Happy Wesley Ficathon story
This is for the Happy Wes Ficathon organized by the lovely caoilainn.
Title: Past, Present, Future (I reserve the right to change the title later)
Written for: ficbitcabear
Characters: Wes, Doyle, and Angel (pairing is a surprise)
Request: an inappropriate declaration (Pairing request was for Wes/Doyle, slash, any rating. Back-up pairing requests: Wes w/Angel, Giles, Lorne, Xander, Spike, or Gunn)
Rating: for mature audiences, but nothing too graphic
Beta: Special thanks to silvertedy and aimeelicious who both gave me some great advice and fixed some horribly embarrassing errors (I must stop typing from my notebook while watching TV!). Thanks to you both.
Setting: Angel S1, soon after Wes joins the team
Angel probably knew Wesley was standing in the doorway listening, but if he did, he gave no indication of it and Wesley took that as acceptance.
Our rats are low.
Angel chuckled at the words coming from the television, and Wesley smiled. He loved it when Angel laughed. To be honest, he loved to see any emotion on Angel’s face -- as long as it didn’t mean he was holed up in his office or downstairs brooding.
And that’s what you’ll find here. Someone who’ll go all the way...
The tape ended but Angel stayed where he was -- leaning against his desk, staring at the now fuzzy television screen. “Did you need something, Wes?”
Wesley hesitated a moment before answering. “No. Nothing important. Sorry to bother you.”
He started to move away when Angel’s words stopped him. “I miss him.”
“Doyle?”
“Yeah. He was a good man.”
“So I’ve been told.” At Angel’s confusion he explained, “Cordelia has ... well, she clearly misses him, too.”
Angel nodded.
“I’ll do my best to fill his shoes.”
Angel turned back to the television and Wesley excused himself from the room.
***
It was early morning. Angel was probably sleeping and Cordelia certainly hadn’t arrived yet, but Wesley had awakened early and with nothing else to do he’d come into the office. He thought maybe a little translation work might be productive -- he’d picked a few books available only in some obscure demon language he wasn’t very familiar with. But when he’d found the office so quiet and empty, his eyes had been drawn to the television he could see through Angel’s open office door.
He thought of Angel the day before, laughing at the video of Doyle. Before he could talk himself out of it, Wesley was sitting in Angel’s chair and pressing “Play” on the remote. A blue screen was soon followed by the image of Doyle. He was standing behind Cordelia’s desk, shifting nervously, his voice a little shaky.
If you need help, then look no further...
Wesley leaned back in the chair and smiled. Doyle was more attractive than Wesley had expected based on his conversations with Cordelia. The obvious shyness and the way Doyle kept looking to the side of the camera, reading the cue cards, were rather endearing.
Our rats are low. [Cordelia off camera: Rates!] It says rats.
That was the part that had made Angel laugh. He could see why the man had meant so much to his friends. The soft Irish accent was comforting, and reminded him that he wasn’t the only non-Californian to end up in Los Angeles.
... at the end of your rope and you need someone...
Wesley closed his eyes. Lord knew he needed someone. Angel and Cordelia had been friendly enough, but he’d never felt so alone as he did now. He hadn’t exactly made friends with anyone when in Sunnydale, but he’d been too focused on his duties. Now he wasn’t really sure what his future held, and the need for a friendly face and a kind shoulder filled an empty place inside him. He looked at the screen again.
...who’ll protect you no matter what...
He wished he’d arrived sooner so that he could have helped with the Scourge. Maybe he could have somehow saved Doyle. Of course, if Doyle were still here Angel might not need him.
“We’d have happily included you even if Doyle were still alive, Wes.”
Wes turned to see Angel standing in the doorway, smiling softly at him. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.
“You’re an asset to the group.”
“Thank you.” Angel’s words were a surprise. A welcome surprise, but still a surprise. He smiled as Angel stepped into the room and nodded at the television.
