a show of weakness.
Giles couldn't see anything wrong with Wesley's eyes, other than the pupils being too dilated and them being irritated. "All right, love," he said softly, leaning in to kiss Wesley's forehead, "But if it's not cleared up by tomorrow, I will drag you to that doctor, if that's what it takes."
After a moment, Giles sent a small pulse of energy toward his partner, just to make sure. The sight of that doll, with it's eyes poked out, was still too fresh in his mind for him not to want to make certain magic wasn't involved. He did it discretely, not wanting to worry Wesley if it were nothing.
He found no trace of a spell, no hint of magic, and so had to assume it was as Wesley had said. "Give me a moment to finish up and make those calls and then we can go home if you like."
"I can see," Wesley pointed out stubbornly, holding onto the car as though he were some five year old. "It's just a bit blurry, I can still carry some books." He was about to protest more when 'some books' were pressed into his hands. He glanced up and blinked at the vague outlines he assumed to be Connor.
"Oh, uh..." Clutching the books to his chest, he wondered if Connor was smirking, or had that worried look he hated on the boy. "They'll be fine in a few hours," he felt the need to point out again. He himself was certain of that, because... Well, he couldn't come up with a reason they wouldn't be fine.
He let Giles nudge him into the house, only stumbling over the threshold when they reached the door. Which was pretty stupid, he thought, considering that he *knew* the thing was there in the first place. So much for it going better here because he knew the house. He scolded himself while trying not to use Giles too much as a lead when he tried for the living room.
Once Wesley was inside, Giles leaned in and kissed his partner's forehead, murmuring, "Stubborn," in an affectionate tone. He put Wesley's hand on the couch so that he'd know where it was and went to get another load of books.
"Don't wander off, love," he called back, smiling and shaking his head. Wesley really did make a mule look tractable. Giles separated the last of the books between Connor and himself and then re-locked the car. He was trying to hurry, half worried that Wesley would trip and fall through the coffee table or some such thing.
I'm not stubborn," Wesley muttered under his breath. And where could he possibly wander off to *inside* the house? Well, to the kitchen, obviously. Which was where he was going to put the books he was still clutching down. And from the feeling of the leather, it weren't the most expensive and valuable books.
He had mixed feelings about that, while he felt his way toward the kitchen. He was beaming on one had because Connor knew the difference when it came to books. On the other hand he was frowning, because Connor had probably been expecting him to fall or some such. "Swot," he muttered under his breath.
And then came to a screeching halt when he found door to the kitchen as he walked right into the side of it. "Ow." Ah. Well. At least he'd found what he was looking for. Unless it was the door to Connors room, in which case he might fall down. Carefully, he was sliding one foot around the corner of the door, to make certain there weren't any stairs going down.
"Good God," Giles growled, moving to set down his books and then take Wesley's arm. "How can you say you're not stubborn when you refuse to sit down? You can't see Wesley and as little as you may like it, you can't go bouncing off the walls in search of the kitchen. You're going to hurt yourself."
Quite annoyed by Wesley's stunt, Giles took the books from his partner's hands and moved them to the table.
Connor had been quiet during the whole conversation. He thought they were both equally stubborn, but he knew better then to voice his opinion. At least, not at this very moment. The tension could practically be tasted in the air
( ... )
"I don't think we're in any danger of that," Giles said with a snort of laughter, returning Connor's hug and then watching the boy retreat to his room. Giles tried to think back to his own teenage years, wondering if he'd spent as much time secluded in his room as Connor did. He rather thought he might have, actually, when he was home from school and had the chance.
"We should call Buffy," Giles said softly, smiling at his partner, though he doubted Wesley could see it. "See if Dawn can go to LA as well. Then . . . God, I'd rather like a long, hot bath and a nice soft bed." Shaking his head at himself, Giles began to massage Wesley's neck, working at some of the tension there as well as he could one handed, anyway.
Perhaps a massage wouldn't be expecting too much either. Wesley certainly needed one. His muscles were all bunched at tight. Not that Giles could blame him.
"You should call Buffy," Wesley murmured, dropping his head on his chest. God, that felt good. Giles had apparently been improving his small massage skills. He let out a small groan and sighed, thinking about this call to Angel, once they got the boy to agree to go there. And Wesley had little doubt Connor would go see Angel. He even had little doubt Buffy would allow Dawn to come with.
Then again, his mind was getting a bit fogged up from Giles' touch and trying not to think about everything that was going on. Actually, thinking about his bad eyesight, even when there had been that damn doll with the poked out eyes, made him calm down. It was only an allergic reaction, and things would be fine tomorrow.
"Bath sounds nice," Wesley sighed wistfully, leaning against his lover as he rubbed a hand over the man's leg. "Soft, warm bed sounds even nicer. Especially with my Giles' mattress there." Hmmm, quite lovely in fact. He leaned up to look at his lover, or rather the blurred form that was his lover, and managed a small smile.
