Book One: Chapter Two (Part 2 - 7,535 words)

[larakailyn]

He smiled as they entered the room and saw Wesley struggling to sit up. Setting Fred’s bag down, he moved to assist him, grabbing his pillow from the couch to place behind Wesley’s back. He chuckled when Wes immediately reached for his notepad.

“How are you feeling?” Fred asked as she went over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to Wesley. She made sure that she wasn’t sitting on any of his tubes or wires, but she wanted to sit close to him and hoped he didn’t mind.

Wesley nodded, his blue eyes lit with relief. He opened up the pad, and scribbled down what he needed to ask. Feel good. Rested. How did it go? the paper said.

“As well as can be expected. I stayed in the lobby and went round and round with Angel, Gunn and Cordelia. Tried to keep them busy so they wouldn’t take things out on Fred,” Giles explained. “Oh, and I broke Charles’ arm for him for putting his hands on our girl there. Or at least trying to.” He smirked when Wesley’s eyes went wide with surprise then narrowed in anger.

What? Did he hurt you? He looked at Fred, worried.

She read the message and shook her head. “No. Didn’t let him get close enough. Something I picked up from my time on Pylea.” She found herself reaching up to brush a lock of Wesley’s hair back from his forehead.

When Fred touched his hair, he felt as if a live wire had been placed against his body. The touch was so innocent and yet...not. Fred had never seemed comfortable touching him before. He vaguely wondered what had caused her change of heart. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that his heart had begun racing, the monitor attached to his chest noting the change.

Giles had to bite back a smile, arching an eyebrow at Fred as if to say, And you thought you didn’t affect him?

She glanced up at the heart monitor, her eyes widening. She immediately wanted to tell him she was sorry but then realized he hadn’t noticed. But Giles had. She could see it in his eyes.

“I do have a bit of good news for you, by the way,” she said instead. “I spoke to Lorne, and he said that he understood why you did what you did and he doesn’t hold any grudges for what happened. Also promised that he’ll be in touch later when he knows what he’s going to be doing. I don’t think he’ll be staying around there either.”

Wesley breathed out a sigh of relief. He had forgotten about Lorne. He felt the guilt well up in his chest, however. He didn’t mean to hurt Lorne; he had just panicked, and he knew he had hit his friend hard. Looking down, ashamed, he wrote the next note slowly.

Is he okay? I didn’t want to have to hurt him. Panicked. He turned the paper for her to read.

“Lorne’s fine. A bit of a bump, but he said that it’s nothing compared to what happened to you. He said he panicked too, basically reacted to the first thing he got when he read you. If he had paid more attention, he would have realized why you were doing what you were doing.”

Giles closed the door and returned to standing next to the bed. He could see the slump in Wesley’s shoulders and cursed inwardly. “I have your things in my boot, your tea set, laptop, and your texts,” he said with a smile, changing the subject as he removed the bag from his jacket. “And we also stopped by the cafeteria and managed to smuggle you in some contraband. Apple juice with a straw and two cups of vanilla ice cream. You’ll have to let the ice cream sit for a bit until it’s soft enough for you to work it down, but I thought something with a little taste would be an improvement over the hospital assigned mush they have you on.”

He laughed when Wesley’s eyes lit up. The younger man’s eyes were so expressive when you took the time to look. Why had he never noticed before?

“I think that means he likes that we’ve broken the hospital rules,” Fred said, reaching out and taking the bag from Giles. She fished out the apple juice and then set the bag aside on the chair next to bed so the ice cream could soften up while she opened the juice and stuck the straw in for him. “Here you go. Careful, though. Don’t gulp.”

Wesley took the bottle from her tentatively, gasping softly when his fingers brushed hers. He forced himself to focus on the bottle. This was definitely a treat. Wrapping his lips around the straw slowly, he figured the best way was to draw a small amount of juice into his mouth then see how well his throat cooperated in swallowing. He hummed happily as the taste hit his tongue. After a few failed attempts, he managed to get his throat to cooperate and take the juice down. Setting the pad on his lap, he scribbled on it.

Thank you both. Hospital mush should be illegal, he wrote while making a face at the memory. He looked up at Giles, knowing the other man was a genius in the kitchen. Promise me we can find something actually edible and still follow the doctor’s orders? Something that doesn’t taste like an old gym sock?

