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No Going HomePart 2by WesleysGirl Something about the way Angel tensed must have gotten through to Gunn, because he turned and looked at Wesley as well, eyes widening. Immediately, Gunn pulled up his trousers. "Wes," he said, sounding more than a bit desperate. "Wes, this isn't --" "What it looks like?" Wesley suggested. He had no idea where the power to speak had come from. "Really?" "It's not --" Gunn fumbled, taking a step toward Wesley, and Wesley stepped back automatically, keeping the distance between them the same. Gunn stopped. "It's not like that." "Not like what?" Wesley asked. Hollow. Angel was standing up, unhurriedly fastening the front of his trousers over his still-erect cock although he didn't appear any less upset than Gunn. "It just kind of happened," Angel said. "Really." Wesley waited for either of them to say something else. "And how, exactly, was that?" "Wes. Please." Gunn didn't move, but Wesley could tell he wanted to. "Don't freak out about this, okay? It's not what you think." "And yet you seem incapable of telling me what exactly it is," Wesley pointed out. "Other than something that 'just happened'. Not that you owe me any explanation." That was a lie, he thought -- Gunn owed him that and a great deal more. "I want to explain," Gunn said. "Are you gonna listen?" Wesley let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, quick and short. "I suppose so." "I -- I guess I should go," Angel said, sounding miserable enough that it wrenched Wesley's attention from Gunn. "I can't imagine why you think you should be spared this," Wesley said. It was sharp and not particularly kind, and it made Angel flinch, but he nodded and stayed where he was, head down. His hair was dark and glossy in the inadequate light, glinting. Wesley wondered why part of him felt that he was in control of this situation when, quite possibly, none of them were. "Guess we're not gonna sit." Gunn looked downward as if he wanted to put his hands in his pockets, but he was wearing soft cotton sleep trousers that didn't have any. "Are you going to tell me that it didn't mean anything?" Wesley asked. "If so, I'll spare you the effort. Thinking that it meant nothing is more depressing than the alternative, don't you think?" Angel and Gunn exchanged a glance. They both looked very uncomfortable; Wesley was torn between being glad and feeling sorry for all of them. "Yeah," Gunn said. "About that..." "It's not that it didn't mean anything," Angel said, not really helping. "But it didn't," Gunn said. Angel looked at him. "Well, it didn't. Not like he's thinking." "Maybe not," Angel agreed. "But I think he's got a point. About the depressing thing." "I am standing right here," Wesley said. It shouldn't have surprised him that the conversation had got away from him. "Look, you were gone," Gunn said, directing his words toward Wesley again. "We were going crazy looking for you. Well, I was." Angel frowned. "We all were. That's why... things got out of hand." "Into hand, I'd say. As well as other places." Wesley was still waiting for the emotion of the situation to truly hit him. "I know it was bad where you were," Gunn said. "All I could think about was what might be happening to you, and trying to figure out how to find you, and..." Somehow, he'd managed to inch closer without Wesley realizing that he was moving. "It only happened a few times. When things were bad." "I see." Wesley swallowed and shifted his weight. "And it made things better." "Well..." Gunn wanted to look at Angel, Wesley could feel it in his bones, but instead he continued to look at Wesley. "Yeah, kind of." "I think we were both feeling pretty alone," Angel said softly. "It helped to remind us we weren't." "But I'm here now," Wesley said. "Yet neither of you thought it might be a good idea to tell me?" "Didn't know that it was any of your business," Gunn said, then immediately back-peddled at what he must have seen in Wesley's eyes. "Don't get me wrong -- this, what happened tonight, it wasn't cool. It shouldn't have happened. But before, that isn't something you've got any right to be pissed off about." That much was fair, at least. "No, you're right." Something else occurred to Wesley, something that ought to have occurred to him long before, but which he'd forgotten -- the fact that Angel had kissed him the other night. That was how he thought of it; Angel had kissed him. He'd been the one done to. It hadn't been his fault. Or perhaps that was just a convenient way of looking at it. "Hi!" Fred appeared so unexpectedly at Wesley's elbow that he jumped. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Her small hand patted Wesley's arm. "I didn't mean to scare you." "You just surprised me," Wesley managed, although his heart was beating at a furious rate. "I couldn't sleep," Fred said. "It's just one of those nights, I guess. You know how sometimes, when you can't sleep, and you're just lying there in bed, listening to the sound of the wind outside -- only there isn't any wind here, not really, I guess it's more traffic or whatever, although you'd think that people wouldn't be driving around in the middle of the night, I mean, don't they have their own beds to be lying in, all awake and not able to sleep and..." She gestured with both hands as she talked; her hair was tangled on one side. "Anyway. You guys couldn't sleep either?" None of them said anything. Wesley wondered if Gunn and Angel were as at a loss as he was about what to say. "Am I... oh God, I'm interrupting something, aren't I?" Fred backed away, toward the stairs. "I didn't mean to." "No, Fred, it's okay --" Angel started, but she'd already turned. "Fred, listen -- " He gave Gunn and Wesley an apologetic look, but they both knew he had to go after her. When they were alone, Gunn said, "You okay?" "Tired," Wesley said. "I should go back to bed." The thought of it was an almost painful relief, an excuse to flee a situation he didn't want to think about or be part of. "Yeah. Yeah, you do that. We can talk tomorrow." Gunn sounded hopeful. Wesley hadn't the energy to reassure him, so he turned and went back upstairs, each step feeling like an insurmountable distance. He was back to knowing what the morning would be like, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Wesley didn't sleep. He sat propped against the headboard, knees pulled up under his chin, and watched as the sun rose, the light growing brighter in tiny, immeasurable increments. He felt empty and sick; he realized after a time that part of him was waiting for the morning assault that had been ritual for so long, and was glad that he was normally sleeping at this hour. Recognizing what was making him tense helped him feel better, and he was just beginning to doze, still sitting up, when the door to the room opened very quietly and Gunn came in. "Sorry," Gunn said, stopping where he was. "Thought you'd be asleep." "I almost was," Wesley said without rancor. "What would you have done if I had been?" "I was just gonna get my stuff." Gunn gestured toward the chest of drawers where his wallet and keys were. "Are you leaving?" Wesley asked. "I was gonna go get breakfast." Still unmoving, Gunn looked again as if he wanted to put his hands in his pockets. "You hungry?" "No." Wesley turned toward him, one arm wrapped around his knees. "You want to talk?" "Not really," Wesley said. "Come here." Gunn came toward him immediately, and Wesley flinched. Irritated at both himself and Gunn, Wesley snapped, "Come here. You're certainly intelligent to understand that it's not always about you, you know." "I didn't want to hurt you," Gunn said. He sat on the far side of the bed, eyes on the tangled blankets. "You were pissed off at me, and I couldn't sleep. I just went downstairs to get something to eat. I didn't even know Angel was up, and then... I don't know. It just happened." He met Wesley's eyes. "I know that must sound like the most lame-ass excuse you've ever heard. But it's the truth." Wesley sighed. He was too tired to have much fight left in him. "I don't want to argue." "Neither do I." Gunn's shoulders were slumped. "But at least I'm good at it." "What?" Wesley said, startled. "Arguing. At least I know how to do that." Gunn's hand reached out toward him, slowly. When Wesley didn't move, Gunn's fingertips brushed the back of his hand. "It's the other stuff I'm no good at." "What other stuff?" "The other kind