“I think we both loved him -- Cordy and me.” He looked at Wes. “He was a beautiful man.”
Wesley nodded, “Yes. He’s quite handsome.”
Angel chuckled. “That’s not what I meant, but I guess you’re right on that too. He was attractive.” Angel paused as if remembering him then shook his head. “Except for the clothes. He had horrible taste in clothes. He’d come in here wearing the most garish shirts. I’d remind him that I could see in the dark, there was no need for the bright colors and ugly prints.”
Wesley’s grin matched Angel’s. “Yes. Cordelia did tell me my clothes were an improvement. Not much, of course, but she seems willing to be seen in public with me.”
Angel nodded.
***
It became a ritual -- watching the commercial with Angel. Wesley would come in early and make his way down to Angel’s apartment, to where Angel had returned the TV and VCR. It was always an awkward situation, and they chose to interact more with the TV than each other. Angel would lean against the kitchen counter, drinking his breakfast and staring across the room. Wesley would carefully stand outside his line of sight -- off to the right, between the sofa and an armchair. After the video, they’d move upstairs and begin their day, no words spoken.
Wesley became infatuated. The evening after their fourth viewing, he went home tired and alone as usual. But when he entered his apartment he saw a figure standing by the window, a silhouette in the dark outlined by the glow of a streetlight behind him. Wesley fumbled for the light and reached toward his umbrella stand for an impromptu weapon. When the light flicked on he saw Doyle for a moment and then he disappeared, faded away before Wesley’s eyes.
Wesley shook his head, blinking several times. Fatigue was clearly causing him to hallucinate. He closed and locked his door, then moved through the living room to his bedroom. Stepping through the door, he saw the figure there before him again. This time he didn’t turn on the light; he slowly moved closer and Doyle stood still, watching him. Wesley crossed the room, stopping just inches from Doyle. He raised his hand to touch and there was nothing. He could see him, but he wasn’t real. A ghost? Perhaps. Hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation? Certainly possible. The crazed imaginings of someone who’d become obsessed with a dead man? Not as improbable as Wesley would have liked.
He went to bed while Doyle stood watch over him.
***
The same pattern continued for days. Watching the video with Angel in the morning. Working all day. Helping the helpless at night. Going home to Doyle. Gradually, his time with Doyle changed. Instead of just watching, Doyle began interacting with him -- touching, conveying thoughts with gestures and facial expressions. He never spoke and while he’d been able to touch Wesley and pick things up, he remained incorporeal.
Wesley’s mornings with Angel eventually became more comfortable, more relaxed. He was beginning to feel less alone, and less lonely. Angel would make him breakfast and they’d talk about work or tell stories from their pasts. It was friendly; it was nice. Wesley liked Angel. He wanted to tell him anything and everything.
***
Three weeks after Doyle’s first appearance, Wesley had been on a job with Angel that had kept them out all night. They’d gone back to the office just before dawn. Walking down the steps to Angel’s apartment, Wes saw Doyle was there. Angel walked right through him, seeing nothing. Wesley had frozen on the steps. He’d never seen him anywhere other than his own apartment.
Doyle smiled and waggled his eyebrows, looking pointedly between Wesley and Angel. His message was clear. Wesley, shocked, shook his head, trying to convey that Doyle was clearly confused. Doyle just laughed silently, shook his head, and followed Angel into the kitchen. He hopped up on the counter and watched as Angel pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge and started making breakfast for Wesley. Angel turned and saw him frozen on the stairs.
“You okay, Wes? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wes choked at the words Angel had no way of knowing were so true. “I’ve been having an affair with Doyle.”
Angel dropped an egg on his foot. He looked down and frowned, his brow creased. “Doyle?”
“He’s not real, of course.” Wesley’s words came in a rush. “It’s all in my head.”
He saw Doyle roll his eyes and pick up an egg. Then he froze as he realized Angel could see the egg moving. Doyle wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
“You see him?” Angel asked.
