Book One: Chapter Six (Part 1 - 7,244 words)

Aug 20, 2005 16:12

WARNING: SEXUAL SITUATIONS

Sun was once again streaming in through the crack in the curtain that none of them had again bothered to pull completely closed the night before. Fred groaned a bit and pulled her part of the blanket up over her head as she snuggled a bit closer to Wesley. A while longer. She just wanted to sleep a bit longer with her guys. The day could wait. The day could wait because the books were supposed to arrive today, and even though she knew they needed to help Connor, a tiny, selfish part of her wanted Wesley and Rupert to herself a while longer.

Wesley stirred slightly as he felt a ball of warmth settling into his side. It took several minutes to get his blue eyes to focus, and he couldn’t help but smile as memories caught up with him. He was in his bed, with Fred on one side - Fred was a cuddler, who knew? And Rupert on the other - that would explain the protective forearm draped over his midsection. It wasn’t as if he wanted to complain about either.

“Hey,” Fred murmured as Wesley shifted a bit, meaning that her pillow - which consisted a bit of the actual one as well as his back - move as well. “Was just getting comfortable again.” She opened her eyes and uncovered her head a bit. She could see that Wesley was awake, his eyes open. “Can I vote we stay in bed a little bit longer?”

Wesley smiled patiently, his body feeling the delicious aches from yesterday. He wanted to adhere to Fred’s request, but his bladder decided to play traitor on him this morning. Pushing his weight up and over her groggy form, he tested his legs until he felt they were stable. That assured, he padded to the bathroom, not self conscious in the slightest that he was totally naked.

Giles stirred when he felt the bed dip, his senses on alert for any trouble with Wesley. He allowed a sleepy smile to cross his face when he realized no one was on pain or in trouble. Keeping one eye open, he watched one of his lovers enter the bathroom.

“Now there is a lovely sight to wake up to,” he commented in a voice thick with amusement and sleep.

Fred raised her head slightly and nodded before resting her head on the pillow again. “It is, isn’t it?” She felt a bit more tender this morning than she had the night before, but as Rupert had asked, she wouldn’t mention it to Wesley. It wasn’t important anyway. And she’d get used to it after awhile, she was sure - especially if all of them remained as...amorous as they had been. Reaching over she rested a hand on Giles’ chest. “Morning, by the way. Did you sleep better?”

“Mmmmmm, yes. Regrettably at your expense. But no more nightmares. Thank you,” he replied, placing his hand over her smaller one. He still felt guilty about her tenderness and not having considered it in the slightest. But she did have a point. She could have said no.

“How are you this morning? Better or worse?” he inquired, but before she could answer, Wesley reappeared at the foot of the bed, snapping excitedly. It took a moment for Giles’ sleep-fogged brain to piece together what the younger man was going on about. “The things are here?” he asked, receiving an ecstatic nod. “All right, I’m coming.” He sighed, getting out of bed.

Fred was actually kind of glad that Wesley had interrupted them - she didn’t want him feeling any worse for her current...condition. Instead, she followed Rupert out of the bed, pulling Wesley’s shirt closer around her as they went out into the living room. There, sitting on the floor in the area between the coffee table and the television cabinet were a stack of books and some other things. It looked like the Council had been busy in their research.

Giles noted the papers and stack of texts, along with some parchment sticking out from under the couch. He got down on one knee to look.

“Looks like their aim was off,” he commented with a smirk. Standing, he moved in front of Wesley when his lover stepped toward the stack of books. “No, you shower, now.” He pointed back toward the bathroom. His brow furrowed when Wes seemed to silently protest. “Wesley, your physical well being is still in my care. I will not have your throat get infected because you allowed yourself to get ripe while we researched. Take a shower, and while you’re in there, I’ll organize this mess, and Fred can start the tea. While she showers, I’ll make breakfast for everyone. You two can eat while I get myself cleaned up.” He shook his head. “No arguments, Wesley. Go.”

“You heard him,” Fred said, putting up a united front. She took put her hands on Wesley’s waist and steered him around to march him back to the bathroom. “I won’t have either of my guys facing any of that without taking care of themselves first.”

