JossVerse fic - Wanted to Roam (part 3 in the Rules and Regulations 'verse)
Title: Wanted To Roam (Rules and Regulations ‘Verse)
Fandom: AtS
Pairing: Wesley/Spike
W/C: ~ 1950
Rating: R (this chapter)
Summary: It’s not all sunshine and roses. Not that Spike would have been all that fond of sunshine anyway. Time for some angst, and a little help from their friends.
A/N: Title ripped off from this song: http://youtu.be/J_TxPQKcG7w by Rufus Wainwright, who is awesome, and you should go to iTunes and download every song he’s ever recorded. I was asked for a sequel to Chanced To Look Back, and now it’s turned into a ‘verse. This is story number three.
Barely a week had gone by since Spike and Wesley had started down the road to a committed relationship, and neither of them expected that argument-inducing issues would come up so soon. The first time Wes had awoken to the acrid smell lingering in his living room, he’d tried to explain rationally why this was not all right.
“I know we’re making adjustments here, Spike, but I don’t think I’m being unreasonable”, Wes sighed, already weary of this discussion. He’d thought his new lover would assume that lighting up a cigarette in his impeccably clean and purposely neutral-scented apartment would not be acceptable.
“Wes, it’s not like you didn’t know I smoked. You’ve seen me do it a hundred times, and I never heard you complain about tasting it in my mouth or on my skin. Why would I think you had an objection?”
“This is my place, love. And though I’ve always thought of that cigarette smell as being a part of you, I never wanted it permeating the place where I live. It’s impossible to get out, you know.”
Spike was stung by the words, maybe more than he should have been. “So you accept it as part of me, but you don’t accept that part of me as being associated with the place where you live. What else is there, Wesley? Go on ahead now and tell me what else about me that just doesn’t belong in your space? This can’t be the only thing, right?”
And oh shit, this was turning into something ugly. The sneer on Spike’s face only spurred on Wesley’s aggravation. “Why are you being such a wanker about this? I’ve got a balcony, for chrissake, you could just go out there! I’d rather find almost-empty beer bottles used as ashtrays on my patio furniture than on my coffee table. If I had to find them at all, it’s not like you haven’t got the capacity to throw them out yourself”, he added, just to be an ass.
“So now I’m not tidy enough for you either?” Spike could feel his anger building, and refused to think about how it stemmed from the deep-down feeling that Wes was implying he wasn’t living up to his standards. “You’re acting like you picked me up at a bar, like you didn’t fucking know me before…”. his words trailed off there, as he wasn’t willing to continue the sentence.
Grabbing his duster and shoving his arms into it, Spike headed for the door. Wesley was still angry, but he’d honestly prefer that they resolve this instead of leaving it hanging over their heads.
“For the love of - Spike, it’s almost sunrise, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my own filthy little smoke-filled hovel. Which is where I belong, obviously.”
Wesley’s response was cut off by the slamming of his front door.
Fuck.
They’d all adjusted to Angel’s work schedule, since he was the boss, so Wes showed up in the office late in the afternoon. His foul mood was obvious to everyone around him, and his temper was legendary, so almost everyone stayed away.
Almost everyone.
Angel had noticed, and he’d been concerned, but couldn’t bring himself to get involved in whatever it was that had Wesley glaring and snapping at his assistant, which was completely out of character for him. Yeah, he could get into dark moods, but never to the point where he’d intentionally mistreat someone who worked for him in such a callous way. Without another option, he asked Gunn to go and talk to him.
Charles was an excellent mediator, and a fine choice, in Angel’s opinion, to be the person who might be able to get Wesley calmed down and talk about what was bothering him. Angel needed Wes on his toes, his skills were exceptionally valuable on their team, and he couldn’t have him distracted like this.
Of course, Gunn didn’t feel exactly the same way. He’d been on the other end of Wesley’s anger before, and he had no desire to end up there again. At the same time, he knew Wes and Spike were together now, and the complications that could arise from that situation were numerous and quite frankly, possibly insurmountable. Their personalities, which would look to an outsider to be polar opposites, were actually very similar. That could certainly cause the kind of discord that was going on now.
The sun had set, but Spike was nowhere to be found. Just that was enough to throw a clue Gunn’s way.
Knocking on Wesley’s office door, he was greeted with a curt, “What is it?” before Wes looked up to see that it was his friend standing there.
“Sorry, Charles. Is there something I can do for you?”
“For starters, you can explain why you’re acting like someone pissed in your Wheaties.”
Wesley gave him a withering glare, but Gunn wasn’t about to back down. “Come on, man, it’s obvious. Something threw you into PMS-mode today, and I’m willing to bet I know what it was.” And yeah, he was totally willing to bet, after all, he’d won his last Wesley-related wager.
