[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 1/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 1/20

Author: Helen Raven

Email: helenraven at talk21.com

Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: The full history of the relationship between
Gunn and Wesley in the Birthdayverse. A novel in six
parts.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not even a blip
on the litigation radar.

The Story's Home Page: http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai

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Wesley was having sex with Angel, Gunn was sure of it.
He was sure enough by the end of August that he knew
he couldn't just think about it any more, he had to do
something about it, and when he looked back at all the
signs, he couldn't believe how slow he'd been to
suspect that something was going on.

Gunn thought he had it tracked back now. That kiss
with the lemons, that must've been the start. Must've
left Wesley wanting more so he'd gone back in
afterwards. The kiss had been on a Thursday, hadn't
it? So Wesley would only have needed to wait till Gunn
was out at Caritas - if Angel had been awake then, and
safe. Gunn couldn't remember how Angel had been that
night. But with Gunn out working for most of every
day, Wesley wouldn't've had to wait more than a couple
of days. And since then Wesley and Angel had been
sharing a secret: they'd both been making sure that
nothing important between them happened in front of
Gunn. When Gunn was there it was almost like they
ignored each other, hardly even talked. Been weeks now
since Gunn'd seen them reading together.

You could say that them ignoring each other wasn't any
sign of a secret, it was just Angel finally got
himself over his crush on Wesley, left wondering what
the hell he'd ever seen in him. Except it had never
been a crush, it had always been love. Or close
enough, anyway, that Gunn knew it was something real.
A crush would have been Angel having some fantasy idea
about Wesley, nothing behind it, would topple over
with hardly even a push. But Angel saw the real
Wesley, he saw him like Gunn saw him, and that meant
Angel would have months to get through before he'd be
able to think of anything except how it could have
been between him and Wesley. More months before he
could even think of pretending like he didn't care.
Gunn knew how it'd be, he could imagine. And he knew
that whatever was going on with Angel, whatever Angel
might be pretending about, it didn't have anything to
do with making himself accept that he'd never have
Wesley. Some days he'd hand the beaker back to Wesley
with just a nod, but all the time he was thinking
something that kept him quietly happy.

Angel had got like that within days of the kiss with
the lemons, and that was how he'd been ever since,
whenever he was lucid. The next vision had left him
dazed and stupid for a week, too stupid almost to be
properly frightened, but then he'd recovered
practically overnight, wet dreams, happiness, ignoring
Wesley and all. He'd hardly asked any questions, he
hadn't made any move on Wesley.

Well, Gunn had figured out now that Angel hadn't
needed to ask any questions, because Wesley must've
gone in and told him, Wesley must've been the one
who'd made the first move. Wesley must've explained
how Gunn knew everything but how they had to pretend.
Because it was such a complicated relationship. They
could do anything they wanted, they just had to wait
until Gunn was out of the apartment. Did Wesley give
Angel a signal with the blood? "Not today." "Very
soon." "In an hour." But how would Angel understand an
hour? "In the time it would take us to read half the
book"?

Before the vision - and still sometimes afterwards -
Gunn trusted in Angel's damaged brain as reason enough
for the changes, for Angel's obvious contentment:
Angel thought his dreams were real, he thought Wesley
had become his lover. No need to talk or argue or
accept less, when his next sleep might bring him
everything he wanted.

But then the vision and that overnight recovery - and
Wesley had shown no interest in that recovery, not a
trace, just shrugged it off. Hadn't even got low
during that lost, dazed week. Like... like he knew
exactly how to get his Angel back, was just waiting
until Angel was ready.

Angel spent a lot of time now lying on the mattress,
on his side near the edge, like he was facing someone.
And why wouldn't he? He was enjoying his memories,
waiting for sleep. But soon after the recovery Gunn
realised that Angel always lay on his left side - like
Gunn did himself when he was in bed with Wesley,
because Wesley had to lie on his right side or he
couldn't balance or raise himself up. Maybe that was
obvious about Wesley. But it hadn't been obvious to
Gunn until the first time he lay down with Wesley for
real. Before then... Well, he'd had his reasons for
wanting to block out the idea that some things might
not be possible. Angel must have reasons like that
too, even more than Gunn. But Angel had got it right.

Gunn knew how Angel had got it right: he hadn't
guessed, he hadn't imagined, he'd been shown. Wesley
had been there, in the space next to him on the
mattress. It wasn't just memories that drew Angel back
to the mattress, it was the scent of Wesley in all his
stages of sex. If Gunn had a vampire's senses he'd be
able to smell it too. He'd have proof.

And then what would he do?