She let go of him but stood where she was to make sure he went into the bathroom before heading into the kitchen to make up a pot of tea.

Giles bit back a smile at the pout that appeared on Wesley’s handsome face before he retreated to the bathroom. He turned to face the piles of materials, starting to organize them by languages. He knew which languages he could handle and those Wesley could handle. He created a smaller pile, assuming that since Fred had been helping Wesley with research, she had to have at least a passing familiarity with some of the languages the other man knew.

“He didn’t look happy we steam-rolled him,” Giles commented when he entered the kitchen after finishing his task.

She looked up from the kettle, which was just coming to a boil and shrugged. “I know. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Wesley, it’s that he’s rather stubborn and independent when he wants to be. But he knows we’re doing this because we care. At least I hope he knows that we’re doing this because we care because if he thought that we were just doing this to be mean then we’d have a whole other load of issues that could pose a problem and...I’m overthinking things again.” She measured the five teaspoons of tea into the pot and then poured the tea in. “One of these days, I’m sure I’ll stop doing that. Maybe. Actually, probably never.”

Giles smiled patiently, starting to get things out of the fridge for breakfast. Eggs, some onions, diced ham, cheese. He could make scrambled eggs for Wesley and Western omelets for Fred and himself. He cocked his head to the side, listening for the shower.

“I blame his father for that. Roger always thought himself some kind of hero. Always wanted to play the hero himself. It’s something he instilled in Wesley. Wes just doesn’t see how different he is from that pillock already. Roger would have no qualms about sacrificing others and claiming the credit, whereas Wesley won’t risk anyone if he can help it and try and do it all himself. I think he’s starting to get the message, though. He’s not alone. And we’re not about to let him go through this without us.”

The more she heard about Roger Wyndam-Pryce, the more she despised the man. At least Giles was right - he did seem to finally be getting the message and understanding that he didn’t have to rely on only himself anymore. She hated that he had been forced to go through the stuff with the prophecy alone before this, and she didn’t want that to ever happen again. Not as long as she and Rupert were around, not as long as she was alive.

“In Pylea, a hero was the one who slew the most opponents in the ring,” she said softly, looking down at the tea steeping in the pot before putting the cover on. “That hero was known as the Groosalugg. He’s a good man, but he did it mostly to get out of his own lot in life, not to help others. Then I thought a hero was someone like Angel. But he does good because he feels he has to, not because he really wants to. I know now that a hero is someone that does what has to be done for the good of others, even if it might cause their own death...or worse. Wesley’s a hero. I hope he’ll truly understand that someday.”

Giles nodded, understanding her sentiment, probably more than she realized. He was pleased to see her come around to her solution on her own, especially when it brought her down on Wesley’s side.

“When Buffy and I first arrived in Sunnydale, two of the first people we met were Willow and Xander. Both had grown up in the town, and both were determined to help us in any way possible. When they discovered that their school resided on a Hellmouth, and despite the fact that one of our first confrontations had cost them their childhood best friend, they couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Willow turned out to be quite a powerful witch in her own right. But Xander....the boy is clumsy, hates research, and couldn’t use a sword proficiently if his life depended on it. His biggest weapon is,” Giles placed his hand over his heart, “that he fights from here. His love for his friends, for his town. He takes his lumps and comes back for more. To me, it’s people like Xander who personify the idea of a hero. The boy has virtually no training and no skills, and we could never do the things that we have without him. In a way, he and Wesley are a lot alike. I wonder how both of them, with the upbringing they had, can have such warm hearts, such selfless natures. That,will always be an enigma to me.”

She nodded at that. “It is amazing, isn’t it? And some of the coldest people I met when I was in school had loving parents. Guess it goes to show that it’s not all about environment and nurturing. It really can depend on what a person is like on the inside.” She looked over at him and smiled. In some ways, she felt like she had learned more in the last week than she had in her last 27 years. “I’m really looking forward to meeting the others when we return to Sunnydale. That is what you said we were going to do, right? Go back there after we get...” She waved her hand around to indicate everything they had dealing with. “All this worked out?”

