New Things by WesleysGirl Rating: NC-17 Angel/Wesley Dedication - To my dearest Byrne, for handing me a shining painful subculture on an LJ platter. Gunn groaned loudly. "Can't you two knock it off for a couple of minutes? I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach." "Smarmy. That's the only word for it," said Cordelia. Angel and Wesley looked up from the floor, where they were playing with a small grey kitten. They were surrounded by little pieces of wadded up paper. "Smarmy?" asked Angel. "Yeah, you know, as in... Ewww. Too cute, feeling sick to my stomach." "Actually, Cordelia, the accepted definition of the word is ‘marked by smug earnestness,'" replied Wesley. "Whatever. If you two drool over that poor little kitty any more, she's going to drown." "As you say," said Wesley. "Perhaps we are overwhelming her with so much attention. Maybe tomorrow you could leave her at home with Dennis, instead of bringing her to the office?" "I think I'll have to," she said. "But she's so cuuute," gushed Angel. Wesley pushed himself to his feet. "Now I'm starting to feel ill." Angel threw another scrap of paper toward the kitten, who pounced eagerly, looking anything but overwhelmed. "C'mon, Wes, I always figured you for a cat person." "And the fact that I've spent the last half hour sitting on the floor playing with her doesn't confirm that for you?" "Oh. Good point." Angel leapt to his feet and went over to where Cordelia was sitting in front of the computer. He tried to act casual as he looked sideways to see what she was doing. After a moment she said, "Angel, if you want me to show you how to use the computer, I'd be happy to." "No, no, that's okay," Angel said, backing away from her with his hands waving frantically. "I don't... I'm not..." "Yeah, we can tell how not interested you are," said Gunn dryly. "And that's why we had to take the whole keyboard apart last week, to clean out the blood that somehow, mysteriously, spilled itself and gummed the thing up?" said Cordelia. "I was... walking by, and I just spilled it," Angel protested. "I wasn't trying to use the computer!" "Right." "Wouldn't want to step into the 21st century and try something new?" asked Gunn. "Hey, I try new stuff!" "You're joking," said Wesley. "You should talk, English!" said Gunn. "Like you've tried anything new lately." "I try new things on a regular basis," said Wesley hotly. "Don't I, Cordelia?" "Mmm," said Cordelia. "Well, more often than Angel does!" Wesley said. "You do not!" said Angel. "I most certainly do!" "Do not!" "There's an easy enough way to solve this argument," said Gunn. Both men stopped and looked to him. "What?" they asked together. "A little contest." Cordelia grinned. "Ooooh! With betting? I call Wesley." "Hey!" said Angel. "Sorry, Angel. You know I love you, but... more than 200 years old and all, not so good with the new things." "Well, I've had more things to get used to..." Angel muttered darkly. "You're only betting on me because he's old?" asked Wesley. "Sorry, Wes. You know I love you too, but a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to make a few bucks. You'll all thank me when I come in looking hot in some new outfit." "Okay, here's the deal," said Gunn. "Cordelia picks Angel's challenges, and I'll pick Wesley's. You two take turns until one of you either chickens out or fails to meet a challenge. But then the other one has to meet his challenge to win." "Do Angel and I get any say at all in this matter?" asked Wesley. "No," said Cordelia. "Okay, I get to go first - goody! Hmm, something that Angel has never done before. I guess it can't include sunshine or staking, hmm?" "Hey!" said Angel again. "Okay, okay," said Cordelia. "Hmm... I've got it! I want Angel to watch a soap opera..." "I can do that," Angel said. "They're what, like, an hour long?" "...for a month," finished Cordelia. "A month?" The look on his face was priceless. "You have to watch it for at least a month, or you wouldn't get the full effect," she explained. "But it can't be Passions. That would be too weird." "What's weird about Passions?" asked Wesley curiously. "It's all full of witches and demons and... scratch that. Passions is too normal." * * * * * "What is with this show?" asked Angel in confusion. "Every time they start to have a conversation, the scene changes to other people and I lose track of what's going on." "That's just because you're not used to it yet," explained Cordelia. "Trust me, by the end of the month you'll know exactly what's going on." The man and woman on the screen embraced each other passionately and fell onto a bed, kissing. "Didn't she just find out that he slept with her sister?" asked Angel. "Yes." "Then why are they... getting all... you know, affectionate, now?" "Make up sex," said Cordelia. "They say it's the best kind." "Who does?" "You know... everyone." "Okay." Angel sighed and scratched his head. "I need a beer." Cordelia jumped up and held her hand in front of his face. "Oh, no, Mister. You have to watch sober. No getting all happy and... well, no getting all happy, period." "Just one beer?" Angel wheedled. "No. No beer." He sighed again. A different couple was now seriously discussing the financial troubles of their business. One of them suggested getting a loan from a known murderer. "Are all soap operas this stupid, or did you pick the worst one?" Angel asked. Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I picked the worst one just for you." "Figures." Two weeks later: "So how's it going?" asked Gunn. "My man standing strong?" "He's still watching," said Cordelia. From behind her hand she stage-whispered, "And I think he's starting to like it." "Whatever gets you through the day," responded Gunn. "As long he's up to the challenge, I'm happy." Angel tried to ignore their conversation. Ophelia and her boyfriend what's-his-name were sneaking out of the house to go clubbing and he was starting to suspect that something bad was going to happen to one of them, if the overly-dramatic music was any indication. One week later: "Only a week left," said Cordelia. She called over her shoulder in Wesley's direction. "Angel's only got one more week, Wesley! Then it'll be your turn. I hope you're ready!" "I assure you, Cordelia, I am totally prepared for whatever new experiences Gunn has up his sleeve." Gunn smirked. "That's what you think." "Would you guys keep it down?" said Angel. "Jack and Elizabeth just washed ashore on this tropical island and..." He stopped when he saw everyone looking at him with strange expressions. "And - you know - it's only fair that I have to watch this without interruptions. Because - well - I wouldn't want Cordelia to say I cheated or anything - and..." "You do like it!" hooted Gunn. "The vampire with a soul is hooked on daytime tv!" "I'm not," said Angel. "I'm just... fulfilling the requirements of the contest." Gunn and Wesley grinned at each other. Cordelia reached over and ruffled Angel's hair. "Cut it out!" said Angel. "Aww," cooed Cordelia. "Is the big bad vampire getting addicted to the soap opera?" She stopped and the expression on her face changed from a sickly-sweet smile to a frown. "Except - hey. I didn't want you to like it! You were supposed to hate it and then forfeit so I'd get my money." She shoved his arm. "Lousy vampire." Pouting, she got up from the couch and flounced off. At the next commercial break, Angel turned and asked Gunn. "So? Whatcha got planned for Wes?" "You'll see. I don't want to spoil the surprise." "C'mon, tell me." "Angel, he's standing right next to me. Don't you think that would ruin the surprise?" "Oh... Right." And another week: "So it's over, right?" asked Gunn. Cordelia shrugged her shoulders but refrained from rolling her eyes. "If you consider 'He's-gonna-be-watching-that-soap-opera-until-the-end-of-time,' over. But yeah, the month is up." "Cool." Gunn clenched his fists in delight and did what a less cautious person might have called a little dance. Cordelia obviously knew better than to court that sort of danger. "Where's Wes?" "Office." "Oh, Wesss-ley!" Gunn called in a light falsetto. "I've got a little job for you." Wesley came out into the lobby with a questioning look on his face, clearly having no idea what was going on. "Month's up. Your turn," said Cordelia smugly, stopping Gunn's fun in its tracks. Gunn shot her an irritated look but recovered. "What's up?" asked Angel as he came into the lobby from the other side. "Wesley's getting his challenge," said Gunn. Wesley stood waiting, bouncing slightly on his heels as though he was trying to look casual. Gunn obviously felt that he had kept them all in suspense long enough, because he pointed both fingers at Wesley and said two words. "Drinking game." "Ooh!" squealed Cordelia. "This oughta be fun." "I'm British, Cordelia," Wesley reminded her stiffly. "I'm an experienced drinker; I know how to hold my liquor." "But Gunn's right, isn't he?" she asked. "You may know how to drink, but I'll bet even money you've never played a drinking game before." "Won't take you up on that bet," said Gunn. "Well, as you say..." replied Wesley. Angel looked confused. "Drinking game?" "Like strip poker, but with alcohol instead of clothes," explained Cordelia. "I mean, you still wear clothes..." "What a relief," muttered Wesley. "...But instead of taking them off, you take a drink whenever you lose a hand, or whenever Rose says 'Jack,' or..." "What?" Angel looked even more confused. "You know, Titanic?" Cordelia stopped her explanation and waved her hands in the air irritatedly. "Now I lost my train of thought." "Anyway," said Gunn. "I kinda thought we'd go with Asshole." "I beg your pardon?" said Wesley. "It's a game," Gunn said patiently. "A card game. But you need at least five people to play it, so maybe Cordy could get one of her friends to come play?" "Are you kidding?" asked Cordelia. "I'm not going to play. Do you know how many calories are in alcohol? Besides, the last time I had that much to drink I ended up pregnant with demon babies. Thanks, but no thanks." "Okay," said Gunn. "I'll think of something else." "How about a TV game?" suggested Cordelia. "Let me look online. I'll see if I can find a game that goes with something that's on tonight." She sat down in front of the computer. "You can play at my place - I want to watch." "Marvelous." After a few moments of typing, she looked up triumphantly. "X-Files. It's on tonight and there are about a dozen drinking games for it." "Cool by me," said Gunn. "Wes, you got a drink of choice?" "Whiskey," said Wesley. "But I'll bring it. I'm rather fussy about the brand." Cordelia's apartment, that night: "Dennis, will you please let them in?" Cordelia called from the kitchen, where she was putting the finishing touches on her nail polish. There was the sound of the door swinging open. "Thanks, Dennis," said Gunn's voice. "Cordelia? You here? We brought pizza!" "Kitchen," she called. "I'll be right there!" When Cordelia came into her living room, all three men were there waiting for her. Wesley was perched awkwardly on the couch, Gunn was lounging in a chair stuffing a slice of pizza into his mouth, and Angel was trying to make up his mind between sitting and continuing to stand. It was mesmerizing. Twitch toward the chair. Hesitate. Twitch back. Repeat. "Angel? Not that you aren't welcome, but why are you here?" "Wanted to see Wesley's challenge," he said, ducking his head. "Everybody else got to see mine." He stopped twitching and sat down on the sofa next to Wesley. "True. How are Jack and Elizabeth doing on that desert island?" "They just found a way to signal for help," said Angel eagerly. "And they... what?" He realized he'd been conned, and stopped talking. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to decide what to say next. "Nice impression," said Cordelia. Again, Angel said, "What?" "Fish out of water?" She tossed her head dismissively and grabbed a few pieces of paper from the end table. Passing a sheet to each of the men, she said, "Okay, all of the directions are on here. Whenever one of these things happens on the show, you drink." "Who appointed you cruise director?" asked Gunn. "Excuse me? My ship." "My challenge," said Gunn. Sighed. "You heard what the lady said." "I've never seen this programme," Welsey said. "Does that matter?" "No," Cordelia replied. "And I hope you all brought enough to drink, because I am *not* breaking out my private stash." "You're not going to play?" asked Angel. "No. Remember? Calories bad." She glanced at the clock. "Oooh! It's starting in like, five minutes." Gunn hauled himself up out of his chair and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back carrying a couple of glasses and handed one each to Angel and Wesley. Then he grabbed another slice of pizza. "Where's the kitty?" asked Angel. "I locked her in my room," said Cordelia. "There will be no smarminess tonight." Wesley looked up from his piece of paper and asked, "When it says 'Take a drink,' what does that mean exactly? An entire drink? A sip?" "Yeah, but not one of those wimpy English sips," said Gunn. "A big sip." He crammed the crust of pizza into his mouth whole and took two six packs of beer out of a paper bag. Two of the bottles were already empty. Cordelia looked at him questioningly. "Had a few on the way over," he explained, his voice slightly muffled by pizza. "Head start - if Wes's drinking whiskey, he'll get drunk a lot faster than I will on beer." "Oh," said Cordelia. "You bring something, Angel, or you want one of these?" Gunn asked. Angel took a small silver hip flask from his pocket and held it up. "That ain't gonna be enough," scoffed Gunn. "I'm not playing for real," said Angel. "I'm just, you know... being social." Wesley unscrewed the top from his bottle of whiskey and poured a large splash into his glass. Cordelia turned on the tv and flipped through the channels until she found the one she was looking for. "Okay, I hope everyone who plans to get smashed is having something to eat," she said sternly. "Because there will not be any puking in my apartment. Got that? No smarminess, no puking." Wesley picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. "Oh, I think this is it!" said Cordelia. She pointed the remote at the television and turned the volume up considerably. A blonde teenager was posing in a high school gym, getting her photograph taken. "I don't know if I can watch this," Cordelia said. "Do you think a cheerleader is going to burst into flames?" "Nah," said Gunn. "Not unless this is one of those episodes about - human combustability?" "Spontaneous Human Combustion," said Wesley. "Poof! There goes another one," Angel said. All three of them turned to look at him questioningly. "Non sequitur?" prompted Wesley finally. "Never mind," said Angel. "It's a song." "Right," Gunn said. They all turned their attention back to the screen, where the photographer's assistant was climbing through a window and kidnapping the teenager. Then the scene shifted to a restaurant, where a waitress fell to the floor with her nose bleeding, muttering nonsense. "This is already better than the episode I saw a couple of weeks ago on primetime," said Cordelia. "It must have gone downhill after the first few seasons." The teaser had ended and the opening theme music was playing. "Drink!" said Gunn. "Theme music is playing." Wesley took a big sip from his glass, Gunn chugged some beer, and Angel took a swig from his flask. Wesley looked at his sheet of paper again as the commercials came on. "I don't know any of the characters." "I do," said Gunn. "Seen the show a few times - I'll tell you who's who." Wesley ate some more pizza while they waited for the show to come back on. Angel continued to sip from his flask, not caring that the game was suspended during the commercial break. "It's back," said Cordelia. "That's Mulder," said Gunn, pointing out the dark-haired man on the screen who was flashing his badge at a cop. "Now you have to drink twice," said Cordelia. "They said the name 'Fox.'" "And again," a minute later. Wesley had to pour more whiskey into his glass. "I take it from this list," he said, gesturing with the piece of paper, "that this programme has a lot of aliens?" "Depends on what you mean by a lot," said Gunn. "Because, no, not if you actually expect to see them." He pointed to the screen. "Oh, and that's Scully." "Scully's a woman?" asked Wesley. "Of course," said Cordelia, rolling her eyes. "How could the show have unresolved sexual tension if the main characters weren't attracted to each other?" "Umm..." said Angel. "Couldn't two men be attracted to each other?" "Not on a drama on network television," said Cordelia. "If it was a sitcom, maybe. But the general viewing public isn't interested in seeing a serious show where two men get all... you know, groiny." "They wouldn't have to get... physical," said Angel. "Couldn't there be unresolved sexual tension without... you know, kissing and... groins?" "If there was, no one would want to admit it," said Cordelia. "We live in a world of denial, my friend." "They said 'Spooky,'" Wesley observed. "Two drinks." Angel's flask was nearly empty and he tapped it against Wesley's bottle of whiskey until Wesley looked at him. He raised his eyebrows. "By all means," said Wesley. "Help yourself." "'Fox' again," said Cordelia. "Two drinks." Gunn opened a second bottle of beer. Now the photographic assistant-turned-kidnapper's car had a flat tire at the side of the road. When a tow truck stopped to help, the kidnapper freaked out and started screaming at him. "I don't think I'm following the plot here," said Angel. "I don't think it's necessary to understand the plot to play the game," said Wesley. Gunn smiled. "The whole point is to get drunk enough that you can't follow the plot." Five minutes later there had been no further drinking. Scully came up with a photo of the kidnapper and talked about him being the likely suspect. Mulder went to take a copy of the photo to show to the waitress, who somehow seemed to be experiencing the teenager's plight. Mulder chased the waitress as she ran down a sidewalk - cut to similar scene of teenager fleeing through the woods after having escaped her kidnapper's house - cut to Mulder and waitress again. Cut to commercial. "This stinks!" complained Gunn. "Figures we'd get an episode with no actual drinking." "I rather thought the point was for me to try something new," said Wesley. "Not necessarily for me to become intoxicated." "The drunk part's just a side benefit," said Gunn. "Ah, I see." Cordelia went into the kitchen and came back with a pitcher of ice water and some more glasses. "Water," she said. "Drink it. Don't get dehydrated in my apartment. Repeat - no puking in my apartment." "Your concern is touching," said Wesley. The show came back on. Mulder and Scully argued. The teenager begged her kidnapper to let her go. Mulder posited a paranormal theory and a police officer declared, "I don't have time for this nonsense." "All right," said Gunn, taking another drink. "Finally." Angel and Wesley followed suit. "Now they're having a fight," said Cordelia. "Two drinks." "I think the game was referring to a physical altercation, not a verbal disagreement," Wesley said. "It doesn't say that," Cordelia pointed out. "And I think that also falls under the arguing about how likely something is to happen thing - another drink." Gunn choked and sputtered suddenly. Angel clapped him on the back helpfully and Cordelia made a high-pitched noise. "Angel! If he's going to puke, take him into the bathroom!" "Not gonna," choke, cough, "puke," said Gunn. "Went down the wrong pipe." "Scully just mentioned the sister," said Wesley. "Two drinks." Followed immediately by Mulder insisting that not everything he'd done in his lifetime was about his sister. Three more drinks. Gunn drained his second bottle and opened a third one. Gunn and Wesley were looking distinctly soft around the eyes at that point. Angel resisted the urge to laugh at them. Mulder found the waitress cowering in the same basement that the kidnapped teenager had been held captive in before. Cut to commercial. "Drink water," Cordelia reminded Wesley and Gunn. "We've got it," said Gunn blearily. "No puking." When the show came back on, there was more running and then some attempted drowning. Mulder brandished his weapon and warned the kidnapper that he was a federal officer. "Three more drinks," said Angel helpfully. Wesley and Gunn drank. Cordelia was looking distinctly concerned and glancing worriedly at Wesley and Gunn as if she wished they'd stop drinking so much. Gunn opened a fourth bottle of beer and drained half of it in one long pull. Mulder shot the kidnapper. "Another drink," said Angel gleefully. "And if he's dead, that's three more." "He's not dead," said Cordelia desperately. "Look, he's floating, he could still be alive." She glared viciously at Angel and he finally seemed to get the hint. "Here, Wes, drink some more water," he said, pouring it into Wesley's glass. Cordelia sighed in relief as the end credits appeared. Game over. Wesley grinned at Gunn. "Oh dear," he said. "I think I've had a bit too much to drink." "Uh-oh," said Gunn. "You're not feeling sick, are you? Like you might... oh, I don't know... puke?" Cordelia threw Angel a look of pure panic. "Angel! Please, do something. Get them out of here!" Wesley and Gunn giggled. "You needn't worry, Cordelia," said Wesley. "I promise to refrain from throwing up in your apartment." "You'd better," said Cordelia. "Shouldn't you be praising me for my valiant conquering of Gunn's challenge?" he asked. "Yeah, whatever. Consider yourself praised, and go