of talking. Where I tell you..." Gunn let out his breath in a soft huff. "Last thing I want to do's hurt you. I look at you, and I think of all that time trying to find you, and everything you went through... I just want to make it all go away. Want to make everything okay again." "Walking in on you having sexual relations with Angel isn't likely to do that," he pointed out. Gunn's dark eyes met his again. "I know. It was a mistake. I'm sorry." That was better; not perfect, not even close, but better. Wesley so desperately needed for things to be better that it was good enough. "All right." "All right?" Gunn said incredulously. "Just like that?" "I'm tired," Wesley said. "Would you like to get some sleep?" "Don't know if I could, but you look like you need it." Gunn was hesitant. "You want me to stay, right?" "Yes." Wesley scrunched himself down awkwardly until he was in a more comfortable sleeping position, and reached up to tug at Gunn's arm like a needy child. Gunn lay down beside him, cradling him close, and Wesley sighed and closed his eyes. "I really am sorry," Gunn said. "I know," Wesley said. "Were you serious?" Gunn asked. "About not wanting it to not mean anything?" Wesley thought about that, even though it made his gut hurt in a way it hadn't since he'd been shot. "I don't know. Yes, I suppose so." "Why?" "Isn't it obvious?" Wesley didn't move. "If it was obvious, I wouldn't ask." "Because I don't like the thought of it." "Yeah, but why?" Gunn seemed unusually stubborn. "Because -- because..." Feeling like a fool for not being able to put it into words immediately, Wesley struggled. "It's depressing. To think that you'd do something so... intimate, and not care -- " "No," Gunn said, sitting up and frowning down at him. "Nah-uh. No way. You're way too smart to think that." "Apparently not," Wesley said, glancing down at his hands. "Well, if things were different I'd slap some sense into you." Gunn was so gentle with him, always, that he knew this wasn't much of a threat. "You know I care about you, Wes. You know that." Wesley did -- really -- deep down. But that didn't make what he'd walked in on any less painful. Still, when Gunn lay down again, one hand stroking Wesley's arm as if utterly unaware he were doing it, Wesley couldn't help but relax. They lay quietly for some time; then Wesley said, "Don't think this means we're done talking." Gunn sighed. "Yeah, I know." A longer silence. "I'm still glad you're here," Wesley said softly. Gunn's hand patted his shoulder. "Me, too." Wesley awoke suddenly to the sound of the bedroom door shutting; just a quiet click, but enough to snap him upright, looking frantically at the door and expecting to find himself alone in an otherwise empty room. Instead, just inside the room, Gunn was toeing off his untied trainers, a cardboard cup holder in one hand and a paper bag in the other. "Sorry," he said, guiltily. "I figured I'd be able to get back in without waking you up." "Clearly not," Wesley said. His heart was still pounding away in his chest, the rapid thump of it sending adrenaline shooting through him. Everything hurt in that moment, and it must have shown on his face because Gunn immediately put down the things he was holding and came over and held him, a big hand cradling the back of Wesley's head. "Hey," Gunn murmured. "It's okay. Everything's okay." "The only way that's true is if last night was a dream," Wesley snapped, but he didn't pull away, his need for physical comfort outweighing his anger. Gunn nodded; Wesley felt the movement against his jaw. "I wish it was. The last thing I want is to hurt you; it kills me to think I did." They sat in silence, and gradually Wesley's heart slowed to something closer to normal. "I need you too much to wish you dead," he said, hoping that the humor in his voice would be evident. Pulling back, Gunn studied his face. "I hope that's not the only reason," he said. "Needing me? That's one thing. But..." Wesley understood what he was asking. "No, of course not." He wouldn't lie; instead, he used the same words Gunn had used the night before. "I care about you. You must know that." "But it's not just me." Gunn's thumb traced Wesley's cheekbone, and he realized that in the time since his return he'd become comfortable with the other man's touch to the point where he didn't want to flinch away from it, even instinctively. "I don't -- " But that wasn't true. Wesley did know what he meant. "No. It's not just you. It's always been... I've always cared for him. For years. I couldn't help myself, and... I'm not sure I wanted to." "Yeah." Gunn's sigh was shaky, uncertain, but as always his hands on Wesley were nothing but a comfort. "I think that was one of the things that made me crazy, you know? I knew that there was something different in the way you looked at him; something different from how you looked at me." He ran his thumb along Wesley's jaw, tilting his head up until their eyes met. "I didn't like it." "It wasn't deliberate," Wesley said. It was the closest he could get to an apology for something that truly mattered. "But that doesn't excuse what you did." "I know." Gunn pulled him into a tight embrace, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Wesley's neck. "It won't happen again. I can promise you that." "Good," Wesley said, but he wasn't certain how genuine that was, and he couldn't drop it there. "Did you... did you enjoy it?" Gunn did pull away then, getting up and stalking across to the door, where he'd left the cup holder and paper bag sitting on the floor. "What the hell kind of question is that?" "One that I expect an answer to," Wesley said, determined. Moving over to the chest of drawers, Gunn set the cup holder down on it. "Yeah, well, sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Wes, but you don't always get what you want. Sometimes you've gotta -- " Gently, Wesley asked, "Sometimes, you have to... what?" Gunn shook his head but answered anyway. "Make do." "And with which one of us were you doing that? Making do?" "Damn it, Wes. You know it was Angel. Don't you dare pretend you don't." Gunn scowled at him. "He deserves better," Wesley said, not backing down. He felt strong, somehow, in a way that he'd forgotten was possible. Gunn snorted and shook his head, but Wesley could tell that it wasn't necessarily a denial. Frustration, perhaps. His own anger, at least, had already faded. "That's not the point. Point is, you want me to feel guilty for being with him and for not wanting to be with him, and that's not fair." Wesley considered this for a long moment and finally nodded. "No, you're right. It's not." "So what are we gonna do about it?" Gunn came over to the bed again, opened the now-crumpled bag in his hand and gave Wesley a maple-frosted scone. "Thank you," Wesley said. "I don't know. Talk to Angel, I suppose." "Yeah, that ought to help." Gunn didn't quite roll his eyes even though Wesley could tell from his expression and tone of voice that he wanted to. "It's bad enough with just the two of us; you really think adding a third's gonna do anything but make things worse?" "That's not the point," Wesley said. "He's already been added. Pretending otherwise won't be to anyone's benefit." Gunn sighed. There was a soft, almost hesitant knock at the door, and Gunn looked at Wesley, encouraging him to be the one to answer. "Come in," Wesley said. The handle turned and the door opened, revealing Angel looking tired, worried and guilty all in one. "I heard Gunn come in, and then you both talking, so I knew you were up. I just... I don't know." He was still standing in the hallway. "Come in," Wesley said again. "And close the door. Is Fred all right?" "What? Oh. Yeah, she's fine." Angel kept his face turned toward the door as he shut it. His shoulders were slumped. "I finally convinced her that everything was okay and she should get some sleep." Angel didn't look as if he'd had any. "What about you?" Wesley asked. "What did you do?" "Oh, you know." Angel shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms across his chest and then uncrossing them again before putting his hands into his trouser pockets. "Sat in the dark brooding, huh?" Gunn asked, with enough sympathy in his voice that it made Wesley smile. "Pretty much," Angel agreed. He grimaced a bit and shrugged. "So -- things are okay?" "I suppose that depends on one's definition of 'okay,'" Wesley said. "We've managed to avoid having the conversation degenerate