“PMS-mode? I’m in a bad mood so you decide to come in to my office and compare me to a girl? You think that’s wise?”
“Wise or not, I’m just stating the facts. You might as well spill it, Wes. No good keeping whatever it is bottled up. You don’t want to talk to Spike about it, fine, talk to me.”
“And why the hell do you think Spike has anything to do with…anything? Whatever kind of mood you think I’m in?”
“Dude, you made your secretary cry.”
Wes was genuinely taken aback then. He was mortified, and his look reflected it. “Honestly? Damn it, have someone in purchasing order her - no, nevermind, I’ll do it myself. If she doesn’t quit. I really am being an ass, I guess.”
“Yeah, you really are. Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“There was something today. Earlier. An argument.”
“So what did you do? Or what did he do?”
“I got up and he’d been smoking in my living room.”
It was all Gunn could do to keep from laughing with that revelation. “Yeah, Wes, he does that. Lights up cigarettes wherever he feels like it. Even that time he ground one out the carpet in Angel’s office, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Angel smokes, too”, Wes replied, a weak comeback.
“Bullshit, he does not!”
“He does with Spike. I’ve seen him.”
“All right, whatever. So this is either about something he shares with Angel and not with you, or it’s about you getting pissed off over Spike doing something you already knew he did. Neither of which is rational.” Before Wes could get going again, Gunn continued. “And I’m not saying every argument has to be rational. I slept on the couch for two days once over a fight that started over where to get take-out and ended with Fred deciding I was a selfish bastard. So I get it, okay? I do. What you need to figure out is how you’re going to fix it. How did the two of you leave things?”
Ashamed, Wes admitted, “With him saying I thought he wasn’t good enough for me and slamming the door to go back to his place when the sun was almost coming up.”
Gunn gave a low whistle at that revelation. “Shit, Wes, that’s bad.”
“I know it’s bad!”, Wes shouted in response. He got ahold of himself then, and continued. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I know you’re only trying to help. I’m just frustrated. Do you think it’s over the top for me to ask him to light up on the balcony instead of inside?”
“No, not at all. Did you tell him that?”
“Of course I did!”
“Before or after?”
Wesley pondered that for a moment. Gunn was making a good point. “After.”
“So, when he started staying over at your place, did you think about asking him to smoke outside?”
“I thought it was implied”, Wesley grit out, his voice hard and cold.
“And what do you think now? About making implications like that?”
Hours had gone by, and he’d had time to think it over. Gunn was pushing him in the right direction. “Maybe I should have said something earlier.”
“If you’d have asked him to do that, do you think he would have reacted badly?”
Wesley replied with complete honesty. “No, I don’t. I think he would have agreed if I’d asked. But I didn’t. I just assumed he’d know better. Now all I’ve got is him storming out, yelling about how he belongs at his own place, because it’s ‘filthy’ and better suited to him.”
“And you haven’t spoken since?”
“It was just this morning. I haven’t had the opportunity to-”
“Shut up, you have too. You could have called him anytime today.”
“He was too angry. He wouldn’t have picked up.”
“Again with the assumptions. Spike is serious about you, man. Like, serious. If you don’t feel the same way, you better man up and tell him now.” And there was Gunn’s protective instinct rearing its head. He felt it for Spike the way he felt it for all his friends.
“Shit, Charles, that’s not it at all. It was just a misunderstanding, it got out of hand…”
“Dude, you’ve got just a short a fuse as he has. You’ve both got to learn how to get a handle on that if you’re going to make this work. I’m gonna go away and let you be now, but think about it. And for God’s sake, call him. I know he did something you didn’t want him to do, but he didn’t know it and you totally overreacted. Fix this shit, before everyone who works for you walks out and everyone who likes you gets tired of your pissy attitude.”
Fuck, he had a point, didn’t he? Wesley had to admit it, he’d hurt Spike earlier and he wanted to repair the damage he’d done. As Charles walked out of his office, Wes did what he knew he should have done hours ago; picked up his phone.
But because there was a chicken-shit side of him to rival his bad-ass, he texted instead of called.
Sorry. I mean it. I was wrong and I’m asking you to forgive me. Or at least just talk to me. Please.
Almost twenty agonizing minutes went by before he got a reply.
I’m sorry too. Can you get away for a while?
Wesley’s reply was immediate and absolute.
Of course. Right now, if you like. Tell me where.
My place.
Of course. Wes sighed, resigned to the fact that he’d be groveling for a while.
Half an hour. Okay?
Yeah, ok.
Angel had seen Gunn walking back through the lobby looking satisfied, and not ten minutes later, Wesley heading toward the front door. He was hopeful he’d have Wes and Spike both back in the office tomorrow, as normal. Well, their new kind of normal, anyway.