“I promise we’ll figure something out,” Giles smirked, looking into pleading blue eyes.

Fred glanced back and forth between the two men, remembering what Giles had told her, seeing the way they looked at each other. And she thought about the way Wesley had responded to her. Something in her tingled, deep down, something she couldn’t really define.

“Have they said when they think you’ll be able to leave?” she asked. “How long they think you’ll have to stay before you go home?”

Giles snorted at the sad puppy look on Wesley’s face when he shrugged. “Why don’t I go find the doctor? With my own medical training and the fact Fred and I will both be on hand to look after you, I’ll see if he can release you today.” He barked a laugh when Wes’ eyes shot up to his, practically begging. “I know how much you hate hospitals.” His face then dropped slightly. “And you’ve spent far too much time in them these past couple of years,” he added softly, the regret in his voice almost tangible. Shaking himself from his reverie, he pasted on a half smile. “You realize the doctor will give me a list of instructions as long as my arm?”

His smile grew when Wesley shrugged, as if to say, So?

“All right, I’ll be right back.” He turned his attention to Fred. “Keep an eye on this trouble maker for me, will you?” Sliding out of the room silently, he left the couple alone to talk.

Fred watched Giles go, closing the door behind him so that they could have some privacy. They were finally alone - alone for what must have been the first time since...she couldn’t really remember. Had they been alone at any point since the incident with Billy’s blood? It was after that incident that he had pulled away, was never in the room with her without anyone else.

“Giles is a really great guy,” she said, reaching into the bag on the chair and pulling out one of the ice creams to see whether it was mushy enough for him to try eating. “I can see why you’re such good friends with him - he drove all the way down from Sunnydale the minute I called him and said that you were missing. I can see why you...”

She broke off in the middle of her train of thought as she pulled the top off the ice cream cup and then rescued the attached spoon before tossing the lid into the nearby trash can. Her mouth had run ahead of her brain there, and she had almost said something that could have been very embarrassing for them both.

“I can see why you trust him so much.”

Wesley nodded, glad that Fred seemed to trust him as well. He looked down at the pad, thinking for a moment before he started writing. He is. And I do. We didn’t become friends until I left Sunnydale. I will always regret that. I was such a prat when I was there. Treated him abysmally. Thank God he didn’t hold a grudge. He looked up at her, offering a sheepish smile.

Taking the apple juice from him and placing it on the bed stand, she nodded and held up the ice cream. “Need help with this, or do you think you can handle it yourself? If you want to write, it might be a problem, though, so I don’t mind helping...but only if you want me too, of course.”

He arched an eyebrow in amusement when she held up the ice cream. You want to feed me? he wrote, offering a whisper of a laugh. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he smiled. Okay.

The look in his eyes made Fred grin, happy to see that at least he had some of his spirits back despite what had happened. Scooping up a bit of the ice cream, she held it up to his mouth and paused, trying to decide the best way to do this. “Maybe if you just sort of lick it off and let it melt in your mouth?” She blushed a little at how dirty that sounded as he opened his mouth so she could feed him. “Please pay no attention to the silly girl sitting on the bed with you. She’s just very, very happy that you’re alive.”

Wesley barely choked back the laugh that worked its way out at her slip. He grinned when she blushed, loving how adorable she looked. Fred and Giles had had a little fun with his condition last night. Now it was time for him to get some of his own back. Licking his lips, he eyed the small amount of ice cream on the tiny spoon she held up. Slowly snaking his tongue out, he curled it around the cold treat and drew it back into his mouth.

Fred’s breath caught in her throat at that, the way he deliberately took his time with licking the ice cream off the spoon, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she felt that tingling again. The same sort of feeling she had gotten watching him and Giles look at each other. God, they were in a hospital. These were not the sort of feelings she was supposed to be dealing with while sitting in a hospital.

Swallowing slightly, she spooned up some more ice cream for him, wondering if he was going to torture her the entire time. Maybe talking would help. Well, her talking and him writing. Something to distract them from...whatever this was. “Are you in much pain?”