Giles reached down and brushed his fingertips along Wesley's cheek. "It does, and you, my love, are getting a nice massage as well. You're as tense as . . . I'm too tired to think of an appropriate simile," Giles said with a snort of laughter at himself. "I do need to call Buffy first, though. The sooner everything in that arena is settled . . . I think we'll both feel better."
Thought not by as much as I will once your eyes clear up, Giles thought, his fingers brushing up Wesley's nose and over first one of Wes' eyebrows and then the other
( ... )
Comments 47
"No," he said, annoyance seeping thought his voice. "It's those eyes drops. Maybe it's a small allergic reaction. It's not the glasses." Oh he was *so* going to remember his prescription next time. He recalled this happened to him once before, when he was a child. Though, only once. And of course when his father had to take him. Typical.
Good lord, had he just actually thought 'so'? He'd been in Sunnydale far to long. Sighing, Wesley rubbed Giles arm and then moved his hand up to rub over his eyes. "And why didn't you listen to me?" he asked Connor quietly.
"Because..." Connor muttered with a shrug.
"They'll be fine soon," Wesley assured Giles, as well as Connor. Though, he was still very annoyed at the boy. “Did you get any further with the research?”
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Connor nodded and muttered. "Well, if you guys would just grow up and tell each other when you're feeling bad, I wouldn't have to."
Giles raised an eyebrow at Connor, but said nothing, instead leaning in to get a look at Wesley's eyes. "Hold still, Wes. Let me look. Perhaps we should take you back to the doctor."
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At the word 'doctor' Wesley froze. "No, no," he said hastily, swallowing hard. The word alone was enough to make him pause and consider running for the hill. Poor eyesight or not. "I'm sure they'll be fine soon. They're just irritated."
Nodding at that, he moved back a bit when a large shadow loomed before his vision. When he figured out it was Giles though, me gave the man an apologetic look and held still. "I'm sure it's nothing. It happened when I was a child once too, it was over within a day." Well it was. It just seemed longer because his father would just go on and on about it. Because, according to him, it was a show of weakness.
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After a moment, Giles sent a small pulse of energy toward his partner, just to make sure. The sight of that doll, with it's eyes poked out, was still too fresh in his mind for him not to want to make certain magic wasn't involved. He did it discretely, not wanting to worry Wesley if it were nothing.
He found no trace of a spell, no hint of magic, and so had to assume it was as Wesley had said. "Give me a moment to finish up and make those calls and then we can go home if you like."
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"Oh, uh..." Clutching the books to his chest, he wondered if Connor was smirking, or had that worried look he hated on the boy. "They'll be fine in a few hours," he felt the need to point out again. He himself was certain of that, because... Well, he couldn't come up with a reason they wouldn't be fine.
He let Giles nudge him into the house, only stumbling over the threshold when they reached the door. Which was pretty stupid, he thought, considering that he *knew* the thing was there in the first place. So much for it going better here because he knew the house. He scolded himself while trying not to use Giles too much as a lead when he tried for the living room.
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"Don't wander off, love," he called back, smiling and shaking his head. Wesley really did make a mule look tractable. Giles separated the last of the books between Connor and himself and then re-locked the car. He was trying to hurry, half worried that Wesley would trip and fall through the coffee table or some such thing.
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He had mixed feelings about that, while he felt his way toward the kitchen. He was beaming on one had because Connor knew the difference when it came to books. On the other hand he was frowning, because Connor had probably been expecting him to fall or some such. "Swot," he muttered under his breath.
And then came to a screeching halt when he found door to the kitchen as he walked right into the side of it. "Ow." Ah. Well. At least he'd found what he was looking for. Unless it was the door to Connors room, in which case he might fall down. Carefully, he was sliding one foot around the corner of the door, to make certain there weren't any stairs going down.
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Quite annoyed by Wesley's stunt, Giles took the books from his partner's hands and moved them to the table.
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"We should call Buffy," Giles said softly, smiling at his partner, though he doubted Wesley could see it. "See if Dawn can go to LA as well. Then . . . God, I'd rather like a long, hot bath and a nice soft bed." Shaking his head at himself, Giles began to massage Wesley's neck, working at some of the tension there as well as he could one handed, anyway.
Perhaps a massage wouldn't be expecting too much either. Wesley certainly needed one. His muscles were all bunched at tight. Not that Giles could blame him.
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Then again, his mind was getting a bit fogged up from Giles' touch and trying not to think about everything that was going on. Actually, thinking about his bad eyesight, even when there had been that damn doll with the poked out eyes, made him calm down. It was only an allergic reaction, and things would be fine tomorrow.
"Bath sounds nice," Wesley sighed wistfully, leaning against his lover as he rubbed a hand over the man's leg. "Soft, warm bed sounds even nicer. Especially with my Giles' mattress there." Hmmm, quite lovely in fact. He leaned up to look at his lover, or rather the blurred form that was his lover, and managed a small smile.
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Thought not by as much as I will once your eyes clear up, Giles thought, his fingers brushing up Wesley's nose and over first one of Wes' eyebrows and then the other ( ... )
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