[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 11/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 11/20

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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Angel was watching Gunn. He didn't usually do more
than glance at him during feeding, but now he was
staring, though trying to be subtle, make it part of
the drinking and take no more than a few seconds at a
time. That must be for Wesley, because he wasn't
subtle at all when Gunn was standing guard on him in
the shower. The staring in the shower would give Angel
an erection (or a start on one, anyway), but Gunn knew
Angel too well to take that personally; Angel was
planning something, or working on a new theory to do
with Wesley, like the time he'd had so much to say to
Gunn about shower-gel and muscles, and then had got
Wesley mad by making stupid jokes about the book and
Wesley's arm. After the second shower, Gunn thought of
warning Wesley, but what would he really be saying?
"The next crazy, unpredictable thing he does... Might
be a few days earlier than if he wasn't staring at
me."? You lived with Angel, you were always expecting
something.

* * * * *


On the first Wednesday in November, Angel didn't wake
up until after Wesley had left for his meeting with
Lilah Morgan. Gunn hadn't fed Angel on his own since
Angel got lucid again after the vision of the vampires
and the college kids, and when he went in with the
blood Angel looked surprised and disappointed, and
then like he'd just worked something out, something
serious.

"Are they talking to him?" Angel had taken the beaker,
but hadn't made any move to drink.

"He's got a meeting. Yeah."

Angel nodded slowly, took a step back and then drank
very slowly indeed, doing his usual feeding routine of
glancing at Gunn for about two seconds in every ten.
Gunn put his hands in his pockets and waited.

Angel finished and Gunn held his hand out, but Angel
shook his head, frowned, then said suddenly, "Don't
leave him. You're the only one who's ever made him
happy with sex."

What? What the fuck? "What the - Where'd'you - Where
the hell d'you get that? You thinkin' he told you?"

Angel just shook his head again. "Don't leave him."

"Who said I was ever gonna? Where d'you get that? 'n'
what the fuck d'you think you know about... Leave him?
Why would you think that? Couldn't've got it from
watchin' me. Why d'you say that? You even know why?"

A long pause, with Angel looking wary but determined.
"I know he won't let you. You want - more."

"What, you smell that?" Gunn wasn't sure if he was
being sarcastic or not. He took a moment to weigh both
sides, still wasn't sure, and gave a deep sigh. "So
you asked him and he told you it was none of your
business. But that's never stopped you when you're
dreamin' up theories." Helluva theory, though, Gunn
about to leave and somehow having great sex with
Wesley at the same time. "H've you been botherin' him
with this? Tellin' him I'm gonna leave?"

Angel looked like he didn't know what to say, and he
shrank back slightly. Gunn gave another sigh,
exasperated, then snatched the beaker from Angel's
hand. "I'm not going to leave. How could I? You don't
say that again. I don't wanna hear it, and you never
say it to him."

Gunn expected Angel to resent the order: he was
looking for that as the sign he'd got through. But
instead Angel nodded, smiled just a shade and said,
"He'll get better. He thinks he won't, but he will."

"Yeah." Gunn wanted to say, "We'll help him," but he
didn't know how they would. He and Angel looked at one
another for a few moments, then Gunn turned to leave.
At the door he said, "He'll be back in a couple of
hours," and when he next looked up at the screen he
saw that Angel had settled himself against the wall
with the books.

Don't leave him. That must have been what was behind
the staring. Angel sizing him up. Trying to guess how
close he was to packing his bags and getting turned on
because... then he might have a chance with Wesley?

But he didn't want Gunn to go. He wanted Wesley to get
back to having sex with Gunn. That was what he'd been
saying, wasn't it?

Don't leave him. Gunn shook his head over and over,
part of the amazement that he was even trying to guess
how Angel's mind that thrown that up. Angel couldn't
have got it from watching Gunn, because Gunn knew he'd
behaved just the same as usual in front of Angel. But
maybe from listening to Wesley's nightmares or to Gunn
telling Wesley he was fucked up. Or from noticing they
hardly talked any more, they never laughed together.
And if that was gone then what did they have?