Oh, good one, Winifred, she chastised herself as soon as the question left her lips. Might as well have asked him if he thought the Pope was Catholic.

Wesley smiled at the taste of the ice cream; the cold was soothing on his injured throat. He watched her carefully, relishing in her reaction. It also felt good to know that he could affect her as well. Eyeing the new portion on the spoon, he decided to take a different tact. Opening his mouth wide, he took in the entire tiny spoon, trailing his lips back across her fingers and sliding the ice cream onto his tongue. When she asked him if he was in pain, he shook his head no. Looking down at the pad, he wrote, Morphine.

“Good,” she heard herself squeak out at his answer, the feel of lips on her fingers adding to the ever growing shiver building up inside her. If he kept this up, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. She was sure he had questions for her, but they hadn’t really said anything to each other. He had just accepted she was there with him, and she was glad.

Slowly, she fed him some more ice cream, the tips of her fingers brushing his face as she did, over the stubble.

He could see that her eyes were dilated. Whether she knew it or not, this little display was turning her on. Oh, if she only knew. Just the sight of her, a certain smile, the light hitting her hair just right, would normally have him stuck in his office for fear of embarrassment. When she held up another bite, he set down his pen in his lap and took her hand in both of his. His thumb rubbed slowly across the back of her hand as he led it toward his mouth. Wrapping his lips around the spoon, he made certain to brush her fingers once again, slowly pulling her hand back. He rolled the ice cream around on his tongue and turned his head, watching her, waiting to see what she would do.

“Wesley,” she whispered, his name coming out like a low moan. Suddenly, the fact that they were in a hospital room and he was hooked up to all manner of monitors and an IV didn’t matter. She was leaning towards him, the ice cream cup falling from her hand as she rested the palm of her hands lightly against his chest.

He gasped softly as she did that, realizing that she wanted him. And that knowledge did more to help heal his injured soul than all the medicine in the world. When she leaned forward, he slid a hand up her back, fingers threading through her dark locks. Her touch was hesitant, not wishing to hurt him.

A moment later, her lips were brushing his, tentatively, waiting to see if this was okay and that she wasn’t hurting him in any way. Applying a little pressure, he brought her mouth down a little harder on his. He wanted this. God...he wanted her. He touched his tongue to her bottom lip, almost a plea for access to his heaven.

Fred felt him press his lips more firmly against her, felt his tongue, and opened her mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Oh, God, this was really happening. What Giles had told her was true. Why he had pulled away-because of fear, because of what had happened? That didn’t matter anymore. Her mistake with Charles didn’t matter anymore either. More than anything now, she knew she had made the right decision.

Wesley moaned, ignoring the pain that flashed across his throat. This was where he had wanted to be for nearly a year, silently waiting for her to see him. He slid his tongue past her lips, exploring every crevice of her mouth. He tasted a hint of cheese, but the rest was distinctly Fred, and it was the taste of his salvation. Cupping her head in his hand, he stroked his tongue past hers in loving swipes, gentle teasing. Now was not the time for fire, but once his body was healed, he would claim her body and soul, just as she had already claimed his.

The shiver in her stomach spread through her limbs and would have made her feel weak in the knees if she hadn’t been sitting down on the bed. She could hear her heart pounding wildly, could taste the sweetness of the ice cream on his tongue as he teased her, could smell those ubiquitous hospital smells, could feel his chest rising and falling underneath the palms of her hands and the way his fingers curled into her hair. She knew they had to be careful, that they couldn’t let themselves get carried away - there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, though, she was where she wanted to be and where she knew she was meant to be. This had been a wake-up call for her. She had almost allowed this to slip away, but she had been given the chance to make it right, and she was glad for that.

Slowly, she pulled away from the kiss, resting her forehead to his and taking a deep breath to regain her equilibrium. “Wow,” she said softly. “Pretty good for a guy laid up in a hospital bed. Can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re recovered.”

Wesley’s eyes met hers, his breathing elevated but not panicked like it was the previous night. He stroked the back of his knuckles down her cheek, allowing everything he felt for this woman to shine in his eyes. He was frustrated, not able to use his voice, to tell her everything from the first moment he had realized he loved her until now. He slid his hand up on her shoulder instead, his thumb moving in circles on her throat. He smiled widely when she voiced her excitement at the prospects of his recovery. He was about to reach down for a pad when the door flew open, however, and an irritated nurse stood in the doorway.