“Yes. It’ll be safest for you and Wesley...and for Connor. L.A. is Angel’s town - between him, Charles Gunn and Lilah Morgan, leaving you here unprotected is not an option,” he replied adamantly. “And I can’t in good conscience leave the Hellmouth to the others much longer.” He swallowed thickly. “Buffy might be gone, but that Hellmouth is still my responsibility. Plus not to sound selfish, I’d rather face that task with both of you with me,” he admitted, his smile a bit sheepish.

Fred’s eyes opened wide when he said that. “Really?” she asked. As he nodded, he reached over and squeezed his arm. “Well, I’m not completely sure though he probably feels the same way - but I know that I would be glad to do whatever I can to help you and the others out in Sunnydale. It sounds like you all can use whatever assistance you can, based on the stories I’ve heard about the Hellmouth.”

“I’m worried about Wesley’s feelings about returning to Sunnydale, though. Logistically, he knows I’m right. It is the easiest place to protect you and him as well as Connor. But he also has a history in Sunnydale, very little of it good. I can deflect most of the grief from the kids regarding the past, but the biggest challenge will be Wesley facing his own demons,” he explained, concern radiating from his green eyes.

“It was that bad?” She didn’t need his response to tell her that it had been - the tone in his voice at mentioning Wesley’s demons had been enough. And somehow, she had the feeling that those demons also involved his father. “Whatever the demons are, I’ll be there with him and you however I can help. Maybe the th-four of us going there together as a family will help him. He’s going back for a different reason this time, and he’s wanted.”

“It was. Wesley was used, plain and simple. But for you to understand even remotely, I should go back a bit. Buffy’s eighteenth birthday is the right spot.” He took a breath, steeling his nerves against the one thing he would never forgive himself for....betraying his slayer.

“On a Slayer’s eighteenth birthday, the Council conducts a barbaric, outdated test on the current Slayer to test not only her physical acumen but also her mental capabilities. Her Watcher is to secretly give her injections, supplied by the Council, to sap her strength. The Council then locks her in a facility with a vampire. If she survives, she passes. If she doesn’t, the Council moves on to the next Slayer.” Giles hung his head. “All through Buffy’s test, I warred with myself. She was terrified, begging me to help her figure out what was going wrong with her. And, then her test went horribly wrong.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “The vampire Quentin brought with him was a particularly vicious customer. In life, he was an insane serial killer that massacred his own family. It got loose, turning one of the Watchers and killing the other. The test should have been stopped there, but it wasn’t. The vampire kidnapped Buffy’s mother, and after confronting Quentin, I confessed my part in it. She was livid and rightfully so. She left me standing in the library, doubting if I would ever see her again. Whether she talked to me or not, however, I couldn’t let her face things alone. She killed the initial vampire, tricked him into ingesting Holy Water. But she forgot about the turned Watcher. I followed her and interfered, staking the Watcher. Buffy passed her test. I was sacked. ‘Caring too much for my charge’ was what they called it.” Giles’ eyes took a far away look as he remembered that night, the night Quentin fired him, and he hadn’t cared a whit, because Buffy forgave him.

“I knew that pillock Travers was up to something when he threatened me to not interfere with Buffy’s new Watcher. Buffy was unorthodox, you see. She was a free thinker, not raised by the Council. She didn’t give a whit about men in tweed sitting safely in their offices thousands of miles away. She only cared about the lives with her. They hated her for that, and they hated me for not breaking her of that. So they picked the greenest, most eager-to-please, young man fresh out of the Academy they could and made sure he didn’t have a lick of field experience. That was who they sent to take over charge of my Slayer. Wesley was who they sent. I think they were hoping he would get both Buffy and Faith killed, and they could start over fresh with a more pliable Slayer. Neither girl gave him an ounce of respect, and most of Buffy’s friends were quite hostile toward him...well, except for Cordelia. I was hard on him myself,” Giles smiled wryly. “He didn’t exactly make it easy to be nice. Always in someone’s face, spouting orders or Council rhetoric. But the longer he was there, the more he realized how clueless the Council was - that when you’re on the front line, hardly anything is back and white. By the end, he knew he was going to be sacked, and he stood with us on graduation. Granted, he and I didn’t become close until after he left Sunnydale, but I’m sure that experience has left some lingering ghosts in him.”

