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

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 20/20

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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Gunn fell asleep very happy that night, but he was
awake again a few hours later, and there was a cold
weight in his guts and it turned out that was about a
lot of things, but first of all it was about running
out of time at the hotel. Only one more full day, and
then they'd have to leave, and Gunn was dreading every
part of packing up and checking out, how they wouldn't
have their space there anymore.

Stupid, because the next hotel would be fine. OK, it
might not have a bar but they could buy a bottle of
bourbon. And it might not be on the beach or have four
restaurants and twenty shops, but they'd have just as
good within a ten minute drive. And Wes could sit and
read by the pool. It would be fine. Yeah, on that
first day Wesley had needed the Wow! effect of the
Hotel Del to believe he was really on vacation, he was
really that far away from Angel, but was Gunn really
scared that Wesley was about to get dragged back into
his silence and his panics and his paranoia, all
because he'd had to move to an ordinary hotel?

No, he couldn't imagine that for a second. Sure, the
new hotel would be a major comedown, you'd expect some
sort of adrenaline crash after the stuff they'd dealt
with since Friday, but that would go for both of them,
and they'd just go to a movie, drink too many beers
with the dice game, and get over it. Dreading having
to leave: that was something else.

OK then. Imagine you've got another $1,250 to spare,
imagine you can stay after all.

And he found that he went straight to imagining how
he'd be lying awake on Friday night, knowing that
Saturday was their last full day, and the lobby would
be swarming on Sunday morning when they checked out
with everyone else and drove back to L.A. and he put
his hand over his face and pressed hard, as his guts
clenched to the point of nausea.

So. Nothing to do with the new hotel, then. Everything
to do with going back home. Moving to the new hotel...
Guess his gut must know what that meant about how
their time was running out.

Back home. Which was back to Angel. Back to another
mammoth shift of wall-to-wall Angel. Who wouldn't be
dreading that?

He was gonna have to let them talk to each other,
wasn't he? Sure, he could tell himself he knew how to
do it now: no tape, no threat. Just trust Wesley
because Wesley understood that Gunn needed them not to
talk, Wesley wanted to make everything up to Gunn. But
Wesley's mind had too many tricks, Wesley had too many
issues about talking and words and trust (and God
knows what else), and once they were back there he'd
soon work out another way to go crazy, another way
that Gunn would be the last to recognise.

"Angel messes him up." A whisper, almost without
breath. The main argument against letting them talk:
that Angel would say things that brought up even worse
problems ("I won't kill him. He doesn't want me to
kill him.").

Yes, yes, but that was only a possibility, whereas it
was definite that Gunn had got himself nothing, made
nothing any better by trying to tell Wesley what to
do. So he had to leave Wesley free to choose for
himself, and hope that Wesley didn't want to be messed
up, not any more - that he'd walk out, that he'd yell
at Angel to stop - and that he'd turn straight to Gunn
for help, for comfort, he wouldn't think for a second
of covering up. Well, Wesley knew now that there
wasn't any need to cover up: Gunn wouldn't really do
anything, nothing more than letting Angel go hungry
for a few days. Gunn still felt that he'd failed
himself there. He should have taken Angel on, evened
the score, his first chance that first day he'd found
out. He'd have to keep telling himself that it was a
good trade: a few points off his pride (and no one but
him knew they were gone), and he'd won back the chance
that Wesley would start telling him the truth about
Angel.

Giving up on telling Wesley what to do... That didn't
just mean giving up the tape, making himself not care
if they talked. It meant giving up any idea of
controlling what could and couldn't happen in that
apartment. If he tried to hold anything back, then
he'd have to answer to himself for sabotage. So he'd
put the key to Angel's door back on the hook, and what
happened between them... Well, it wouldn't be any of
his business.

Not even if Wesley still had days that were bad enough
that he wanted to get hurt?

He couldn't decide that on his own. He couldn't decide
it cold. He and Wesley would have to talk that through
- before they went home, while Wesley was still
thinking clearly. Might as well be tomorrow. Put
Wesley's mind at rest, if he'd been worrying too about
going home.

* * * * *

They ordered breakfast in their room, and while Wesley
was pouring the coffee Gunn got the padlock keys from
the bag. He sat down, pushed the keys across the table
towards Wesley, and said, "They're the keys to Angel's
chains. And to the lock I put on the screen. You can
do what you like with them. And with him. I should
never have tried to stop you. It was never gonna
work."

Wesley slowly picked up the keys, then held them in
his palm like he was waiting for some proof that they
were real.

"You trust me that much?" Hoping, but not daring to
believe.