“Mister Wyndam-Pryce! Are you crazy?” the nurse asked, her tone scolding.

Wesley didn’t even bother to look up. He smirked at Fred, mouthing the words, ‘Crazy for you.’

“Your brother is out there trying to get you released ahead of schedule, and you pull a stunt like this? I think your young lady should move to a chair or better yet...the couch before the two of you short out the heart monitor.”

Wesley winked at the woman he loved as if to say, Watch this. He turned his head to look at the other woman. And stuck his tongue out at her, looking very much like a five year old little boy.

“Well, I never!” she gasped indignantly.

“That’s right - you probably never have. Which is why you’re begrudging the man his time,” Giles’ voice chimed in from the doorway. “The man nearly died. Fear of that alone should allow them a little snogging time without Nurse Ratchett ruining their fun.” He smiled at Wesley’s grateful look.

Between Wesley’s good-natured pout and Giles stepping in to defend them, Fred had to bite her lip to keep from laughing herself right off the edge of the bed. It was probably a very good thing the nurse couldn’t see the half-eaten cup of ice cream currently melting on the floor on the other side of the bed. She could just imagine the ruckus that particular bit of rule breaking would have caused.

“We promise to behave the rest of the time we’re here,” Fred promised in a tone that made it clear that she didn’t intend to behave at all if she could help it. She looked over at Giles and winked. “How much longer is that going to be, by the way?”

He laughed out loud when the nurse huffed irritably and walked out the door. “That woman needs to take the starch out of her knickers,” he said between laughs. Once he had calmed himself, his green eyes took in the pair on the bed. “Why Wesley, you look rather pleased with yourself,” he teased, grinning when the pair blushed. “It’s good to see you two getting to know each other.”

He ducked his head, knowing that was the first step to his friend’s emotional healing. “Sorry I took so long. Had to pop down to the pharmacy for your pills.” He held up the sack containing nine bottles. “We can take you home, but I was wrong,” he said, allowing his face to fall so they would think something was wrong. “Bloody doctor’s rules are longer than my arm.”

He then looked at Fred speculatively. “Can I trust you to behave yourself while we get him dressed?” He winked, focusing his attention on Wes when he noted the other man’s smirk. “And you too.” He said, including Wesley in the chiding.

“I’ll be good, Girl Scout’s honor,” she said, holding her fingers up in the traditional salute. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she glanced from Wesley to Giles. “What’s Wesley going to wear, though? I think they probably got rid of his clothes, and the only one’s we have here are mine. Don’t think he’s going to fit into any of them. Although I do have a cardigan that would probably look great with your eyes.”

“Already taken care of. I rescued the suede coat. Few drops of blood on it, but if there’s one thing you learn on a Hellmouth, it’s how to get blood out of anything. I dumped it in the car when I went to get some clothes for Wes out of my bag. These are a little long on me, so they should fit you nicely.” He held up a pair of jeans and a tee. “Unless you feel like going home in this lovely gown with your arse hanging out the back?” He chuckled when that earned him a blue-eyed glare.

“I think that means no.” Fred had to hand it to Giles - he certainly was prepared. Leaning over, she gave Wesley a gentle kiss on the lips and then slid off the bed. “You’ll have to show me your trick for removing blood stains,” she said as she took Wesley’s hand to help him. “I’ve lost a few outfits already thanks to that.”

She tried not to shudder at the memory of Wesley’s blood covering the shirt she had been wearing. Then she realized she was still wearing the scrub top he had given her last night - in her rush to get everything packed at the hotel, she hadn’t even bothered to change. Not that it mattered. She decided she would take a very long shower when they reached Wesley’s place.

Giles helped Wes move to the edge of the bed, pretending not to notice when the younger man’s breath caught in his chest when he reached around him. He slowly untied the gown, sliding it down his shoulders and off. Now he gritted his own teeth, willing down his body’s obvious arousal at a half-naked Wesley.