Yeah. Maybe. Maybe Angel could have got it from that.
When he had nothing to do but listen and imagine and
think about the change in Wesley. Ask Wesley about his
new clothes, and you could read a lifetime of bad news
into that expression.

Angel had started the staring over a week ago, once
he'd got lucid again after the burning. He would have
told Wesley his new theory in that time, wouldn't he?
Told him indirectly, at least, through asking strange
questions about him and Gunn. And Wesley would have
said... Well, obviously not enough to reassure Angel.

Angel didn't want Gunn to leave, he didn't want Wesley
all to himself. He wanted Gunn to stay and make Wesley
happy. Like he'd said right at the beginning, when
Gunn had still thought he was human. It wasn't
important if he liked Gunn or not, if Gunn was making
his life more difficult. "Wesley smells different."
"He's happy." Angel had lost all of his memories of
that time, but he was still the same person.

Wesley came back with lunch for both of them, and with
another thrift-shop bag (a grey, long-sleeved top with
a couple of buttons at the neck, and a pale-green
cotton sweater). Angel seemed to be asleep again,
lying on the mattress with a book open under his arm.

"He's been reading while I was out? Did you manage to
feed him?"

Gunn just nodded then, but they sat down and ate their
lunch together, and towards the end he said, "Y'know
Angel's been starin' at me the last week? Y'seen him
sneakin' looks during feedin'? Well, today he said..."
Gunn paused and frowned. "Been wonderin' what he's
said to you. If he's tried to warn you. 'n' how
you'd..." A shrug. "Did you know he thought I was
gonna leave you?"

Wesley looked shocked, then swallowed. Almost in a
whisper: "What did he say?"

"He said, 'Don't leave him.' Said it more than once.
'n' said some stuff about the sex. Like... that's why
I'd leave." Wesley was frozen with horror. Gunn
reached out and touched his hand, about to tell him
how wrong Angel had been, but Wesley snatched his hand
away, and now Wesley was looking even more wary than
Angel had looked. "Wes, what's..." Gunn shook his
head, out of ideas about what was going on. "You never
even thought it before? Or he did warn you but he was
never supposed to bring it to me?"

Now Wesley had another of Angel's expressions on his
face: of having no idea what to say, which was how
Angel had looked when Gunn had asked if he'd been
warning Wesley. It wasn't guilt, and he'd seen guilt
from both of them often enough. It wasn't being
stubborn, it wasn't stonewalling, it was blankness.
Not able to find any reaction because the question
just didn't connect - it was too far from the truth.

So... Wesley had thought it before, about Gunn leaving
but not because Angel had warned him. And the way
Wesley had looked wary, the way he'd asked in a
whisper what Angel had said...

"You told him, didn't you? You told him I was gonna
leave. You told him weeks ago." Guilt, a flood of
guilt. And not wary any more: downright scared. "When,
Wes? When d'you tell him? 'n' for Christ's sake why?"

Wesley closed his eyes hard. "I can't remember."

"Don't make me tell you to stop fucking lying. Or
d'you want me to wait and ask him?"

Wesley looked up at the screen, then quickly down at
the table. "I really can't remember when. Maybe a few
days before the vision. But - It was always obvious
that I should make you leave. That you shouldn't waste
yourself. But I'm not strong enough. I couldn't
face..."

You'd die if I left. The visions would kill you. Words
that Gunn could never speak, would never want to. And
of course that wasn't what Wesley had meant about
being strong.

"You know I love you?" Wesley nodded, gaze still on
the table. "Then you know why you're wrong with all of
that. But why'd you tell him? You didn't try to sort
it out with me, find out my side. But you told him. Is
there anything you wouldn't tell him?"

"He - He understands."

And I don't? "So what did he say? About me leaving."
Probably not that it was fucked up, or that Wesley was
half-crazy from shock and guilt. Restful. Angel played
it restful.

"He asked what we did together, what we talked about.
What you had left, now that I was... If we weren't
really together."