Gunn shrugged and sighed. "Oh, Wes, I dunno. Doesn't
matter. I need you to be happy with me more 'n' I need
to trust you. I know y'always want more of me. Keep me
believin' that and... " Another shrug. "I'll deal with
the rest. Won't tell you what to do no more. Can't
make you live like that."

Wesley put the keys down and in the next moment was
kneeling by Gunn's chair, sliding his arm around
Gunn's waist and pressing his face to Gunn's chest.
Gunn held him, very loose, just the weight of his
arms.

"Charles. Charles." Wesley's voice was tight, almost
shaking. "You're more than good. After all that's...
It's heroic."

"Well..." Gunn tightened his hold on Wesley's shoulder
and began stroking the back of Wesley's neck. " 's
like what you said about results. If it's not workin',
then you gotta make yourself stop doin' it. Can't say
it's gonna be easy. But nothing's normal here, Wes.
Him bein' crazy, with whatever ideas it is he's got
about you. You bein' in such a bad way. How we can't
get away from each other. Nothin's normal. I don't get
to act like you see on Oprah. I don't get even half of
what I want. But what's worst is... Wes, how d'you
feel now about when he was hurtin' you? Is that part
of the shell thing? The not-belongin' thing? You able
to handle it the same way? Or you gonna need some
extra help? There's somethin' else you need to tell
me?"

Wesley raised his head. "It was the shell thing. It
was every part of the shell thing all mixed in
together. I wanted to be punished. And I wanted to
think the worst of him because... he'd been wrong
about me, he'd been taken in by me. He'd been the one
who could have worked it out about Barney and the
Kungai, but he'd been stupid and he'd believed me.
He'd never been... what I'd thought. He'd been another
shell. And he knew exactly what I was thinking and
feeling about what I was, what I'd done. He agreed
with me. He could bear to hear it, when you wouldn't
put up with it, you wouldn't let me talk like that..."
A long sigh, and Wesley closed his eyes for several
seconds. "I couldn't stop myself from thinking like
that, Charles. I was always thinking like that. And
he... I could say it to him and know I wasn't hurting
him. Indeed, I was giving him... a chance to compare
notes."

Gunn gave a long sigh then shook his head slowly.
"Still don't know that I can bear to hear it. What we
gonna do about that, Wes? If you have days where
you're wanting it again?"

"I'll tell you. That I'm having one of those days, not
the details of what I'm thinking. You should hide the
key from me. It would probably be a good idea if we
went out for some hard training. Not to get me hurt,
I'd never involve you in that, but to... take me out
of myself. The less leisure I have to think, the
better."

"OK." Gunn was nodding. "OK. You gonna tell him it's
never gonna happen again?"

"Of course. As soon as we get back."

"Yeah. You think he's gonna be difficult? Angry 'bout
havin' it taken away?"

"I'm not sure. I'll be very careful until I've
seen..." A sigh. "I'm sure you don't want to know this
but it really wasn't what he wanted from me. He knew
perfectly well that I was using him to get my
punishment. And he could do it, he could enjoy it
because he does have that side to him. But he never
said anything to suggest that he was... making
anything of it. I mean that he was... telling himself
stories about it, planning things he could do to - to
heighten the experience for himself." A wince - almost
a flinch. "I'm sorry, I - But I don't want you to
be... more angry with him than you need to be."

Gunn shrugged. "I'm angry with all three of us. Think
we all needed droppin' on our heads. We gotta stop
actin' on bein' angry. Actin' on bein' scared. Gotta
start sayin' to each other, 'Look. I know how you're
feelin'. I hear it. I get it. But what you're doin'...
It's never gonna make things any better.' Wish you
could've said that to me about the tape. And him...
maybe he was even plannin' how he could make you
stop."

* * * * *

They'd agreed days ago that they'd have dinner in the
hotel on their last night - with cocktails and wine
and everything, and no issue about driving. When they
went up to their room to get ready, Gunn brought out
the suit and asked Wesley if there was any chance that
he'd changed his mind.

Wesley looked between Gunn and the suit, frowning
hard. Gunn was about to shrug, put the suit back like
it was an impulse thing, but then Wesley said, "It
means a lot to you."

"You look so fine like that. Gives me a kick, seeing
you on show. 'n' lookin' so English, like there's a
forcefield round you. 'n' all the time you're mine,
'n' I c'n walk straight through."

"I'd like to... I'd like to..." Wesley's fingers
brushed the lapel; maybe he hadn't even meant to
touch, but his hand was shaking. "I wish I could think
of another way of looking like that for you. But - I
feel ill at the idea of putting it on. It was with me
that Sunday. For the meal with Barney."