Fred listened at first in amazement then in disgust, to Giles’ story. The Council had used them - Buffy, Rupert...and Wesley. Hadn’t even given a crap that the Slayer was a person and that Giles as her Watcher had to do...that to her. And Wesley... Oh, God, poor Wesley. Cordelia had often teased him about how green he had been, but Fred had had no idea just how green that meant. It could have gotten him killed as well as Buffy and Faith.

And the Council didn’t care. The Council didn’t fucking care. No wonder neither Rupert nor Wesley had very good things to say about them. No wonder Wesley never really wanted to talk about his time Sunnydale, instead always referring to what others had done. No wonder Rupert was worried about how Wesley might take it when they returned.

“How could they do that?” she asked, not really looking for an answer from him. She didn’t really want to hear the answer. It sickened her that the group charged with safe-guarding the world from evil was possibly even more evil in its twisted view on the disposability of people. “No wonder he-I...” She shook her head. What could she say? That she would be there? Of course, she would. She could say that until she was blue in the face. But she wouldn’t know what would happen, how Wesley would react, until they were there. “Whatever his reaction, we’ll be there for him. Hopefully, he’ll know that.”

Giles was about to respond but sensed the movement coming toward the kitchen. He motioned to the door, letting Fred know the man in question was approaching. Schooling his face, wiping it of all anger and resentment toward the Council, he smiled seeing a freshly showered Wes walk up behind Fred and wrap his arms around her midsection.

“You get scrambled eggs this morning, Wesley. I’ll try and do something to them to make them a bit more palatable,” he promised, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard to start breaking eggs.

Wesley just nodded, his attention focused mainly on the woman in his arms. He wasn’t foolish. He knew they had been discussing something about him before he entered. Part of him warmed at the idea that two such wonderful people worried about him. But another part of him was mildly annoyed that they felt they had to coddle him, to change the subject if he happened to walk in. Leaning down, he pressed his lips into the crook of her neck, smiling against the warm skin when she shivered.

Fred leaned back into Wesley as he kissed her. God, this felt so nice. And he smelled so good - all deodorant soap and mint toothpaste and his shampoo. She bent her arm back to rest her hand on his upper arm, another shiver rushing through her. He was also quickly learning the kind of things that drew a reaction out of her.

“You’re definitely looking stronger,” she told him he paused for a moment. “I made some tea if you’d like a cup.”

Wesley took the cup from her hands and smiled when he tasted it. Bless her. She knew just how he liked it. He spied the pad of paper on the counter, and his smile grew into a grin. Rupert had left a pad in just about every room in the house. He felt his heart warm at the sweet gesture. Setting the cup down for a moment, he grabbed the pad.

Rupert has been teaching you, he wrote. And as usual, you are an exceptional student. He angled the pad for her to read before reclaiming his cup.

She blushed a bit as she poured a cup for Rupert, deciding that she’d get a cup of her own when she got back from her own shower. “And he’s an amazing teacher. Just like you.” She definitely felt like she had learned more from the two of them than she ever could have expected.

“Okay, I’m off to shower. Don’t start breakfast without me.” With that, she gave them each a kiss and hurried off to the bathroom after grabbing a fresh set of clothes from her bag.

“Not a chance,” Giles remarked, his green eyes meeting the blue of Wesley’s as she left the kitchen. “Why don’t you help me a bit.” He smirked when Wes looked toward the living room. “The research is organized, Wesley. It will keep until after breakfast. Come on, we have a lady to keep fed. I’ll add some cheese to your eggs,” he offered, trying to ‘spice up’ the blandness of Wesley’s diet. “Think you can dice the ham for the omelets?”

Wesley nodded, picking up the knife, and got to work. Giles pulled three plates out of the cupboard, deciding to make Wesley’s eggs first, so they would have time to cool. They worked in companionable silence for nearly ten minutes, Wesley adding little touches as his lover finished the cooking. He carried the plates out to the table, pouring orange juice for Rupert and Fred, and finished by bringing a cup of tea out for said lady. He added a milk for himself.