“All right, arms.” He surveyed the scene for a moment, not liking the idea of getting Wes’ head through the hole of the tee and putting too much pressure on his throat. He looked down at himself. “Hang on. We’ll need to keep you in button ups until those stitches dissolve. Your throat doesn’t need the added pressure of trying to force your head into a tee. I’ll take the tee; you take my shirt.”

Untucking his shirt, Giles undid all of the buttons before sliding it off his shoulders. He then grabbed the tee and pulled it on over his own head, not bothering to tuck it in before moving to slide the shirt he was wearing on Wesley. He did the buttons up quickly before reaching for the blanket over Wesley’s lap. He could see the other man shifting uncomfortably, but decided to play it off.

“Wes, come on. They’re just boxers.” He sighed when Wes still didn’t seem to budge. “Come on - you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” He grinned when the other man looked up at him in shock. That was enough to allow Giles to grip the blanket and pull it away. “This one is your fault,” he announced, smirking at Fred.

She found herself caught between wanting to look and not wanting to be caught staring. Finally she couldn’t help it and glanced over, seeing that Giles was right - she could see the effect that their kissing had on him. It made her heart flutter and skip a beat. No doubt Nurse Ratchett would have been back in there had she been hooked to a monitor as well. She glanced over at Giles and saw his smirk, which caused to her to drop her eyes, a bit embarrassed. And when she did, she saw the open button of his jeans, from which the top of his own boxers peaked. Remembering his offer to Wesley, she found herself swallowing as the image of both of them standing there half-dressed flitted through her mind.

“I like your boxers,” she heard herself telling Wesley softly. “Definitely nothing to be ashamed of.”

Wesley made an irritated sound, his breath catching in his throat when Giles kneeled in front of him. The older man slid the jeans up his legs, stopping just under his butt. His heart was racing - Giles was so close. All he had to do was lean in...

He reached up and pulled the leads of his chest, not wanting that nurse back in to read him the riot act. Not to mention the charade would be up if that happened. One did not have the feelings for their siblings that he felt for Giles.

“I need you to put your arms around my neck so I can lift you,” Giles instructed him, his face turning serious when the younger man glared at him. “Wesley, you’re still weak. I’m not going to let you fall on your face because you’re too bloody proud to let me pull your trousers up. Just...humor me.” He knew he was still embarrassed, so he tried to make this as quick as possible. Setting him back down, he turned his back to calm his own nerves while Wesley fastened the jeans.

Fred forced herself not to stare as Giles helped Wesley into the jeans. The tension in the room was unbelievable, like nothing she had ever felt before. It wasn’t just her, and it wasn’t just Giles - it was both of them causing those reactions in Wesley. And it was something she had never dealt with before, seeing the guy she cared for and just kissed also being turned on by another man. As she leaned down to pick up the ice cream cup from the floor, she watched Giles pulling up the jeans over Wesley. She didn’t blame him actually. Giles was an amazing man, as amazing as Wesley. In fact, both of them were the kind of men she had always seen herself being with when she had allowed herself to think of such things. Smart, sweet and not put off by her tendency to ramble.

“Need any more help?” she asked once Wesley had finished fastening the jeans and she had tossed the cup in the trash can.

Giles did up his own jeans and refastened his belt. He had to keep his back to them to readjust himself, Wesley’s proximity when he held him up was wreaking havoc on his own body. He was about to answer Fred, but an orderly entered the room with a wheelchair. He turned to see Wesley, still on the bed with his notepad in his lap. He seemed upset. Slowly, he held the notepad out to Giles. The older man looked down at the pad.

You two are determined to leave me without any dignity, aren’t you? he read before passing the pad to Fred. He asked the orderly to give them a minute and then took a knee in front of Wesley.

“Wes,” he called him softly, waiting for the other man to raise his eyes and look at him. “I know this is hard for you. You are by nature an independent man, not to mention as stubborn as a mule.” He added the last part in a lighter tone. “But you almost died. Your body is still weak, and it’s not a crime to ask for help, especially from people that care about you. We’re not trying to take away your dignity; we’re just worried. We don’t want to see you hurt yourself again trying to do something your body isn’t ready for. It’s what people do when they love you.”

