Fic: The Drizzle and the Sunshine
Title: The Drizzle and the Sunshine
Author: viciouwishes
Beta: spartacusjones
Fandom: Buffyverse
Pairing: Buffy/Gunn and Gunn/Wesley
Rating: NC17
Setting: Post-"Chosen" in the Birthday verse
Words: 7300
Summary: For the lynnevitational, Gunn and Wesley are living in Seattle when Buffy catches up with them.
Gunn clenched his sword, shoving it into the heart of a Terhma demon. Pink ooze ran out the gaping wound. Some dribbled on his hand, and he wiped it on his gray cargo pants. His hunting clothes as Wesley called them. Clothes that were awkward, didn't fit quite right, and were once owned by other people. (But that was the way things had always been, hadn't it?) Sometimes it was easier to toss them in the trash over making his fingers bleed while scrubbing stains.
He walked over to Wesley and offered his hand. "You okay?"
Wesley grunted as he stood up. A red gash bled brightly on his forehead. "Sometimes I think I miss Los Angeles."
"That's just because it's raining again. Besides I thought you, being English and all, would love the drizzle." Gunn's hand rested on Wesley's good shoulder as they left to find their car.
Wesley shook his head. "Not all of us enjoy the rain, Charles. I'm sorry if I'm not living up to your ideal of an Englishman; I suppose this is something like your fondness for Gilbert and Sullivan."
"What did I say about talking about that in public? You know I don't listen to anything besides Talib Kweli and Mos Def." Gunn tossed his sword next to Wesley's in the back of his truck. Wesley was clearly in one of his moods; the kind that dumped acid rain on their lives. The kind that meant he missed Angel, no matter how crazy the vampire had been.
"Are we going to do our normal patrol tonight?" Gunn pulled his truck onto the 5, heading out of the U-District.
"There was this interesting documentary about the mating practices of rhesus monkeys on public television..."Wesley's head remained turned, looking out the window.
Changing lanes, Gunn passed a white minivan; they always reminded him of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. "You're full of sarcasm today, English." Wesley only granted his comment another grunt. Gunn's hand reached for the CD player and listened to the sounds of Jurassic 5 as they made their way home.
They continued their pattern of not talking as they entered the apartment. Wesley immediately sequestered himself in his bedroom, his shut door clearly saying that he didn't want company, specifically Gunn.
Ignoring Wesley, Gunn sat down at his computer, wasting a few hours playing Half-Life. He looked up as Wesley's door opened and watched as the other man made his way to the bathroom. Gunn sighed and went back to his game.
When Wesley reappeared, he cleared his throat. "What kind of take-away would you like?"
"Anything not American for 100, please." Gunn hit pause on his game. "And I really just lost my street cred there."
"I think you lost it a long ago, Charles. Perhaps when you started drinking PG Tips." Wesley reached for the drawer full of menus. "Vietnamese fine?"
"That works. And I blame you for peer pressuring me into a tea habit. My grandma always warned me about tea-pushing Englishmen." Gunn swore that he saw a smile in the corner of Wesley's mouth. Anything was better than brooding Wesley.
After the food came, they both sat down on the couch. Gunn opened a container filled with Hue beef noodles. "Yours." He set it over by Wesley, who handed him a beer. "Thanks."
A stack of movies sat on the coffee table. Gunn's eyes scanned the titles; the number of comedies surprised him, especially since Wesley had picked them out. "Anything you want to watch?"
"Your choice." Wesley took a long sip of his own beer. "You wouldn't have believed how long it took to check out those movies. Everyone in line kept asking about late fees as if they can't be bothered to read the fine print themselves." Snorting, he settled into the corner of the couch, far away from Gunn.
Gunn picked up I'm Gonna Git You Sucka from the pile. He knew that Wesley had chosen the movie as another way of saying that he was sorry. Frankly, Gunn was sick of Wesley saying he was sorry. What happened, happened.
After sticking the DVD in the player, Gunn settled down in the other corner of the couch. Despite the tension in the room, they laughed in all the right places.
When the credits rolled, Gunn looked over at Wesley, who'd fallen asleep. Getting up, he turned off the television. After leaving a note, Gunn grabbed his favorite axe from the corner of the room. Wesley needed his sleep, no matter if the couch created a huge kink in his neck or not. Gunn had lost track of how many nights Wesley hadn't moved from where he left him earlier that evening.
The streets were quiet, and the rain silenced everything; too many days, his pants ended up soaked to the knees with the pollution of Seattle. He passed only humans; some gave a black man carrying an axe the entire sidewalk. But mostly, this was a demon route, and humans were expected to watch out for themselves.
Turning his head, Gunn thought he heard steps behind him. But nothing was there. As he pivoted back, he thought he saw a flash of yellow. Probably someone's headlights. He shook his head and pulled his jacket tighter around him as the wind picked up. A little sunlight about right now would take care of a lot of things, including the cold and the vampires.
Looping around Broadway, Gunn headed back home. Home, a relative word considering everything that happened. After Alonna's death, when Gunn had been unable to save her, Angel had the mission and the visions. The mission brought Gunn back and gave him a purpose that his crew couldn't. He and Wesley had become closer friends than he would've ever expected upon first meeting the uptight, English, one-armed man who took the time to still wear expensive suits in the sewers.
Making his way to his apartment, Gunn was glad not to run into any of his neighbors. They always managed to ask uncomfortable questions when he carried weapons.
He put his axe away in the footlocker that served as their weapons' cabinet; they'd had to leave the nice one behind in Los Angeles. Looking toward the couch, he saw that Wesley had moved, hopefully to bed and not just to his bedroom desk.
Sighing, Gunn started to strip as he walked toward the bathroom and turned on the shower; he found that he could always brush his teeth in the time that the water warmed.
*****
At three a.m. a loud knocking on the door and the sound of Wesley answering it woke Gunn up. Gunn groaned in the dark, reaching for his pillow and doing his best to hide under it. If he could only hide long enough, that person would go away. But he'd better go rescue that person, probably some disgruntled neighbor, from Wesley.
As Gunn pulled on his jeans, he hoped that it wasn't the cops.
But instead, there was a petite blonde woman barely inches inside of the closed door, a pissed off one, standing with her hands on her hips, almost shouting at Wesley. By their close proximity and that Wesley had allowed her into the apartment, he figured that Wesley had to know her.
Wesley cleared his throat loudly as Gunn approached them. "This is my associate, Charles Gunn."
Associate always sounded like a strange word to Gunn, and it was even stranger when sleep tugged at the corners of his eyes. His hand idly scratched his belly.
"Charles, this is Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," Wesley introduced her with all the gravity she deserved. The name didn't connect for Gunn, at least at first. And then he remembered the key, Angel. This was Angel's ex. The one that he left Sunnydale because of. The way Gunn saw it, she was pretty cute, and he wouldn't be running from her anytime if he'd been Angel.
"Hi," Gunn barely mumbled. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous, standing in front on this woman without a shirt on and not knowing if he even managed to zip his fly.
"Buffy was just informing me how I made an egregious error in not notifying her of Angel's condition." Wesley sounded British and stuffy again. Not the Wesley who watched Jackie Chan movies with him, even if he did keep a running commentary of the blatant cultural misrepresentation.
And this someone, this vampire slayer, had the gall to tell Wesley that he didn't know what he was doing with Angel. Angel whose dusty brains were splattered over their former place in Los Angeles. Angel who Wesley spent all his energy taking care of, loving. Angel who Wesley was practically lost without, despite that in Angel's last moments, he couldn't tell Wesley apart from any other white British man.
"You could've taken the time for a phone call, Wesley. You had Giles' number." Buffy hands remained on her hips. Her eyes leveled with Wesley's, staring him down. Gunn guessed who would crack first; and it wasn't going to be Buffy.
Moving to the door, Gunn opened it. "Get out." He glared at her. "You don't know shit about what Wes' done. And you never bothered to track down Angel until now. Kind of says to me that you didn't really care."
"Fine." She turned in a huff, charging out the door. Gunn saw a flash of a stake hidden in the waistband of her pants.
It was Wesley who finally closed the door. "She's not used to being told no," he muttered. "Thank you."
Gunn watched as Wesley moved back to his room, and he realized that Wesley moved like an old man, tired, shoulders hunched. He didn't know what to do, to make Wesley smile, to make Wesley laugh again. Sure, he killed demons four times his size, but Wesley would always be a puzzle.
"How about I make popcorn and we watch some really bad sitcoms from the early 90s?" Gunn made his smile bigger and more enticing when he saw Wesley move further toward his bedroom. "Come on, you, me, and insomniacs everywhere exploring just how a kid from the ghetto of Philly became the prince of Bel-Air or why Murphy Brown destroyed family values by having a baby out of wedlock."
"For someone who grew up on the streets, you sure do know a lot about television."
Gunn pulled a package of microwave popcorn from the cupboard. "We had time, waiting to kill those vamps. Plus, a few of us might have known how to splice cable."