“Yes,” Wes nodded. “Do you? He’s smiling.”
Angel shook his head. “Just a floating egg. Like Phantom Dennis. I don’t --” And then Doyle shimmered and Angel stepped back.
“Doyle,” he whispered. Then as soon as Angel acknowledged him, he was gone.
“Where’d he-- can you--?”
Wesley shook his head and looked all around. “He’s gone.” He sighed and sat down in a kitchen chair. “He’s been coming and going from my apartment for weeks. This is the first time I’ve seen him somewhere else.”
Angel was silent. He cleaned up the egg on his shoe and the floor and finished making breakfast.
“What did you mean when you said you were having an affair?” Angel placed a plate of food in front of Wesley and dropped down into the chair across from him.
***
The first time Doyle touched him, Wesley though he was dreaming. Cool, soft lips, feather light against his own. Long, delicate fingers gliding across his flesh. He woke to the sight of Doyle kneeling between his spread legs, quietly, exploring his body. He gently pressed bruises from Wesley’s fights with demons (and whacks from Cordelia). He traced muscle, tendon, bone, learning the lines of Wesley’s body with tongue and hands. He nipped Wesley’s throat and sucked his nipples and when he moved lower, Wesley cried out and came on his stomach before Doyle even reached his cock. It had been far too long since anyone had touched him.
***
Wesley felt Angel staring at him across the table. He’d barely touched his food as he’d relayed the details of some of his nights with Doyle. Now he realized how hungry he was, but the cold, greasy eggs weren’t exactly appealing anymore. He remembered the first time Angel had made him breakfast. He’d been cooking for Cordelia and invited him to stay too. Angel must have read his mind, because he rose and took the plate from table, dumped it in the trash, and stepped over the stove.
“Scrambled or over easy?”
Wesley hesitated but Angel’s face was open and inviting. “Scrambled please.” He pushed his chair back. “Here,” he moved to join Angel at the stove, “let me help.”
Angel smiled and handed him some cheese and the grater, then his face turned serious. “Wes--”
“Yes?” Wesley tried to school his expression, expecting something bad.
Angel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Wesley’s lips, his eyes closed. The kiss was soft and gentle. Wesley opened up to the delicate touch of Angel’s tongue and felt it sweep through his mouth, exploring. He dropped the cheese and laughed against Angel’s mouth, but Angel didn’t pull away. The kiss went on and on, Angel’s hand coming up to cup his jaw. When Angel finally did pull back, Wesley was dazed and uncertain what had just happened.
“I missed that taste.”
“Wh--”
“Doyle. You tasted like Doyle.” He leaned in for another quick kiss. “But now you taste like you again. And a little bit like me.” He smiled and reached for a couple fresh eggs. “It tastes good on you.”
“It?” Wesley shook his head, trying to get a handle on what Angel was saying.
“Me. I taste good on you.” Angel cracked the eggs into a bowl, added some milk, and mixed them up with a fork. Then he looked down at the floor between them and grinned. “Guess you didn’t want cheese, after all.” He poured the beaten eggs into a skillet and busied himself with cooking breakfast, again.
Wesley watched and smiled and realized he was no longer alone. Or lonely. For the first time in a long time he felt truly alive. Out of the corner of his eye, Wesley saw that familiar figure appear once more, leaning against the fridge. And when Wesley turned to look at him, Doyle smiled softly, then waved good-bye and was gone. Wesley smiled to himself and returned his attention to Angel and breakfast.
The End
------------------
Full text of the commercial for those who don’t remember it.
Doyle: If you need help, then look no further. [clearly nervous] Angel Investigations is the best. Our rats are low. [Cordy: Rates!] It says rats. Sorry. Our rates are low, but our standards are high. [moves around to front of the desk] When the chips are down and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that can you can count on. [leans against desk, arms crossed] And that's what you'll find here. Someone who'll go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. So don't lose hope. [arms uncrossed] Come on over to our offices, and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world.... Is that it? Am I done?