into name calling; that's something." "I just... I wanted you to know I'm sorry. I guess I didn't think it would be such a big deal. You know, after what happened before with you and me." Angel's eyes were guileless. The memory of it flooded back, bringing a fresh, hot wave of guilt and fear along with it. "Oh," Wesley said softly. "After what happened?" Gunn asked. Wesley couldn't look at him. "Hey, come on," Gunn said, reaching out and laying his hand on Wesley's thigh just above his knee. "It's not like -- " He stopped, then swore under his breath. "Oh no." Standing up, Gunn ran a hand across his head as if wiping away a sheen of sweat. "No, no. Don't even tell me that you two --" "We didn't," Wesley said quickly. Between his fingers, the scone's edge crumbled; he set it aside. "Then what did you do?" Gunn looked from Wesley to Angel. "Kissed," Angel said when it became clear that Wesley was unable to answer. "I kissed him. That's it." "That's it? Oh, well then, I don't know what I was getting so worked up about!" Gunn's eyebrows were drawn down, everything about his frame screamed tension. "It's not like it meant anything, right? Or wait, is it only okay if it did mean something?" He was angry, and rightfully so, Wesley knew. "I can't believe you gave me such a hard time when you were doing the same thing behind my back!" "It's wasn't the same thing," Wesley protested, finding his voice again. "It was one kiss. One. It hardly compares to what the two of you have been up to for months." "That was before," Gunn said. "We didn't know if we'd ever see you again. What the hell was I supposed to do, never touch anyone again the rest of my life because I was in love with you and you were -- " He broke off and turned away, head down, breathing uneven. When he went on, Wesley had to strain to hear him. "I didn't know what to do." None of them moved for what felt like a very long time. Then Angel said, "Yeah, you did. You knew we had to keep looking for him until we found him. And we did." "I wonder if it might have been better for all of you if you hadn't," Wesley said, with more than a hint of the bitterness he was feeling in his voice. "No," Angel said, startled, and Gunn whirled around, eyes blazing. "Don't you ever say that," he snapped. "Don't even think it. You hear me?" He sat down beside Wesley, hand grasping Wesley's tightly. Angel moved to stand immediately in front of them, watching Wesley with the same look of concern. "We needed you, Wes," Gunn said. "It sounds selfish as hell when I put it like that, but it's true." He looked up at Angel, and Angel nodded slowly, something unspoken but agreed upon passing between them in an instant. "He's right. We did. We do." Angel knelt down and took Wesley's other hand. "I still do. Whatever you decide you want, we're both okay with it. Maybe not happy, but we'll figure something out." "Will we?" Just then it felt as if everything was inextricably tangled to the point of hopelessness. "Yeah," Gunn said firmly, slipping an arm around his waist. "You're home; that's what matters. Everything else, we can fix." "We're going out to dinner tonight," Cordelia said to Wesley over some filing. She was kneeling on the floor handing him folders from the box beside her. "We are?" The thought of going on a date with Cordelia on top of the other confusion that was currently his love life, even such as it was, made Wesley feel more than a bit faint. "Yeah. I made reservations. Angel's paying." Cordelia sounded quite pleased with herself. Wesley frowned even though he was relieved. "Angel's coming as well?" "Well, yeah," Cordelia handed him another file folder. "J," she said. "Oh my God, you didn't think I was asking you out, did you? That's just... so never gonna happen in this lifetime." Cordelia patted his foot. "No offense. I love you and all, but not like that." "Oh," Wesley said, looking at the folder. "Good. Wait, why is this J?" "For jerk," Cordelia explained. "He was that guy who tried to grab my ass. Twice." "J it is," Wesley said, although he filed the folder under S where it belonged. "Why are we going out to dinner?" "Duh. Because we need to stay on top of things. We don't want a repeat of before, do we?" Cordelia gave him a meaningful look that he was clearly meant to understand, then rolled her eyes when it became obvious he had no idea what she was talking about. "With Darla?" "Ah. Yes." Wesley put away a few more folders, lost in thought as he realized that Angel had been having a relationship -- a sexual relationship -- with Gunn and yet his soul had remained firmly in place. Was it because they hadn't gone far enough to risk it? Or because Angel's only hope for truly perfect happiness lay with Buffy? "Because that was so not good," Cordelia went on. "And we need to make sure nothing like that happens again. Which I figure means taking Angel out -- or, you know, forcing him to take us out -- at least once a month and making him talk." Oh dear. "I really think he's fine," Wesley said. "We probably don't need to -- " "Uh-uh." Cordelia shook her head determinedly. "We're going. I did mention the reservations, right?" "You did," Wesley said, telling himself that it would all work out in the end although he strongly suspected that it was a lie. Going out was more difficult that Wesley had anticipated, partially because he was worried about how the evening would go and partially because being around so many people at once left him feeling a bit claustrophobic. Fortunately, Angel seemed to notice immediately -- interesting how he noticed some things and not others -- and requested a table against the north wall of the restaurant, where Wesley could sit with his back against the wall, without worrying that someone might come up behind him and startle him. "So," Cordelia said brightly once they'd ordered their meals. "Isn't this nice? We can all hang out together and talk. About anything that might be, you know, bothering us." She kept her eyes carefully averted from Angel in a way that she probably thought was subtle but which couldn't have been more obvious if she'd had a large neon sign above her head. Angel was turning his wine glass, looking at the surface of the dark red burgundy. When no one said anything, he looked up. "What?" he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Oh. Are we -- are we talking about me?" Cordelia sighed. "Do you see anyone else here with a tendency to go all bumpy in the forehead?" "That's not my fault," Angel protested. "Maybe not, but the part where your vampire girlfriend comes into town and you completely lose your mind is." Cordelia sipped at her wine and raised her eyebrows at Angel. Angel somehow managed to look both irritated and guilty at the same time. "Okay, I don't think that was my fault either, but even if it was, that was a long time ago." "Okay, okay." Cordelia held up both hands. "I'm just saying that I don't want to end up in the same position again, you know? I just want to make sure that we stay on top of things." "Yeah, well I want you to cool it with the erotic metaphors before we all get grossed out," Gunn said, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, right, uh-huh," Cordelia said. "Like I buy that." Something about her tone made Wesley take notice. "What are you... there's something you're not saying." "Me?" Cordelia said. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but there isn't a lot I won't say. Like, for example, that the three of you have been screwing around behind my back." She sounded almost angry, Wesley thought. "What?" Gunn said. "You heard me, and you know exactly what I'm talking about." Cordelia finished her wine and set the glass down on the table, then looked pointedly at it. "Hello? Anybody going to give me a refill?" The wine bottle was closest to Angel; he grabbed it hastily and poured some more into Cordelia's glass. "How long have you known?" Wesley asked. It was clear that she did know, and there was little point in continuing the charade. "A while." Cordelia took another sip of wine and sighed. Her cheeks were flushed. "I thought we were friends." "We are," Gunn said. "Doesn't mean we have to tell you everything." "I tell you guys everything," Cordelia said. "Even when we don't want to know," Gunn agreed. "Please." Cordelia tossed her hair back. "You so want to know." "There are some things people prefer to keep private," Wesley said, trying to be tactful. "Not from their friends," Cordelia said, and Wesley realized that she was genuinely upset. "We're sorry," he said. He hoped Angel and Gunn wouldn't mind that he was speaking for the three of them. "We weren't trying to keep you in the dark. It's just that things are... rather complicated. We're still trying to sort everything out." Mollified, Cordelia said, "So, were you going to tell me eventually?" "No," Gunn said. "Yes," Wesley said, frowning at Gunn. "Because it's not that big a deal," Cordelia went on. "I mean, this is the 21st century. Being gay is practically fashionable. The whole threesome thing is a little less common, sure, but nowhere near as freaky as being a bloodsucking creature of the night. No offense," she added to Angel, who looked as stunned as Wesley felt. "None taken," Angel said faintly. "What do you mean, 'threesome'?" Gunn said. "That Cordelia," Gunn said to Wesley and Angel after they'd dropped her off. "Pretty girl, but saying that she's not the brightest bulb on the tree would be an insult to bulbs." He seemed to consider this. "Maybe to trees, too." "She's not dumb," Angel protested. "She's just... you know. Focused on particular things." Gunn snorted. "Like whether or not the three of us are doing each other, apparently." Wesley had been quiet in the front seat, sitting beside Angel, since Cordelia had gotten out of the car. Since before then, actually, and he knew from Angel's frequent glances in his direction that it hadn't gone unnoticed. "Is it really so unthinkable?" he asked softly after a few moments. "Yeah," Gunn said. "Yeah, it is. It's just -- " He stopped. "This isn't... I'm not -- " "In denial?" Wesley suggested. "I'm fairly certain you are." Gunn was silent in the back seat; Wesley wanted to turn and look at him, to reassure himself that Gunn wasn't angry, but it seemed more prudent not to. It wasn't the easiest truth to accept about oneself, after all, and the other man deserved a bit of privacy in which to come to terms with it. When they arrived at the hotel, Gunn jumped out of the car. "I'm going for a walk," he said. "Would... would you like company?" Wesley asked as he and Angel got out and shut the car doors. "No." Without another word, Gunn walked off, shoulders hunched under his too-large jacket. Wesley might have stood there watching him until he was swallowed up by the darkness; Angel touched his arm, getting his attention. "He'll be okay," he said. "Will he?" Wesley sighed and they went inside. "You know Gunn," Angel said. "He's tough. Give him a little time and he'll bounce back." There was a knot in Wesley's stomach. "I hope so." Angel reached out and patted Wesley's shoulder. "Jeez, you're tense," he said. "Yes, well." It didn't mean much, but Angel was already guiding him over to the nearest chair and pushing him down onto it, strong hands massaging his shoulders and neck. "Oh." "Easy." Angel said. His thumbs traced down on either side of Wesley's spine, making him shiver involuntarily. "Breathe." He seemed to know what he was doing; Wesley was relaxing despite himself. When Angel spoke again, it was in a whisper close to Wesley's ear. "Is this okay?" Wesley closed his eyes. "Yes," he said. "Because I could stop," Angel said, his hands doing magical things to Wesley's back. "If you wanted me to." "No," Wesley said. "Don't stop. It feels... wonderful." They were skirting the boundaries of acceptable behavior, he knew that. What he didn't know was -- well, no, he knew that Gunn would come back. He knew that Gunn had feelings for him. But would those feelings be enough to override his obvious distaste at the idea of an actual, acknowledged relationship? Angel didn't seem to have any such qualms. "I like that," Angel said. "Making you feel good." He bent lower, his breath cool against Wesley's jaw, one hand sliding down across Wesley's chest. "You trust me, right?" "You know I do," Wesley said shakily. "Good. Then you know I'd never do anything you didn't want me to do." Angel straightened up again, going back to massaging Wesley's shoulders in a slightly more business-like manner. "I just want to make sure you know that I want you. That I..." He sighed, sounding more than a bit sad. "I just wanted you to know." "I do," Wesley said. "I know." "It's late," Angel said, even though it wasn't. "You should go to bed." He was gone before Wesley could turn around. Slowly, Wesley stood and went upstairs. He'd just fallen asleep when Gunn crawled into bed -- the other man was cold, and Wesley turned and wrapped himself around him automatically, sharing his body warmth. He was too drowsy to be surprised when another, equally cool body pressed against him from behind, Angel's strong arm wrapping around his waist. Angel's lips teased the side of Wesley's throat and he gasped, shocked at how good it felt. Gunn put both arms around Wesley and pulled him closer, kissed him. He opened his mouth against Gunn's, feeling his body respond eagerly to both the kiss and to Angel's hand sliding down inside his trousers. "I'm sorry," Gunn was muttering. "I didn't... Wes, I'm sorry." "It's all right," Wesley said. "No, it's not. But I'm gonna make it up to you." Gunn's thumb found Wesley's nipple and rubbed back and forth until it tightened. "We both want to. Okay?" "I -- " Wesley was already getting lost in sensation. "Say yes," Angel murmured. "We want to make you feel better. Feel good. Let us." Wesley drew a shuddering breath and nodded, then groaned as Angel's hand stroked his cock. "Yes," he said. "Yes." Solid bodies on either side of him, Wesley could only tremble with pleasure. One hand on his erection, another playing with his balls, Gunn's mouth on his, a third hand toying his nipple. It was so good that he felt lost, but not the sort of lost that was frightening because he knew that Angel and Gunn were both there keeping him safe. "I... I want..." He wasn't certain what it was he wanted. "Tell us," Angel said. "Whatever it is, you've got it." "I don't... can't -- " Wesley cried out as Gunn's teeth found his nipple and worried at it, his cock pulsing a warning in Angel's hand. Angel's voice was as smooth as silk in his ear. "Don't come," he said. Wesley laughed shakily, gasping for air. "Easier said than done." "Yeah, but I have faith in you," Angel murmured. "You can do it. Just hold off for a little while. It'll be worth it." Closing his eyes, Wesley tried to think of anything but the incredible sensation of Gunn's mouth, Angel's hand. "Here," Gunn said to Angel, breath warm against Wesley's chest. "Turn him over. Like this." Wesley found himself being rolled onto his back, thighs spread wide by Angel's hands as Angel's tongue licked a wet trail along his erection. Gunn went back to kissing him, fingernail teasing Wesley's nipple. Angel's lips slid down the length of Wesley's shaft, then pulled back, sucking as he went. Wesley nearly arched up off the bed, sobbing with pleasure. He could feel Gunn's erection against his thigh, damp and eager, but he wasn't afraid. He trusted both these men, he realized, with everything he had. With everything he was. As much as he would have liked to hold off, it was impossible with the two of them touching him. Wesley came with the fingers of one hand tangled in Angel's hair and the other hand on the back of Gunn's neck, gasping into Gunn's mouth. Angel moved up and took Gunn's place kissing him, hand between Wesley's thighs teasing the last few spasms from him. Then Angel's fingers moved lower, back behind his balls, and Wesley's reaction was entirely beyond his control -- he panted, "No," and struggled to get away, mindlessly clambering over Gunn, who caught him around the waist and held him until Angel could help restrain him. "Let me go," Wesley said, still struggling. "Wesley!" It was Angel's voice that stopped him. "Wes." Terrified, heart pounding, Wesley froze. His breath was quick and hoarse in his throat. "It's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you." Angel sounded like he was attempting to talk a suicidal jumper down from a tall building -- as if Wesley were that close to the edge, as if it were that important to him. "All right," Wesley said, although he still wanted nothing more than to get away. He swallowed. "I'm fine. Let go." Gunn did. More slowly, so did Angel. Carefully, Wesley got out of the bed, containing himself until he was far enough away from them. Then he proceeded to tear the room to pieces. He picked up books and threw them at the wall with all his