Wesley sat himself on the couch, remote in his hand. "So what you're really saying is that we're paying too much for cable when you could be illegally wiring it for nothing?"
"Didn't say it was me. Do you see free porn on our TV?" Gunn took the popcorn from the microwave as the timer dinged and dumped the buttery product into a bowl. He found perfection in getting Wesley to eat popcorn and watch crappy TV.
Halfway through an episode of Rosanne, which explained how to make a cheap meatloaf dinner for 12, Gunn realized that Wesley had stretched out on the couch.
A small tan pillow propped up Wesley's head and served as a barrier between his head and Gunn's thigh. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Wesley sighed. Somehow Gunn wasn't surprised that it was hours later by the time Wesley brought her up.
"Don't worry about it." Gunn shifted a bit, kicking his legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table. "Any chick that shows up at our doorstep at three in the morning deserves to be kicked out. Unless said girl isn't wearing anything but her heels and coat."
Tilting his head, Wesley looked up at Gunn. "I suppose that Buffy is a very attractive woman."
"You suppose?" Gunn lifted his eyebrow. "She's pretty hot."
"Then perhaps next time you run into her, you should ask her to coffee instead of throwing her out of our apartment."
Gunn snorted. "Did you just roll your eyes at me, English?"
*****
Gunn ran into Buffy two days later, while picking up specialty tea for Wesley at a local import shop. She stood between the bakery bread and European cheeses. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail, and she wore slender white workout pants. "Didn't expect to see you again," Gunn said.
"Going to yell at me again?"
"Nope. Going to punch me?" Gunn's eyes wandered up and down her body again. He always had had a soft spot for women who managed to look beautiful in clothing that they probably worked out or slept in.
Buffy shook her head. "Not in a grocery store, but a graveyard... depends how many rounds you want to go. I saw you with that axe of yours, pretty impressive."
"What can I say? I just have to shake my axe and all the women come running," Gunn said. He swore that she might've been blushing. "I didn't see you last night. Though I thought someone was following me. Do you want to go for coffee?" Gunn abruptly asked. The statement was out, hanging in the air. He felt better now that he'd said it, but was regretting it as she hadn't answered. At least she wasn't rolling her eyes. He crossed his arms.
Buffy's face began to frown as her hand reached over her mouth. A light laugh came from her lips. "Coffee?" she asked between giggles.
Gunn raised his eyebrows. "Did I say something funny?" He knew this was a bad idea. Ever since he had met Wesley, woman ran the other way. Okay, if he was really going to be truthful, before he had met Wesley, the ladies weren't exactly banging down the door. But he'd dated.
"Sorry." A faint blush rose on Buffy's face. Oddly, it reminded him of Wesley. "It's just... Not really what I expected."
"It happens." Gunn flashed Buffy his best smile, or at least the one got him extra eggrolls from the cute waitress at the Chinese restaurant. "There's a place on the corner that makes a mean espresso."
"Could use a pick me up. I had one of those not fun rough and tumbly nights." Buffy's eyes met his. "You don't seem to be the espresso type of guy."
"I have layers. And also I need to get tea for Wes before we leave." As Gunn made his way to the coffee and tea aisle, he heard Buffy's heeled boots click behind him, and his smile grew brighter.
After checking out, they walked to the coffee shop. She chose a table by a window with tall chairs once they were inside, and Gunn swallowed, suddenly nervous at the surreality of everything.
After they ordered, Buffy looked up at him. "I still want to know everything about Angel. I need to know everything." Her eyes were softer when she talked about Angel like a girl planning her sweet sixteen.
"Need's a big order to fill." Gunn thanked the barista for their coffee before starting his tale. He hadn't known Angel before the visions, not like Wesley and Buffy, and didn't trust vampires, not even ones with souls. But he left out Alonna as Buffy wanted to know about Angel. He told her how Wesley and he had taken care of Angel and fought. And how Angel had died, leaving out the ugly details. The ugly details she craved. She wanted to know of the fits, the memory gaps, the violence, and somehow Gunn continued.
"I'm sorry." Buffy's eyes were now glassy with sympathy. "I should've..."
Gunn shook his head. "Wes and I don't want your pity. Did what we had to. I've been fighting vamps since I was a teenager and Angel's visions only made the mission more complete." He sipped the coffee, wondering if he'd ruined their date or whatever it was. He felt young, embarrassed, dating like he still was a teenager.
"I wasn't." Buffy glanced up at Gunn with those eyes again. Despite his annoyance with her, he thought about kissing her again. They looked at each other in silence, weighing what the other would do next.
"So you're a Slayer. Heard about Slayers, but I always figured they were legends like leprechauns or Proust-reading infants. Until I met Wes anyway," he said, making an effort to change the subject.
"Giles still insists that leprechauns aren't real, but I'll have to check on those Proust-reading infants." Buffy's uncomfortable frown turned into a smile and his need to kiss her only grew. "But I have fought tiny fear demons and people always said that my heels are impractical for slaying."
Gunn shook his head, imaging Buffy's lithe figure kicking ass in heels. He needed to stop before he developed a serious shoe fetish.
"Back in Wesley's Watcher days, there was only one Slayer; well two, but that was my fault. Okay, really the change in the Slayer line, my fault too." Rambling, Buffy went on to explain about the Slayer school and Giles who she referred to as 'my Wesley.' Gunn doubted that her relationship with Giles was anything like his with Wesley.
They continued talking through a second round of coffee, and Gunn could tell that she left chunks out of her stories, especially those about Wesley. But Gunn found himself smiling and laughing anyway, enjoying her. "They're showing the Evil Dead movies at the Egyptian, want to go?"
"Only if you take me in that infamous truck of yours." Buffy took another sip of her coffee.
"Wouldn't have it any other way." Reaching into his back pocket, Gunn pulled out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He waited as she thanked the barista and wondered if he should take her hand as they walk down the street. Not like a Slayer needed her hand held. No, she could thoroughly kick everyone on the block's ass.
When they reached his truck, Buffy ran her hand down the side of it. "Impressive." He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
Gunn unlocked the doors. "It works. Used to haul half my crew in it, plus whatever else we needed to fight vamps. And she got Wes and me up here without trouble. Unlike Angel's car which broke down in Buttfuck, Oregon." Placing the key in the ignition, he started the car, one eye watching for cars behind him and the other watching her.
"Do you know that Oregon actually has a city called Boring in it?"
Buffy's hand went to the stereo. "Mind?" With a nodded okay from him, she shifted through channels, finally landing on a country station. Her finger tapped along with a Kenny Chesney song, and Gunn shook his head, trying to recall just why he knew who Kenny Chesney was and what the lyrics to his songs were. Oh, yeah, Wesley and isonomic theater when he thought they should get in touch with their Western sides.
"So," Gunn shifted in his seat as they pulled onto the street, "besides hunting us down, any other interest in Seattle?"
Buffy's hand ran through her hair as she turned toward him. "Never been. Figured that I could travel the world, then traveled the world, and finally thought about how pathetic it was that I hadn't even been to all the major places in the U.S."
"I probably shouldn't mention how I hadn't been out of California until we moved here." Gunn watched the stop light. "Well there was that one mad dash to the border, but we never actually made it into Mexico."
"I had one bad night with tequila and that's my Mexico experience." Buffy shook her head. "I don't recommend mixing limes and Jimmy Buffet. They might look good together until they come up the next morning."
"You were puking Jimmy Buffet?"
"Or whatever I ate at his so-called restaurant when I made the mistake of going to Vegas with Faith. I figure it's all the same."
*****
"Another date?" Wesley raised his eyebrow. "This must be the fifth or sixth one this week."
"Sixth," Gunn shouted from his room as he buttoned up his slacks. Buffy said that she was taking him somewhere formal tonight. "What can I say? We just bonded over demon-possessed trees."
"And here I thought that the only moving trees were of Tolkien's design." Wesley checked on his stir-fry. "Your tie is crooked."
Gunn turned back to the mirror on the open door of his bedroom. It was nice to own mirrors again. One time Angel had smashed every one in their home, and they'd never replaced any of them. He fiddled with his tie.
Wesley's hand touched Gunn's shoulder. "Here, let me. I do have far more experience with these than you."
Sighing, Gunn allowed Wesley to fuss with the purple tie. He watched Wesley's long fingers take a hold of the fabric and undo what Gunn had already done. "That bad, huh?"
"Yes," Wesley answered; and Gunn knew that Wesley was being nice considering that he could tie the perfect Windsor knot with one hand, which Gunn had flubbed with both his hands and directions from the internet. After he finished, Wesley smoothed down the tie with his hand. "There. Now if you can finish dressing yourself, I should attend to my cooking."
Gunn couldn't help but chuckle as Wesley left the room. He thought he'd caught a faint whiff of smoke. After placing on his jacket, Gunn smiled as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he definitely looked good.
Wesley looked up from his cooking as Gunn entered the kitchen. "Where again are you taking Buffy?" He turned the burner off.