So Angel knew about the jerking off in the bathroom.
Another explanation for his hard-ons in the shower. A
long conversation that. A serious conversation between
close, close friends. Gunn imagined them sitting
against the wall, the book on Wesley's knee forgotten
almost immediately. And other days when they didn't
even need to talk. They were alike in a lot of ways,
they understood.

"Do you let him hold you?" Not jealous, just wanting
to know how much difference it made to Wesley,
whatever it was that Angel managed to do. Gunn
expected Wesley to sigh and shrug and say "Sometimes"
- like the time Gunn had thought they were having sex
- but instead Wesley blushed and shuddered and closed
his eyes.

So that was "Always". At the very least, it was
"Always".

"OK, Wes. Guess I asked the wrong questions again.
Landed way short. What should I have asked, to be dead
on?" More blushing, and then some squirming in which
Wesley pushed his chair back. "It's as bad as it
looks?" Angel, seeing Wesley for the first time since
the vision, gasping and turning rock-hard in seconds.

Wesley turned his head sharply to the side, then
opened his eyes and looked at Gunn past the sides of
his glasses. On a sigh: "Yes," and he swallowed hard.

Gunn clenched his jaw over and over, taking five deep
breaths. Finally: "You got an excuse? 'It's all for
his sake, poor Angel.' 'n' of course you thought it
would be over in a week. Y'know, all the excuses you
can't find for fucking me!"

"He - He hurts me. I can ask him to do that. It's
simple for him."

That was an excuse? That was supposed to be telling
Gunn it was OK? There was too much Gunn needed to say
(needed to shout), but he started with, "What does he
do?" and his voice was tight and low.

"Now he just holds me down. He's rough."

"He rapes you."

"That's what we call it. What we both call it."

"Every day." Gunn had been out for at least two hours
every day. Wesley nodded. "Since when? When did it
start?" Gunn couldn't imagine how it could ever start.
Not his Wesley.

A long sigh, and Wesley turned his head back to look
properly at Gunn. "The Saturday. The Saturday after.
You'd gone out to call all our clients. He heard me
crying. I told him not to worry, that nothing was
wrong but he wouldn't accept that and he took his
clothes off and threatened to burn himself to get me
to open the door. I went in and I told him what I'd
done, what I knew I was, and he offered to kill me."

"He what?"

Wesley carried on like Gunn hadn't spoken. "I said no
but talking about it excited him, and he was still
naked so we could both see how he was reacting, and we
talked about what he was. After a while he did make a
move to hold me, and when I told him that it had to be
rape, he - That wasn't a problem for him."

The first Saturday. When Wesley had gone out to the
grocery store for Gunn's curry, and had come back with
two bags of second-hand clothes. Saying the man who
Gunn had fallen in love with was a shell, saying he
couldn't pretend any more.

"You saying you'd let me fuck you every day if I
called it rape? Made it rough enough?"

Wesley shook his head. "I don't want to see you like
that. You're not like that. You're good. Angel and
I... we're lost, it doesn't matter what we do."

"It matters to me! You ever think about me? Or you
just think, 'He's gonna leave, anyway. Nothin' holdin'
me back.' God! Can't be a minute goes by when I don't
think about you, want what's best for you."

"I know. I see it and I admire you more than ever, I
love you more than ever. But there's no best for me,
Charles. I need to be treated for what I am and that's
what Angel does. It gives me... It gives me faith in
the world. That there might really be a balance of
natural justice."

" 'Treated for what you are.' You're out of your mind
with guilt, that's what you are. You're crazier than
he is, right now. 'n' you're that way 'cos you want to
be. There's a way to make it worse, you'll find it,
you'll fucking write your name on it. 'n' you think
he's different from me, that he agrees with the shit
you come out with, but he's just going along with it,
it's his way of keepin' you close while he waits for
you to get better. Yeah. He told me you're gonna get
better. So he knows y're fucked up right now."

"Yes. We've talked about it. About his experience of
avoiding the world. He tells me the stages in the
hundred years that it took him, the different ways in
which he fought the distractions. Sometimes I think
he's waiting. At other times I think he's warning me."