“Giles is right - we just want to help you,” Fred added, sitting back down next to him on the bed and wrapping her arm around his waist. Part of her wanted to lean her head against his shoulder, but she knew that was probably not a good idea at the moment. “I know it’s hard, but believe me, it’s all for you and because we love you. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Reaching up, she rubbed her hand against his cheek. “I can’t imagine what you went through before and after what happened. I can’t pretend to, but you don’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore.”

Wesley took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. They were right. It was just so frustrating. He was used to being alone his entire life, doing things for himself. Now that he had the two people dearest to his heart suddenly underfoot, he didn’t know what to make of it. He instinctively leaned his face into Fred’s touch. Taking the pad from her hand, he wrote something on it with a sheepish expression.

Sorry. Just being a prat.

“Wesley, you’re not being a prat. You’re frustrated, that’s all. You’re entitled,” Giles reminded him, smiling when the other man put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Wesley then turned slightly toward Fred, lovingly taking her face in his hands, and leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Good, now that that’s settled, Fred, if you can gather Wesley’s things from here,” he motioned toward the collection of notepads, and other small items, “I’ll help him into the wheelchair and get your bag.”

He chuckled when Wesley held his arms up, looking like a little boy waiting to be lifted by his father. “Smart ass,” he grumbled, before moving him into the chair.

Fred had to stifle a laugh. Wesley could be stubborn, but he could also be very endearing. Quickly, she gathered everything up and put it in the bag with the still sealed ice cream cup, figuring Wesley could have it in the car if he needed it. Just as she was finishing, though, her phone suddenly started ringing in her pocket. She had forgotten to turn it off once they had returned to the hospital.

Pulling it out, she glanced down at the caller id. Charles. Having nothing to say to him, she stabbed the off button on the keypad and shoved it back in her pocket with a sigh. Would probably be best to leave it off for a day or so. She could call her parents once they got to Wesley’s and tell them where she was in case they needed to reach her.

After shouldering Fred’s bag, Giles turned around the room to make sure they had everything. He looked up at her when her phone rang. Noting the way her face darkened and how she stabbed at the power button when she turned it off, it could only be one person. Charles Gunn. Wanker. Fred seemed to him to be a very forgiving person in nature, and even their argument downstairs could have been chalked up to emotions, but the moment he had brought Angel to the hospital, the spiteful move had sealed his fate.

Standing behind her, he put a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort. “Okay?”

She shrugged, not sure how to answer that. Instead she just picked the bag back up from the bed and turned to look at both him and Wesley, who was settled in his wheelchair. “We getting out of here now?”

He nodded, knowing that getting her out of there was probably the best way to handle things. “Here, let me take that. You can push the wheelchair.” He took the bag from her hands. “We have everything, so let’s go home.”

Grateful for his understanding, she nodded at him and let him pull the bag from her. “Sounds like a very good idea.” She took up her position behind the wheelchair and leaned down to whisper in Wesley’s ear, “Ready to go?” When he gave her the affirmative, she kissed him by his ear and then straightened back up and followed Giles out of the room and down the hall.

The paperwork for Wesley’s release had been taken care of, so it wasn’t long before they were exiting the hospital and heading over to where Giles had parked the car. Fred snorted softly when she suddenly realized that he had the disabled sticker on his windshield, something she hadn’t noticed earlier. It definitely came in useful now.

As they got closer to the car, Wesley also noticed that Giles had parked in the handicapped spot. He arched an eyebrow toward the older man and got a shrug in return. His eyes lighted in the window, noting the reason the car had not been towed.

“Willow’s idea. She didn’t believe it was practical to have to park ten miles away and have to run into battle. Not when lives are at stake. All of our cars are outfitted with these. All official, especially since she hacked the DMV database and entered them in.” He smiled. “Very practical, our Willow.”

Opening the passenger door, he moved Wes into position. “Okay, up we go.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist and transferred him over to the car. “Fred, I hope you don’t mind sitting in the back with the chair. Don’t look at me like that, Wesley. It was one of the conditions of letting you go early. If you think your dignity is shot now, how will you feel if I have to carry you into your flat?”

“And besides, it won’t be forever. Just a few days until you’re strong enough,” Fred assured him before turning to Giles. “And I don’t mind at all. Just let me get settled first and then you can put the chair in. I’ll keep a hold on it.”