"Her secret choice that included formal wear, hence the suit." Gunn picked a stray carrot off Wesley's stir fry. He was a little nervous about the night since this was the first time he and Buffy were going somewhere that wouldn’t let him in wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"You shouldn't be anxiously stealing my food as I doubt you'll want to waste whatever extremely expensive food you both ordered. Not to mention that you might spill something on yourself. Will you be wearing a bib when you eat?" Wesley dumped the contents of the frying pan onto a plate and carried it to their small dining room table.
"I dump a plate of ribs and barbeque sauce on my lap once and I'm branded for life," Gunn rebutted. Having too much nervous energy, he sat down across from Wesley.
Wesley snorted as he stabbed a zucchini with his fork. "If I remember correctly, it also spilled on me, ruining my favorite pair of trousers."
"You know, you really need to let that go." Gunn smiled when he heard a knock on their door, knowing that it had to be Buffy; at least, he was pretty sure that the Jehovah's Witnesses were frightened away when he answered the door covered in green slime from a Kinxtyh demon. "I'll see you later."
As Gunn rushed to the door, he didn't wait to listen for Wesley's sharp remark. Instead, he opened his door to a beautiful woman wearing a slim maroon dress. "I'm stunned into amazement."
"You better be." Buffy smiled. She stood on her toes and placed a chaste kiss on Gunn's lips. "Don't look so bad yourself."
Gunn smirked. "You know, I could get used to taking a fine looking woman like you out." Taking her hand, he took one last look toward Wesley, whose back was turned toward them, before moving toward the stairwell.
"I see I still haven't won him over with our mutual silence," Buffy said as they exited the building.
Gunn shrugged. "It's Wes. He'll come around, despite your past. You might try a 'sorry.'" He saw the beginnings of anger gathering in the corners of her eyes. "A mutual 'sorry.' From what I understand, you both did things that you regret."
As she moved faster toward her car than him, Buffy tossed him her keys. "I know you and Wesley are joined at the hip, but tonight is about us. So can we not?"
Gunn held the door of Buffy's Jetta open for her. "Okay." Gunn kissed her; he appreciated the days she wore high heels. As he broke the kiss, he rubbed his nose against her before taking her by the hand.
But they didn't make it to the front door of the restaurant. A woman screamed in the parking garage and Buffy made a comment about her dates always being ruined by the forces of evil. And, of course, there was more than one.
Gunn jabbed his stake into one of the vampires and ducked to miss the punch of another. He heard a ripping noise and Buffy cursing about her dress. As he looked up at her, a vampire pushed him against a wall.
*****
Gunn groaned. His head ached and the lights were clearly too bright. "Buffy?" While his back hurt, the softness under his body verified that he wasn't on cement.
"She's not here." As Gunn opened his eyes, he saw Wesley sitting next to him. "She said something about being back as soon as she changed from her dress." Wesley's shoulders slumped.
Gunn nodded. "Let me guess: another concussion and a warning from the doctors? Have I mentioned that the lights are too bright?" The IV line clanked against metal as he lifted his hand to check out the back of his head. There was definitely a bump.
Wesley grabbed a lone coffee cup. "Hospitals are antiseptic wastelands." He took a sip. "I'm sure you'll be getting another lecture."
Closing his eyes, Gunn managed to block out some of the light.
"If you fall into a coma, I'll be sure to hold your hand every day."
"Touching, Wes. Really touching." Sleep felt right. Maybe he should tell Wesley that it was okay to leave first. "Maybe when I feel a little better, we can check out the hospital's cable package. Might be better than our own and include HBO."
"I doubt it, and we'll most likely end up exposing your cartoon addiction to Buffy."
"Adult Swim does not count as cartoons, Wes. It's animation for adults. And this coming from the guy who secretly wants to be Pierce Brosnan." Gunn cracked his eyes open. His head had started to feel better, like a five pound rock hit it, instead of a ten pound one.
Wesley smiled and listed in his seat against his good arm. "A lady-friend of mine once said that I bore a remarkable resemblance to him."
"A lady-friend? What is this the 1800s? Besides since when do either of us have lady-friends, unless you count our landlord," Gunn said. "Which I don't."
"You have Buffy."
*****
When Buffy drove Gunn home after his required hospital stay, he was surprised to find Wesley missing from the apartment. She helped him to the shower and left him to wash the grime off his body. When he returned, he found her sitting on his bed.
Buffy ran her hand over his bare chest. "If it hadn't been for those vamps, you would've got some." She pulled him down and kissed him. "That suit was really hot."
"Is that so?" Gunn smiled. "How about now?"
"Towels are sexy too." Buffy's hand slipped under his towel, and Gunn groaned. He tried to pull her onto his lap, to tug off her shirt, but she pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him, her crotch rubbing against his cock. The towel crumpled underneath them.
"God, you're beautiful," he said after she took off her panties, exposing the entirety of her neatly tanned body. A little gold cross dangled between her breasts. He thought he saw her blush.
But the blushing stopped long before Buffy guided his cock inside of her. She gave a tiny whimper as he filled her and Gunn thought she was going to get him off right then and there. He needed to regain the little self-control he had.
He slowed them down by grabbing her hips. Buffy placed her finger against his lips and brought it into his mouth, licking around it. She was gorgeous.
Gunn brought his hand up and rubbed her clit, mesmerized by the rhythm of her moving up and down on him. Neither of them noticed when Wesley came home, until the bedroom door's three-inch gap closed with a slam.
*****
"Hey, English, how's pancakes sound?" Gunn poured batter onto the grill. He and Buffy had officially been dating for a month, and he figured that making breakfast only scored him more points. It also never hurt to feed Wesley.
"With chocolate chips?" Wesley looked up from reading The Seattle Times.
"Special smiley faces coming right up." Gunn took a sip of his coffee and dropped chocolate chips in the pattern of a smile. The left eye drooped a little.
Yawning, Buffy joined them in the kitchen. "Oh, pancakes. And did someone say chocolate?" She wrapped her arm around Gunn's waist and pressed against his body.
With his unoccupied hand, Gunn flipped over the pancake as it started to bubble. "Special pancakes for my special girl."
Buffy touched Gunn's chest where a demon had grazed him with a knife. "You all healed?"
"Nothing a little love couldn't heal." Gunn wrapped both his arms around Buffy and leaned down to kiss her. She tasted of toothpaste and looked damn good in his LA Lakers t-shirt that went down to her knees. He didn't care how long he lived in Seattle; he wasn't cheering for the SuperSonics.
"Excuse me while I throw up," Wesley muttered as he poured himself another cup of tea.
Buffy broke their kiss and turned toward Wesley. "I'm sure we can fix you up with someone. Do you like blondes, brunettes, or redheads? I know Cordy was a brunette, but..."
"You're saying that he really dated Cordelia Chase." Gunn shook his head. "And here I thought he was yanking my chain." He placed the smiley face pancake on a plate and pushed it toward Wesley. "You really macked on that Cordelia Chase."
"Yes. Really." Wesley spread sticky grape jam on his pancake.
"Come on, Wes. I bet Buffy's got a friend or two she could set you up with."
"I don't need setting up."
"Yeah, Wes, I do know single people besides Faith."
Wesley glared at her and stabbed his fork into a pancake.
"Wes knows your Slayer pal Faith?"
"You mean, Wes never told you." Buffy shook her head. From the look on Wesley's face, Faith seemed to be a topic that was off-limits. At least until he had either of them alone. Of course knowing his luck, they'd each say to ask the other.
Gunn shook his head. He handed Buffy the plate with the other pancake on it. "Cook eats last," he said.
Buffy made a high-pitched noise when she saw her own pancake, U R CUTE written in gooey chocolate, and smiled at Gunn. "You're the best."
*****
Gunn sat on the couch, remote in hand. There didn't seem to be anything but infomercials and 24-hour news on. He really needed to invest in a new video, maybe upgrade Wesley's Playstation.
"Not going out tonight." Wesley asked from the kitchen table where he'd spread out a bunch of books to work on a translation for one of his new clients.
Turning his head, Gunn looked over at Wesley. "Buffy's sick." He flipped the channel to another damn commercial, but at least, there would be a movie on, eventually.
"And you're not going to bring her chicken noodle soup?" Wesley sounded like he was mocking him. Gunn saw a smile on the corners of Wesley's lips. Definitely mocking him.
"Nope."
"You've brought me chicken noodle soup."
"That's because I live with you and didn't want to put with your whining. Besides, Buffy's worried that whatever she's got has to be a horrible Slayer super virus." That and Gunn figured there'd be some super Slayer whining. He feigned a headache.
"A good observation."
Gunn hit the popcorn button the microwave. "You should try to be less hostile towards her."
Wesley folded the paper with his long fingers. "I am perfectly nice to Buffy. I didn't know that I was required to be her best friend."
"You're cold, Wes." As he picked up the bag, Gunn swore when the heat and steam burned his fingers. "I'm not saying you have to be buddy-buddy, but you treat the mailman with more patience and respect than Buffy."
"You wouldn't understand." Wesley grabbed his empty glass and stood. "You're young, handsome, social, and I'm just a one-armed misanthrope."