When Fred came back out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and top with her damp hair pulled back in a braid, she smiled at the sight of Wesley setting breakfast on the table. Between the three of them, they would manage to keep all the housework covered, she was sure. And who would want to eat out with the meals that Rupert could make?

“Smells great,” she said as she approached the table. “Anything I can help you with?”

Wesley frowned for a second as she stepped out of the bathroom. It had just occurred to him that they may need to go shopping for Fred soon, or she would have to resort to wearing his shirts. The frown disappeared immediately at that thought. Fred in his shirts, and nothing but his shirts, was damnably sexy. He forced himself to focus when he realized she was talking to him. Grabbing a pad from the other table, he quickly scribbled down his thought.

Don’t know. Have to ask the chef, he wrote before motioning toward the kitchen.

Fred smiled at him and nodded after reading his note, reaching over to run a hand through his short hair. “I really do like this look on you. It suits your face.” Feeling a bit impish, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “And it looks really, really sexy.”

She gave him a kiss on his cheek in front of his earlobe before turning to go into the kitchen to ask Rupert if he needed help with anything else before they sat down to eat.

Wesley felt his breath catch in his chest as her lips brushed his skin. His eyes slid closed, trying to tamp down his body’s reaction to the thought he had been entertaining just moments before, coupled with the feel of her body so close. When he opened his eyes, she was already in the kitchen. He barely suppressed a shiver of delight. But the day for them was over, he reminded himself. After breakfast, it was time to work.

“No, everything is done. Just turn around and head right back out,” Giles joked, picking up the plate with his and Fred’s omelets on them. He stopped in the doorway between the kitchen, smirking when he saw Wesley. “All right, luv, what’d you do to him,” he asked her knowingly. Setting the plate on the table, he took the seat to Fred’s left. He was about to serve the omelets onto their plates when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to find Wesley holding a notepad at him. He looked down, his smile growing evil when he read what it said.

If you’re going to wait until after breakfast to shower, at least put on a robe so that I can concentrate.

Fred’s eyebrows shot up her forehead at the look that passed between the two men and she leaned over in her seat in order to read what Wesley had passed to Rupert. When she saw it, she started giggling, her hand going up to cover her mouth.

“Apparently, whatever I did can’t compare to you in your boxers,” she told him. She knew that would probably earn her a few more glares, but she didn’t care. She was enjoying all this too much. Too soon, it would be time for them to get all serious and settle down to work and not think about anything else but their search, and she wanted this to last as long as possible.

Giles snorted, still wondering how two brilliant people could be so blind. He wiped a flat hand over his chest.

“Oh yes, my grey hair and middle-aged paunch. I can see how that would be distracting,” he commented in a self deprecating tone. He finished serving everything and looked up at Wesley. He was surprised to see the hunger radiating from those blue eyes and ducked his head blushing. “Bloody hell, stop looking at me like that,” he mumbled.

Standing, he held Wesley’s gaze momentarily, warm blush still coloring his cheeks. Reaching up a hand, he cupped the younger man’s cheek, rubbing his thumb across Wes’ cheekbone. “Your eyes should be a sex crime,” he muttered thickly, smiling slightly when Wesley blushed. “But fine, sit. Both of you go ahead and start while I fetch my robe.”

God, if they didn’t watch it, they would never get anything done ever again. Giles was right, though - Wesley had the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen on a man. The way he used them in intimate situations was absolutely killer. They had been what had almost stopped her from leaving him when she had visited after the incident with Billy’s blood. But they had also been what finally convinced her that she had to go.

“Go on,” she said, pointing toward the room to indicate that Rupert should go. “And you...” She turned to Wesley and picked up his fork, which she handed to him. “You, eat.”

Wesley barely resisted the urge to glare at her. He looked down at the fork in his hand and knew she had a point. If they couldn’t reel in these feelings, they would never get anything done. It didn’t make it any less frustrating. Regretfully, he sat down in his chair, eating the eggs on his plate, but admittedly, not tasting them.

Once he started eating, she looked after Giles. “By the way, grey hair and a so-called paunch are very attractive when the guy in question wears it well.”