home." Angel stepped up to the plate. "I'll make sure they get home okay," he said to Cordelia. "C'mon, you two." Angel drove Gunn back to his place, escorted him inside, and then turned the car around and headed back toward Wesley's apartment. Wes seemed pensive. "Isn't that my look?" asked Angel. "Pardon me?" "Pensive face?" Angel glanced over his shoulder before making the left turn. "You okay?" "Mmm. Quite. It's been a while since I've had so much to drink. But don't worry - no puking." "Wasn't worried about that." Wesley was silent for a moment. "Lord, that was bloody awful television." "I dunno - I didn't think it was that bad. A little confusing, maybe. I sort of got the impression that there was more going on than meets the eye." Angel cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Umm... Wes?" "Yes, Angel?" "You know that stuff Cordy was saying about... never mind." "Angel?" "I just... do you think Cordy was right about people not wanting to see... two men - with, you know, sexual tension - on tv?" "I really haven't the foggiest notion. She's probably a better judge of television and film than I am, considering her acting aspirations." "Right, right. Because she pays so much attention to acting, and all..." "Why do you ask?" "I just... I was wondering... no reason, really." Angel pulled the car up outside of Wesley's building and shut it off, opening his door and getting out. "You needn't walk me in, Angel. I'm perfectly fine, really." "I know. But... you know, door to door service." They walked in to the apartment and when Wesley had unlocked the door, Angel leaned against the frame and waited for the other man to go inside. "Lock the door behind you," Angel instructed. "I shall. Good night, Angel." When the door was finally closed and locked, Angel whispered "Sleep tight, Wes." Wednesday morning, Hyperion: Wesley came into the hotel with a sigh of relief at the dim interior. He hadn't reached the office when the front door opened again and Gunn came in, wearing sunglasses. "How are you?" Wesley asked. "Hangover," said Gunn. "You?" "The same." Cordelia bounced out of the office and into the lobby. "Hi, you guys! You seen Angel?" "No," replied Wesley. "I would assume he's upstairs." "Okay, I'll get him," she said. She went to the foot of the stairs and yelled "Angel!" at the top of her voice. Gunn and Wesley both winced. "Cordy, that ain't gettin' him, that's screaming," Gunn complained. Angel came quickly down the stairs. "Cordelia? What's wrong?" "Nothing," she said. "Then what's with all the screaming?" "That was not screaming," she said with dignity. "I was projecting." "Okay. What's with the projecting?" She smiled brilliantly. "I'm ready to give you your next challenge." Angel hunched his shoulders and looked at the floor. "I'm afraid to ask," he admitted. "You should be," she said. "You aren't going to like it. And I mean, you really aren't going to like it. You might just have to bow out..." "Cordelia. What is it?" "I'm going to take you to the playground," she said in triumph. "You're going to ride on the swings, the slide, that spinny-around thing... and I'm going to take pictures!" "It'll have to be at night," said Angel. She sighed. "I know that. I'm borrowing a camera from this photographer guy I know - he's not a scary, wanna-be-kidnapper photographer - that has a great flash so that I can get some photos. You're not going to bow out?" "No," said Angel. "I can do this. Tonight?" "Yep. I've got the camera all set, and I know just where to take you." Wednesday evening after 9 pm, undisclosed location: "Cordelia, tell me again why I'm not allowed to know where we're going?" said Angel wearily. He had a blindfold wrapped around his eyes and was sitting in the back seat of his car while Wesley drove. Gunn was in the back seat next to him and Cordelia was riding shotgun. "Because I was afraid you'd get all weird and, I don't know, go and destroy the playground before I got the chance to make you play on it." "Okay, so why do I have to wear a blindfold now?" She paused. "Oh. Good point. Yeah, okay, you can take it off." "Thanks." Angel untied the blindfold and jammed the scrap of fabric into his coat pocket. Fifteen minutes later they pulled into an empty parking lot next to a large, fence-surrounded playground. "Do you know how to use this camera, Cordelia?" asked Wesley as he took the padded bag out of the trunk. "Well..." she said hesitantly. "Jacques described it to me, but I wasn't really paying attention and actually, I was hoping you might take the pictures for me." Wesley nodded as if he had expected as much, and opened the bag to start examining the camera more thoroughly. Cordelia propelled Angel over to the gate that led into the play area. "You have to use each piece of equipement at least once. You have to play for an hour. And - and this is key - you must have fun." "Fun," said Angel doubtfully. He straightened his shoulders. "I can do this." Gunn clapped him on the back encouragingly. "Go on. Have fun." Angel rolled the word in his mouth as if it were an unexpectedly sour piece of candy. "Fun," he repeated. He wandered amongst the playground equipment. He had secretly hoped that maybe some of it would be unreasonably small and therefore unsuitable, but it all seemed almost adult-sized. He pulled on a rope swing experimentally, to see if it would hold his weight. "Oh yeah, and no using super vampire-strength to make this easier," Cordelia called. "It's all you." "Little kids use this stuff?" Angel asked. "Not just little kids," Cordelia said, smirking. "This playground was specially designed so that older kids could use it too - that's why the climbing equipment is so big." "Wouldn't want him breaking some little kids' slides, would we?" Gunn asked her quietly. "Exactly," she said. She looked at her watch. "Okay, Angel, you've got an hour. Let's get moving." He turned to look back at her. "Where should I... start?" "Angel, you're supposed to have fun. That means... you know, listening to your inner child and all that." "I think I ate my inner child," muttered Angel darkly, and turned back. He walked to the far end of the playground. "Okay, you can do this," he said to himself. "Start here, go in a clockwise motion." Wesley came over to join Gunn and Cordelia, with the large camera hung around his neck and gripped with one hand. "How many photographs would you like me to take?" he asked Cordelia. "Whatever. At least a roll. Make him smile." Angel climbed purposefully to the top of the tallest slide and sat down at the top. His coat was caught on the handrail so he shrugged it off and dropped it onto the sand. The expression on his face stated clearly that he would rather be anywhere else. Reluctantly, he shifted his weight forward and slid down the slide. "Angel, I don't hear you having fun," called Cordelia. "Wheeeee?" He pasted a grin onto his face and looked obligingly into the camera lens as Wesley took a picture. The flash was blindingly bright and he winced and shook his head, blinking his eyes repeatedly until he regained his vision. "Thanks a lot, Cordelia," he said. "I'm having the time of my life." "Well, you'd better be, Mister Cranky-Pants. Why don't you try the swings?" Angel picked his coat up off the ground and draped it over the bottom of the slide. He slouched his way over to the swings and sat down on one. "Doesn't someone have to push me?" Gunn collapsed onto the sand without a word, laughing hysterically. His booted foot kicked the ground feebly as he alternately howled and gasped for breath. Cordelia grinned down at him as he writhed in the dirt. Angel looked, if it was possible, even more cranky. "Thanks, Gunn," he said when the other man had managed to compose himself slightly. "Sorry," Gunn wheezed. "Seriously, you don't know how to swing?" "If I did, it wouldn't really fit under 'trying new things', would it?" "Got a point there." Gunn came over and sat down on the swing next to Angel. "I'll show you how, under one condition. No photos." "You're supposed to be on my side here, you know," said Angel quietly. "Yeah." Gunn pushed off and alternately straightened and bent his legs to get the swing going. "See? Straight when you're going forward, bent when you're going back." Angel copied him awkwardly until he had the swing going. "This doesn't make people sick? I mean, all the back.. and forth... and back... and forth?" "Nope. It's fun." "Right. Fun." Angel continued to swing. Gunn pumped his legs until his swing was going very high, and then waited until it was at its farthest point forward and jumped, flying several feet ahead and then down into the packed sand. "That was kind of cool," observed Angel. "Well, that's me," said Gunn. "Can't help it." Cordelia came over to the swings and sat down on one, starting to swing herself. "See, Angel? Isn't this fun?" "Sure." She leaned back, her hair floating in the breeze, and closed her eyes. "It's like flying," she said dreamily. Wesley snapped a few more pictures of the two of them on the swings, and grinned at Gunn. "Don't get too cocky there, English," warned Gunn. "It's your turn after this." "I'm well aware." Cordelia jumped off of her swing, imitating Gunn's trick. Angel watched carefully as she did it, and then did it himself. "That wasn't too bad," he said. Cordelia glared at him. "Umm... I mean, fun. Big fun." "Darn right." She smiled. "Go on that spinny thing." "What?" Cordelia pointed to the saucer over to the right. "That thing that spins around and around." "Cordelia?" said Gunn. "It's called a merry go round." "Whatever," she said dismissively. Angel went over and rotated the merry go round with his hand. "How do you do it?" "I'll demonstrate," said Cordelia. She held on to one of the bars and ran, pushing it in a circle for a couple of rotations, and then jumped on and rode it around. "I used to love this when I was little." "They didn't have these when I was little," Angel pointed out. He waited until the merry go round had almost stopped, and then grabbed a bar as it went by and halted it. Cordelia slid off. "Your turn, big guy," she said. Wesley flashed another photo as Angel started to push the merry go round, and he sighed in frustration. "Wesley? Do you have to keep doing that?" "I - " "Yes, he does," said Cordelia. "It's part of the challenge, Angel. No pictures, no deal." "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done," said Angel, and started to push the merry go round again. "I find that hard to believe," Cordelia replied. "And anyway, not stupid. Fun." Angel chanted "Stupid, stupid, stupid," too quietly for Cordelia to hear, and jumped onto the rapidly spinning merry go round. He rode in a circle for a few seconds. "Oh yeah," he said. "Wheeee!" He'd gotten the thing up to an impressive speed, at least. He was holding on to one of the bars with one