Gunn shook his head. "You underestimate yourself, English. I'd say perhaps you're overly educated and cold." When Wesley frowned at him, Gunn placed his hand on Wesley's back. "Come on, you're smart and ruggedly handsome, if a little over-protective."
Wesley pulled away. "You don't have to patronize me." He gestured to the TV as the commercials ended. "Your movie's back on."
"There's only so much Andie McDowell I can take."
"But you can never go wrong with Hugh Grant. Unless you're the hooker caught in his car."
"Was that a joke, English?"
"Yes." Wesley picked up the remote from the table and tried his hand at the 200-plus channels they had. "Also, I believe it's your turn to do the dishes. Of course, you could always go over to Buffy's and argue with her over the merits of Hugh Grant's career."
*****
"Extra butter for me and cheddar cheese for you." Buffy wrinkled her nose as she handed Gunn his bowl of popcorn. "I don't get it."
Gunn tossed a piece into his mouth. "Delicious. Sure you don't want to try?"
"I'll pass." Buffy placed her hand against his chest as he tried to lean forward and kiss her. "And don't kiss me with cheddar cheese breath. Oooh, it's Four Weddings and a Funeral."
Gunn groaned and shifted in his seat. "Wes and I watched this last weekend. I've had a little too much Hugh Grant." He felt uncomfortable and considered going home. It was late, but he and Wesley could still patrol a bit.
"So you don't want to see if About a Boy's on?"
"How about something with Jet Li?"
"I hate kung fu movies."
"How can you hate kung fu movies? Seriously. You're missing out."
"It's probably not the movies themselves; it's probably just that one time I fought ninjas."
"Ninjas? Damn. Wish I would've been there."
"Overrated. Mostly, I had to fend them off while Willow de-possessed them." Buffy could always kill some of the best stories about slaying.
*****
"I'm going to Panama," Buffy said. She stood over her suitcase. She'd called Gunn an hour ago and asked him to come over. He figured she wanted to try the recently renovated Italian place around the corner. "There's a new Slayer and let's just say that some of the Watchers don't have Wesley's way with words."
"So just like that. You're leaving in the morning." Gunn leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom. He frowned; they'd been having a great time and she was a nice break from the usual. Dating was nice.
Buffy moved toward him. "Come on, Gunn, you knew I had to go back sooner or later. Sure, we've had fun. But now I have to go rescue Dawn and Anya." She looked like she might cry a little, but probably only when he'd gone back home.
"Need a ride to the airport Thursday?"
"That'd be nice." Buffy slipped her arms around Gunn.
*****
Gunn took a sip of his beer; the Playstation control perched on his lap. It was his turn again to wash the dishes and Wesley had been as crotchety as usual. He would've thought that Buffy leaving town would've at least made him happy enough to order take out from that Indian place on the corner.
Instead, Wesley made one of those clearing his throat noises and sat down, reading some ancient and crumbling book and making notes.
"How's the new job?" Gunn asked, idly playing with the controller. "Guess it's not really a new job, but the back wages must be sweet."
Wesley shook his head. "I won't have to worry about rent any time soon. It seems that the new Council's purse strings aren't as tight as they once were."
Gunn shot at the robots on his screen. "Seriously, Wes, what's going on with you?" Once the firefight was over, he paused the game and turned toward Wesley.
"There's nothing wrong with me."
"Bullshit." Gunn paused. "You've been moping around for months. Buffy and I tried to set you up on a few dates, but you turned them down. "
"I thought this was something we were never talking about. That you'd done enough freaking out for the two of us."
"Jesus, Wes, it was one kiss." Gunn felt like running out of this place, grabbing his axe and looking for trouble, which would probably just get him in even more trouble. Or maybe he'd head over to the Egyptian and catch their weekly horror show: nothing like some fake blood and bad bluescreen. "I don't like men."
"Of course, you don't. You certainly proved that with Buffy." Wesley's words were biting. "She's so perfectly uncomplicated."
"What do you want from me, Wes?"
Wesley glared at Gunn for what seemed like an eternity. He sat rigid, his hand resting on his knee. "I want you to admit that it wasn't just a kiss. I want you to admit that yes, despite your liking of woman, that you do have feelings for me. I want you to admit that Buffy was a fling because you were scared."
It was Gunn's turn to stay perfectly still. He thought about kissing Wesley, about fucking Buffy, about helping Wesley to his feet after a battle, about drinking beer on Saturday nights and watching crappy TV. "I like women, Wes, and that's not changing."
He stood up, grabbed his coat and wallet, and left.
*****
Gunn parked his truck at the beach and ate a sandwich at a deli that called itself a bakery. He wondered if the place ever made fresh loaves of bread.
Then he walked along the beach. The water in Washington always stung his feet, no matter how warm it was outside. Today, it was hot as fuck and the beach teemed with boaters, sun bathers, and kids building sandcastles. Gunn thought about the times his mother had taken him and Alonna to the beach. Seattle didn't have boardwalks like California, but he thought his sister would've liked this better; she could've made a sandcastle under a tree and not worried about an overly enthusiastic surfer trampling it.
Gunn watched people toss Frisbees to their dogs, tiny dogs as big as Gunn's foot and large ones that came up to his waist. He considered getting one and chuckled as he imagined the look of disgust on Wesley's face if the dog jumped on the furniture.
Wesley.
The truth was, if Gunn wanted to admit it or not, that he couldn't imagine life without Wesley. That somewhere deep down, he did want Wesley. But it had never seemed worth the risk. Now Gunn seriously wondered if the damage wasn't already done.
Gunn missed Buffy. He missed the way her smile reminded him of the sun, even when it was clouded over, and how he could send her text messages about the stupid shit he was thinking when he was bored. But if Wesley was right about anything, it was that Buffy had been a short thing. Something that was never meant to last, and something that would've fizzled out.
He hated this. Gunn hated wanting to kiss Wesley and then realizing that if it did, they had to work; otherwise, he was going to lose Wesley. Wesley who was practically his only friend in the world since they moved north. His best friend.
Wesley would want Gunn to come home and kiss him. He wouldn't take the chance at being rejected by Gunn again. And Wesley certainly wasn't going to beg.
Gunn took a deep breath and pulled his keys from his pocket. It was time to suck it up. It was time to admit that he was an adult who had adult feelings for his very male best friend and that said best friend had those feelings. If life was a movie, they would've realized their mistake a good 45 minutes ago and already made up.
*****
Epilogue
Gunn's tac vest and his high-tech radio system made him feel like MacGyver. Okay, maybe he couldn't get himself out of a prison with only a shoelace and some gum; but he was still damn cool.
He ordered his Slayers, Rhonda and Tasha, that now would be the time to smash the Tricovien eggs. Preferably before they hatched. He didn't need to deal with teeth and acidic slime.
"Gross," Rhonda said as she put in axe into the second egg. "I'm totally asking for a new wardrobe."
"Stop complaining." Tasha was the practical one. Despite their snipping, Gunn thought that they worked well together. Rhonda had a talent of saving them with a quick action and Tasha took on the natural leadership roles that Rhonda lacked.
Gunn never dreamed he'd be leading a group of Slayers, but when Buffy had called six months ago to offer him the job, he wouldn't want it any other way. He'd finally learned how to keep with the good fight, but not do all the heavy lifting. Not to say that every once in a while, he didn't stick a sword through something.
"Do we still have to visit our contact?" Rhonda asked when they were done slaying. "I'd really like to go home and shower."
"He's meeting us here," Tasha said. All three of them shared a house. It saved on bills and gave them a base of operations and a training space. Plus, the Watcher's Council paid the mortgage.
Gunn placed his radio in his pants' pocket. "Don't worry," he said, while loading their weapons on the back of his truck, "you'll get to use all the hot water soon enough." He tossed them both towels to sit on.
"Easy for you to say, you didn't get dirty."
"And we really didn't either." Tasha wiped off the sweat on her forehead.
"Looks like we missed the party," said a woman.
Gunn turned around, toward the voice. It was probably his contact. And then he saw a familiar face. "Wesley?"
"Charles." It was definitely Wesley. No one else he knew stood that straight. They hadn't seen each other since Gunn had moved out of their apartment. Everything had changed the night he went home, kissed Wesley, and then took Wesley to bed. It had been the end.
Wesley cleared his throat. "This is Faith," he introduced the woman with him.
"Nice to meet you," Faith said, extending her hand. "You two must be Tasha and Rhonda. B told me that there were a couple of Slayers whose asses I needed to kick." Both women rolled their eyes.
"I didn't know you were still in town, Wes," Gunn said.
"I was doing some research on Tricovien mating habits and ran across this nest." Wesley took a notebook out of his bag. He looked different, tougher and a little older. "But there are others in the area. There's one over on Alki Beach and another near Gas Works Park. I've put together a map-"
"Wes?" Gunn had noticed that the three Slayers had started walking toward an all-night diner. "Seems we've been abandoned. Why don't we join them and maybe go over plans for killing demons over pie and coffee?"