Giles laughed from the other room as he donned his blue robe. He started making his way out to the dining room once again, the amusement clear in his voice. “I wasn’t aware that one could wear middle aged well,” he smirked, returning to the table. “Now...you eat.”

She knew she had asked for that in playing the mother card with Wesley. Although really, she didn’t want to be thinking that way because that brought up a whole load of issues they didn’t need. Things were likely to be complicated enough, no matter how much they loved being around each other.

Sitting back down in her chair, she picked up her own fork and cut off a piece of the omelet that Rupert had made. She hadn’t had an actual omelet in a long time - her attempts with eggs had usually ended up with broken-yolk fried eggs. “Really good,” she said with a smile before taking a sip of the tea that one of them - Wesley probably - had made up for her.

“It isn’t much. Just a Western Omelet. Little ham, peppers, onions, cheese and ouala,” Giles replied.

Breakfast went by fairly quickly, a little too quickly for Giles’ tastes. It wasn’t that he didn’t realize the seriousness of bringing young Connor home. It was that now instead of protecting Wesley from his guilt, the three of them would have to openly embrace it in order to get through this task. Exposing Wesley to this type of pain, on purpose, wasn’t something he was relishing.

“Just leave the dishes; I’ll take care of them after my shower,” he told them, getting up from the table. “Give Wesley a minute. He’ll be able to figure out how I arranged the piles,” he added to Fred alone.

She nodded as she got up from the table. She knew this was it - their time had ended, and now they were going to dive headfirst into the thing that had brought them all together. As Giles headed for the bathroom, she looked down at the dishes. She felt bad about leaving them there, but she didn’t want to leave Wesley alone either to face those books because she knew that he had been on edge about them since they had arrived. Deciding to let the dishes be as they were nowhere near as important as Wesley, she followed him into the living room and stood a few feet behind so she wouldn’t crowd him or make him feel like she was shadowing over his shoulder.

Wesley smiled to himself. Rupert was right. It didn’t take him long to figure out how things had been arranged. He knew the languages Rupert spoke and the ones he himself could cover. His stack was obviously the largest of the three. It looked like he guessed about Fred’s capabilities, and Wesley was surprised to see that the man was nearly spot on. He moved the smallest of the three stacks to the coffee table and placed his hand on top of it, extending the other toward Fred telling her that this was for her. He noted there were quite a few things within his own pile he had never seen before. He broke down his own pile even further into different dialects of the same language as well as the demonology lines within the resources. This was going to be a long process, but he was determined. He owed it to Connor to make this right.

When Wesley waved her over, she walked over to the couch and looked down at the stack of books Rupert had put aside for her to cover. Even though it wasn’t as large as either his or Wesley’s, she knew it would take her just as long to get through it. She sat down and picked up one of the books. It was one of the first languages that Wesley had taught her to translate since it had similarities to Spanish, a language she had known since she was a child. She wondered if all the Watchers began their learning with that particular language or whether Rupert had just figured it out based on her background and his knowledge of Wesley. Or whether Wesley had told him - he had mentioned that they had been talking to each other for a while and she had been the subject of some of those discussions.

She looked through the others - she was fairly familiar with all the other ones, so she decided that she’d start with the one she knew best and take it from there.

Giles stepped from the bathroom in his worn jeans and a grey t-shirt. Since they would probably be spending the day inside, he stayed barefoot. He approached the couch quietly, observing the others looking through their assignments. He smirked, realizing that Wesley had broken the pile down even further....just as he suspected he would. Both of them seemed lost in their thoughts as he watched them closely.

“Everyone find everything all right?” he asked, finally announcing his presence.

Wesley jumped, not having realized that anyone had approached. His heart was racing, and he had to force himself to calm down. It was only Rupert. Rupert wouldn’t hurt him for anything, he reminded himself. Grabbing the pad, he scribbled furiously.

Bloody hell, we need to put a bell on you.

Fred shook her head, trying not to laugh as she flipped open the book she had set on the top of the pile. Three people living together in what had once been home to only one? Definitely going to take getting used to - especially if any of them were concentrating.