Fandom: AtS
Pairing: Wesley/Spike
W/C: ~ 1950
Rating: R (this chapter)
Summary: It’s not all sunshine and roses. Not that Spike would have been all that fond of sunshine anyway. Time for some angst, and a little help from their friends.
A/N: Title ripped off from this song: http://youtu.be/J_TxPQKcG7w by Rufus Wainwright, who is awesome, and you should go to iTunes and download every song he’s ever recorded. I was asked for a sequel to Chanced To Look Back, and now it’s turned into a ‘verse. This is story number three.
Barely a week had gone by since Spike and Wesley had started down the road to a committed relationship, and neither of them expected that argument-inducing issues would come up so soon. The first time Wes had awoken to the acrid smell lingering in his living room, he’d tried to explain rationally why this was not all right.
“I know we’re making adjustments here, Spike, but I don’t think I’m being unreasonable”, Wes sighed, already weary of this discussion. He’d thought his new lover would assume that lighting up a cigarette in his impeccably clean and purposely neutral-scented apartment would not be acceptable.
“Wes, it’s not like you didn’t know I smoked. You’ve seen me do it a hundred times, and I never heard you complain about tasting it in my mouth or on my skin. Why would I think you had an objection?”
“This is my place, love. And though I’ve always thought of that cigarette smell as being a part of you, I never wanted it permeating the place where I live. It’s impossible to get out, you know.”
Spike was stung by the words, maybe more than he should have been. “So you accept it as part of me, but you don’t accept that part of me as being associated with the place where you live. What else is there, Wesley? Go on ahead now and tell me what else about me that just doesn’t belong in your space? This can’t be the only thing, right?”
And oh shit, this was turning into something ugly. The sneer on Spike’s face only spurred on Wesley’s aggravation. “Why are you being such a wanker about this? I’ve got a balcony, for chrissake, you could just go out there! I’d rather find almost-empty beer bottles used as ashtrays on my patio furniture than on my coffee table. If I had to find them at all, it’s not like you haven’t got the capacity to throw them out yourself”, he added, just to be an ass.
“So now I’m not tidy enough for you either?” Spike could feel his anger building, and refused to think about how it stemmed from the deep-down feeling that Wes was implying he wasn’t living up to his standards. “You’re acting like you picked me up at a bar, like you didn’t fucking know me before…”. his words trailed off there, as he wasn’t willing to continue the sentence.
Grabbing his duster and shoving his arms into it, Spike headed for the door. Wesley was still angry, but he’d honestly prefer that they resolve this instead of leaving it hanging over their heads.
“For the love of - Spike, it’s almost sunrise, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my own filthy little smoke-filled hovel. Which is where I belong, obviously.”
Wesley’s response was cut off by the slamming of his front door.
Fuck.
They’d all adjusted to Angel’s work schedule, since he was the boss, so Wes showed up in the office late in the afternoon. His foul mood was obvious to everyone around him, and his temper was legendary, so almost everyone stayed away.
Almost everyone.
Angel had noticed, and he’d been concerned, but couldn’t bring himself to get involved in whatever it was that had Wesley glaring and snapping at his assistant, which was completely out of character for him. Yeah, he could get into dark moods, but never to the point where he’d intentionally mistreat someone who worked for him in such a callous way. Without another option, he asked Gunn to go and talk to him.
Charles was an excellent mediator, and a fine choice, in Angel’s opinion, to be the person who might be able to get Wesley calmed down and talk about what was bothering him. Angel needed Wes on his toes, his skills were exceptionally valuable on their team, and he couldn’t have him distracted like this.
Of course, Gunn didn’t feel exactly the same way. He’d been on the other end of Wesley’s anger before, and he had no desire to end up there again. At the same time, he knew Wes and Spike were together now, and the complications that could arise from that situation were numerous and quite frankly, possibly insurmountable. Their personalities, which would look to an outsider to be polar opposites, were actually very similar. That could certainly cause the kind of discord that was going on now.
The sun had set, but Spike was nowhere to be found. Just that was enough to throw a clue Gunn’s way.
Knocking on Wesley’s office door, he was greeted with a curt, “What is it?” before Wes looked up to see that it was his friend standing there.
“Sorry, Charles. Is there something I can do for you?”
“For starters, you can explain why you’re acting like someone pissed in your Wheaties.”
Wesley gave him a withering glare, but Gunn wasn’t about to back down. “Come on, man, it’s obvious. Something threw you into PMS-mode today, and I’m willing to bet I know what it was.” And yeah, he was totally willing to bet, after all, he’d won his last Wesley-related wager.