hand, went to switch hands, missed, and suddenly found himself flying off of the blasted thing onto the sand. "Is that supposed to happen?" he asked. "Don't think so," said Gunn. "Must be a special talent you vamps have." Wesley took a photo of Angel as he brushed the sand off of his slacks and sleeve. Angel shot him an annoyed look and he shrugged. "Just doing my job." "Isn't your job supposed to be somehow... I don't know... related to killing demons, or protecting the innocent, or something like that?" "If we had any clients, or if Cordelia had had a vision recently, we could be doing just that," said Wesley. "As it is, might as well make myself useful." Cordelia proceeded to instruct Angel on the finer points of rope climbing, jungle-gym climbing, and chain ladders. "We should have some of these things in the hotel," said Angel. "Could be a good workout." "Why, Angel, you wouldn't be enjoying yourself, would you?" asked Cordelia. "No, I... I mean, yes." Gunn suggested, "I think Angel should have a ride on one of those little horsies." He pointed to the small, metal animal-forms that sat atop giant springs. "Gunn, what a great idea," said Cordelia. "Wes, I sense a photo opportunity." Angel groaned but went over and perched himself atop one of the horses. He was ridiculously out of proportion for the equipment - his knees were above his chin and the handlebars were so small that he had to grasp them between his thumbs and forefingers. Wesley snapped another photo. "Ride that horsie!" said Gunn, snickering. Angel rocked slightly, and then pitched forward as, with a squeal, the horse separated from its spring and fell onto the packed dirt. On his hands and knees, Angel said, "Okay, that's enough. Cordy, you don't really want me to destroy this whole playground, do you?" She sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Okay, I guess that's enough suffering for one night." "Thank you." Then he recovered and said, "I mean, oh darn. And I was having so much fun." He picked up the broken horse and turned it over, examining it to see if it could be repaired. "Relax, Angel, you're off the hook. You met the challenge - it's over." She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "And I'm going to have a bunch of great photos for bribery... er - posterity - purposes." On the way back to the car Angel balanced the horse next to a trash barrel. They drove Cordelia home and then dropped Gunn off. "I'm thinking I shouldn't have left that big spring-thing sticking up out of the sand at that playground," said Angel as he pulled the car away from the curb. "Some little kid could get hurt. After I drop you off I'm gonna go back there and take care of it." "I'll go with you," Wesley offered. "Okay... thanks." Wesley sat on the merry go round as Angel examined the spring. His feet were resting on the sand and he idly gave a couple of shoves until the merry go round was spinning slowly, then scooted back and rested against the place where the bars met in the center of the piece of equipment. On his next rotation around, he asked Angel, "Can't you just... rip it up out of the sand?" "Could," said Angel. "Don't want to unless I think it can't be fixed." He went back and looked at the horse, then sighed. "Okay. I don't think it can be fixed." He grabbed hold of the spring and pulled, hard. It came up out of the sand, along with the eight inches that had been buried and the small block of concrete that had been cementing it in place. He put the whole mess into the trash barrel. Wesley started to get up but Angel waved a hand at him. "No. Stay." Angel gave the merry go round another couple of pushes and hopped on. It was rotating slowly. Wesley leaned his head back and looked up at the sky. "Clear night," he observed. "Look at all the stars." "I try not to," said Angel. "I'm sorry?" "You know, little white hot suns and all..." "But they're rather pretty." Angel looked up. The stars were brilliant, each one standing out distinctly like a glowing jewel. "Yeah," he admitted. "They are pretty." After a moment, Wesley asked, "Any idea what Gunn has up his sleeve for me next?" "No." Pause. "Wouldn't tell you, if I did." Angel shifted his weight and his forearm brushed against Wesley's warmer one. "Sorry," he said quietly. Wesley tilted his head and looked over at him. "It's all right." He moved his own arm an inch until it was back in contact with Angel's. "I don't think it's necessary for there to be a 'no touching' clause, do you?" Angel didn't know how to answer. Thursday morning, Hyperion: Angel was sitting on the floor of the office, flipping through a book. He just knew that the passage he remembered was in one of these books with a dark blue cover. Too bad there were dozens of books with dark blue covers. Wesley was working on something at his desk when Gunn came and stood in the doorway. "Yes, Gunn?" Wesley looked up. "Ah. Based on the expression on your face, I take it you're ready to issue my next challenge?" "You got it." Cordelia bounded into the room. "Did I hear the word challenge? You weren't going to do it without me, were you?" "'Course not," said Gunn, although he almost certainly would have. "My man English here is going to experience the wonders of modern drugs." Wesley raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything, waiting for further explanation. Gunn held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Now, don't worry. I got a friend with a good connection - anything he gets is gonna be as clean as they come. No rat poison. But it's your choice: Acid, Mary Jane, X..." "Ecstasy?" asked Angel, and then shot out of the room before the rest of them had even realized what had happened. Cordelia and Wesley looked at each other, recognition dawning. "Oh, crap," said Cordelia. "What'd I say?" asked Gunn, confused. "Maybe you'd better explain it to him," said Wesley. "I'll go and check on Angel." On his way down the stairs he could hear the sound of Angel's fists striking the heavy bag, but by the time he got to the bottom Angel was standing in the far corner of the room, facing the wall. His entire body was lined with misery. The heavy bag was still speaking his anguish for him, quivering slightly. Wesley started to go to him, but stopped part way across the room. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly. "Yeah." Angel didn't turn. Then he rocked his weight onto one foot and slammed his fist into the wall, as hard as he could. Wesley waited. "I'm not sure it's fair to blame the wall." "Better than blaming Gunn." Before Wesley could protest, Angel said, "It's not his fault. I know." "I'm sure we've mentioned the Doximal incident to him, but he wasn't here," agreed Wesley. "It doesn't hold a great deal of meaning for him." "Not his fault," Angel repeated. "It's just..." He spun around to face Wesley, but kept his eyes trained on the floor. Every muscle in his body was tensed to move, to do something, hit something. "I just want to forget about some stuff. Sometimes. You know?" "I understand. It's perfectly reasonable to feel that way, especially under the circumstances." Angel moved back over to the heavy bag and slammed his fists into it with all his might. Right. Left. Right. "Stupid. I want to forget that it ever happened. That I said those things to you and Cordy..." Left. Right. "We've let it go, Angel," said Wesley gently. "You need to do the same." "I can't," Angel said. "I want to, but I don't know how." He gripped the chain that the heavy bag was hanging from and rested his forehead on his arm. Wesley took a step closer. "If you want me to, I can..." he hesitated, and then placed a tentative hand on the back of Angel's shoulder. Angel shuddered at the touch and turned, grabbing Wesley and kissing him fiercely and without warning. Wesley froze in complete surprise, and Angel immediately released him and backed off. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a horrified voice. "I didn't..." Wesley recovered, moved forward and touched Angel's arm. "It's all right. You just... surprised me." "I"m sorry," Angel repeated. He was looking at the floor again. "Angel." Wesley spoke sternly. "It's all right. I wasn't... I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I don't mind... that you - did that." Angel caught his eye. "You... don't mind?" "No. It's fine." Wesley let go of Angel's arm and straightened his glasses. "I was going to say... if you want me to, I can refuse Gunn's challenge. End it right here. If it bothers you..." "Can you... Wes, can you just give me a minute alone?" "Of course. I'll be upstairs - you come up when you're ready." Cordelia and Gunn had finished their discussion and were standing around looking anxious. "Is he okay?" asked Cordelia, as soon as Wesley came into the office. "Yes, I believe so." "Man, Wesley, I'm sorry," said Gunn. "I'd totally forgotten about Angel getting that chemical happy on and going all Angelus on you guys. I'm stupid. I should have remembered..." "It's all right, Gunn," Wesley said. "It's not something we could have expected you to remember." "Anyway, it's my bad. I'll just withdraw the challenge and think of something else. No big deal, right?" "Certainly, if you wish to..." "No," said Angel from the doorway. Cordelia protested. "Angel, if Gunn wants to..." "No," Angel said again. "My issue, my problem. As long as you don't challenge me to play with hallucinogens, I'll deal." "And what are the chances of that happening?" scoffed Cordelia. After a moment of silence, Wesley said, "Gunn... you said it was my choice?" "Absolutely." "Then I believe I'll go with the marijuana. There are fewer chances of side effects and I won't worry as much about it being adulterated with foreign substances." "Don't worry," said Gunn. "This guys, he only deals in the good stuff. My friend trusts him. I wouldn't take any chances, you know?" "Of course I do." "I was thinking tomorrow night?" "Certainly. At my place, if you don't mind." "Don't forget the munchies!" said Cordelia. "What? Don't look at me like that. I've never smoked pot - smoking gives you wrinkles. And then you eat, like, everything in sight... Not for me." She smiled at Wesley. "We can all come, right?" "If you must." "Oh, we must," said Cordelia. "I'm not missing this. Besides, I have to be there to cheer you on. I can't take any chances that you'll bail at the last minute." Friday night, Wesley's apartment: "I'm coming, I'm coming," said Wesley as he opened the door. He was still tucking his gray t-shirt into his jeans. "Eww," said Cordelia as she swept inside. "Too much information." "Ha ha." Wesley took one of the two paper bags Cordelia had balanced in her arms and asked, "Where do you want this?" "Kitchen," she said. "It's food. I know you never keep anything in the house, and trust me, you're going to want this later." She started emptying the bags. Tortilla chips, salsa, Lindt chocolate truffles, and a foil wrapped package. "I didn't know what kind of ice cream you liked, so I got a few," she said, loading them into the freezer. "I figured we could order pizza or chinese food or something for dinner." "Cordelia," Wesley said. "If you haven't smoked marijuana yourself, how is that you know so much about the - what did you call them? The 'munchies?'" "You remember that I was on the cheerleading squad in high school, right?" "Yes." "Did you know that in America, it's like an unwritten rule that cheerleaders date the football players?" "I still seem to be missing a key point." "The jocks are the ones who set the cool-o-meter in high school. And in Sunnydale, the students had good reasons to explore escapist... thingees. 