Because for all Gunn could see the two of them had a
secret, and Angel was finally and regularly getting
something that satisfied him, Gunn's mind went
spinning into a skid at the idea of his Wesley taking
even the first step in what he was suspecting. Not
Wesley, when Gunn had seen more than enough to know
how much Wesley would risk for himself rather than
lie. Sure, Angel might have grabbed Wesley again,
might have got further without Gunn there to pull him
off. And if Wesley let it happen, Gunn wouldn't blame
him. When you had someone as beautiful as Angel
pleading to get into your pants, what was your cock
supposed to do? Wesley would have known he'd
understand, Wesley would have told him straight after.
Unless...

No, Wesley wouldn't lie to protect himself, but he
would lie to protect Angel. So he might not tell Gunn,
but he wouldn't let it happen again, he wouldn't go in
again on his own, knowing what might happen. Not
Wesley. He'd never play such a stupid game, he'd never
forget what he had with Gunn. 

Gunn believed that, he believed that, but then there
was Wesley no longer talking to Angel, never talking
about Angel, there was Angel on the mattress... And
somehow Gunn found himself wondering if Angel had
really had those dreams about waking with Wesley next
to him, or if Angel really had any complicated
theories about them being a dual. Maybe the dreams
were Wesley's cover-story. Maybe the theory was all
Wesley's work, what he'd told Angel to make him be
more careful in front of Gunn. Then... had it started
so early? So soon after the kiss?

* * * * *

On Friday evening they got home by ten after training
with the duals, and Wesley headed straight for the
fridge to get a couple of beers. As he was opening
them, he suggested that they take the beers through to
the bedroom and give each other a rubdown.

Gunn shook his head, though Wesley wasn't looking at
him, still busy with the bottle-opener on the far
wall. "I - I don't -" Gunn didn't feel like he should
be taking the beer either, but his hand reached out as
if by reflex.

"Really don't need it?" Wesley looked surprised then
shrugged. "Is there something on TV?"

"I don't -" Gunn took a deep breath. "I have to - I
think there's something going on between you and
Angel. You're having sex."

"What?" Wesley dropped his beer. They could hear it
gulping out onto the carpet but they ignored it,
stared at one another. Wesley looked stunned, sick -
Gunn couldn't tell yet how guilty.

"You go in there when I'm not here. You've been doing
it ever since that time he kissed you."

"We're not having sex. Charles!"

"What else would you have to hide like that? Jeez, you
can't even trust yourselves to talk normally in front
of me. Not any more."

"We're not having sex. Of course we're not!"

"You do go in to him?" A slow nod. "How often?"

"I suppose... Every day if I can. If he's lucid
enough."

"And if you know I'll be out for long enough."

A pained shrug. "It's not... It's not..."

"So what is it? The thing you've been doing every day?
Knowing I'd stop you."

"He's..." Wesley swallowed. "He's been starved of
physical contact. Apart from torture. He can give
himself sex. But he can't give himself..." Wesley
looked away for several seconds, to the side.
"Simple... Simple affection."

"So you give it to him. On his mattress. Right?"

"Sometimes. If he doesn't want to read. If he just
wants to talk."

"Does he get you naked?"

"No."

"Does he try to kiss you?"

"Sometimes."

"Does it - Does it get him hot?"

A pause, then Wesley nodded. "But he knows we can't.
He knows I can't. He does accept."

"What about... him thinking you'd had sex? Why d'you
tell me that? If he knows you can't."

"I can't... without your permission, that's what he
thinks. Sometimes you give it but - He knows not to
ask."

"One of his theories about us?" A brief nod. "Damn,
what were you thinking, man? Maybe you didn't lie, but
- What, you reckoned I'd never notice?"

"I thought it would be over in a week. That he'd
change again. I never imagined that it would help him
so much. And..." A quick shake of the head, almost a
shudder. "I suppose I started to think like him. To
think that you already knew."

Gunn was shaking his head. "Been spendin' way too much
time with him." He thrust his beer into Wesley's hand
then gave Wesley a push in the direction of the
bedroom. "Go and get ready for the rubdown. I'll be
through in a minute."

He dealt with the carpet, treading a towel down and
leaving it there to soak up what it could, and then he
got another beer. Wesley was naked, stretched out on
his side of the bed, cock about half-risen. He looked
very apprehensive, like he had some bad ideas about
what Gunn might want. He must have some other ideas
too, though, because look at his cock. Or maybe it was
all mixed together for him? Because of what had
happened with that boy at his school, the way he'd
ended up working it in with the things that got him
hot?

"We're not gonna have the rubdown, are we? We're gonna
go straight into the fuck."

Wesley swallowed. "It's up to you." Very tense. But
not like he was dreading it, like he'd have to force
himself to go along with it. Just like he couldn't
start to guess what it was going to be.