Title: Past, Present, Future (I reserve the right to change the title later)
Written for: ficbitcabear
Characters: Wes, Doyle, and Angel (pairing is a surprise)
Request: an inappropriate declaration (Pairing request was for Wes/Doyle, slash, any rating. Back-up pairing requests: Wes w/Angel, Giles, Lorne, Xander, Spike, or Gunn)
Rating: for mature audiences, but nothing too graphic
Beta: Special thanks to silvertedy and aimeelicious who both gave me some great advice and fixed some horribly embarrassing errors (I must stop typing from my notebook while watching TV!). Thanks to you both.
Setting: Angel S1, soon after Wes joins the team
Angel probably knew Wesley was standing in the doorway listening, but if he did, he gave no indication of it and Wesley took that as acceptance.
Our rats are low.
Angel chuckled at the words coming from the television, and Wesley smiled. He loved it when Angel laughed. To be honest, he loved to see any emotion on Angel’s face -- as long as it didn’t mean he was holed up in his office or downstairs brooding.
And that’s what you’ll find here. Someone who’ll go all the way...
The tape ended but Angel stayed where he was -- leaning against his desk, staring at the now fuzzy television screen. “Did you need something, Wes?”
Wesley hesitated a moment before answering. “No. Nothing important. Sorry to bother you.”
He started to move away when Angel’s words stopped him. “I miss him.”
“Doyle?”
“Yeah. He was a good man.”
“So I’ve been told.” At Angel’s confusion he explained, “Cordelia has ... well, she clearly misses him, too.”
Angel nodded.
“I’ll do my best to fill his shoes.”
Angel turned back to the television and Wesley excused himself from the room.
***
It was early morning. Angel was probably sleeping and Cordelia certainly hadn’t arrived yet, but Wesley had awakened early and with nothing else to do he’d come into the office. He thought maybe a little translation work might be productive -- he’d picked a few books available only in some obscure demon language he wasn’t very familiar with. But when he’d found the office so quiet and empty, his eyes had been drawn to the television he could see through Angel’s open office door.
He thought of Angel the day before, laughing at the video of Doyle. Before he could talk himself out of it, Wesley was sitting in Angel’s chair and pressing “Play” on the remote. A blue screen was soon followed by the image of Doyle. He was standing behind Cordelia’s desk, shifting nervously, his voice a little shaky.
If you need help, then look no further...
Wesley leaned back in the chair and smiled. Doyle was more attractive than Wesley had expected based on his conversations with Cordelia. The obvious shyness and the way Doyle kept looking to the side of the camera, reading the cue cards, were rather endearing.
Our rats are low. [Cordelia off camera: Rates!] It says rats.
That was the part that had made Angel laugh. He could see why the man had meant so much to his friends. The soft Irish accent was comforting, and reminded him that he wasn’t the only non-Californian to end up in Los Angeles.
... at the end of your rope and you need someone...
Wesley closed his eyes. Lord knew he needed someone. Angel and Cordelia had been friendly enough, but he’d never felt so alone as he did now. He hadn’t exactly made friends with anyone when in Sunnydale, but he’d been too focused on his duties. Now he wasn’t really sure what his future held, and the need for a friendly face and a kind shoulder filled an empty place inside him. He looked at the screen again.
...who’ll protect you no matter what...
He wished he’d arrived sooner so that he could have helped with the Scourge. Maybe he could have somehow saved Doyle. Of course, if Doyle were still here Angel might not need him.
“We’d have happily included you even if Doyle were still alive, Wes.”
Wes turned to see Angel standing in the doorway, smiling softly at him. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.
“You’re an asset to the group.”
“Thank you.” Angel’s words were a surprise. A welcome surprise, but still a surprise. He smiled as Angel stepped into the room and nodded at the television.
“I think we both loved him -- Cordy and me.” He looked at Wes. “He was a beautiful man.”