'Cause, you know, everyone was dying all around us all the time. And then coming back from being dead and killing other people. Hence, the rampant marijuana use." "You're saying that you had boyfriends who smoked marijuana?" "Duh." There was another knock at the door and Cordelia went to open it while Wesley grabbed a handful of restaurant menus from beside his refrigerator. Angel and Gunn were shrugging off their coats. Gunn had a bag slung over his shoulder under his coat, and he dumped it on the coffee table and nodded at Wesley's hand. "Take out menus?" "Yes. Cordelia seems to think they're a necessity." "Got that right. Unless you want to try to go out to eat later, once you're high. Which I don't recommend considering it's your first time and all. It's hard to know how stoned you're going to get, and if you're really high you might not be too coherent." "So I gather. Before you arrived, Cordelia was sharing with me her vast experience with marijuana. Would you care to do the same?" "Tried it a few times. But I never seemed to get stoned, and it gave me a headache, so I gave up. Been around plenty of friends who smoke, though." He unzipped the bag and took out a small baggie of greenery and a colored plastic tube with a base. "You got a real small pair of scissors?" "Mm-hmm. Swiss Army knife." Wesley got the knife from the top of a bookcase and took the scissors out. "And a piece of paper?" Thus armed, Gunn sat down and dumped the pile of dried herb onto the piece of paper and started moving it around into a couple of piles. Wesley watched with interest. "Don't want you smoking any stem," said Gunn. "Tastes bad. Well, tastes worse. Or seeds - they pop. This one time, guy I was hanging with burnt a seed, and it popped across the room and into another dude's 'locks. Set his goddamn hair on fire." "My. That must have been disturbing." "You kiddin'? Funniest thing I ever saw in my life. Well, except for Angel asking to be pushed on the swings." Angel gave him a dirty look and continued to stand against the wall. He fidgeted and then disappeared into the kitchen. Wesley followed him. "Angel? Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" "Yeah, it's fine." "If you'd prefer not to be here, I'd certainly understand.." Angel folded his arms across his chest and gave Wesley the eye. "I'm staying. Want to make sure you're okay." Wesley looked touched. "It's really not necessary. The effects of Delta-9-THC are very temporary and non-addictive. It's virtually impossible to overdose on it and there aren't any studies that have proven it to cause cellular damage..." "Wesley, I'm staying." "Angel..." "I'm staying." "No, not that... I was going to say..." Gunn came into the kitchen and then paused. "Am I interrupting some private pow-wow?" "No, of course not," said Wesley. Gunn moved to the sink, where he put some water into the bong he'd brought with him. "Supposed to be easier on your lungs this way," he said. "Yes, some studies have shown water pipes to reduce the amount of tar that infiltrates your lungs," Wesley said. "They're also supposed to produce a cooling effect." "I'm all set... so whenever you're ready." Gunn went back out into the living room. Wesley raised his eyebrows at Angel questioningly. "After you," said Angel. Cordelia was sitting on the couch with her feet curled beneath her. Gunn had packed some marijuana into the bong's filter and left a lighter next to it on the table. When Angel and Wesley came in to the living room, Cordy jumped up and went to the stereo. "Can I put some music on, Wesley?" "Of course." She found a popular local radio station and turned the volume down a notch. Then she sat down on the rug near the stereo and looked at Wesley expectantly. "You're not going to bail, are you? Please tell me you aren't going to bail." "I assure you, I'm not going to 'bail,' Cordelia," he said patiently. He sat down on the couch and picked up the water pipe. "Gunn? Would you care to demonstrate?" Gunn took the bong from Wesley's outstretched hand and held it near his own face. "You press your mouth down here, creating a vacuum, see? Then you hold the flame to the bud, and inhale - only through your mouth - and the smoke gets drawn up through the water and into the chamber and then into your lungs." "Seems like a simple enough process." Wesley did as Gunn had instructed, breathed in the smoke, and promptly started coughing so hard that he would have dropped the pipe if Angel hadn't taken it from his hand. Angel set the pipe down on the table and vanished into the kitchen. He was back almost immediately with a glass of water. He stood there holding it awkwardly as Wesley coughed. And coughed. And coughed. After a minute or so, Angel patted him on the back. "Wes? I think at some point you need to breathe in." Wesley coughed a few more times, cleared his throat, and took a tentative breath. He held his hand out for the glass of water, took a small sip, coughed again. "Wasn't that pleasant," he rasped finally. "That's totally normal," said Gunn. "Is it really. Well, thank you for warning me that my first inhalation of marijuana would be followed by my coughing my lungs out onto the floor." He tried to clear his throat again, failed, and took another drink of water. "He's right, Wesley - I mean, I never saw anybody cough like that before, but I think it takes a while to get used to it. Maybe you should try taking smaller breaths." Cordelia was flipping idly through the take out menus. "You're also supposed to hold the smoke in your lungs as long as possible," said Gunn helpfully. "That's the least of my worries just now," said Wesley. He took several gulps of water and lit the lighter again, taking a hit from the pipe. This time he took a very small breath, and he did hold it for several seconds before bursting out into a fresh round of coughing. This fit was shorter than the previous one and when it had ended he took a third hit. "When should I begin to feel some of the effects?" Wesley asked. "Shouldn't be long," said Gunn. "What with you being a first-timer and all." Twenty minutes later, Wesley was alternately taking hits from the pipe and staring at his hands. Gunn was eating chips and salsa. "Are you quite sure I'm doing this correctly, Gunn?" "Pretty sure," said Gunn. "There some reason why you think it's not working?" "No. I guess not. What I mean to say is, I do feel quite relaxed, but I don't think I'm high, and..." He stared at his hands for another ten seconds without speaking. "What was I saying?" he continued finally. "Trust me, Wes. You're high." "How do you know?" Cordelia grinned at him. "When you can't finish a thought, it's a pretty good sign," she said. The doorbell rang, announcing the delivery of the dinner Cordelia had ordered earlier, so she went to get it. Gunn shifted his body on the floor to block the view of the bong from the delivery person, who had admittedly probably seen more people stoned in his first month on the job than most people saw in a lifetime. Angel shifted on the couch next to Wesley. "What's it like?" he asked, curiously. "What? Being high?" asked Wesley, still looking at his hands. "No, having such lily-white palms," snickered Gunn. Angel glared at him. "Shut up," he said. "Yeah, being high." "Hard to describe, I suppose. Everything looks remarkable sharp and clear, like a photograph in perfect focus. And time seems to be different - by looking at the clock I can see that it's only been thirty minutes or so since I started, and yet from my perspective it seems like much longer. I blink my eyes and it's like a shutter snapping..." Cordelia set the tower of food containers down on the table. "There, you see?" said Wesley. "Blink, and there's food on the table." "That doesn't have anything to do with being stoned, Wesley," said Cordelia. "That's known as someone-else-got-off-her-ass-and-did-something-so-I-didn't-have-to." She opened the top container, looked in, and then handed it to Gunn. She gave the next one to Wesley, set the third one aside, and handed the final one to Angel. "What's this?" Angel said. "Food. You know, for eating?" She smiled. "I figured you could use something - you know, just to be sociable." "Okay. Umm... thanks?" "You're welcome." Angel set his food container down on the table and watched as Wesley took another hit from the bong. "Is he supposed to just keep doing that?" Angel asked Gunn. "I mean, at some point he can stop, right?" "Don't worry - he ain't gonna OD." "Yeah, but I don't want him to get sick or anything." "Angel, stop being such a big worrywart," said Cordelia. "He's fine. Right, Wes?" "Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine." Wesley seemed to be concentrating hard on opening his food container. He took a bite of pasta in cream sauce and sighed. "This is remarkable," he said. And took another bite. "He's just off in La-la land," said Gunn. When Gunn and Cordelia had finished their meals, Cordelia went into the kitchen and came back with two pints of ice cream and the foil wrapped package. "What's that?" asked Gunn, nodding at it. "Brownies," she said gleefully. Angel couldn't prevent himself from making a horrified face. "I didn't make them, silly," she said. "What?" said Gunn. Cordelia waved her hand in the air. "Oh, this one time I tried to make brownies, and they were awful. No, I mean, really awful. But I didn't make these. My neighbor made them and offered me some, and you know how hard it is to refuse chocolate..." She opened a pint of Cherry Garcia, spooned a large bite into her mouth, and then crammed a brownie down into the small divot that marred the surface of the ice cream. Digging the spoon in again, she then scooped up a bite that was half ice cream, half brownie, and waved it enticingly in front of Wesley's face. "Open up, Wesley. Chocolate and ice cream, mmm-good." Wesley lifted an eyebrow at her. "Really, Cordelia. I may be 'high,' but I haven't lost my mind. You needn't speak to me as if I were a...mm-phhh!" His words were cut off as Cordelia stuck the spoon into his