“Maybe we could announce ourselves every time we enter a room. Or some kind of spell so we’d know where the others were.” She wrinkled her forehead at that. “Actually, that may not be a good idea. Would probably end up knowing way more than we wanted to.”

She held up the book. “You managed to get the languages I do know something about. Good guesses on those. ‘Less Wesley told you.”

“No, not exactly a guess. And Wesley didn’t mention it. We’ve been training for this nearly all our lives. Giving up our childhood’s to learn languages, hand-to-hand, weapons and so on and so forth. I know which languages he can handle, and I know which languages are easiest to learn. Also, given the fact that you’re from Texas, which has a high Catholic population with the Latinos....anything steeped in Spanish or Latin should be a piece of cake for you to pick up,” Giles explained. He picked up a thick text from his own pile and sat on the other side of Fred, putting her in the middle, between them.

She glanced back and forth between Wesley and Giles before she settled back against the couch and began studying the text in her lap after putting her glasses on. It didn’t take her long to be totally absorbed in what she was doing, reading through and trying to find any reference she could to Quor’Toth or anything about a dark world.

The first book didn’t have anything, so she moved to the second. A few times, she got up to get them some fresh tea or something soft for the three of them to snack on. Sometimes, they shared something they found, trying to decide whether it was relevant, but nothing seemed to be yet. The closest Fred herself came was finding a reference to Quor’Toth that pretty much just translated as “Don’t go there.” They didn’t seem to want to say anything else about it, it was that bad. And any place that scared demons? Scared her as well.

When she finished the second book, she looked up and rubbed her eyes, checking the time on the clock across the room. “Good grief, we’ve already been at this all day. It’s nine o’clock!”

Giles arched an eyebrow in amusement at her declared ‘Good Grief’ but had to ultimately agree with the sentiment. It was time to stop for the night. He had to get something solid into Wesley other than tea and soggy biscuits. He knew this was the first test. Looking across to Wesley, the younger man would not give up the book willingly. Meeting Fred’s gaze, he smiled wryly before leaning across her.

“Wesley?” He chuckled when he got no answer. His smile turned feral before he latched his lips onto Wesley’s jaw. “Wesley.”

This time the other man’s name was said in a sing-songed voice. Inwardly, he cursed. He could tell by the change in Wes’ breathing that the man wasn’t as unaffected as he was pretending to be. But the cheeky little bugger was throwing down the gauntlet by not reacting. Well, he would show him. Allowing his lips to trail down his jaw, Giles made sure his mouth was right next to the younger man’s ear. Drawing the lobe into his mouth, he nipped it with his teeth, chuckling at the answering gasp.

“Do I have your attention now?”

Fred leaned back into the couch and watched for a moment as Giles trailed his lips along Wesley’s jaw. So pretty, her two guys. So pretty, especially with Giles leaning across her and-oh, crap, the book. She could see that Wesley was now definitely caught up in what Giles was doing, so she reached underneath and took hold of the book he was holding, pulling it out of his hands with a couple of swift tugs. She grinned, knowing that he would probably realize what she had done...sooner or later. Depending how distracted Giles managed to keep him.

Giles could feel the moment Wesley capitulated to his taunting. He felt the book slide along his chest, knowing Fred had disarmed their lover. Turning his head, he looked into deep blue eyes, and was lost. He claimed Wesley’s lips, relishing in his taste, the taste of tea and biscuits, and something uniquely to the other man. He braced one hand on the couch, sliding his weight forward, to allow Fred to slide out from underneath him. He smirked when he felt Wesley shift his hips to rub against his brace arm. He only pulled back when oxygen became an issue.

“So wanton, so beautiful,” he rasped, loving the way Wesley responded to his touch.

Fred slid to the floor with the book and set it on the pile of books on the coffee table before moving it away so Wesley couldn’t try to make a grab for them whenever they came up for air. Although... Turning around, she looked back up at Rupert and Wesley, who didn’t look like they wouldn’t be separating from each other any time soon.