Author: viciouwishes
Beta: spartacusjones
Fandom: Buffyverse
Pairing: Buffy/Gunn and Gunn/Wesley
Rating: NC17
Setting: Post-"Chosen" in the Birthday verse
Words: 7300
Summary: For the lynnevitational, Gunn and Wesley are living in Seattle when Buffy catches up with them.
Gunn clenched his sword, shoving it into the heart of a Terhma demon. Pink ooze ran out the gaping wound. Some dribbled on his hand, and he wiped it on his gray cargo pants. His hunting clothes as Wesley called them. Clothes that were awkward, didn't fit quite right, and were once owned by other people. (But that was the way things had always been, hadn't it?) Sometimes it was easier to toss them in the trash over making his fingers bleed while scrubbing stains.
He walked over to Wesley and offered his hand. "You okay?"
Wesley grunted as he stood up. A red gash bled brightly on his forehead. "Sometimes I think I miss Los Angeles."
"That's just because it's raining again. Besides I thought you, being English and all, would love the drizzle." Gunn's hand rested on Wesley's good shoulder as they left to find their car.
Wesley shook his head. "Not all of us enjoy the rain, Charles. I'm sorry if I'm not living up to your ideal of an Englishman; I suppose this is something like your fondness for Gilbert and Sullivan."
"What did I say about talking about that in public? You know I don't listen to anything besides Talib Kweli and Mos Def." Gunn tossed his sword next to Wesley's in the back of his truck. Wesley was clearly in one of his moods; the kind that dumped acid rain on their lives. The kind that meant he missed Angel, no matter how crazy the vampire had been.
"Are we going to do our normal patrol tonight?" Gunn pulled his truck onto the 5, heading out of the U-District.
"There was this interesting documentary about the mating practices of rhesus monkeys on public television..."Wesley's head remained turned, looking out the window.
Changing lanes, Gunn passed a white minivan; they always reminded him of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. "You're full of sarcasm today, English." Wesley only granted his comment another grunt. Gunn's hand reached for the CD player and listened to the sounds of Jurassic 5 as they made their way home.
They continued their pattern of not talking as they entered the apartment. Wesley immediately sequestered himself in his bedroom, his shut door clearly saying that he didn't want company, specifically Gunn.
Ignoring Wesley, Gunn sat down at his computer, wasting a few hours playing Half-Life. He looked up as Wesley's door opened and watched as the other man made his way to the bathroom. Gunn sighed and went back to his game.
When Wesley reappeared, he cleared his throat. "What kind of take-away would you like?"
"Anything not American for 100, please." Gunn hit pause on his game. "And I really just lost my street cred there."
"I think you lost it a long ago, Charles. Perhaps when you started drinking PG Tips." Wesley reached for the drawer full of menus. "Vietnamese fine?"
"That works. And I blame you for peer pressuring me into a tea habit. My grandma always warned me about tea-pushing Englishmen." Gunn swore that he saw a smile in the corner of Wesley's mouth. Anything was better than brooding Wesley.
After the food came, they both sat down on the couch. Gunn opened a container filled with Hue beef noodles. "Yours." He set it over by Wesley, who handed him a beer. "Thanks."
A stack of movies sat on the coffee table. Gunn's eyes scanned the titles; the number of comedies surprised him, especially since Wesley had picked them out. "Anything you want to watch?"
"Your choice." Wesley took a long sip of his own beer. "You wouldn't have believed how long it took to check out those movies. Everyone in line kept asking about late fees as if they can't be bothered to read the fine print themselves." Snorting, he settled into the corner of the couch, far away from Gunn.
Gunn picked up I'm Gonna Git You Sucka from the pile. He knew that Wesley had chosen the movie as another way of saying that he was sorry. Frankly, Gunn was sick of Wesley saying he was sorry. What happened, happened.
After sticking the DVD in the player, Gunn settled down in the other corner of the couch. Despite the tension in the room, they laughed in all the right places.
When the credits rolled, Gunn looked over at Wesley, who'd fallen asleep. Getting up, he turned off the television. After leaving a note, Gunn grabbed his favorite axe from the corner of the room. Wesley needed his sleep, no matter if the couch created a huge kink in his neck or not. Gunn had lost track of how many nights Wesley hadn't moved from where he left him earlier that evening.
The streets were quiet, and the rain silenced everything; too many days, his pants ended up soaked to the knees with the pollution of Seattle. He passed only humans; some gave a black man carrying an axe the entire sidewalk. But mostly, this was a demon route, and humans were expected to watch out for themselves.
Turning his head, Gunn thought he heard steps behind him. But nothing was there. As he pivoted back, he thought he saw a flash of yellow. Probably someone's headlights. He shook his head and pulled his jacket tighter around him as the wind picked up. A little sunlight about right now would take care of a lot of things, including the cold and the vampires.
Looping around Broadway, Gunn headed back home. Home, a relative word considering everything that happened. After Alonna's death, when Gunn had been unable to save her, Angel had the mission and the visions. The mission brought Gunn back and gave him a purpose that his crew couldn't. He and Wesley had become closer friends than he would've ever expected upon first meeting the uptight, English, one-armed man who took the time to still wear expensive suits in the sewers.
Making his way to his apartment, Gunn was glad not to run into any of his neighbors. They always managed to ask uncomfortable questions when he carried weapons.
He put his axe away in the footlocker that served as their weapons' cabinet; they'd had to leave the nice one behind in Los Angeles. Looking toward the couch, he saw that Wesley had moved, hopefully to bed and not just to his bedroom desk.
Sighing, Gunn started to strip as he walked toward the bathroom and turned on the shower; he found that he could always brush his teeth in the time that the water warmed.
*****
At three a.m. a loud knocking on the door and the sound of Wesley answering it woke Gunn up. Gunn groaned in the dark, reaching for his pillow and doing his best to hide under it. If he could only hide long enough, that person would go away. But he'd better go rescue that person, probably some disgruntled neighbor, from Wesley.
As Gunn pulled on his jeans, he hoped that it wasn't the cops.
But instead, there was a petite blonde woman barely inches inside of the closed door, a pissed off one, standing with her hands on her hips, almost shouting at Wesley. By their close proximity and that Wesley had allowed her into the apartment, he figured that Wesley had to know her.
Wesley cleared his throat loudly as Gunn approached them. "This is my associate, Charles Gunn."
Associate always sounded like a strange word to Gunn, and it was even stranger when sleep tugged at the corners of his eyes. His hand idly scratched his belly.
"Charles, this is Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," Wesley introduced her with all the gravity she deserved. The name didn't connect for Gunn, at least at first. And then he remembered the key, Angel. This was Angel's ex. The one that he left Sunnydale because of. The way Gunn saw it, she was pretty cute, and he wouldn't be running from her anytime if he'd been Angel.
"Hi," Gunn barely mumbled. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous, standing in front on this woman without a shirt on and not knowing if he even managed to zip his fly.
"Buffy was just informing me how I made an egregious error in not notifying her of Angel's condition." Wesley sounded British and stuffy again. Not the Wesley who watched Jackie Chan movies with him, even if he did keep a running commentary of the blatant cultural misrepresentation.
And this someone, this vampire slayer, had the gall to tell Wesley that he didn't know what he was doing with Angel. Angel whose dusty brains were splattered over their former place in Los Angeles. Angel who Wesley spent all his energy taking care of, loving. Angel who Wesley was practically lost without, despite that in Angel's last moments, he couldn't tell Wesley apart from any other white British man.
"You could've taken the time for a phone call, Wesley. You had Giles' number." Buffy hands remained on her hips. Her eyes leveled with Wesley's, staring him down. Gunn guessed who would crack first; and it wasn't going to be Buffy.
Moving to the door, Gunn opened it. "Get out." He glared at her. "You don't know shit about what Wes' done. And you never bothered to track down Angel until now. Kind of says to me that you didn't really care."
"Fine." She turned in a huff, charging out the door. Gunn saw a flash of a stake hidden in the waistband of her pants.
It was Wesley who finally closed the door. "She's not used to being told no," he muttered. "Thank you."
Gunn watched as Wesley moved back to his room, and he realized that Wesley moved like an old man, tired, shoulders hunched. He didn't know what to do, to make Wesley smile, to make Wesley laugh again. Sure, he killed demons four times his size, but Wesley would always be a puzzle.
"How about I make popcorn and we watch some really bad sitcoms from the early 90s?" Gunn made his smile bigger and more enticing when he saw Wesley move further toward his bedroom. "Come on, you, me, and insomniacs everywhere exploring just how a kid from the ghetto of Philly became the prince of Bel-Air or why Murphy Brown destroyed family values by having a baby out of wedlock."
"For someone who grew up on the streets, you sure do know a lot about television."
Gunn pulled a package of microwave popcorn from the cupboard. "We had time, waiting to kill those vamps. Plus, a few of us might have known how to splice cable."
Wesley sat himself on the couch, remote in his hand. "So what you're really saying is that we're paying too much for cable when you could be illegally wiring it for nothing?"