mouth. "See? What'd I tell you?" she said triumphantly. He choked down the bite and said, "Yes, it's very good." And then, after a moment, "Did you say there was more ice cream?" She grinned. "Yeah. This other one here is Chocolate Almond Brownie, and there are a couple more in your freezer." With some effort Wesley managed to haul himself to his feet, and then promptly tripped over Angel's on his way past. He staggered and Angel reached out to grab him. "I'm fine," said Wesley, only somewhat inexplicably. He disappeared into the kitchen. "Look at him!" said Angel as soon as Wesley was out of earshot. "He's all - uncoordinated! Are you sure he hasn't had too much?" "Angel, he's Wesley. He's always uncoordinated." Cordelia rolled her eyes heavenward. "Sheesh! The way you're acting, you'd think you had a crush on him or something." She got to her feet before Angel could respond and put the lid on the ice cream she'd been eating. "Anyway, I've gotta go. I have to get my beauty rest." Gunn pulled himself up out of the chair he'd been lounging in. "Yeah, I'd better hit the road, too. I don't need to see any more, I'm satisfied." Angel stood up and dug his car keys out of his pocket. "Gunn - take my car and drive Cordy home. I'll get the car from you tomorrow." "Cool. You sure?" "Yeah. I'm gonna hang around here for a while, make sure Wes is okay." "Not sure he needs a babysitter, but again, cool by me. I'll take the bong and the weed, leave you all evidence-free." Gunn gathered up the evidence, pouring the water from the bong into the nearest potted plant. "Thanks." "Wesley! We're going!" called Cordelia. "See you in the morning!" "Bye, Wes!" said Gunn. Angel went around the corner into the kitchen and found Wesley sitting in a chair eating ice cream. After a few bites, Wesley looked up and noticed Angel. "Ah, Angel," he said. "Would you like some?" And he held up the spoon with a chunk of ice cream on it. Angel hesitated. "It's good," wheedled Wesley. He stood up and held the spoon closer to Angel's mouth. Angel opened his mouth and let Wesley feed the ice cream to him. "It's cold," he complained as it hit his teeth. "It's ice cream," said Wesley. "It's supposed to be cold." He leaned forward, his eyes on Angel's mouth. "I know a way to warm you up," he said seductively. And moved the final few inches until his lips, tasting faintly of chocolate, slicked across Angel's in a nerve-awakening kiss. Unable to resist, Angel gripped Wesley's shoulder with one hand and leaned in for another kiss. Wesley's lips were chilled from the ice cream and his eyes were shining when Angel pulled back. "Your mouth is cold, too," Angel said gently. "Oh," said Wesley. "I apologize for deceiving you. It was completely unintentional, I assure you." Wesley moved in for another kiss. His lips were warmer now, though still tasting of chocolate, and when his tongue licked the corner of Angel's mouth Angel thought that it was lucky he'd learned some willpower over the years. The temptation to throw the other man down onto the floor and fuck him blind was strong. If Wesley had been ready for that sort of thing. Which he probably wasn't. "Wesley," Angel whispered. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Do what, Angel? Kiss you?" "Well - yeah." "I am absolutely certain," said Wesley. "Without a doubt." And kissed him again. "It's not just the marijuana talking?" asked Angel. "Angel, I may be high, but I'm still fairly confident that marijuana doesn't speak." Wesley was running his index finger along Angel's cheekbone, and the light touch was maddening. "You know what I mean." "Yes, I do. Marijuana lowers inhibitions, Angel. It doesn't change one's basic personality. Or sexual orientation, for that matter." "But... you like girls. Women, I mean..." "I do indeed like women," said Wesley, nibbling delicately on Angel's ear. "On some occasions I've even enjoyed sleeping with them. But I also. Like. You." Angel growled low in his throat and pulled Wesley against him. His slender appearance was deceptive - under his skin, Wesley was strongly built, his muscles well-defined and solid. "Am I correct in thinking that Cordelia and Gunn have gone home?" asked Wesley some time later. His lips were swollen from repeated kisses and his face was flushed. "Yeah," Angel managed to say when he was able to wrench his mouth away from Wesley's perfect throat. "They left a while ago. Took my car." "Shall we move into the living room, then? I think..." He was forced to break off when Angel caught his lips again, and when the kiss had finally ended he didn't continue with whatever he had been about to say. "Living room?" reminded Angel, and took Wesley's hand to lead him to the couch. They sank down into the cushions, and Wesley gripped Angel's hand more firmly and turned it over in his own, tracing the bones with a fingertip. When Wesley lifted the hand to his lips and kissed the palm softly, Angel groaned. "You have beautiful hands, Angel," said Wesley in a low voice, almost as if to himself. "Beautiful skin, beautiful bones. The hand is an amazing thing, you know. Especially yours, of course, but still... you can kill a man with your hands." This last sentence didn't seem to connect to what he'd been saying before. Angel put his free hand under Wesley's chin and lifted it until their eyes met. "Wesley?" Wesley looked back down at Angel's hand, cradled between his own, cool and solid and undeniably real. "You've killed men with these hands," he said under his breath. "Yes. I have." Angel didn't know what Wesley was looking for. "And they're still beautiful." "Umm...okay." "It's not all that they can do, though," said Wesley. His eyes were focused at some point inside of Angel's chest, looking at something that Angel couldn't see. "No?" Angel still didn't know where this was going, or what to say. "No. They're not just for killing." "No," said Angel. "They're for... protecting the people I care about. And, you know, other stuff. Normal stuff. Like... answering the phone. And... you know, opening doors. And..." "Destroying children's playground equipment?" asked Wesley, his eyes suddenly sparkling with humor. "Yeah." "And turning on the television so that you can watch your soap opera?" "Hey," said Angel. "You might want to think about being nicer to me, you know. These hands might be able to do you some favors." He reached out and ran his hand slowly down Wesley's chest, feeling the smooth cotton of his t-shirt and the warmth just beneath the layer of fabric. Wesley didn't respond verbally, but he leaned in to Angel's touch. Encouraged, Angel pulled Wesley's t-shirt free from the waistband of his jeans and slid his hands up inside, reveling in the smooth warm skin. Wesley shivered. "Cold?" murmured Angel, as he moved in to lick Wesley's lower lip. Wesley shivered again. "No. Not cold." "Good. 'Cause if you were cold, I wouldn't want to do this," said Angel, pulling the shirt up and over Wesley's head and dropping it onto the floor. He ran his hands over Wesley's back, one ending up at his waist and the other on one shoulder blade. They kissed long and deeply, Wesley's hands clutching at Angel's shirt. "Angel..." Wesley murmured. "Mmm?" said Angel, without pulling away from the tantalizing spot of flawless skin just under Wesley's ear. "Angel... stop." Still in a soft voice, not sounding upset. Angel stopped and searched Wesley's face. "You having second thoughts?" "No," said Wesley, smiling fondly. "I need to get a drink of water." "You're okay? I mean, you don't feel sick or anything?" "Angel, I'm fine. Honestly. I... my mouth is just a bit dry. It's a common side effect of smoking, or so I've read." He got up and went into the bathroom, with Angel trailing behind. Wesley drank a glass of water and then brushed his teeth quickly. "Ah," he sighed. "Much better. While I can't say that the effects of marijuana aren't somewhat pleasurable, the taste definitely leaves something to be desired. I can still smell it, though. Perhaps I should open a window..." Angel grabbed him and buried his nose in Wesley's hair. "I like how it smells," he said. "It's kind of green - reminds me of Ireland in spring." "I'd have to wonder about what your fellow Irishmen were growing in their fields, then," said Wesley jokingly. "Although I do believe that marijuana requires rather warm and sunny growing conditions..." He trailed off as Angel proceeded to turn him around and kiss the back of his neck where his hair tapered to a delicate point. "Angel..." "Yeah, Wes?" "Are you sure?" "'Bout what? Kissing you?" "Yes." "Wesley," Angel said, slightly exasperated. He turned Wesley back around to face him and looked him in the eye, one hand on either side of Wesley's face to prevent him from retreating from the situation. "I kissed you first, remember?" Wesley looked down, flushing. "I remember," he said. "But that was yesterday." "Does it look to you like I'm being forced into something I don't want?" "No," Wesley said reluctantly. "I'm sure," Angel said, and without letting go of Wesley's face moved in to kiss him again. Wesley's mouth was crisp and minty from the toothpaste, and cold again. Wesley gave in and surrendered to the kiss, resting one hand lightly on Angel's collarbone, stroking it through his silky shirt. His fingers toyed with the buttons but didn't try to undo them, seemingly content to touch Angel through the thin fabric. Suddenly he tightened his hold on Angel's shirt collar. "Umm, Wesley?" said Angel. "Not that you're going to cut off my oxygen supply or anything, and not that I don't like it a little - okay, a lot - rough now and then, but relax. I'm not going anywhere." "What if you are?" "Huh?" Now Angel was definitely puzzled. "Again, not being forced into anything here, Wes. Again, sure I want to kiss you. Keep kissing you. Not going anywhere." He smiled slightly. "Okay if I spend the night?" "Well... yes, but..." Wesley was flustered and seemed unsure of how to proceed. "I'm not ready to..." "Shh," said Angel, silencing him with a kiss. "I'm not... either. I mean, I am," and gestured to the erection straining beneath his slacks, "...but not now. Not yet." "Possibly not ever," said Wesley ruefully. "The curse..." Angel groaned and leaned his head against Wesley's. "Please," he said. "I'm begging you. Let's not talk about the curse unless... until... it becomes an issue." He kissed Wesley again, lingeringly. "I just want to enjoy this." "It is rather enjoyable, isn't it?" asked Wesley. "Would you care to... retire to the bedroom?" "Thought you'd never ask," said Angel. Wesley turned a bedside lamp on and pulled down the shades so that they completely covered the windows. "The sun rises on the other side of the building, so I don't think it will be an issue..." he fretted. "I'm not worried about it," said Angel, taking Wesley's hand and drawing