Giles was a little unprepared for the intensity when Wesley threaded his long fingers in his hair and reinitiated their carnal kiss. He lowered himself slowly, allowing the weight of his upper body to rest over Wes’ lap. The kiss was demanding, as if the younger man was trying to get at his soul. He wasn’t sure what Wesley seemed to be searching for, so he willingly opened himself up, dropping all walls and barriers to him. When they finally broke apart, Giles gasped when it occurred to him. Scrambling up to his knees, he held Wesley’s face in his hands as if it were the greatest treasure itself.

“He’s not here. You’ll find nothing in me Wesley but acceptance, and love,” he promised, serious green meeting vulnerable blue. “No judging. You are mine, and I will kill anyone that tries to come between us.”

“Same here,” Fred said softly from where she was still sitting on the floor. “We won’t let anyone hurt you again as long as we can help it - not Angel, not your father, not the Council, not anyone.” She gave Wesley’s knee a squeeze and took his hand to kiss it, then stood up, knowing that the rest of this moment was for him and Rupert. He had to see that each of them where there for him - together and on their own. “I’ll be in the kitchen starting some dinner and making some more tea if you two need me.”

Leaning over, she gave both of them a kiss before heading into the kitchen.

Giles held Wesley’s gaze, knowing instinctively that the younger man had been holding back on him. He didn’t blame him. Knowing Roger Wyndam-Pryce like he did, it explained a lot. He wouldn’t push, but he would let Wesley see beyond his walls, he needed to see the truth. Once Fred left the room, he ducked his head, a small smile crossing his lips. He understood what she was doing. She was giving Wes and him a chance to get past this first hurdle, alone. Bless her. Lifting his head, he watched Wesley’s face as he trailed his hand up the younger man’s thigh, his hand stopping over the bulge in his jeans.

Wesley gasped, feeling the long fingers tracing him through the denim. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make that final concession to Rupert, he did. But the fear was almost stifling. He’d only ever felt like this for another man once. And the man was bought off by his father, but not before he tasted the ridicule of that purchased life. Deep down, he knew Rupert wasn’t like that. But that fear, it was ingrained. He felt the trembling work its way up his spine when Giles slid to the floor in between his spread legs. God, was this really going to happen? Nimble fingers lowered his zipper and undid the clasp. Giles held Wesley’s gaze, his heart breaking for the fear he saw there. Reaching into his boxers, he grasped the hard flesh, exposing it to the air.

“I’m not them, Wesley. I will never break your heart or your spirit,” he promised, before lowering his head and drawing the younger man’s penis into his mouth. It had been a long time since he had been with a man like this, but gauging from the way Wes’ fingers threaded through his hair, he hadn’t lost his touch. Closing his eyes, he called on all of his experience to bring this amazing man as much pleasure as he could.

*****
In the kitchen, Fred put some fresh water in the kettle and set it on the stove to heat, then leaned against the counter, closing her eyes as she remembered what Giles had told her earlier in connection with what he had told Wesley out there. He was so scared that he was going to lose them, and she was certain that it was because of his father. What had he done? Controlled his friends, sent away the ones that he didn’t approve of? Tell him that he wasn’t good enough for friends? All sorts of different possibilities rolled through her mind, and each one of them sickened her.

Well, she knew one thing. If Roger Wyndam-Pryce ever appeared in their lives and tried to chase her or Rupert out, she definitely wasn’t going to let him. She wasn’t about to let anyone take away the best thing that had happened to her since she had returned from Pylea, the men that made her feel like she was accepted for herself - even if she was crazy, geeky, nerdy and occasionally silly. She wasn’t some kind of prize to be displayed with them; she was their equal, and she loved them for that. So she was damned if anyone would ever chase them away from their sides.

As she pulled a few things out of the refrigerator for dinner - she was nothing like Rupert, but she wasn’t going to feed them tree bark either - she heard a strangled gasp come the living room. Setting the food down, she went over to the kitchen door and opened it to peek out. Wesley was on the couch, his head resting back so he was almost looking to the ceiling, and she could see Rupert between his legs. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were doing, and it made her heart pound and a bit of that familiar ache deep down in her as she watched them for a few moments, a loving smile spreading across her face. Then she closed the door again and paused with her forehead resting against the frame before she turned back to the fruit she had taken out for dinner.

*****

book one: chapter six

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