Wesley nodded, “Yes. He’s quite handsome.”
Angel chuckled. “That’s not what I meant, but I guess you’re right on that too. He was attractive.” Angel paused as if remembering him then shook his head. “Except for the clothes. He had horrible taste in clothes. He’d come in here wearing the most garish shirts. I’d remind him that I could see in the dark, there was no need for the bright colors and ugly prints.”
Wesley’s grin matched Angel’s. “Yes. Cordelia did tell me my clothes were an improvement. Not much, of course, but she seems willing to be seen in public with me.”
Angel nodded.
***
It became a ritual -- watching the commercial with Angel. Wesley would come in early and make his way down to Angel’s apartment, to where Angel had returned the TV and VCR. It was always an awkward situation, and they chose to interact more with the TV than each other. Angel would lean against the kitchen counter, drinking his breakfast and staring across the room. Wesley would carefully stand outside his line of sight -- off to the right, between the sofa and an armchair. After the video, they’d move upstairs and begin their day, no words spoken.
Wesley became infatuated. The evening after their fourth viewing, he went home tired and alone as usual. But when he entered his apartment he saw a figure standing by the window, a silhouette in the dark outlined by the glow of a streetlight behind him. Wesley fumbled for the light and reached toward his umbrella stand for an impromptu weapon. When the light flicked on he saw Doyle for a moment and then he disappeared, faded away before Wesley’s eyes.
Wesley shook his head, blinking several times. Fatigue was clearly causing him to hallucinate. He closed and locked his door, then moved through the living room to his bedroom. Stepping through the door, he saw the figure there before him again. This time he didn’t turn on the light; he slowly moved closer and Doyle stood still, watching him. Wesley crossed the room, stopping just inches from Doyle. He raised his hand to touch and there was nothing. He could see him, but he wasn’t real. A ghost? Perhaps. Hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation? Certainly possible. The crazed imaginings of someone who’d become obsessed with a dead man? Not as improbable as Wesley would have liked.
He went to bed while Doyle stood watch over him.
***
The same pattern continued for days. Watching the video with Angel in the morning. Working all day. Helping the helpless at night. Going home to Doyle. Gradually, his time with Doyle changed. Instead of just watching, Doyle began interacting with him -- touching, conveying thoughts with gestures and facial expressions. He never spoke and while he’d been able to touch Wesley and pick things up, he remained incorporeal.
Wesley’s mornings with Angel eventually became more comfortable, more relaxed. He was beginning to feel less alone, and less lonely. Angel would make him breakfast and they’d talk about work or tell stories from their pasts. It was friendly; it was nice. Wesley liked Angel. He wanted to tell him anything and everything.
***
Three weeks after Doyle’s first appearance, Wesley had been on a job with Angel that had kept them out all night. They’d gone back to the office just before dawn. Walking down the steps to Angel’s apartment, Wes saw Doyle was there. Angel walked right through him, seeing nothing. Wesley had frozen on the steps. He’d never seen him anywhere other than his own apartment.
Doyle smiled and waggled his eyebrows, looking pointedly between Wesley and Angel. His message was clear. Wesley, shocked, shook his head, trying to convey that Doyle was clearly confused. Doyle just laughed silently, shook his head, and followed Angel into the kitchen. He hopped up on the counter and watched as Angel pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge and started making breakfast for Wesley. Angel turned and saw him frozen on the stairs.
“You okay, Wes? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wes choked at the words Angel had no way of knowing were so true. “I’ve been having an affair with Doyle.”
Angel dropped an egg on his foot. He looked down and frowned, his brow creased. “Doyle?”
“He’s not real, of course.” Wesley’s words came in a rush. “It’s all in my head.”
He saw Doyle roll his eyes and pick up an egg. Then he froze as he realized Angel could see the egg moving. Doyle wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
“You see him?” Angel asked.
“Yes,” Wes nodded. “Do you? He’s smiling.”