him over to the bed. "It's okay for you to relax, Wes." "I'm sorry," Welsey said. "I'm feeling a bit paranoid for some reason... oh!" "Let me guess - the marijuana?" "Most likely." Angel pulled Wesley down onto the bed and with his hands urged him to lie down on his stomach. "Let me take your mind off of things," he suggested. He took Wesley's glasses from him and reached over him to put them on the bedside table. Then he began to massage Wesley's shoulders and back firmly, being careful to use enough pressure but not too much. "Relax, Wes." "A few moments more of this, and I'll be so relaxed I'll be unconscious," said Wesley, his voice muffled by the pillow. Angel chuckled. "That's okay. Relaxed is good. Heck, even unconscious is probably okay, as long as you don't get hit on the head to get there." He leaned deeper into Wesley's right shoulder to convince a stubborn kink to loosen, and Wesley moaned. "Good? Or too hard?" "Mmm," said Wesley. "Both. Amazing." Angel kept up the massage until he felt Wesley melting into the mattress, and then lay down next to him and rubbed the back of Wesley's head with one hand, digging his fingers into Wesley's scalp gently. Wesley's face was turned toward him and his eyes were half-closed. "You still awake in there?" asked Angel. "Hmm. Barely." Angel threw his arm over Wesley and snuggled his own face into a pillow. "S'okay. Go to sleep." Wesley immediately made as if to rouse himself. "No, I should..." Angel pushed him back down. "You should go to sleep," he said gently. "I'll still be here in the morning. This isn't a dream." "That's exactly the sort of thing that you'd say to me if it were a dream," complained Wesley groggily. "But it's not," said Angel. "I promise. Go to sleep." So Wesley did. When he woke it was very early morning, and the sun was just starting to tinge the world outside a pale yellow. He tilted his head and saw Angel, still lying on the bed and facing Wesley. Angel's hand was cool against his ribcage, and as soon as he had seen that Wesley was awake his fingers began tracing a simple pattern on Wesley's skin. "Hey," said Angel. "Good morning. Did you sleep at all?" Of its own volition Wesley's hand reached out to touch Angel's face. "Yeah, actually, I did." Angel smiled. "It was nice. Peaceful." "I'm glad. Peace is in rather short supply in our world." "Tell me about it." Angel's hand dipped lower, tickling across Wesley's abdomen and then against the front of his jeans. Wesley sucked in a breath as Angel's palm softly brushed his morning erection. Angel hitched his body forward a foot or so until the length of his body was pressed against Wesley. His hand dropped down to cup Wesley's ass, and he thrust his hips in wantonly. "Hey," he said again, in a low voice, and took Wesley's lips with his own. Wesley's alarm clock started to beep. Angel rolled over until he was on top of Wesley, thrust his hips again for good measure, and smacked the top of the alarm clock smartly. It stopped beeping. "Sorry about this," murmured Angel. "Had to reach the clock, you know." "Of course," gasped Wesley, reciprocating by grabbing Angel's ass with both hands and pulling him closer. "But we really should..." Angel kissed him, hard, a tooth-clashing sort of kiss. And then put two fingers over Wesley's mouth and said, "Don't you dare say we should get up and go in to the office." He replaced his fingers with his lips, using his tongue to trace the inside of Wesley's mouth. Wesley was unable to do anything but respond to Angel's touch. "Oh, Wes," Angel groaned. "You feel so good." Wesley kissed him again, feverishly. Then at the same time the alarm went off again and the phone rang. Angel groaned, this time in frustration, and Wesley heaved him to one side, shut the alarm off, and picked up the phone while simultaneously putting his glasses on. "Hello?" A pause for a moment while he listened. "Yes, he's right here." Wesley held the phone out to Angel. "It's for you. Gunn." Angel took the phone. "Gunn? Everything okay?" "Yeah," Gunn said. "I was gonna drop your car by the hotel, thought I'd see if you wanted me to pick up anything at Bruce's on the way. You weren't there, figured you might still be at Wes's." "Yeah, I... umm - slept on the couch," Angel said. "You know, I wanted to... make sure Wes was okay." "And? He okay?" "Yes, he's..." Angel trailed off as he watched Wesley cross the bedroom. "He's... fine." "So you need anything from Bruce? Sword polish? New axe head?" "No, no, we're good, thanks." "You want me to drop the car off at Wesley's instead?" "No. You can just take it to the office - I'll see you there later." "'Kay, man." "Thanks, Gunn." Angel hung up the phone and rolled over to blink endearingly up at Wesley, who was leaning against the door frame. "Please tell me you're coming back to bed." Wesley smiled ruefully at him. "No. I'm going to take a shower, and then we're going to work." Angel buried his face in a pillow and growled. "You're killing me here, Wesley." "You're already dead." "You know what I mean." Angel rolled onto his side and gestured helplessly at the bulge in his slacks. He lowered his voice, pitching it gravelly and dark. "I want you," he said softly. "Yes, well..." Wesley definitely seemed regretful. "While knowing that is flattering, obviously - I think it might be best if we postpone this for the time being." "For the time being? Or for good?" Angel looked uncertain. "I mean... whichever you want is fine with me, Wes. Whatever you need. I don't want to push you into anything that - " Wesley held up a hand. "Angel. Stop. I meant what I said - for the time being. I... still want... this. I do. But I can't let my desires control my actions." Angel continued to stare at him, faint lines of worry creasing his face and crinkling his eyes up. Wesley moved over to the bed and leaned down, kissing him very, very softly. Wesley picked up one of Angel's hands in his own, and held it up between them. "For making your way through the sewers to our place of business?" he asked. "On my hands?" said Angel, pretending to be horrified. He smiled. "Yeah. See you at the office?" "Absolutely." Later that same day: Cordelia's voice echoed down into the basement. "Angel? You down there?" "Yeah," he called back. He had just finished his workout and was putting away some of the practice weapons. Cordelia came part way down the stairs, and then sat down where she could see him. "I've got your next challenge." He sighed. "Let me guess. Amusement park? Water slides? Cartoons?" "No," she said, surprised. "Those are all good ideas, though - thanks. No, actually, I want you to go to my apartment and program my VCR for me." "You're serious." "Never more so, my stuck-in-the-past, technologically-challenged friend." "That's it? All I have to do is go to your apartment and set your VCR to tape something?" She smirked. "Yes, that's it. I left the manual on the coffee table, and there's a piece of paper with the time and channel of the movie I want you to tape. The movie is on tonight, so tomorrow I'll check the tape and see if it worked." "Not a problem," he said confidently. Two hours, 34 minutes later: "Stupid piece of shit," muttered Angel. "Goddamn technical jargon." He pushed a few more buttons and the VCR spit the tape out again. He ripped the tape from the machine with another curse, and then gently placed it on the coffee table before taking a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "I can do this. It can't be this hard. I just need to read the directions again, and then I'll program the VCR and I can go." Sinking back into the couch, he read over the directions a sixth time. They didn't make a lot more sense than they had the previous five times - some of the terms that were used didn't match up to any of the buttons on the VCR. It had taken him at least ten minutes to figure out that he didn't want Basic Recording or XPR Recording - he needed Timer Recording. There was a knock at the door, and after a moment it swung open, revealing Wesley on the threshhold. "Thank you, Dennis," said Wesley. "You looking for me?" asked Angel. "Well, I certainly didn't come to see Dennis. No offense, of course," Wesley said to the air around him. "Actually, I just came to see how you were getting along." "If you're talking about the VCR, we're not getting along at all," said Angel. "In fact, I'm beginning to suspect it hates me." Wesley sat down on the sofa chair and leaned back. "I'm sure they can be rather difficult to master," he said diplomatically. "You know how to program one?" Angel asked hopefully. "No, but I'm relatively confident that I could figure it out. Just read the directions very carefully, and then follow them exactly. I'm sure you'll..." Wesley seemed to realize what Angel had been asking. "No! I'm not going to do it for you." "Oh, c'mon - please? I bet you could do it in about three minutes." "Angel, that's not the point. It wouldn't be ethical, and besides... Dennis would know, wouldn't you, Dennis?" They didn't wait for a response. "Okay," grumbled Angel. "But I'm gonna be here for another three hours, at the rate I'm going." He focused on the manual in front of him again, running a hand through his hair and grimacing. "Insert a tape with its safety tab in place and enough tape to record the program." He looked at the tape. "I don't know how to tell if there's enough tape to record the program," he complained. "Can you tell just by looking?" "I'm sure Cordelia wouldn't have given you one that didn't have enough space left," said Wesley. "Damn. I'm shutting up now - Cordelia will have my internal organs pulled out through my nose if I help you." Angel looked up at him. "Nice image." "It's not mine, I assure you. She told me before I left that if I came over and helped you, she would get a 'hired goon' to pull my... well, yes, once is enough I suppose." Wesley folded his arms over his chest. "So what'd you come over here for, if you aren't gonna help?" asked Angel. Wesley shrugged. Pointed to his mouth and shook his head. Angel sighed and went back to reading the manual. After ten minutes or so had passed, he got up and put the tape back into the VCR. Kneeling on the floor in front of the machine and checking the directions frequently, he pushed a number of buttons and then got up. "Okay, I'm done," he said. "I have no idea if I did it right, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna spend the rest of the day wrestling with the thing." Wesley raised his eyebrows. "I'm done," repeated Angel. "Not asking for help." "Oh good," said Wesley, getting to his feet. He went over to the window and looked out, then checked his watch. "The sun'll be down in half an hour or so." "I think I'll hang out here until it goes down, rather than take another trek through the sewers today," said Angel. "Oh, right. That makes sense," said