strength, taking a savage pleasure in the sounds of their spines breaking. He tipped over chairs, pulled drawers from the chest and slammed them to the floor. Through it, he was aware that Gunn and Angel were watching him, but he didn't -- quite -- feel self-conscious enough to stop. The last book he threw hit a framed mirror on the wall, shattering into splinters as the frame came apart. Then Angel was beside him, very carefully not touching him but there all the same. Breathing heavily, Wesley stood there. Without his glasses the room was blurred around the edges, which suited him just fine at that moment. His hands were shaking. "Wes?" Angel said uncertainly. There were so many things Wesley could have said, but none of them truly encompassed what he was feeling. "Seven years, isn't it?" "What? Oh, the mirror. Yeah, I think so," Angel said. "Careful, you don't want to step on the glass." And that was all; there was no further mention of it. Wesley allowed himself to be led back to bed. Gunn and Angel were both cautious in how they moved and touched him. It made him furious, knowing that he'd been reduced to this -- afraid of being touched, prone to losing control of himself -- but it also made him, in the end, very sad. Angel's hand on his hip, brushing idle fingertips across his skin, gradually helped relax him. He felt the nudge of Gunn's cock, still half erect, near his hip, but was too weary to react at all. "If -- " Wesley started, trying to think of the best way to word it. "If the two of you would like to -- " Gunn leaned in and kissed him. "What about you?" "What about me?" "Would you like that?" Gunn asked. "He wants to know if you want to watch," Angel said, his voice slipping down into those devastatingly erotic tones again. Wesley looked at Angel. The vampire had been the subject of so many fantasies that this was almost too much to accept. "Yes," he said, and looked at Gunn as well. "Yes, I'd very much like to watch." Although Angel seemed larger than life, taller than everyone around him, Gunn was actually the larger of the two. Not that it mattered in bed, where the biggest contrast between them was the color of their skin -- Gunn so wonderfully dark, and Angel so pale after hundreds of years without sunshine, and together they looked so incredible that it made Wesley's breath catch in his throat. They kissed slowly but not tenderly, mouths clashing as though they were vying for supremacy, which Wesley supposed in someway they were. "I still want to fuck you," Angel said, one hand sliding along Gunn's torso. "And the answer's still no," Gunn said. "Why're you so hyped up about fucking, anyway? This isn't good enough for you?" He rolled on top of Angel, grabbing for his cock and stroking it roughly. Angel groaned and shuddered beneath him. "It's good," he agreed, spreading his thighs so that Gunn could settle between them. "Could be better. You could fuck me." Hand faltering, Gunn looked a bit shaken. "Since when is that an option?" "I never said it wasn't," Angel said. "Yeah, but you never offered, either," Gunn pointed out. "Now all of a sudden you want to?" They seemed to have forgotten that Wesley was there; their discussion didn't include him. "Maybe things are different now," Angel said quietly. He reached down and took Gunn's hand, bringing it up to his mouth, where he sucked two of Gunn's fingers in, wetting them. "Maybe different can be good?" Gunn nodded and licked his lips, then freed his hand from Angel's grasp before pushing two fingers slowly into Angel. "Maybe," he agreed, watching Angel's face with what seemed to be more genuine affection that he'd admitted to so far. "You sure?" "Yeah," Angel said, although his voice broke on the word. "Yeah, I'm sure. Do it." Awkward, as if he were watching something he wasn't meant to see, Wesley lay very still as Gunn turned Angel over and fucked him -- at first slowly, almost gently, and then more forcefully, thrusting into him, hands braced on Angel's hips. It went on for some time; Gunn clearly had no issues with stamina, Wesley thought faintly. When Gunn came, groaning and jerking his hips forward, his expression was blissful. "Jeez," Gunn said. He pulled out; there was a fine sheen of sweat on his chest. "Should have done that a long time ago." Angel collapsed down onto his side, still hard, and unthinkingly Wesley reached out and touched his erection, shiny at the tip. "Is this all right?" Wesley asked. He wasn't certain if it was Angel or Gunn he was asking permission from. "Please," Angel said, soft and breathy, and Gunn sat back on his heels. "Yeah," Gunn said. "Go on, Wes." With a hand that shook, Wesley began to stroke Angel's cock. Angel made a shocked, choked sound in the back of his throat and pushed his hips forward, begging wordlessly for more. Wesley was more than happy to give it, even if all of this still seemed more like a dream than reality. "Don't stop," Angel whispered. His eyes were closed. "Wes, please. Don't stop. I'm -- " And he came, that quickly and easily, his cool fluid striping Wesley's hand and the sheets as he shuddered and gasped. When it was over, he pulled Wesley down and kissed him. After the three of them cleaned up a bit, they found, surprisingly, that they all fit in the bed rather well together. With Gunn on one side of him and Angel on the other, Wesley grew comfortable. "This was a good idea," he said, yawning. "Yeah, well, just don't tell Cordelia about it or she'll take all the credit," Gunn said, yawning. "It was her idea," Angel said. "It was her mistake," Gunn said. Wesley patted Gunn's arm. "Surely it doesn't matter whose idea it was?" "Not really," Angel said. "I guess not," Gunn admitted, sounding a bit sour about it, but when he tightened his arm around Wesley's waist and kissed the back of his shoulder, Wesley knew they were in agreement. In the morning, the glass splinters from the mirror Wesley had broken were gone, apparently picked up from the carpet with a precision that was surprising, and he and Gunn were alone in the bed. He wondered when Angel had woken up -- a thin beam of sunshine was coming in through a crack in the curtains, but otherwise the room was safe enough for a vampire. He wondered if Angel was upset. "Morning," Gunn said, rolling nearer and putting an arm around him. "Sleep okay?" "Yes," Wesley realized. "Good." Gunn's lips moved against Wesley's shoulder for a moment, then he lifted his head and blinked blearily. "Where's Angel?" It was odd, Wesley thought, how that simple question relaxed him. "I don't know." "What time is it?" Wesley reached for his glasses, then looked at the clock, which was one of the few things in the room that remained undamaged during his rage the night before. "Nearly ten." "Huh." Gunn yawned. "I guess we were up late." "Were we?" Wesley had no concept of what time Gunn and Angel had come to bed. "Yeah." Sitting up, Gunn leaned against the headboard. "We should probably go find him." "You aren't suggesting that we actually... talk, are you?" Wesley asked, trying not to smile. Gunn gave him a look. "Did you hear me say that?" "I'm fairly certain it was implied." "Well that's because you over-think everything," Gunn said. He got up, the line of his back and arse smooth and sharply appealing in the dim morning light. He frowned at the dresser drawers that had been piled neatly near the chest. "Looks like he was busy before he snuck out of here." "Apparently so." Wesley could see Gunn taking in the fact that the shattered mirror had been cleaned up as well, although he didn't say anything about it. Gunn found some of his own clothes, setting them on top of the chest of drawers, then sorted out some of Wesley's and tossed them at him. "You think he was upset?" Gunn asked. "Oh, are we talking?" Wesley asked innocently as he began to get dressed. "I was under the impression that that was just me, over-thinking things as usual. Or perhaps I'm just imagining this conversation." "You're a pain in the ass," Gunn told him, and tossed a t-shirt directly at Wesley's head. Angel wasn't downstairs; in fact, he didn't seem to be in the hotel at all. They spent the day looking for him without success. He refused to answer his cell phone, if indeed it was on at all, and didn't call either Wesley or Gunn back although they both left messages on his voice mail. Of course, whether or not Angel actually knew that he had voice mail, let alone how to retrieve any messages left there, was a topic of