fic! AtS
Disclaimer: Ave Joss, the bastard. Ave Tim, too, they're all bastards at ME, the whole bastardy lot of them. I want to give them all cookies.
Title: Commonplace
Author: Sheila (mimesere@earthlink.net)
Spoilers: "Home"
Rating: PG-13 by *my* standards, R by the MPAA.
Notes: Vaguely a crossover with Last Night. Also, not as depressing as it sounds. I think. Look, behind you, there's an elephant!
Summary:
The world doesn't end with a bang, or a whimper, or a series of whimpers. It ends simply, on a Saturday, at a forever kind of noon.
Wesley finds himself on the roof of the Wolfram and Hart building, turning his face toward the sun. His eyes are closed, and the light bleeds through anyway. He wonders if this is some kind of cosmic joke, karmic payback for the perpetual night of before.
Call it irony, then, that the world should end in a blaze of light and heat.
The roof access door groans as something hits it. Metal and heat, expansion makes the door stick until it gives with a long groan.
"Thought I'd find you here," says Gunn. Wesley pretends not to notice he is out of breath.
"The world is supposed to end today," he says. He opens his eyes. Gunn is a dark, dark outline against the brightness of the sky and Wesley squints, wishes he had sunglasses.
Gunn shrugs. "Yeah? Today today, or like, sometime in this period of the sun being up?"
"Does it matter?"
"A little."
"Today, then. The sun isn't going to set again." Wesley looks down and scrubs his hands against his jeans. "I was just musing on the irony of it."
"Heh." Gunn sits down next to Wesley and picks up his bottle of water. "Evian?"
"It's all we had in the lunchroom."
Gunn huffs a small laugh. "I bet it is. Where's Evil McBeal?"
"Lilah," Wesley emphasizes her name, "is watching pornography in Angel's office."
"That's a way to go out, I guess," says Gunn. "I mean. At least she'll go happy."
"She's already gone, Gunn."
"Yeah." Gunn rubs a hand over his head, and when he's done, his hand is resting next to Wesley's on the plaid blanket. It could be funny.
It *is* funny.
"Yeah," says Gunn again. "I forget that."
"She's lively for a corpse," Wesley says.
Gunn looks at him strangely. "You would know," he finally says.
Wesley blinks and the thought takes a moment to trickle through his brain. He doesn't operate best in the heat. "I...*Gunn*," he says, scandalized.
"No?"
"No."
Not for lack of opportunity, Wesley almost says. Not for lack of temptation. He clears his throat. "So what brings you up here?"
"I told you. I figured I'd find you here."
"How terribly romantic," says Wesley. He's almost joking.
"Yeah well," Gunn says. He squints up at the sun. "Earlier, I thought you'd be trying to find a way to save the world still."
"Mmm. Not so much." The sky isn't so interesting anymore, now that he has someone to share it with.
"Not gonna rage against the dying of the light?"
"Rage hasn't gotten me very far, and it isn't as if the light is *dying*."
"I thought you'd still be fighting."
"Fred is," Wesley says.
"Yeah."
"You could be with her."
"Fred," says Gunn. "Fred won't stop raging until she's dead."
"She is an...angry young woman."
"Hey, I guess being a slave cow thing will do that to a body."
An inch of distance between their hands. Not so large a space.
Wesley says, "I thought you'd be with her now."
"No."
"No?"
"Like you said. Rage seems kind of eh." Gunn looks over at him, blinking the light out of his eyes. "Anyway. There are worse places to be."
That's something, at least. A thought to warm him on this intolerably hot day.
"It'll be faster this way. Out here, I mean."
"Okay, 'cause that's not really really morbid."
"If you're looking for comfort, Charles, I'd be happy to oblige."
"No. I think your brand of comfort would make me jump off the building."
"A man did that about an hour ago." Wesley points. "From that building."
"See, that is *exactly* what I mean."
"Point taken."
The silences between them have never really been uncomfortable (except for the few when Gunn hated him and Wesley hated the world, and they each rather wanted the other dead. *Those* silences were about as comfortable as fuck all.), and this is not an exception to that rule. Wesley closes his eyes and he can feel Gunn sitting next to him, and it feels like the temperature has climbed another few degrees. Soon it'll be too hot to stay outside.
He can hear Gunn shift and curse softly. "It's hotter than a motherfucker out here, Wes."
"I don't find maternal incest to be *particularly* hot, Gunn."
"You literal fucker."
"Oh, you *do* flatter." Wesley smiles and it's just hot enough, and dry enough, that the movement cracks Wesley's bottom lip just a little.
"Oh," says Gunn quietly. The tone is just off enough to get Wesley's eyes open, and then Gunn's hand is hot against the back of Wesley's neck, and Gunn is *right there*. Catch of Wesley's breath, and then Gunn's mouth on his and the taste of blood bright between them.
The air Wesley drags into his lungs feels like it's on fire. "We could go back inside."
"We could," Gunn says evenly. "How long do you think we've got?"
"An hour? Ten minutes? I honestly don't know." Wesley smiles suddenly. "The news stations stopped broadcasting yesterday."
"So why should we waste time," says Gunn, and he looks at Wesley very very seriously, "going inside?"
"Go out swinging, as it were."
"Something like that."
"I'll faint," says Wesley. "I'm fairly certain of that."
"Then my ego goes out feeling mighty fine."
"Because of the *heat*, you ass."
"I am just that hot," agrees Gunn. "What do you say?"
"Make it worth my while." Wesley gets his hands on the waistband of Gunn's pants.
"You'll see stars," Gunn promises. He's already got Wesley's shirt unbuttoned and half off.