Wesley. "Perhaps I'll 'hang out' with you?" Angel took two steps toward Wesley. "I think I've got a better idea," he said seductively. "Oh?" Wesley licked his lips, and took half a step toward Angel. Their shoes were touching. "We could make out, instead," said Angel. "That is a better idea," said Wesley, and proceeded to do as advised. Monday morning, at the Hyperion: Angel was coming downstairs at the same time Wesley and Cordelia arrived. Cordelia looked annoyed and triumphant at the same time, in the way that only she could. "What is it?" asked Angel. "Well, I'm happy," said Cordelia, looking anything but. "Because you failed the challenge. So if Wesley meets his next one, I win!" "But you're irritated, because...?" "Because you didn't tape the movie I wanted to see, you big idiot! Instead you taped... eww, I can't even say it out loud." Wesley looked intrigued. "Why? What did he tape?" "I just told you I can't say it out loud," said Cordelia. "Wait a minute - who am I kidding? I can say anything. Angel taped porn! And worse than that, he taped gay porn!" Angel looked sheepish. "Oops?" "Yeah, I put the tape on yesterday morning to check it out, and what do I see? Two men, and really bad cheesy music, and then nakedness! I almost lost my breakfast." "I was fairly certain you were acquainted with the sight of the male form," said Wesley dryly. "Well, sure, but not two male forms together! Ick." Cordelia went over to the counter and removed the offensive tape from her shoulder bag, dropping it from two fingers as if to avoid contamination. Angel and Wesley exchanged a glance behind her back. Gunn came out of the office. "Did I just hear something about porn?" "Eww. I can't talk about this anymore," said Cordelia. She gestured at Angel. "It's your fault - you explain it." "I screwed... err, messed up when I was supposed to tape that movie for Cordelia," he said. "Taped porn instead." "Gay porn!" exclaimed Cordelia, apparently unable to stop herself from commenting. Gunn laughed. "Typical." He stopped laughing. "Wait," he said. "That means Angel didn't meet the challenge! Damn it, man. Now if Wesley meets his, I lose!" Cordelia grinned. Gunn looked at her in annoyance, and then his gaze fell upon the videotape sitting on the counter. "This the porn?" he asked. "Gay porn," repeated Cordelia. A huge smile spread across Gunn's face. He picked up the tape, smiled even more widely if that was possible, and went over to Wesley. "Here you go, man," he said. Wesley looked confused. "This is my challenge?" "You got it. You have to watch it. The whole thing." Wesley smiled slightly. "And will you be present during this viewing?" Gunn's eyes widened the tiniest fraction before he shook his head. "No way, no how. I guess I'll have to take you at your word." "No, you won't," said Cordelia slowly. "I think Angel should have to watch it too. As punishment for failing his challenge, and not taping my movie like he was supposed to. And he can supervise, make sure that Wesley doesn't wimp out. 'Cause Wesley better not wimp out." She shot Wesley a look of warning. "S'not part of the deal that Angel has to participate in Wes's challenge," Gunn pointed out. "No, but we never said that there couldn't be punishment for failing to meet a challenge," Cordelia responded. "And this way, you don't have to wonder if Wesley followed through." "But he..." Gunn started to counter this, but Angel interrupted him. "Gunn, it's fine. I'll make sure Wes watches the movie." Gunn and Cordelia stared at him in surprise. "What? You think I've never seen gay pornography before? For that matter, you think I've never watched two men in real life..." "Stop! I've heard enough. More than enough," said Cordelia. "That is the last I want to hear on the subject until the challenge is over, and then all I want to hear is 'Okay, the challenge is over.'" Angel looked at Wesley. "Tonight? We'll have to watch it at your place, unless Cordy wants to volunteer hers...?" She held her hands over her ears and said, "La la la! What did I just get finished telling you? I don't want to hear anything more on this subject!" Singing under her breath, she backed away from them and then went into the office. Gunn rolled his eyes, but said, "I'm with Cordy. Don't wanna hear about it. Once it's over, just give me the word and we'll declare Cordelia the official winner. Unless Wes caves under the pressure, in which case Angel's got another shot at the title. Hey. I wonder if he has to try to program the VCR again, or if he gets a new challenge?" He wandered into the office, presumably to ask Cordelia. "You okay with this?" asked Angel. Wesley smiled that little tight smile again. "Angel. Considering what we've been up to the past three nights, I hardly think you should need to ask." Angel lowered his voice and took a step closer. "Yeah, but that was just... you know, kissing." "Indeed," said Wesley. "But I'm a grown man, Angel. I daresay that watching a video, no matter how poorly or shockingly made, is not going to be the end of me." "Good," said Angel. "'Cause I got other plans for you..." That night, Wesley's apartment: Angel knocked on the door and waited. He had a bottle of Wesley's brand of whiskey in a paper bag in one hand and his duster draped over the other arm. Wesley opened the door, and smiled. Stood back to allow Angel room to pass by him. "Hot out," said Angel, putting the duster down on a chair. He held out the paper bag. Wesley took it and peered inside, smiling when he saw the label. "Thank you," he said. "Would you care for a glass?" "Umm... sure," Angel replied. He followed Wesley into the kitchen and accepted the glass of whiskey that was offered to him. Then he followed Wesley back into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him. Wesley got back up as he realized that he needed to put the video cassette into the VCR, and Angel stood up with him. Wesley froze. "Angel," he said. "Are you all right?" "What? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Angel was twitchy. And fidgeting. "Because you're acting as if someone has soaked you with gasoline and is threatening you with a lit match." "Oh." Angel sat back down. Wesley went over and put the tape into the machine, picked the remote control up off of the top of the television, and came back and sat down. "What is it?" he asked quietly. Angel shrugged. Opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shrugged again. "You're uncomfortable with this," said Wesley. "I guess," said Angel after a moment's silence. "Well... yeah." "Why? You said you've seen this type of movie before, and that you'd even... watched this sort of thing in person..." "True." Angel shifted his position on the couch. "I just..." "You're worried that I'll be uncomfortable?" Wesley guessed. "No," said Angel. "I mean, you said you're okay with it. But I'm... I guess I'm worried that it'll look, too good, you know?" "You're worried that it will..." Wesley paused while he puzzled this out. "Oh. I see." "Yeah," said Angel, taking Wesley's hand and rubbing it with his thumb. "I mean, what you said before... about the curse. I've been thinking about it. And you're right - I mean, you could be right. I slept with - had sex with - Darla, and I didn't lose my soul. But other than... you know, the physical - I didn't want to sleep with her. Have sex with her. Whatever..." "Mmm-hmm." "But... I want you. And... I'm pretty sure that means I can't have you." "Maybe... maybe not in that way," Wesley admitted slowly. "But there are... other forms of release. That don't require intercourse." "That's true." A hint of good humor returned to Angel's eyes. "Okay," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Depressing conversation over. Let's watch this and get it over with." "I don't mind discussing this, Angel." "Well, I do. I mean, I don't mind discussing it, but I think that's enough for one night. Okay?" "Very well," said Wesley. He clicked the television on and started the video. They sat silently through the "For Home Viewing Only" warnings, and then a vibrating, pulsing, completely absurd soundtrack was heard and the opening credits began. Angel watched, bemused. He'd been exaggerating - well, all right, lying - when he'd let the others believe that he'd watched gay pornography before. He'd been telling the truth about being present when two men were actually having sex, although he had omitted the fact that he had been one of the two men. Now he was grateful that he'd been spared this particular art form for so many years. It was truly awful. The music hip-hopped. The opening credits were interspersed with sudden, unexpected shots of semi- and fully naked men, some of them caressing their own bodies or pleasuring themselves. Most of them seemed to have had a full-body wax before filming - their bodies were as smooth and hairless as a child's. Watching the credits was almost like being assaulted - you'd be reading the names on the screen, and then all of a sudden a shiny golden man would be stroking his penis. Then back to innocent credits. "This is rather startling," said Wesley. "Just thinking that myself," Angel said. Finally the opening credits ended and the movie started. A blonde man was working in an office, talking on the phone. While he was thus engaged, another man, also dressed in a suit, came in, closing the door behind him. The first man was still talking on the phone, so the second man went over to him and started unbuttoning Blondie's shirt, licking his chest and belly. "Do they know each other?" asked Wesley. "Beats me." Now the first man hung up the phone and the two men began kissing avidly, peeling each other's clothing off as they went and rubbing against each other like cats in heat. "They're so... shiny," said Angel, mesmerized. The dark haired man was on his knees in front of the blonde, stroking his penis with his hands and mouth. Angel reached out and took Wesley's hand in his own. "This okay?" he asked, somewhat shyly. Wesley smiled at him in response and squeezed Angel's hand before turning his attention back to the screen. There were repeated shots of the blonde's head thrown back as he gasped and moaned over the repetitive soundtrack. He was either a better actor than previously believed, or the other man was pretty talented at giving head. Wesley squirmed in his seat, shifting in an attempt to... Angel wasn't sure. Loosen his slacks to give his raging hard-on more room? Or tighten them to prolong the delicious agony? Before he could decide, Angel released Wesley's hand and settled his own right where Wes needed it most, against his straining erection. Wesley groaned softly and shifted slightly again to give Angel better access. Angel's hand twisted and stroked the front of Wesley's slacks, teasing him with its touch. Angel's own cock was hard and insistent, but he