Circling around to the driver’s side, she opened the door and climbed in, sitting down and buckling herself in. “Okay, I’m set.”

Wesley nodded reluctantly. He was feeling kind of tired, but he didn’t want to let Mother Hen One and Two know that. He turned his head to watch Giles settle the wheelchair in the back seat and winced when he realized he turned too far and it pulled on his stitches.

Giles got in behind the wheel and dug in his pockets to remove a pill from one of the bottles. “Fred, can you dig around in that bag for that ice cream cup? He’s got to have something in his stomach to take this pill.” He passed the pill to Wesley. “Try and get some of this down, and you can use my water to take your pill. I’ll make something a little more substantial for you when we get you settled in at home.”

Fred shifted the bag Giles had put in the backseat with the chair into her lap and pulled out the second ice cream cup, which she opened and passed forward to Wesley. “Here you go. I think it’s almost completely melted by now, but it should make it easier to swallow.” Once he had taken the cup, she sat back again. “Do you cook, Giles?”

He smiled when Wesley snorted. “Yes, I cook. It was a condition of my mother’s relinquishing me to my Watcher Duty. Father could train me all he wanted six days a week, but Sundays were hers. We spent most of those days in the kitchen, preparing all sorts of delicacies - something we could do together. As I got older, she sensed I might start to lose interest, so she started putting it in my head that I could capture any woman in the world by cooking her a magnificent dinner. I knew it was hogwash, but I played along for her,” he explained as he started the car. “We covered most of the internationals - English, Italian, Spanish, Mexican, French, Middle Eastern, and Asian. I have a special affinity for the Asian and Mexican cuisines. I also have an affinity for the spiciness of the Cajuns. Perhaps once Wesley can go back to solid foods, I’ll make all of us a Cajun dinner to celebrate,” He offered, pulling the car out of the spot and heading toward Wesley’s flat.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Fred said. And definitely much more appetizing that the grilled cheese sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish in the hospital cafeteria. “And by the way, if you ever make me Mexican food, I’ll probably worship you forever. I’d better warn you, though, because I’m not sure if Wesley may have told you, but I can eat quite a lot. It’s always been something that amuses the others.”

Wesley had finished his ice cream and taken his pill. He made a face as he drank - the water must have been sitting in Giles’ car for at least a day. Oh well, too late to think about it now. He smiled when Fred mentioned her capacity for eating, giving Giles a confirming nod. Reaching down onto the floor, he picked up his pad and wrote one word.

Tacos. He tapped Giles on the shoulder to get him to look at the pad.

“Tacos, huh?” Giles asked aloud.

Fred scrubbed her hands over her face and chuckled a bit. “Yes, tacos. When I came back from Pylea, one of the first things I asked was if they still made tacos. I didn’t know - for all I knew, they could’ve been found to be bad for you and banned or something. But they weren’t, and Wesley kept me supplied with them all last summer.” Catching his gaze in the convertible’s side mirror, she gave him a smile. “At least I never tried to make him my bark enchiladas. Those needed a lot of work.”

“Bark Enchiladas? Interesting.” Giles glanced to the side and saw Wesley looking out the window. He smiled sadly. The younger man was so hurt emotionally - although Fred seemed to be tackling that problem head on - as well as physically. No matter what happened, he was going to worry about Wesley, but for the first time in a long time, things were in a position to help him not only heal but also to grow past what his father always told him he was. “Perhaps I’ll volunteer to do the cooking from now on.”

He offered that with a teasing grin, catching Fred’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Once we get inside and settled, Fred, I’ll need you to find one of the markets that deliver. If I know this young pup, he’s probably got an ancient canister of oatmeal, tea, a few biscuits, and all the take-away condiments one will ever need.” He laughed when Wes ducked his head. “We’ll stock the larder from there,” he added, pulling up in front of Wesley’s building.

“No problem. I know just the place.”

Once they were parked, Fred waited until Giles had removed the wheelchair from the backseat before crawling out, pulling her bag and the bag of Wesley’s stuff out with her. It took them a few minutes to get the chair set back up again and then to move Wesley out of the car and into it. Fred tried not to look over at the park, over at where she had found him dying. He was fine now, and she didn’t want to dwell on that. She noticed Wesley looking over there, however, so she knelt in front of him and put her hand up to his face.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I found you, and you’re going to be fine, and I swear to God that if I ever see her again, I’m going to make sure she regrets it.”