Angel shook his head. “Just a floating egg. Like Phantom Dennis. I don’t --” And then Doyle shimmered and Angel stepped back.
“Doyle,” he whispered. Then as soon as Angel acknowledged him, he was gone.
“Where’d he-- can you--?”
Wesley shook his head and looked all around. “He’s gone.” He sighed and sat down in a kitchen chair. “He’s been coming and going from my apartment for weeks. This is the first time I’ve seen him somewhere else.”
Angel was silent. He cleaned up the egg on his shoe and the floor and finished making breakfast.
“What did you mean when you said you were having an affair?” Angel placed a plate of food in front of Wesley and dropped down into the chair across from him.
***
The first time Doyle touched him, Wesley though he was dreaming. Cool, soft lips, feather light against his own. Long, delicate fingers gliding across his flesh. He woke to the sight of Doyle kneeling between his spread legs, quietly, exploring his body. He gently pressed bruises from Wesley’s fights with demons (and whacks from Cordelia). He traced muscle, tendon, bone, learning the lines of Wesley’s body with tongue and hands. He nipped Wesley’s throat and sucked his nipples and when he moved lower, Wesley cried out and came on his stomach before Doyle even reached his cock. It had been far too long since anyone had touched him.
***
Wesley felt Angel staring at him across the table. He’d barely touched his food as he’d relayed the details of some of his nights with Doyle. Now he realized how hungry he was, but the cold, greasy eggs weren’t exactly appealing anymore. He remembered the first time Angel had made him breakfast. He’d been cooking for Cordelia and invited him to stay too. Angel must have read his mind, because he rose and took the plate from table, dumped it in the trash, and stepped over the stove.
“Scrambled or over easy?”
Wesley hesitated but Angel’s face was open and inviting. “Scrambled please.” He pushed his chair back. “Here,” he moved to join Angel at the stove, “let me help.”
Angel smiled and handed him some cheese and the grater, then his face turned serious. “Wes--”
“Yes?” Wesley tried to school his expression, expecting something bad.
Angel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Wesley’s lips, his eyes closed. The kiss was soft and gentle. Wesley opened up to the delicate touch of Angel’s tongue and felt it sweep through his mouth, exploring. He dropped the cheese and laughed against Angel’s mouth, but Angel didn’t pull away. The kiss went on and on, Angel’s hand coming up to cup his jaw. When Angel finally did pull back, Wesley was dazed and uncertain what had just happened.
“I missed that taste.”
“Wh--”
“Doyle. You tasted like Doyle.” He leaned in for another quick kiss. “But now you taste like you again. And a little bit like me.” He smiled and reached for a couple fresh eggs. “It tastes good on you.”
“It?” Wesley shook his head, trying to get a handle on what Angel was saying.
“Me. I taste good on you.” Angel cracked the eggs into a bowl, added some milk, and mixed them up with a fork. Then he looked down at the floor between them and grinned. “Guess you didn’t want cheese, after all.” He poured the beaten eggs into a skillet and busied himself with cooking breakfast, again.
Wesley watched and smiled and realized he was no longer alone. Or lonely. For the first time in a long time he felt truly alive. Out of the corner of his eye, Wesley saw that familiar figure appear once more, leaning against the fridge. And when Wesley turned to look at him, Doyle smiled softly, then waved good-bye and was gone. Wesley smiled to himself and returned his attention to Angel and breakfast.
The End
------------------
Full text of the commercial for those who don’t remember it.
Doyle: If you need help, then look no further. [clearly nervous] Angel Investigations is the best. Our rats are low. [Cordy: Rates!] It says rats. Sorry. Our rates are low, but our standards are high. [moves around to front of the desk] When the chips are down and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that can you can count on. [leans against desk, arms crossed] And that's what you'll find here. Someone who'll go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. So don't lose hope. [arms uncrossed] Come on over to our offices, and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world.... Is that it? Am I done?