"Didn't say it was me. Do you see free porn on our TV?" Gunn took the popcorn from the microwave as the timer dinged and dumped the buttery product into a bowl. He found perfection in getting Wesley to eat popcorn and watch crappy TV.
Halfway through an episode of Rosanne, which explained how to make a cheap meatloaf dinner for 12, Gunn realized that Wesley had stretched out on the couch.
A small tan pillow propped up Wesley's head and served as a barrier between his head and Gunn's thigh. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Wesley sighed. Somehow Gunn wasn't surprised that it was hours later by the time Wesley brought her up.
"Don't worry about it." Gunn shifted a bit, kicking his legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table. "Any chick that shows up at our doorstep at three in the morning deserves to be kicked out. Unless said girl isn't wearing anything but her heels and coat."
Tilting his head, Wesley looked up at Gunn. "I suppose that Buffy is a very attractive woman."
"You suppose?" Gunn lifted his eyebrow. "She's pretty hot."
"Then perhaps next time you run into her, you should ask her to coffee instead of throwing her out of our apartment."
Gunn snorted. "Did you just roll your eyes at me, English?"
*****
Gunn ran into Buffy two days later, while picking up specialty tea for Wesley at a local import shop. She stood between the bakery bread and European cheeses. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail, and she wore slender white workout pants. "Didn't expect to see you again," Gunn said.
"Going to yell at me again?"
"Nope. Going to punch me?" Gunn's eyes wandered up and down her body again. He always had had a soft spot for women who managed to look beautiful in clothing that they probably worked out or slept in.
Buffy shook her head. "Not in a grocery store, but a graveyard... depends how many rounds you want to go. I saw you with that axe of yours, pretty impressive."
"What can I say? I just have to shake my axe and all the women come running," Gunn said. He swore that she might've been blushing. "I didn't see you last night. Though I thought someone was following me. Do you want to go for coffee?" Gunn abruptly asked. The statement was out, hanging in the air. He felt better now that he'd said it, but was regretting it as she hadn't answered. At least she wasn't rolling her eyes. He crossed his arms.
Buffy's face began to frown as her hand reached over her mouth. A light laugh came from her lips. "Coffee?" she asked between giggles.
Gunn raised his eyebrows. "Did I say something funny?" He knew this was a bad idea. Ever since he had met Wesley, woman ran the other way. Okay, if he was really going to be truthful, before he had met Wesley, the ladies weren't exactly banging down the door. But he'd dated.
"Sorry." A faint blush rose on Buffy's face. Oddly, it reminded him of Wesley. "It's just... Not really what I expected."
"It happens." Gunn flashed Buffy his best smile, or at least the one got him extra eggrolls from the cute waitress at the Chinese restaurant. "There's a place on the corner that makes a mean espresso."
"Could use a pick me up. I had one of those not fun rough and tumbly nights." Buffy's eyes met his. "You don't seem to be the espresso type of guy."
"I have layers. And also I need to get tea for Wes before we leave." As Gunn made his way to the coffee and tea aisle, he heard Buffy's heeled boots click behind him, and his smile grew brighter.
After checking out, they walked to the coffee shop. She chose a table by a window with tall chairs once they were inside, and Gunn swallowed, suddenly nervous at the surreality of everything.
After they ordered, Buffy looked up at him. "I still want to know everything about Angel. I need to know everything." Her eyes were softer when she talked about Angel like a girl planning her sweet sixteen.
"Need's a big order to fill." Gunn thanked the barista for their coffee before starting his tale. He hadn't known Angel before the visions, not like Wesley and Buffy, and didn't trust vampires, not even ones with souls. But he left out Alonna as Buffy wanted to know about Angel. He told her how Wesley and he had taken care of Angel and fought. And how Angel had died, leaving out the ugly details. The ugly details she craved. She wanted to know of the fits, the memory gaps, the violence, and somehow Gunn continued.
"I'm sorry." Buffy's eyes were now glassy with sympathy. "I should've..."
Gunn shook his head. "Wes and I don't want your pity. Did what we had to. I've been fighting vamps since I was a teenager and Angel's visions only made the mission more complete." He sipped the coffee, wondering if he'd ruined their date or whatever it was. He felt young, embarrassed, dating like he still was a teenager.
"I wasn't." Buffy glanced up at Gunn with those eyes again. Despite his annoyance with her, he thought about kissing her again. They looked at each other in silence, weighing what the other would do next.
"So you're a Slayer. Heard about Slayers, but I always figured they were legends like leprechauns or Proust-reading infants. Until I met Wes anyway," he said, making an effort to change the subject.
"Giles still insists that leprechauns aren't real, but I'll have to check on those Proust-reading infants." Buffy's uncomfortable frown turned into a smile and his need to kiss her only grew. "But I have fought tiny fear demons and people always said that my heels are impractical for slaying."
Gunn shook his head, imaging Buffy's lithe figure kicking ass in heels. He needed to stop before he developed a serious shoe fetish.
"Back in Wesley's Watcher days, there was only one Slayer; well two, but that was my fault. Okay, really the change in the Slayer line, my fault too." Rambling, Buffy went on to explain about the Slayer school and Giles who she referred to as 'my Wesley.' Gunn doubted that her relationship with Giles was anything like his with Wesley.
They continued talking through a second round of coffee, and Gunn could tell that she left chunks out of her stories, especially those about Wesley. But Gunn found himself smiling and laughing anyway, enjoying her. "They're showing the Evil Dead movies at the Egyptian, want to go?"
"Only if you take me in that infamous truck of yours." Buffy took another sip of her coffee.
"Wouldn't have it any other way." Reaching into his back pocket, Gunn pulled out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He waited as she thanked the barista and wondered if he should take her hand as they walk down the street. Not like a Slayer needed her hand held. No, she could thoroughly kick everyone on the block's ass.
When they reached his truck, Buffy ran her hand down the side of it. "Impressive." He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
Gunn unlocked the doors. "It works. Used to haul half my crew in it, plus whatever else we needed to fight vamps. And she got Wes and me up here without trouble. Unlike Angel's car which broke down in Buttfuck, Oregon." Placing the key in the ignition, he started the car, one eye watching for cars behind him and the other watching her.
"Do you know that Oregon actually has a city called Boring in it?"
Buffy's hand went to the stereo. "Mind?" With a nodded okay from him, she shifted through channels, finally landing on a country station. Her finger tapped along with a Kenny Chesney song, and Gunn shook his head, trying to recall just why he knew who Kenny Chesney was and what the lyrics to his songs were. Oh, yeah, Wesley and isonomic theater when he thought they should get in touch with their Western sides.
"So," Gunn shifted in his seat as they pulled onto the street, "besides hunting us down, any other interest in Seattle?"
Buffy's hand ran through her hair as she turned toward him. "Never been. Figured that I could travel the world, then traveled the world, and finally thought about how pathetic it was that I hadn't even been to all the major places in the U.S."
"I probably shouldn't mention how I hadn't been out of California until we moved here." Gunn watched the stop light. "Well there was that one mad dash to the border, but we never actually made it into Mexico."
"I had one bad night with tequila and that's my Mexico experience." Buffy shook her head. "I don't recommend mixing limes and Jimmy Buffet. They might look good together until they come up the next morning."
"You were puking Jimmy Buffet?"
"Or whatever I ate at his so-called restaurant when I made the mistake of going to Vegas with Faith. I figure it's all the same."
*****
"Another date?" Wesley raised his eyebrow. "This must be the fifth or sixth one this week."
"Sixth," Gunn shouted from his room as he buttoned up his slacks. Buffy said that she was taking him somewhere formal tonight. "What can I say? We just bonded over demon-possessed trees."
"And here I thought that the only moving trees were of Tolkien's design." Wesley checked on his stir-fry. "Your tie is crooked."
Gunn turned back to the mirror on the open door of his bedroom. It was nice to own mirrors again. One time Angel had smashed every one in their home, and they'd never replaced any of them. He fiddled with his tie.
Wesley's hand touched Gunn's shoulder. "Here, let me. I do have far more experience with these than you."
Sighing, Gunn allowed Wesley to fuss with the purple tie. He watched Wesley's long fingers take a hold of the fabric and undo what Gunn had already done. "That bad, huh?"
"Yes," Wesley answered; and Gunn knew that Wesley was being nice considering that he could tie the perfect Windsor knot with one hand, which Gunn had flubbed with both his hands and directions from the internet. After he finished, Wesley smoothed down the tie with his hand. "There. Now if you can finish dressing yourself, I should attend to my cooking."
Gunn couldn't help but chuckle as Wesley left the room. He thought he'd caught a faint whiff of smoke. After placing on his jacket, Gunn smiled as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he definitely looked good.
Wesley looked up from his cooking as Gunn entered the kitchen. "Where again are you taking Buffy?" He turned the burner off.