some debate. Cordelia insisted that he did, but Wesley suspected that was more optimism on her part than anything else. "Are you sure you guys didn't have a fight or something?" she asked, when the three of them had decided to abandon the search and were sitting in the lobby. "Quite sure," Wesley said. "I don't know," Cordelia said. "You know those lover's tiffs, they're -- " "Something happened to Angel!" Fred cried, rushing down the staircase more quickly than was probably prudent. Wesley was already on his feet. "What makes you say that?" "I think someone broke into the hotel," Fred said. Her hair was loose, her hands clutched together in front of her. "I mean, not that anyone would need to, what with it being unlocked all the time, plus I'm pretty sure all the windows on the top floor are broken out." "Fred," Cordelia said. "Focus. What, about Angel?" "Oh! Right." Fred waved her hands as if fanning herself. "Well, everything in Wesley's room is, you know, all over the place." Gunn, who'd been standing up, too, sighed and collapsed back down onto the couch. "That doesn't have anything to do with Angel." "It doesn't?" Fred went from frightened to uncertain in the briefest instant. "Oh. But, how?" "It's a guy thing," Cordelia said, as if she understood. She put an arm around Fred's shoulders. "They're just slobs. It's, like, a testosterone thing. They're actually physically incapable of cleaning up after themselves. That's why women invented Merry Maids." "Hey, the current state of our room is an exception," Gunn said. "Your room?" Clearly confused, Fred bit her lip and looked from Gunn to Wesley. "I thought -- " "We're together," Wesley said, hoping against hope that Gunn wouldn't take the admission badly. "You are?" Fred's eyes were bright but difficult to read. "I, I didn't know." "Oh, yeah. Angel, too. But trust me," Cordelia said. "Men? Nothing but trouble. They're better off with each other. Except, of course, for the handsome -- and need I mention rich? -- stranger who's waiting on the horizon to sweep in and take me away to a life of luxury." "That... sounds nice?" Fred said, looking sideways at Cordelia in much the manner Wesley often wanted to. "Yeah," Cordelia said wistfully. "It will be." She gave herself a small shake and smiled brightly. "Anyway. I'm sure Angel's just... off doing whatever it is vampires do in L.A. During the day. When it's sunny out." "Yes, Cordelia," Wesley said. "Thank you. That's very helpful." "Hey, I'm not saying he's all dusty or anything," Cordelia protested. "I'm just saying we looked everywhere we could think of, and he'll turn up when he's ready." "Hi," Angel said from behind them. "Like now," Cordelia said. She guided Fred toward the stairs. "Come on, Fred. Let's go upstairs and leave the men to their... whatever." "I'm glad nothing happened to you!" Fred called over her shoulder. "Thanks," Angel said. He took his hands out of his pockets, then put one back in. "You guys thought something happened to me?" "No," Wesley said. Gunn frowned. "You took off," he said. "Yeah," Angel said. "We were worried," Wesley told him. "Sorry," Angel said. "I didn't mean to worry you." "You didn't answer your phone. Or return our calls." Wesley didn't mean to be accusative; he was merely making statements. "Oh, yeah. My phone. I don't even know where that is." Angel made a show of checking his pockets, then shrugged. "I thought maybe you might want some time, too. You know. To think about things." "Difficult as it might be to believe, we are capable of thinking when you're in the room," Wesley said. "Look," Angel said, glancing toward the top of the stairs as if he wanted to be sure that Cordelia and Fred weren't there. "This thing. With us. It's complicated. Sometimes complicated is bad. Sometimes, people don't want complicated once they realize how... you know. Complicated it is." "Is there gonna be a quiz later or something?" Gunn asked. Angel looked at him. "What?" "Well, you keep saying 'complicated,'" Gunn explained. "I was starting to think you wanted to make sure we were prepared." Wesley felt cold; he sat down on the edge of the couch. "Is that what this is?" he asked. "Okay, am I the only one who doesn't think this conversation doesn't make any sense?" Angel said, perplexed. "You're the one making this conversation not make any sense," Gunn said. "Are you preparing us?" Wesley said, hoping that would be clear enough. "For what?" Gunn said. "Oh. Oh." "No," Angel said, then immediately looked uncomfortable. "I mean, unless you want that. For me. To be." "Sit down," Wesley said. Looking nervous, Angel sat. "Whatever it is, just tell us," Wesley said. "I'm just... no good at this," Angel said, staring at his hands as if they were utterly fascinating. "What? At being in a relationship with two other guys?" Gunn said. Wesley looked at him, startled. Gunn continued. "Can I ask how you know you're no good at it? Because if you've got experience with this kind of thing, it would have been nice to know sooner." "No, I mean all of this." Angel didn't move. "Last time I got into a... relationship. It didn't go so well." "That was different," Wesley said. Slowly, he reached out a hand and set it on Angel's thigh, just above the knee. Angel looked up at him, dark eyes troubled. "This will be different." No doubt because Angel wouldn't be perfectly happy with them, which was both a good thing and terribly sad at the same time. "Will it?" Angel sounded defeated, as if he'd already given up. Wesley nodded. "Yes." "Oh God, is there going to be hand holding?" Cordelia asked, coming down the stairs. "Because if there's going to be hand holding, I'm going back upstairs to listen to Fred." "If you're uncomfortable, Cordelia, by all means feel free to leave," Wesley said. "Jeez, Wesley, I was just kidding. It's not like I want to go back and listen to Fred's theories on the evolutionary whatevers of homosexual behavior." Cordelia looked at them. "Okay, I can tell this is going to be a fun evening. I'm gonna go home. Call me if -- " Her eyes unfocused, and Wesley realized that she was about to have a vision at the same time Angel leapt up and caught her. Watching her suffer through the vision grew more difficult each time, Wesley thought just before he firmly detached his emotions and did what he could to help. Angel held Cordelia as she writhed and screamed, clutching at his arm and Wesley's hand. When it was over her face was tear-streaked and her lip swelling where she'd bitten it. "Drugs," she whimpered, gesturing at her bag. Gunn quickly retrieved them then went for a glass of water. Wesley found some tissues and Cordelia used them to dry her face. She was trembling and nearly spilled the water Gunn gave her; Angel had to help her steady the glass. She swallowed, sniffled. "A really big, oogy demon," she said. "Scaly. It's down near that Ballet Academy in Reseda. On Sherman?" "I'll go," Angel said, relinquishing his position behind her to Wesley. "No way you're going on your own," Gunn said. He stood up, too. "No," Cordelia said, shaking her head, weaving. "Wesley." "What?" Wesley said gently. "You have to go." She turned her head to look at him. "I saw you. I don't know why." "What else did you see?" Angel asked. He crouched down and touched Cordelia's cheek, getting her attention. Cordelia pressed her fingers to her temples and moaned softly. "Wesley was... I don't know. He wasn't hurt, though. I'd tell him not to go, if -- " "I know you would," Wesley said, not that it would matter really. "Will you be all right here? Gunn could stay." Gunn was frowning and shaking his head. "No, it's okay. I'll be fine." Cordelia got to her feet with Wesley and Angel's help, then sank down onto the couch. "Go. Go!" The boot -- trunk, Wesley reminded himself -- was always full of weapons, so they were well prepared physically by the time they reached the Ballet Academy. Being prepared mentally was a different story, for Wesley, at least. His brief rage the night before had left him feeling uncertain about his ability to maintain control. The sun was setting low on the horizon, making it easy enough for Angel to avoid the lingering rays and keep to the shadows. He looked around, sword in hand, as Gunn handed Wesley another sword and grabbed an axe. "You hear anything?" "You'd be the better judge of that," Wesley pointed out. "You keep back," Gunn told Wesley, touching his shoulder. Wesley frowned. "I'll try not to put myself into unnecessary