"Oh!" Gunn took a step back in recoil, stood frozen
for several seconds, then practically threw the suit
into the wardrobe and then slammed the door. "Jeez!
How'd I forget that? Damn, I shoulda seen it. Just..
freaked me out so bad when you'd come back from the
thrift shop. Couldn't see past how you were in these
other guys' clothes."

Wesley stepped forward, grabbed Gunn by the wrist and
pulled him close. "I'm glad you forgot. And you were
right to be freaked out. You weren't seeing a
guilt-stricken man having a direct visceral reaction
to a particular painful reminder. You were seeing an
instrument of fate indulging in a dramatic gesture of
renunciation. I was disgusted by all of my old
clothes. Now..."

"It's just about Barney. It's just about the suit."

"Exactly."

"So you'll throw out those damn, fuckin' cords when we
get home?"

Wesley laughed. "We'll have a ritual burning."

But while Gunn was in the shower, Wesley went and got
dressed in the suit. Gunn stood in the doorway to the
bathroom and stared and stared, while his cock jerked
higher and higher.

"It's as good as you remembered?" Half-smiling,
half-anxious.

"Yeah, but -" A brief sigh. "OK, I'm not even gonna
guess what happened. Just convince me you're still
somehow gonna enjoy the meal."

"It's because I know I am that..." Wesley closed his
eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "You're more
important to me than what happened with Barney. Yes, I
have that memory for this suit but I won't let it take
away the good memories I have from you. Or scare me
out of ever dressing for you again the way I want to.
If I'm going to start again, then there couldn't be a
better evening." He swallowed, and his tone changed.
"And Charles, if you can face giving me those keys,
then I can certainly face a few minutes of feeling
queasy. Until the gin-and-tonic arrives and you start
making me laugh."

Gunn had always felt cheated out of a beer the few
times he'd been somewhere they only had wine. And he
could have had beer but Wesley really liked good wine,
and really missed being able to open a bottle of it
with a meal - open it and enjoy it properly because
there was no idea of being on call for the visions. He
couldn't drink a whole bottle, and Gunn wanted to
drink the same as Wesley anyhow. Wesley chose a white
wine, very smooth, tasted kind of like melons; Gunn
found it too fussy at first, not clean like beer, but
he'd got used to it by the time their entrées arrived.
He did make Wesley laugh, and Wesley made him laugh,
and their hands were touching in some way across the
table for about half the meal. Wesley even joined Gunn
in having a dessert (if you could call a fruit salad a
dessert, without even any cream).

Over coffee and liqueurs Wesley said, "Let's go home
tomorrow. Anything else is going to be a sad
anti-climax. Let's save the money and go home."

Gunn had not seen that coming. He looked down at his
cup, moved his hand away from Wesley's to play with
his spoon, spinning it, rocking it back and forth.
Finally, sitting back in his chair: "You want to use
those keys."

Wesley sighed and sat back also, and ran his hand
slowly through his hair. "I'll be glad when he's free,
yes. But if I'm in a hurry to get back to him, it's
for the same reason that I put on this suit: because
I'm very apprehensive about dealing with him, about
the state he'll be in. I don't know what he'll
remember, what he's imagined, what he'll want. I have
to make him manageable. And I'm as ready now as I'll
ever be. I don't need any more time here. Not right
now. If we can save our money for something else, save
Lilah's goodwill... A couple of days away maybe, every
few months... Wouldn't you rather look forward to
that?"

Good reasons. Gunn didn't think they were the real
reasons, but there wasn't much he could argue; he'd
just have to get home and see how Wesley acted with
Angel and then... Well, probably see that he'd been
right but why start another argument? "I'll call
Lilah. When we're somewhere more quiet."

They called from the beach and Wesley made the call
since it seemed the simplest way of letting Lilah know
they were coming back because he was fully recovered,
not because their vacation had gone wrong. He gave his
apologies and his thanks, answered her questions about
what they'd been doing, and said they'd be back
between two and four on Wednesday afternoon. He didn't
ask anything about Angel.

They made the walk long, their longest yet; and slow
because they kept stopping and turning to look or to
kiss. The sex was long too; slow where they wanted it
slow, but also fast and surprising and noisy. Gunn
slept a perfect sleep, no 3 a.m. dread, no thoughts
about Angel.

In the morning they showered together, had breakfast
in the restaurant over the L.A. Times, had a last walk
on the beach, a last coffee in the courtyard, and
checked out around eleven. Wesley insisted on driving,
like he'd insisted on taking the suit in his own
luggage; he was all better now, and he wanted to get
home.

* * * * *

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