Turned out that was exactly as much guilt as Gunn
needed to see. He shook his head and reached straight
for Wesley's cock. "Feels to me like it's mostly up to
you." He was still fully-dressed, hadn't even taken
his jacket off since they got in from training; he
liked that sometimes, Wesley too, and this time he
went as far as stopping Wesley from pushing his
T-shirt up. The minimum - yeah, the bare minimum.
Afterwards he did let Wesley help, starting with his
shoes, so they could both get under the covers.

"How long had you been thinking that I'd been having
sex with him?"

Gunn shrugged and sighed. "Since he came out of the
vision like that. I knew you had to have been talking
to him."

Wesley swallowed, then, after a few seconds: "Thank
you for telling me, for giving me a chance."

"What else would I do?"

A shrug. "Try to catch me out. Come back early.
Examine me for bruises. Ask him trick questions."

"I couldn't live like that."

"No." A hand pressed to Gunn's chest, then laid gently
against his throat. "You couldn't, could you? What do
you want me to do? Should I stop? Or... Just tell me."

Gunn wanted Wesley to stop; he didn't want him on that
mattress with Angel. But then... who was it harming,
where was the danger? And what was Gunn losing? Did he
really have enough jealousy in him to say that Angel
couldn't ever have his one friend hold him? A few
moments to hold against some of the memories of
centuries of torture. It was helping Angel, really
helping him. Keeping him calm, making him easier to
manage.

"I - D'you have to go in every day? Could you - make
it less?"

"Once a week?"

Gunn nodded. "Yeah, like Thursdays when I'm out at
Caritas? Or next time he's lucid after that. I'll go
out for an hour. Can always find something to do."

"You don't want to be here?"

Gunn shrugged. "I like his theories about us. Stops
him hassling me. No point messin' with'm."

* * * * *

Wesley explained the new rules to Angel on Saturday
morning, while Gunn was out getting groceries and
videos and catching up with Anne. Wesley blamed the
change on Gunn, and Angel took the news very badly and
was angry with Gunn; he was huddled in his corner for
the rest of the day, alternating between muttering
furiously and rocking and hugging himself, just
radiating self-pity. Wesley had turned the screen off.

" 's the downside of givin' him somethin', Wes. When
y'have to take it away."

Angel seemed better on Sunday - out of his corner and
back to the books and the mattress - but then Gunn
left to join the crew at the beach and Wesley found
out that Angel had not accepted the change but simply
forgotten. He'd been listening for the sound of Gunn
leaving, and when Wesley didn't come to him after all,
he was so disappointed and angry that he vamped up,
ripped one of the books to shreds, and threw the
mattress halfway across the room. Wesley put his
earplugs in and shut himself in the bedroom to read,
and he was still there when Gunn got back. Wesley said
he'd forgotten about Angel, seemed surprised to see
him so deeply asleep on the floor. Gunn didn't want to
leave again after that, not after seeing the state of
the room, but Wesley just laughed and said he'd rather
deal with Angel in a tantrum any day, rather than a
bored, cooped-up Gunn.

Wesley bought a couple of new books, took them in on
Monday evening, and then sat and looked through them
with Angel for about half an hour. Angel was restless
and distracted, paying far more attention to Gunn than
to the books or to what Wesley was saying. He jerked
his head up towards the door every time Gunn typed a
new search term or put down his pen or mug; and when
Gunn walked over to the kitchen Angel got so excited,
he was almost shaking with it. He was waiting for Gunn
to leave, and so Wesley had to explain again, in a
whisper, while Gunn was in the kitchen waiting for the
water to boil. Gunn saw Angel ask a question, Wesley
give a patient answer and then Angel frowned down at
the floor for a long time, even after the water had
boiled and Gunn had gone back to the computer. Gunn
was about to give up on watching when Angel suddenly
put his hand on the book, turned the page - ten times
harder than necessary, making it crackle and leaving
it creased - pointed at something on the new page and
grunted a question, and so they were back to reading.
Angel's hand stayed on the book, always close to
Wesley's, maybe touching sometimes, especially when
they turned another page. Angel wasn't paying
attention to the book, though, any more than he had
before; his eyes were closed most of the time,  even
while Wesley was pointing something out to him.
Shutting down, or drifting away. Slowly. Very slowly.
Wesley carried on talking until he couldn't turn the
page because of the weight of Angel's hand, and then
he carefully eased himself out from under the book.

That was Angel for all of the next few days: some
shade of angry, watchful or withdrawn. He was always
glad to see Wesley, always welcomed him, but then he
didn't seem to know how to talk to him; Wesley had to
do all the work. Angelus was just plain angry and
horny, and Angel's dreams were somewhere in-between,
full of impatient or puzzled sounds.

* * * * *


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