danger," he said, which was absurd considering he'd done just that by coming along. He had to trust Cordelia's vision, though. He couldn't falter now. There was a growl from somewhere indefinable, then a scream -- a woman's voice, high-pitched and frantic. Angel took off running, and Gunn and Wesley followed. Angel being Angel, he was already fighting the demon by the time they caught up to him; his sword clanged against some hard surface, whether the road or the side of the building, Wesley didn't know. It took more time for his eyes to adjust in the sudden darkness when they stepped into the shadows; he stopped, blinked, waiting for the moment when the blackness would fragment and things would become themselves again, solid and familiar. He wasn't prepared for how familiar, unfortunately. There -- Angel's outline, and then the brush of a body past Wesley's as a young woman ran by. Gunn was moving in to join the fight from the left. The demon swam into focus, and Wesley felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He tried to detach his emotions, as he usually did when put in an emotionally difficult situation, such as this one; when he'd come very nearly face to face with the same -- or a very similar -- species of demon as the one which had used him for sexual release in the work camp. It wasn't the same creature, of course. It looked right at him without the slightest hint of recognition. But otherwise, in every other way, it was the same. Same height, same scaled skin, same matched set of horns on its cheeks, same clawed hands. Angel backhanded the demon and its head snapped to the side. It staggered but didn't lose its balance. Meanwhile, Gunn came at it from the other side and it blocked his axe swipe with the base of its forearm, then struck Gunn, who fell to the pavement. Wesley's hand was clenched so tightly on the hilt of his sword that it hurt; he moved forward like an automaton, barely aware of what he was doing, as Angel and the demon exchanged a series of blows. Gunn got up at the same time the demon was knocked off its feet. Angel lifted his sword, clearly intending to strike a killing blow while the demon was still incapacitated, and Wesley shouted, "No!" Angel froze, glancing at him uncertainly. "Wes?" "I want... I want to do it," Wesley said, moving to Angel's side. He was aware of Gunn and Angel watching him, of their confusion, but neither of those things truly mattered at that moment. He raised his sword, thinking blankly that he would cut off the demon's head -- or as close to it as he could manage. It opened its eyes. For a moment, it didn't seem able to focus, but then its gaze sharpened, and it took in Wesley standing over it, weapon held up. There was, Wesley thought, a quick flash of fear, then what might have been resignation. Everything rushed over Wesley: a surge of memory so powerful and quick that it hurt -- clawed hands on his hips, a searing pain stabbing through him, a foul taste at the back of his throat, the sensation of being suffocated, unable to breathe, the world going black... Wesley arced the sword downward, and the force of the blow as it struck jarred his arm to the shoulder. The demon jerked and made a short, pained gurgling sound before its windpipe was severed; then it was still and silent, a pool of blood spreading from beneath it. Dropping the sword from a hand suddenly without strength, Wesley turned and walked over to the wall, leaning against it, letting it hold him up. "Wes?" Angel said, in that same uncertain voice he'd used before. "Don't," Wesley warned him. Gunn muttered something under his breath, and Angel answered in kind. Someone moved toward Wesley. "Don't," he said again. "Don't touch me. Just... let me be." He was shaking, his body reacting to memories of the past and to what had just happened. He felt as if he might be ill, but he was empty, impossibly so. Bleak. Cold. In the background, there was the sound of a siren. "Wes. We've gotta go," Gunn said, from close behind him. "Right." Wesley turned. Gunn was holding Wesley's sword, clearly unsure whether or not to offer it to him. Without reaching out for the weapon, Wesley walked past Gunn, past Angel, not allowing his gaze to move toward the demon's body. Under other circumstances, they'd dispose of the body, he knew, but the siren was growing louder and they needed to go. He got into the back seat, relieved when Angel and Gunn both got into the front without comment. Being in the car felt wrong, alien, as they drove back toward the hotel. Wesley was tempted to ask Angel to pull over, but he knew that getting out and standing on the sidewalk wouldn't be an improvement. What had been home had become (again) a strange, foreign place in the blink of an eye, leaving Wesley feeling as though he'd been tossed aside, discarded. Neither Angel nor Gunn spoke; he wasn't sure if that helped or made things worse. Back inside the hotel, there was a note from Cordelia: I'm fine. Really. Went home to get some rest. Call me? - C Wesley nodded without saying anything and went upstairs. He could hear Angel's one-sided conversation with Cordelia as he reached the top of the stairs, and waited there, listening, until Angel said goodbye. His room -- their room, whoever's room it was, he was no longer sure he knew -- was blissfully quiet. Somehow, the disarray made it more comforting, as if it were somewhere Wesley could hide, go unnoticed. He wanted to blend in, to fade away. To disappear. None of these thoughts were conscious ones -- they were an instinctive need, something deep and twisted around his innards. He curled up on the bed, numb, but all too soon he felt the mattress sink down on either side of him as Angel and Gunn joined him. Better than last time, he thought, when he'd barely been aware of anyone else's existence. Wesley knew that he was in danger of slipping away again. With enormous effort, he opened his eyes and reached out to touch Gunn's hand. "It's possible I'm not dealing with this very well," he managed to say. "You think?" Gunn said. "It reminded me," Wesley said. "But you took care of it," Angel said, and Wesley rolled onto his back so that he could see the vampire as well. "It's over." "Don't be stupid," Wesley told him. "Of course it's not over. Things like this are never over. I'm just -- " Like this, he wanted to say. Broken. Damaged. "The pieces don't fit back together seamlessly." "Maybe not, but they're a hell of a lot more glued together than they were a couple of weeks ago," Gunn said. His hand was warm and reassuring. "You're right -- some stuff you never get over. But it does get better." "Sometimes you have to take what you can get," Angel said, and the truth in that, and all that it encompassed, slipped in underneath Wesley's armor and bloomed in his chest into something like hope. "Sometimes," Wesley said slowly, "what you get is more than you deserve." "That's bullshit," Gunn said. "Don't you even think that. You deserve a hell of a lot more than either of us can give you." It wasn't worth arguing. Wesley sighed, and Angel took hold of his chin and made Wesley look at him. "He's right," Angel said. "I don't think so." "Yeah, see, that's another reason it's true," Gunn said. "Because I think it isn't?" Wesley asked, frowning. "No," Gunn said. "Because you think you're not worth that much." Wesley was still frowning. "And that proves I am?" "Kind of," Angel said. "It means you're, you know. Humble." Wesley laughed -- there was no other way he could possibly react to the absurdity of the conversation they were having. "I think you're both completely mad," he said. "Yeah, but we make you laugh, so we can't be all bad," Gunn said. "I didn't say 'bad'," Wesley told him. "I said 'mad'. Crazy. Totally insane." "I think he's insulting us," Angel said to Gunn. "Guess that means he's feeling better," Gunn agreed. "I am," Wesley said, chuckling a little more before sobering. "I am. Thank you." "We just want you to be happy," Angel said, almost bashfully. "If we can help with that..." "You do," Wesley assured him, looking from one to the other. "Both of you. To say that it's unexpected would be an understatement, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful." He was: very, very grateful, as well as astonished to realize that his life really was sorting itself out, slowly but surely. Once there'd been a time when he'd thought he'd never go home again. Where'd he'd ended up might be a