There was nothing Gunn could say that would make any
impression on Wesley. What could you do with someone
who wouldn't even really defend himself, who didn't
want you to believe that he was still a good person? -
if you'd just give him a chance to prove it, he'd make
up for everything. Wesley hadn't even bothered to
think of what would happen when Gunn found out.

So what would happen?

Well, Gunn would have to do something to both of them,
he would have to. If he didn't, what would that make
him? God, after all those times being jealous over
almost nothing, the hurting he'd felt then, the
twisting anger. He should be in there now, holding
Angel against the door, not gonna stop until... Until
he reached the screams that said that Angel simply
couldn't believe that this was possible. Until
Wesley's voice was broken from pleading for his
vampire. Gunn was entitled after what they'd done. But
instead...

He got up and went over to Angel's door. Wesley gasped
and jumped to his feet, and was only a second too late
in trying to stop Gunn from taking the key.

"No! You can't blame him. He wanted - It was me."

"Yeah. I'll remember that. For when I've stopped
counting to ten." Or a thousand. Or a million. However
long he was going to feel just sad and sidelined and
out of his depth. He put the key in his pocket. "It's
over. You don't get to see him again."

A pause, then Wesley nodded slowly. "Of course. Thank
you."

Gunn shrugged. "Yeah. I'm going out. Had enough of the
both of you."

"What if he gets a vision?"

Another shrug, while Gunn was picking up his jacket.
"He talks, doesn't he? 's enough with Angelus."

Gunn drove to the beach, walked for a couple of miles,
then sat for a long time, mostly with his eyes closed.
Would he leave? If there weren't any visions, if he
could leave, would he?

No. No, he probably wouldn't. Not over this. Wesley
thought he didn't understand but he did. He understood
the guilt and the despair, and that it might be easier
(yeah, even restful) just to give up on yourself,
think nothing but the worst. He couldn't agree, he had
to put the other side, but he did understand. And it
meant something to him that Wesley had been trying to
protect him, that Wesley had gone to Angel because he
didn't want to take that need to someone he loved.
That must be why he didn't feel jealous, or like he
was being used, made a fool of. A bad time, a terrible
time, but this was still where he was meant to be.

On the way back to the truck he remembered there was
training that evening, and he called Rondell to say
not to expect them.

"You got a tip-off?"

"Somethin's come up, yeah. Should be OK for Sunday,
though." If he was gonna suddenly get mad with Wesley,
it should've happened by Sunday. Till then... He
didn't trust himself to watch Wesley at his trick of
putting on a front for the crew, not while he had a
sword in his hands and too many questions about the
front that Wesley had been putting on for him.

"Cool. Hey, we're startin' a new class for Anne. You
got any time for it? Can see you're comin' up with
more ideas than ever. Good to keep things fresh."
Yeah, he'd learned a lot in the year, more than the
crew. Some from Angel, some from Wesley (but Wesley
had learned everything from Angel), but mostly from
the duals. Gunn said sure, he'd do the class and they
talked about times and plans. When they were done Gunn
was about to hang up when Rondell said, " 's weird to
have you back. Y'know, first few months was sure we'd
never see you again. Took some bets on where you'd
move to when it didn't work out. 'cos, hell, look at
him!" Then quickly: "Back then, man. This is back
then. When we thought we didn't know you at all."

"Yeah, I - I coulda played that smoother."

"Nah, clean break. But turns out we did know you,
you're just the same, and he - I could kinda see his
cool, I guess, after the theatre, even when he was
still actin' so damn British. But now you got him to
loosen up, dress like he's finally, y'know, in the
same time-zone... Never thought I'd say it about a
white guy with glasses, but he's definitely cool."

Gunn managed to laugh. "You want me to tell him that?"
But that was a no.

When Gunn had hung up, he had to fight the urge to
throw the phone at the nearest rock. Loosen up! Jesus!
Saying that he'd got Wesley to "loosen up", like he'd
dragged Wesley along to the thrift shop and pushed him
inside. Rondell was looking at a nervous fucking
breakdown (near as dammit), and he thought what he saw
was "cool".


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