Rising up, she gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

Wesley nodded hesitantly, the feel of her lips against his helping him push back the memory of the blade slicing across his throat. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that he wasn’t alone, that he had two people there that cared for him. And all those thoughts he had that night, lying in the park, bleeding, they didn’t mean a thing.

“Why don’t you take him inside? I’ll get the rest of the things from the boot,” Giles offered, moving toward the back of the car.

“Sure thing,” Fred replied before pushing herself up and moving behind the wheelchair to push Wesley inside.

A couple of the building’s other tenants were standing in the lobby when they entered and looked over, apparently taken aback at the site of the bandage swathing his neck. Ignoring them, she took Wesley over to the elevator and pushed the call button. While they waited, she reached over his shoulder and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and continuing to hold it as the elevator arrived and she pushed him in. Luckily, no one was in the elevator, which made the ride up to his floor infinitely easier. When the doors slid open, Fred reluctantly let go of his hand and pushed him down the hall and around the corner to his door, where she poked through the bag of his belongings from the hospital until she found his keys at the bottom. Once she unlocked and opened the door, she pushed him inside, leaving it ajar for Giles to just come in.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked, circling around to stand beside him in the entrance hall. “Couch? Bedroom? Bathroom?” She blushed as soon as that came out of her mouth and hoped her question didn’t embarrass him too much. “Sorry.”

Wesley let out a strangled noise, the image of him and Fred in the shower - or making love in the bath - flitting through his brain. His face turned beet red as he ducked his head. Taking the pen from his pocket with a shaky hand, he scribbled one word on his note pad.

Couch, he wrote, holding the pad up for her to see. As they went into the lounge area, Wesley looked up to see Giles toe the door all the way open, loaded with a box, Fred’s bag, and what Wesley assumed were his two bags.

“Bloody hell, your neighbor is nosy,” he grumbled, stepping into the flat. He kicked the door closed behind him before setting the box on the counter and the bags on the floor. “Old woman could have taught the Spanish Inquisition a thing or two.”

Wesley scowled and wrote something on his pad as Giles came over to read it. That would be Mrs. Johansen, tedious old fishwife. You didn’t...? He stopped writing as Giles put his hand over his.

“No, I didn’t. Your business is yours. Let her use some other poor sod to fulfill her need for a hobby,” Giles replied, softly. He moved his hand up to Wes’ shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Fred shook her head, just imagining what Wesley’s neighbor had been asking about. Three people staying in a one-bedroom apartment, their bags and boxes, Wesley’s injuries - they were all fodder for a lot of gossip, she was sure.

“Wesley wanted to go over to the couch,” she told Giles. “Do you want to take care of that while I put this stuff away? Then we can make a list of what we want from the market, and I’ll call to have it delivered. I...uh...also need to call my parents. I should let them know where I am. Just in case.”

Wesley’s eyes widened - he had forgotten about Roger and Trish Burkle. Fred’s relationship with her parents was dear to her, and in no way would he ever dream of interfering with that. He looked down at the pad and scribbled something down quickly before passing Fred the sheet.

Call them. Give them my number. You can use my bedroom if you need a little privacy. The groceries can wait. Wesley nodded at the unspoken question in her eyes, and Giles waited until she had the cordless and disappeared into the bedroom before moving Wesley over to the couch.

“When she’s done, we can get you some of your own clothes if you like,” Giles offered gently. He arched an eyebrow when Wesley seemed to blush. He looked down once the younger man wrote something else.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to just stay in these. We can wash them in the laundry room tomorrow. He didn’t want Giles to realize that being surrounded by the other man’s scent was somewhat comforting, even if it was wreaking havoc on his senses. It made him feel...cared for.

“Wesley, sod the clothes. Of course I don’t mind. I was just worried about your comfort,” he replied with a smile before moving to the kitchen to put on some tea. He picked up the box of Wesley’s things, intending to use the nice tea set inside. He didn’t want to take too long. Leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts at this point in time could do more damage than good.

*****