It was nearly dawn before they made it home. Both of them were tired, dingy and famished and possessing little energy to take care of all three. Gunn took Wesley’s sword and locked it up in their makeshift weapons room, otherwise known as the coat closet. “I’m going to check on Angel,” Wesley said, his voice barely a whisper.

Gunn just nodded and made his way into the kitchen. Not much to choose from, the last slice of pizza or rice left over from Chinese takeout or the ever present plastic containers of blood. He snagged the pizza and a beer, not even bothering to eat over the sink, stayed standing in front of the refrigerator.

As Gunn took the last bite of pizza, his partner came in. Wesley took stock of the icebox, then closed it, choosing nothing.

“How’s Angel?” Gunn asked.

“Sleeping.” Wesley took the beer from Gunn’s hand and took a swig of it. “I’m going to take a shower,” he gave the bottle back and walked away.

Gunn remained where he was. Absently drinking his beer and trying not to think. Enjoying the stillness of the predawn hours. Where everything was so still and quiet and no one had to think. Straining his ears, all he could hear was the shower running. The sound of water is far more soothing than the wails of the psycho vampire. Even when he’s quiet, he’s still making noise. Walking around, mumbling to himself. Poor guy. No one should live his life. No matter how much of an evil, blood-sucking fiend you once were.

When the beer was gone, he tossed the bottle into the trash and headed towards the sound of running water. The sudden brightness of the bathroom caused him to squint, but he adjusted. Over the rushing sound, he heard his voice being called.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he didn’t want a naked, slippery Wes come rushing at him with a stake. Because he knew there was one in there. On a rope even.

He went about removing his clothes and stuffed them into the overflowing hamper. Moving aside the curtain, he stepped behind the pale body of Wesley.

Looking over his shoulder, Wesley smiled at him. “What are you doing?”

With a smile of his own, Gunn picked up the soap and started rubbing it over his lover’s back. “Sharing water.”

A low moan issued as Gunn’s hands danced across his back. His ministrations were far more than suds on skin, it was a very relaxing massage. Wesley’s arm reached out and he balanced himself, leaning further into the touch.

“Your back still bothering you?” Gunn asked placing down the bar of soap, allowing his hands to easily kneed into Wesley’s muscles.

“My back will always bother me.”

The comment really upset Gunn. Knowing Wesley would be in pain for the rest of his life. If he stopped hunting demons right now. Walked away from the Mission. He would still have pain. A bad back, missing arm, and scars resembling a road map. His body wasn’t built for this life. He wasn’t built for this life. He didn’t have the speed or the agility. He was just some skinny, English bastard born and breed to read books.

Gunn smiled when he thought about ‘his’ Wesley. The one who could sit for hours at their kitchen table and translate some dead language. His broken, taped together glasses sitting awkwardly on his face as he sipped on a cooling cup of tea. It always makes Gunn strangely mushy inside when he thinks about Wes and tea. Despite all that has happened to Wesley, he still drinks tea like a proper English gentleman and not a demon hunter trying to fulfill a higher purpose.

His hands started cramping and decided it was a good time to move on. He turned Wesley around so they were facing each other and kissed him. Not a quick peck, it was a soul reaching, feelin’ it in your toes type of kiss.

When they broke, Wesley thanked him.

“For what?” Gunn picked up the soap again and started on Wesley’s chest.

“I’m not sure. But after such a kiss, I feel I should thank you.”

Setting down the soap, Gunn’s hands rubbed wide circles over his partner’s chest. Wesley didn’t have well defined muscles or abs which could grate cheese like Gunn. Wesley probably never lifted a dumbbell in his life. He was an average guy. Doing very unaverage guy things.

Gunn’s soapy hands slid lower and lower down Wesley’s body. Over the nasty scar on his right side, over those damn sexy hips bones, down to a member of anatomy who stood up and said hi. Gunn nudged Wesley back, so he could lean against the cool tiles. He made sure Wes was well balanced and not going anywhere, because once he passed out while they were doing this. Wesley tried to tell him it was because of the excellent blow job, but Gunn knew it was from the sudden shift of whatever blood the demon left him shooting down from his head to his groin.

When Gunn knelt before him, Wesley’s hand came down and rested on the back of his head. Wrapping his hand around the base, Gunn pulled the erection into his mouth. He never thought he’d be doing this. Hell, he’d punch anyone who said he would. “Hey Gunn, in the future, you’d be on your knees sucking an English guy and lovin’ every minute of it. And no, you won’t be in prison.”

Gunn slightly scratched Wesley’s thighs and was rewarded with a shaky leg response. Nothing like making your lover literally weak in the knees. A little afraid Wesley would turn to Jello and topple over on top of him, Gunn grabbed on to Wesley's hips and held him upright.

His tongue swirled and danced and sucked on Wesley’s cock until his quiet lover couldn’t take it anymore. With a guttural, primeval moan he came and Gunn could swear he could taste tea and honey.

In awkward movements, Wesley turned off the cooling water and did his best to stand straight, but a haggard slouch was the best he could do.

With a little cocky grin, Gunn rose to his feet and stepped out of the tub. His own erection bobbed painfully when he moved, doing a lot more than just saying hi. But he ignored it, grabbing the last clean towel and started buffing Wesley dry.

Noticing Gunn’s arousal, Wesley spoke his name very softly. A whisper, a breeze, a tone which almost made Gunn shoot his load right there. “It’s okay, Wes,” he told him. Knowing soon his lover would be asleep, whether Wesley wanted too or not. They found that out the hard way too.

He didn’t even bother covering Wesley up with a robe, Gunn merely steered the tired man to their bed and tucked him in the blankets. Before surrendering to sleep, he looked up at Gunn and spoke something. Gunn couldn’t hear what he said, but was pretty sure of the meaning. He just smiled and nodded, because he couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. Somehow he managed, “Go to sleep.” And Wesley did.

He moved in the dark, finding his sweat shorts on the floor where he left them and tugging them on. Crawling into his side of the bed, he rested a hand on Wesley’s ribs because there was no arm to rest it on.

He couldn’t help but think of things they were still afraid of. They had fought vampires, demons, sorcerers and things Wesley didn’t even know. But they were afraid of words. One of them really. Love. They can say “I” and “You”. Say them all the time. But “Love” was a death sentence. Everything they had ever loved has died.

“I love you , Wes,” Gunn whispered so softly not even The Powers That Be could hear. “But I love you enough not to say it.”

#end#