"Her secret choice that included formal wear, hence the suit." Gunn picked a stray carrot off Wesley's stir fry. He was a little nervous about the night since this was the first time he and Buffy were going somewhere that wouldn’t let him in wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"You shouldn't be anxiously stealing my food as I doubt you'll want to waste whatever extremely expensive food you both ordered. Not to mention that you might spill something on yourself. Will you be wearing a bib when you eat?" Wesley dumped the contents of the frying pan onto a plate and carried it to their small dining room table.
"I dump a plate of ribs and barbeque sauce on my lap once and I'm branded for life," Gunn rebutted. Having too much nervous energy, he sat down across from Wesley.
Wesley snorted as he stabbed a zucchini with his fork. "If I remember correctly, it also spilled on me, ruining my favorite pair of trousers."
"You know, you really need to let that go." Gunn smiled when he heard a knock on their door, knowing that it had to be Buffy; at least, he was pretty sure that the Jehovah's Witnesses were frightened away when he answered the door covered in green slime from a Kinxtyh demon. "I'll see you later."
As Gunn rushed to the door, he didn't wait to listen for Wesley's sharp remark. Instead, he opened his door to a beautiful woman wearing a slim maroon dress. "I'm stunned into amazement."
"You better be." Buffy smiled. She stood on her toes and placed a chaste kiss on Gunn's lips. "Don't look so bad yourself."
Gunn smirked. "You know, I could get used to taking a fine looking woman like you out." Taking her hand, he took one last look toward Wesley, whose back was turned toward them, before moving toward the stairwell.
"I see I still haven't won him over with our mutual silence," Buffy said as they exited the building.
Gunn shrugged. "It's Wes. He'll come around, despite your past. You might try a 'sorry.'" He saw the beginnings of anger gathering in the corners of her eyes. "A mutual 'sorry.' From what I understand, you both did things that you regret."
As she moved faster toward her car than him, Buffy tossed him her keys. "I know you and Wesley are joined at the hip, but tonight is about us. So can we not?"
Gunn held the door of Buffy's Jetta open for her. "Okay." Gunn kissed her; he appreciated the days she wore high heels. As he broke the kiss, he rubbed his nose against her before taking her by the hand.
But they didn't make it to the front door of the restaurant. A woman screamed in the parking garage and Buffy made a comment about her dates always being ruined by the forces of evil. And, of course, there was more than one.
Gunn jabbed his stake into one of the vampires and ducked to miss the punch of another. He heard a ripping noise and Buffy cursing about her dress. As he looked up at her, a vampire pushed him against a wall.
*****
Gunn groaned. His head ached and the lights were clearly too bright. "Buffy?" While his back hurt, the softness under his body verified that he wasn't on cement.
"She's not here." As Gunn opened his eyes, he saw Wesley sitting next to him. "She said something about being back as soon as she changed from her dress." Wesley's shoulders slumped.
Gunn nodded. "Let me guess: another concussion and a warning from the doctors? Have I mentioned that the lights are too bright?" The IV line clanked against metal as he lifted his hand to check out the back of his head. There was definitely a bump.
Wesley grabbed a lone coffee cup. "Hospitals are antiseptic wastelands." He took a sip. "I'm sure you'll be getting another lecture."
Closing his eyes, Gunn managed to block out some of the light.
"If you fall into a coma, I'll be sure to hold your hand every day."
"Touching, Wes. Really touching." Sleep felt right. Maybe he should tell Wesley that it was okay to leave first. "Maybe when I feel a little better, we can check out the hospital's cable package. Might be better than our own and include HBO."
"I doubt it, and we'll most likely end up exposing your cartoon addiction to Buffy."
"Adult Swim does not count as cartoons, Wes. It's animation for adults. And this coming from the guy who secretly wants to be Pierce Brosnan." Gunn cracked his eyes open. His head had started to feel better, like a five pound rock hit it, instead of a ten pound one.
Wesley smiled and listed in his seat against his good arm. "A lady-friend of mine once said that I bore a remarkable resemblance to him."
"A lady-friend? What is this the 1800s? Besides since when do either of us have lady-friends, unless you count our landlord," Gunn said. "Which I don't."
"You have Buffy."
*****
When Buffy drove Gunn home after his required hospital stay, he was surprised to find Wesley missing from the apartment. She helped him to the shower and left him to wash the grime off his body. When he returned, he found her sitting on his bed.
Buffy ran her hand over his bare chest. "If it hadn't been for those vamps, you would've got some." She pulled him down and kissed him. "That suit was really hot."
"Is that so?" Gunn smiled. "How about now?"
"Towels are sexy too." Buffy's hand slipped under his towel, and Gunn groaned. He tried to pull her onto his lap, to tug off her shirt, but she pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him, her crotch rubbing against his cock. The towel crumpled underneath them.
"God, you're beautiful," he said after she took off her panties, exposing the entirety of her neatly tanned body. A little gold cross dangled between her breasts. He thought he saw her blush.
But the blushing stopped long before Buffy guided his cock inside of her. She gave a tiny whimper as he filled her and Gunn thought she was going to get him off right then and there. He needed to regain the little self-control he had.
He slowed them down by grabbing her hips. Buffy placed her finger against his lips and brought it into his mouth, licking around it. She was gorgeous.
Gunn brought his hand up and rubbed her clit, mesmerized by the rhythm of her moving up and down on him. Neither of them noticed when Wesley came home, until the bedroom door's three-inch gap closed with a slam.
*****
"Hey, English, how's pancakes sound?" Gunn poured batter onto the grill. He and Buffy had officially been dating for a month, and he figured that making breakfast only scored him more points. It also never hurt to feed Wesley.
"With chocolate chips?" Wesley looked up from reading The Seattle Times.
"Special smiley faces coming right up." Gunn took a sip of his coffee and dropped chocolate chips in the pattern of a smile. The left eye drooped a little.
Yawning, Buffy joined them in the kitchen. "Oh, pancakes. And did someone say chocolate?" She wrapped her arm around Gunn's waist and pressed against his body.
With his unoccupied hand, Gunn flipped over the pancake as it started to bubble. "Special pancakes for my special girl."
Buffy touched Gunn's chest where a demon had grazed him with a knife. "You all healed?"
"Nothing a little love couldn't heal." Gunn wrapped both his arms around Buffy and leaned down to kiss her. She tasted of toothpaste and looked damn good in his LA Lakers t-shirt that went down to her knees. He didn't care how long he lived in Seattle; he wasn't cheering for the SuperSonics.
"Excuse me while I throw up," Wesley muttered as he poured himself another cup of tea.
Buffy broke their kiss and turned toward Wesley. "I'm sure we can fix you up with someone. Do you like blondes, brunettes, or redheads? I know Cordy was a brunette, but..."
"You're saying that he really dated Cordelia Chase." Gunn shook his head. "And here I thought he was yanking my chain." He placed the smiley face pancake on a plate and pushed it toward Wesley. "You really macked on that Cordelia Chase."
"Yes. Really." Wesley spread sticky grape jam on his pancake.
"Come on, Wes. I bet Buffy's got a friend or two she could set you up with."
"I don't need setting up."
"Yeah, Wes, I do know single people besides Faith."
Wesley glared at her and stabbed his fork into a pancake.
"Wes knows your Slayer pal Faith?"
"You mean, Wes never told you." Buffy shook her head. From the look on Wesley's face, Faith seemed to be a topic that was off-limits. At least until he had either of them alone. Of course knowing his luck, they'd each say to ask the other.
Gunn shook his head. He handed Buffy the plate with the other pancake on it. "Cook eats last," he said.
Buffy made a high-pitched noise when she saw her own pancake, U R CUTE written in gooey chocolate, and smiled at Gunn. "You're the best."
*****
Gunn sat on the couch, remote in hand. There didn't seem to be anything but infomercials and 24-hour news on. He really needed to invest in a new video, maybe upgrade Wesley's Playstation.
"Not going out tonight." Wesley asked from the kitchen table where he'd spread out a bunch of books to work on a translation for one of his new clients.
Turning his head, Gunn looked over at Wesley. "Buffy's sick." He flipped the channel to another damn commercial, but at least, there would be a movie on, eventually.
"And you're not going to bring her chicken noodle soup?" Wesley sounded like he was mocking him. Gunn saw a smile on the corners of Wesley's lips. Definitely mocking him.
"Nope."
"You've brought me chicken noodle soup."
"That's because I live with you and didn't want to put with your whining. Besides, Buffy's worried that whatever she's got has to be a horrible Slayer super virus." That and Gunn figured there'd be some super Slayer whining. He feigned a headache.
"A good observation."
Gunn hit the popcorn button the microwave. "You should try to be less hostile towards her."
Wesley folded the paper with his long fingers. "I am perfectly nice to Buffy. I didn't know that I was required to be her best friend."
"You're cold, Wes." As he picked up the bag, Gunn swore when the heat and steam burned his fingers. "I'm not saying you have to be buddy-buddy, but you treat the mailman with more patience and respect than Buffy."
"You wouldn't understand." Wesley grabbed his empty glass and stood. "You're young, handsome, social, and I'm just a one-armed misanthrope."