surprise, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Recovery, Wesley learned, was a long, slow, and often painful process. There were nights when he was certain desire would overcome fear, only to be disappointed. Angel and Gunn were nothing but reassuring; the three of them spent hours, often in the middle of the night, talking about it. Often Wesley would be the only one actually speaking -- the other two were quiet, hands stroking Wesley's skin in non-threatening ways. Once, at dawn, Wesley told them everything that had happened to him -- all that he could remember, some of it twisted and melded so that he suspected that three incidents became one or one diverged into three. They held him as he trembled, remembering, and kissed him when it was over, telling him without words that he was home and, more importantly, that he wasn't alone. Cordelia was surprisingly easy with the entire situation. That didn't stop her from mercilessly teasing them at every opportunity, nor attempting to embarrass them in public, of course, but there was no heat behind it, and there were times when Wesley caught her smiling when Angel's hand lingered on Gunn's hip or when Gunn murmured something to him. The visions seemed to have eased -- not that any of them were foolish enough to think that would last. Wesley spent several evenings each week researching a cure for her, and was beginning to think that he might be on the right track. A proper translation of a scroll he shouldn't have been in possession of would answer many of his questions. He spent an entire day at it, absently eating a sandwich that Gunn left at his elbow but otherwise doing little else. He didn't realize the time until Angel and Gunn were suddenly standing in front of him. "What?" Wesley said, not looking up. "You haven't been out of that chair all day," Gunn said. "Don't be ridiculous," Wesley said. He frowned at a particularly challenging word. "Of course I have." "I don't think two minutes in the bathroom counts." Gunn sounded stubborn. "Come on. Enough's enough." Wesley shook his head. "I have to finish this passage." Angel's hand came down in the middle of the passage. "Tomorrow," he said, and Wesley looked at them. "Five more minutes," he tried, although it was clear from their expressions that his chances were slim to none. "You can have five more minutes tomorrow," Gunn said. "Hell, you can have a dozen five more minutes." "But now," Angel said, taking the scroll away from him, "you're done. You need to have something to eat and then get some sleep." "I'm not tired," Wesley said. He got up, though, and his stomach growled loudly. "Is there dinner?" "Dinner was two hours ago," Gunn told him. "I came in and gave you some, remember?" He gestured at the edge of the desk, where two white Chinese food containers were sitting. Wesley genuinely didn't remember. "I was concentrating," he explained. "Yeah, I got that." Gunn grabbed the containers and they started upstairs. The food was room temperature, but Wesley was hungry enough that he didn't care. He nearly inhaled the Sesame Chicken and fried rice, listening to Angel and Gunn argue good-naturedly over the merits of different weapons combinations, then went to take a shower. When he came out, a towel around his waist and his hair damp and mussed, Angel and Gunn were in bed and still arguing. "Do the two of you ever stop?" Wesley asked, smiling. "Sure we do," Gunn said. "I think we stopped for a whole fifteen minutes this afternoon. Not that you'd know, being all into the research and all." "I'm close," Wesley said. "I really think this time I'm getting somewhere." It wasn't the first time he'd thought that, though. "C'mere," Angel said. He sat up, caught Wesley's wrist, and towed him toward the bed. Wesley went along willingly. He was still flushed with heat from the shower, skin tingling, and having Angel touching him, anywhere, really, was more than enough. The towel dropped to the floor as Wesley settled on top of Angel. "Cordy's gonna be fine," Angel murmured into Wesley's neck, both hands on his arse. "You'll find something." He rolled Wesley toward the middle of the bed, so Gunn could touch him, too. "We've got faith in you," Gunn agreed. He snaked an arm around Wesley's waist and touched his cock, stroking it until it swelled. It had been such a long time since Wesley had felt strong, that at first he didn't recognize it. He writhed forward against Angel and then back against Gunn, reveling in the sensation. "More," he said softly, and Angel kissed him. Gunn's mouth was hot on his shoulder, his cock hard against the back of Wesley's thigh, and Wesley wasn't afraid. He was erect, aroused, alive, and wanted nothing more than to savor the moment for as long as it lasted. "Tell us what you want," Gunn said. "I want... more." Wesley tilted his head back onto Gunn's shoulder as Angel's lips moved to his throat. "I want -- " He squirmed and Gunn's cock slipped between his thighs, the head of it nudging his balls. Wesley gasped and Gunn froze -- Wesley grabbed onto Gunn's hip quickly, before he could pull away. "No," he said, and pushed back. "This is good. Don't stop." Still cautious, Gunn shifted slightly and Wesley moaned in appreciation. "If you do want to stop, we will," Angel said, then captured Wesley's mouth with his own again, kissing him deeply. "Any time." "I don't want to stop," Wesley said confidently. "I want you to fuck me." Angel groaned; his cock jerked against Wesley's stomach. "Jesus, Wes. Are you sure?" Wesley ached for it. "If I can. If I'm not -- " Too physically damaged, he didn't say, but he knew he wasn't. "Is that okay?" Angel asked and Wesley realized that it was Gunn he was talking to. "Hell, yeah," Gunn said, voice tight with arousal. Angel shuddered and hitched himself up onto one elbow, leaning over Wesley and kissing Gunn. "I'll be right back." Angel got up, presumably to get the supplies they'd need, and Gunn went back to stroking Wesley's cock, teasing the head until it was damp with arousal and Wesley was panting with need. Angel returned, slick fingers pressing into Wesley as they kissed, and then somehow Wesley was facing Gunn, kissing Gunn, and Angel was easing into him from behind, cock hard and insistent. "I'm not gonna hurt you," Angel murmured. He was being so gentle, so careful, that Wesley believed it was true. There was no part of him that thought otherwise. Angel pushed his cock in a bit deeper, then deeper still, the slick slide of it almost maddening. "Oh," Wesley breathed. "Oh. Yes." It was all he could manage, and utterly inadequate, but Angel didn't seem to mind. Gunn was kissing Wesley, cock pressed to cock with Gunn's big hand around both, stroking. Angel was thrusting into him, and Wesley was suspended somewhere where time had no meaning, where everything was a delicious sensation and a firm grip and fucking, fucking... He came, moaning loudly into Gunn's mouth, then felt Gunn's cock throbbing against his own, more warm fluid on his skin. Angel was still moving, hips quick and determined, and it wasn't until Wesley's heartbeat had begun to slow that Angel cried out, coming inside Wesley, his hand on Wesley's hip, clutching at him. "Wes," Gunn said. Wesley only discovered he'd had his eyes closed when he opened them again. "You okay?" "Y-yes." Wesley's voice was uneven, his throat dry. "Yes, I'm... fine." Angel eased out of him, kissing his shoulder, nuzzling the edge of his ear. "You sure?" "Mm. Yes." He felt weightless and worn out, but also absurdly pleased with himself. "Maybe in need of another shower." Not that he had any intention of getting up just then. "In the morning," Angel muttered, not letting go of Wesley. "Yes," Wesley agreed. "In the morning." He wasn't ready to sleep -- he was so comfortable that he wanted to enjoy it -- but soon enough he found himself beginning to drift off. Angel murmured something else against the back of Wesley's neck. "What?" Wesley whispered, thinking that Gunn was already asleep. "Love you," Angel said softly. Gunn stirred. "Mm. Me too." It sounded as if he were half asleep, barely aware of what he was saying. And Wesley... he didn't argue. He didn't tell himself that they couldn't, really, and he didn't say that he didn't deserve it. Instead, he answered, "I love you, too," and fell asleep with his lips still curved into a smile, secure in the knowledge that he'd truly found his way home. End.
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