“PMS-mode? I’m in a bad mood so you decide to come in to my office and compare me to a girl? You think that’s wise?”
“Wise or not, I’m just stating the facts. You might as well spill it, Wes. No good keeping whatever it is bottled up. You don’t want to talk to Spike about it, fine, talk to me.”
“And why the hell do you think Spike has anything to do with…anything? Whatever kind of mood you think I’m in?”
“Dude, you made your secretary cry.”
Wes was genuinely taken aback then. He was mortified, and his look reflected it. “Honestly? Damn it, have someone in purchasing order her - no, nevermind, I’ll do it myself. If she doesn’t quit. I really am being an ass, I guess.”
“Yeah, you really are. Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“There was something today. Earlier. An argument.”
“So what did you do? Or what did he do?”
“I got up and he’d been smoking in my living room.”
It was all Gunn could do to keep from laughing with that revelation. “Yeah, Wes, he does that. Lights up cigarettes wherever he feels like it. Even that time he ground one out the carpet in Angel’s office, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Angel smokes, too”, Wes replied, a weak comeback.
“Bullshit, he does not!”
“He does with Spike. I’ve seen him.”
“All right, whatever. So this is either about something he shares with Angel and not with you, or it’s about you getting pissed off over Spike doing something you already knew he did. Neither of which is rational.” Before Wes could get going again, Gunn continued. “And I’m not saying every argument has to be rational. I slept on the couch for two days once over a fight that started over where to get take-out and ended with Fred deciding I was a selfish bastard. So I get it, okay? I do. What you need to figure out is how you’re going to fix it. How did the two of you leave things?”
Ashamed, Wes admitted, “With him saying I thought he wasn’t good enough for me and slamming the door to go back to his place when the sun was almost coming up.”
Gunn gave a low whistle at that revelation. “Shit, Wes, that’s bad.”
“I know it’s bad!”, Wes shouted in response. He got ahold of himself then, and continued. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I know you’re only trying to help. I’m just frustrated. Do you think it’s over the top for me to ask him to light up on the balcony instead of inside?”
“No, not at all. Did you tell him that?”
“Of course I did!”
“Before or after?”
Wesley pondered that for a moment. Gunn was making a good point. “After.”
“So, when he started staying over at your place, did you think about asking him to smoke outside?”
“I thought it was implied”, Wesley grit out, his voice hard and cold.
“And what do you think now? About making implications like that?”
Hours had gone by, and he’d had time to think it over. Gunn was pushing him in the right direction. “Maybe I should have said something earlier.”
“If you’d have asked him to do that, do you think he would have reacted badly?”
Wesley replied with complete honesty. “No, I don’t. I think he would have agreed if I’d asked. But I didn’t. I just assumed he’d know better. Now all I’ve got is him storming out, yelling about how he belongs at his own place, because it’s ‘filthy’ and better suited to him.”
“And you haven’t spoken since?”
“It was just this morning. I haven’t had the opportunity to-”
“Shut up, you have too. You could have called him anytime today.”
“He was too angry. He wouldn’t have picked up.”
“Again with the assumptions. Spike is serious about you, man. Like, serious. If you don’t feel the same way, you better man up and tell him now.” And there was Gunn’s protective instinct rearing its head. He felt it for Spike the way he felt it for all his friends.
“Shit, Charles, that’s not it at all. It was just a misunderstanding, it got out of hand…”
“Dude, you’ve got just a short a fuse as he has. You’ve both got to learn how to get a handle on that if you’re going to make this work. I’m gonna go away and let you be now, but think about it. And for God’s sake, call him. I know he did something you didn’t want him to do, but he didn’t know it and you totally overreacted. Fix this shit, before everyone who works for you walks out and everyone who likes you gets tired of your pissy attitude.”
Fuck, he had a point, didn’t he? Wesley had to admit it, he’d hurt Spike earlier and he wanted to repair the damage he’d done. As Charles walked out of his office, Wes did what he knew he should have done hours ago; picked up his phone.
But because there was a chicken-shit side of him to rival his bad-ass, he texted instead of called.
Sorry. I mean it. I was wrong and I’m asking you to forgive me. Or at least just talk to me. Please.
Almost twenty agonizing minutes went by before he got a reply.
I’m sorry too. Can you get away for a while?
Wesley’s reply was immediate and absolute.
Of course. Right now, if you like. Tell me where.
My place.
Of course. Wes sighed, resigned to the fact that he’d be groveling for a while.
Half an hour. Okay?
Yeah, ok.
Angel had seen Gunn walking back through the lobby looking satisfied, and not ten minutes later, Wesley heading toward the front door. He was hopeful he’d have Wes and Spike both back in the office tomorrow, as normal. Well, their new kind of normal, anyway.