Gunn shook his head. "You underestimate yourself, English. I'd say perhaps you're overly educated and cold." When Wesley frowned at him, Gunn placed his hand on Wesley's back. "Come on, you're smart and ruggedly handsome, if a little over-protective."
Wesley pulled away. "You don't have to patronize me." He gestured to the TV as the commercials ended. "Your movie's back on."
"There's only so much Andie McDowell I can take."
"But you can never go wrong with Hugh Grant. Unless you're the hooker caught in his car."
"Was that a joke, English?"
"Yes." Wesley picked up the remote from the table and tried his hand at the 200-plus channels they had. "Also, I believe it's your turn to do the dishes. Of course, you could always go over to Buffy's and argue with her over the merits of Hugh Grant's career."
*****
"Extra butter for me and cheddar cheese for you." Buffy wrinkled her nose as she handed Gunn his bowl of popcorn. "I don't get it."
Gunn tossed a piece into his mouth. "Delicious. Sure you don't want to try?"
"I'll pass." Buffy placed her hand against his chest as he tried to lean forward and kiss her. "And don't kiss me with cheddar cheese breath. Oooh, it's Four Weddings and a Funeral."
Gunn groaned and shifted in his seat. "Wes and I watched this last weekend. I've had a little too much Hugh Grant." He felt uncomfortable and considered going home. It was late, but he and Wesley could still patrol a bit.
"So you don't want to see if About a Boy's on?"
"How about something with Jet Li?"
"I hate kung fu movies."
"How can you hate kung fu movies? Seriously. You're missing out."
"It's probably not the movies themselves; it's probably just that one time I fought ninjas."
"Ninjas? Damn. Wish I would've been there."
"Overrated. Mostly, I had to fend them off while Willow de-possessed them." Buffy could always kill some of the best stories about slaying.
*****
"I'm going to Panama," Buffy said. She stood over her suitcase. She'd called Gunn an hour ago and asked him to come over. He figured she wanted to try the recently renovated Italian place around the corner. "There's a new Slayer and let's just say that some of the Watchers don't have Wesley's way with words."
"So just like that. You're leaving in the morning." Gunn leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom. He frowned; they'd been having a great time and she was a nice break from the usual. Dating was nice.
Buffy moved toward him. "Come on, Gunn, you knew I had to go back sooner or later. Sure, we've had fun. But now I have to go rescue Dawn and Anya." She looked like she might cry a little, but probably only when he'd gone back home.
"Need a ride to the airport Thursday?"
"That'd be nice." Buffy slipped her arms around Gunn.
*****
Gunn took a sip of his beer; the Playstation control perched on his lap. It was his turn again to wash the dishes and Wesley had been as crotchety as usual. He would've thought that Buffy leaving town would've at least made him happy enough to order take out from that Indian place on the corner.
Instead, Wesley made one of those clearing his throat noises and sat down, reading some ancient and crumbling book and making notes.
"How's the new job?" Gunn asked, idly playing with the controller. "Guess it's not really a new job, but the back wages must be sweet."
Wesley shook his head. "I won't have to worry about rent any time soon. It seems that the new Council's purse strings aren't as tight as they once were."
Gunn shot at the robots on his screen. "Seriously, Wes, what's going on with you?" Once the firefight was over, he paused the game and turned toward Wesley.
"There's nothing wrong with me."
"Bullshit." Gunn paused. "You've been moping around for months. Buffy and I tried to set you up on a few dates, but you turned them down. "
"I thought this was something we were never talking about. That you'd done enough freaking out for the two of us."
"Jesus, Wes, it was one kiss." Gunn felt like running out of this place, grabbing his axe and looking for trouble, which would probably just get him in even more trouble. Or maybe he'd head over to the Egyptian and catch their weekly horror show: nothing like some fake blood and bad bluescreen. "I don't like men."
"Of course, you don't. You certainly proved that with Buffy." Wesley's words were biting. "She's so perfectly uncomplicated."
"What do you want from me, Wes?"
Wesley glared at Gunn for what seemed like an eternity. He sat rigid, his hand resting on his knee. "I want you to admit that it wasn't just a kiss. I want you to admit that yes, despite your liking of woman, that you do have feelings for me. I want you to admit that Buffy was a fling because you were scared."
It was Gunn's turn to stay perfectly still. He thought about kissing Wesley, about fucking Buffy, about helping Wesley to his feet after a battle, about drinking beer on Saturday nights and watching crappy TV. "I like women, Wes, and that's not changing."
He stood up, grabbed his coat and wallet, and left.
*****
Gunn parked his truck at the beach and ate a sandwich at a deli that called itself a bakery. He wondered if the place ever made fresh loaves of bread.
Then he walked along the beach. The water in Washington always stung his feet, no matter how warm it was outside. Today, it was hot as fuck and the beach teemed with boaters, sun bathers, and kids building sandcastles. Gunn thought about the times his mother had taken him and Alonna to the beach. Seattle didn't have boardwalks like California, but he thought his sister would've liked this better; she could've made a sandcastle under a tree and not worried about an overly enthusiastic surfer trampling it.
Gunn watched people toss Frisbees to their dogs, tiny dogs as big as Gunn's foot and large ones that came up to his waist. He considered getting one and chuckled as he imagined the look of disgust on Wesley's face if the dog jumped on the furniture.
Wesley.
The truth was, if Gunn wanted to admit it or not, that he couldn't imagine life without Wesley. That somewhere deep down, he did want Wesley. But it had never seemed worth the risk. Now Gunn seriously wondered if the damage wasn't already done.
Gunn missed Buffy. He missed the way her smile reminded him of the sun, even when it was clouded over, and how he could send her text messages about the stupid shit he was thinking when he was bored. But if Wesley was right about anything, it was that Buffy had been a short thing. Something that was never meant to last, and something that would've fizzled out.
He hated this. Gunn hated wanting to kiss Wesley and then realizing that if it did, they had to work; otherwise, he was going to lose Wesley. Wesley who was practically his only friend in the world since they moved north. His best friend.
Wesley would want Gunn to come home and kiss him. He wouldn't take the chance at being rejected by Gunn again. And Wesley certainly wasn't going to beg.
Gunn took a deep breath and pulled his keys from his pocket. It was time to suck it up. It was time to admit that he was an adult who had adult feelings for his very male best friend and that said best friend had those feelings. If life was a movie, they would've realized their mistake a good 45 minutes ago and already made up.
*****
Epilogue
Gunn's tac vest and his high-tech radio system made him feel like MacGyver. Okay, maybe he couldn't get himself out of a prison with only a shoelace and some gum; but he was still damn cool.
He ordered his Slayers, Rhonda and Tasha, that now would be the time to smash the Tricovien eggs. Preferably before they hatched. He didn't need to deal with teeth and acidic slime.
"Gross," Rhonda said as she put in axe into the second egg. "I'm totally asking for a new wardrobe."
"Stop complaining." Tasha was the practical one. Despite their snipping, Gunn thought that they worked well together. Rhonda had a talent of saving them with a quick action and Tasha took on the natural leadership roles that Rhonda lacked.
Gunn never dreamed he'd be leading a group of Slayers, but when Buffy had called six months ago to offer him the job, he wouldn't want it any other way. He'd finally learned how to keep with the good fight, but not do all the heavy lifting. Not to say that every once in a while, he didn't stick a sword through something.
"Do we still have to visit our contact?" Rhonda asked when they were done slaying. "I'd really like to go home and shower."
"He's meeting us here," Tasha said. All three of them shared a house. It saved on bills and gave them a base of operations and a training space. Plus, the Watcher's Council paid the mortgage.
Gunn placed his radio in his pants' pocket. "Don't worry," he said, while loading their weapons on the back of his truck, "you'll get to use all the hot water soon enough." He tossed them both towels to sit on.
"Easy for you to say, you didn't get dirty."
"And we really didn't either." Tasha wiped off the sweat on her forehead.
"Looks like we missed the party," said a woman.
Gunn turned around, toward the voice. It was probably his contact. And then he saw a familiar face. "Wesley?"
"Charles." It was definitely Wesley. No one else he knew stood that straight. They hadn't seen each other since Gunn had moved out of their apartment. Everything had changed the night he went home, kissed Wesley, and then took Wesley to bed. It had been the end.
Wesley cleared his throat. "This is Faith," he introduced the woman with him.
"Nice to meet you," Faith said, extending her hand. "You two must be Tasha and Rhonda. B told me that there were a couple of Slayers whose asses I needed to kick." Both women rolled their eyes.
"I didn't know you were still in town, Wes," Gunn said.
"I was doing some research on Tricovien mating habits and ran across this nest." Wesley took a notebook out of his bag. He looked different, tougher and a little older. "But there are others in the area. There's one over on Alki Beach and another near Gas Works Park. I've put together a map-"
"Wes?" Gunn had noticed that the three Slayers had started walking toward an all-night diner. "Seems we've been abandoned. Why don't we join them and maybe go over plans for killing demons over pie and coffee?"