Wesley looks up at the sky. The blue has been almost totally bleached out by the sun and no one's seen anything like a night sky in weeks. "I hope so."
Title: Commonplace
Author: Sheila (mimesere@earthlink.net)
Spoilers: "Home"
Rating: PG-13 by *my* standards, R by the MPAA.
Notes: Vaguely a crossover with Last Night. Also, not as depressing as it sounds. I think. Look, behind you, there's an elephant!
Summary:
The world doesn't end with a bang, or a whimper, or a series of whimpers. It ends simply, on a Saturday, at a forever kind of noon.
Wesley finds himself on the roof of the Wolfram and Hart building, turning his face toward the sun. His eyes are closed, and the light bleeds through anyway. He wonders if this is some kind of cosmic joke, karmic payback for the perpetual night of before.
Call it irony, then, that the world should end in a blaze of light and heat.
The roof access door groans as something hits it. Metal and heat, expansion makes the door stick until it gives with a long groan.
"Thought I'd find you here," says Gunn. Wesley pretends not to notice he is out of breath.
"The world is supposed to end today," he says. He opens his eyes. Gunn is a dark, dark outline against the brightness of the sky and Wesley squints, wishes he had sunglasses.
Gunn shrugs. "Yeah? Today today, or like, sometime in this period of the sun being up?"
"Does it matter?"
"A little."
"Today, then. The sun isn't going to set again." Wesley looks down and scrubs his hands against his jeans. "I was just musing on the irony of it."
"Heh." Gunn sits down next to Wesley and picks up his bottle of water. "Evian?"
"It's all we had in the lunchroom."
Gunn huffs a small laugh. "I bet it is. Where's Evil McBeal?"
"Lilah," Wesley emphasizes her name, "is watching pornography in Angel's office."
"That's a way to go out, I guess," says Gunn. "I mean. At least she'll go happy."
"She's already gone, Gunn."
"Yeah." Gunn rubs a hand over his head, and when he's done, his hand is resting next to Wesley's on the plaid blanket. It could be funny.
It *is* funny.
"Yeah," says Gunn again. "I forget that."
"She's lively for a corpse," Wesley says.
Gunn looks at him strangely. "You would know," he finally says.
Wesley blinks and the thought takes a moment to trickle through his brain. He doesn't operate best in the heat. "I...*Gunn*," he says, scandalized.
"No?"
"No."
Not for lack of opportunity, Wesley almost says. Not for lack of temptation. He clears his throat. "So what brings you up here?"
"I told you. I figured I'd find you here."
"How terribly romantic," says Wesley. He's almost joking.
"Yeah well," Gunn says. He squints up at the sun. "Earlier, I thought you'd be trying to find a way to save the world still."
"Mmm. Not so much." The sky isn't so interesting anymore, now that he has someone to share it with.
"Not gonna rage against the dying of the light?"
"Rage hasn't gotten me very far, and it isn't as if the light is *dying*."
"I thought you'd still be fighting."
"Fred is," Wesley says.
"Yeah."
"You could be with her."
"Fred," says Gunn. "Fred won't stop raging until she's dead."
"She is an...angry young woman."
"Hey, I guess being a slave cow thing will do that to a body."
An inch of distance between their hands. Not so large a space.
Wesley says, "I thought you'd be with her now."
"No."
"No?"
"Like you said. Rage seems kind of eh." Gunn looks over at him, blinking the light out of his eyes. "Anyway. There are worse places to be."
That's something, at least. A thought to warm him on this intolerably hot day.
"It'll be faster this way. Out here, I mean."
"Okay, 'cause that's not really really morbid."
"If you're looking for comfort, Charles, I'd be happy to oblige."
"No. I think your brand of comfort would make me jump off the building."
"A man did that about an hour ago." Wesley points. "From that building."
"See, that is *exactly* what I mean."
"Point taken."
The silences between them have never really been uncomfortable (except for the few when Gunn hated him and Wesley hated the world, and they each rather wanted the other dead. *Those* silences were about as comfortable as fuck all.), and this is not an exception to that rule. Wesley closes his eyes and he can feel Gunn sitting next to him, and it feels like the temperature has climbed another few degrees. Soon it'll be too hot to stay outside.
He can hear Gunn shift and curse softly. "It's hotter than a motherfucker out here, Wes."
"I don't find maternal incest to be *particularly* hot, Gunn."
"You literal fucker."
"Oh, you *do* flatter." Wesley smiles and it's just hot enough, and dry enough, that the movement cracks Wesley's bottom lip just a little.
"Oh," says Gunn quietly. The tone is just off enough to get Wesley's eyes open, and then Gunn's hand is hot against the back of Wesley's neck, and Gunn is *right there*. Catch of Wesley's breath, and then Gunn's mouth on his and the taste of blood bright between them.
The air Wesley drags into his lungs feels like it's on fire. "We could go back inside."
"We could," Gunn says evenly. "How long do you think we've got?"
"An hour? Ten minutes? I honestly don't know." Wesley smiles suddenly. "The news stations stopped broadcasting yesterday."
"So why should we waste time," says Gunn, and he looks at Wesley very very seriously, "going inside?"
"Go out swinging, as it were."
"Something like that."
"I'll faint," says Wesley. "I'm fairly certain of that."
"Then my ego goes out feeling mighty fine."
"Because of the *heat*, you ass."
"I am just that hot," agrees Gunn. "What do you say?"
"Make it worth my while." Wesley gets his hands on the waistband of Gunn's pants.
"You'll see stars," Gunn promises. He's already got Wesley's shirt unbuttoned and half off.
Wesley looks up at the sky. The blue has been almost totally bleached out by the sun and no one's seen anything like a night sky in weeks. "I hope so."