[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Six 1/12 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Six 1/12

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 had had a vision on Saturday night while Gunn
and Wesley were in San Diego. The vision was of a
vampire killing a young man, with some connection to
an all-night diner at Vermont and Wilshire. Two of the
drawings had shown the man sitting in a booth, one
from a viewpoint inside the diner a few booths away
from the man, and the other from outside, across the
street and from the second floor. Lilah's squad never
found out the man's name, but he was a regular at the
diner, came in most nights around three. On that
Saturday night the vampire came down into the street
at 3.20 and went to lie in wait by the man's car. It
had been tracking other regulars, from things it said
when the squad got it cornered: sounded like it had
already taken at least two, but they hadn't found any
proof, not from asking in the diner, not from the
news, not from the vampire's apartment. The three in
the squad were still arguing among themselves about
whether that had been the vampire playing mind-games
with them: what could be so special about the guy in
the pictures, if he was worth a vision and there'd
been others before who weren't?

Before the vision, they'd been able to tell when Angel
was lucid: he was very wary of them, but he would talk
to them, asking his questions about Wesley and Gunn,
and answering most of their questions about his state
of mind and his level of comfort. After the vision,
though, he wouldn't respond to them at all. He knew
they were there, but they were only sure of that
because he'd never reach for the blood while they were
in the room, always waited until they'd left.

They felt sorry for him, which Lilah and her interns
had never managed. They'd noticed for themselves how
often Lilah called him just "the seer" - like there
was nothing to him except his visions. But never to
think about the price he was paying for the visions...
Did she think it was nothing, that he should be
grateful? Or was she like that because he was a
vampire? She'd never once thought of him as a person?

"Does it get easier? You get used to it?" Doug was the
blackest of the two black fighters. Ex-army, and still
held himself like he was on a parade-ground. He and
Gunn were storing equipment in the trunk of his car.

Gunn shrugged. "Y'picked the wrong guy to ask. I'll
get up in the mornin' thinkin', "OK, from now on in,
I'm gonna have this attitude to him, just this one.
That'll work. 'n' then I'll go to bed with the
opposite, 'n' feel like I've been dragged through five
others in between. You wouldn't do this job again,
watchin' him? You had enough?"

No, Doug would watch Angel again, they all would, but
they'd be lying awake nights wondering about Angel:
what had happened to him, what would happen to him.
And they hadn't expected that, for Angel to get under
their skin, not from how Lilah and Gunn had talked
about him in the briefings. Yeah, Doug would think
about what warning Gunn could have given him that he
would have believed.

The key was back on the hook and Wesley was standing
in front of Angel's door, but Angel was asleep. Gunn
put his arms around Wesley from behind and they both
looked up at the screen.

Wesley said, "We should take him for a shower before
we set him free. He needs clean clothes. I think we
should let him wash himself, if he'll admit to hearing
the order. Having one of us get in with him..."

"None of us are ready for that."

"No." Wesley turned to face Gunn, put his arm around
Gunn's waist. "We're still on holiday. While there's
nothing to be done with him, we're still on holiday. I
want to cook... whatever you want to eat. And then
watch a film and finish by beating you soundly at
Yahtzee."

Gunn wanted pepperoni pizza and cherry pie with
ice-cream. Wesley went out on his own to the grocery
store, and Gunn unlocked their bedroom, unpacked for
both of them, checked their email, and then patrolled
the living-room and the kitchen looking for the signs
of what Doug and the others had been doing during the
days and nights. Reading about demons. Drinking
coffee. Surfing the net. Looking at Angel's drawings
of Wesley; that was after the vision, probably, which
could have got them wondering how many pads Angel had
filled with his drawings.

Gunn kept returning to the key on the hook. He didn't
take it off, he wasn't going to open the door, but the
second time he went back he put his hand over it, and
held it to the wood, feeling the teeth against this
palm and the end of the hook hard between his knuckles
and he started to get an erection. Control over
Wesley. Wesley in that room and out of his control,
and they could be doing anything and he'd never know.
As long as Wesley came back to him without bruises, he
could imagine anything and he'd never know. Maybe he
should take it as something that happened to Wesley in
another life. A life where Wesley didn't have that
family, didn't get sent to that school, where Gunn
could have and keep his fantasies about Wesley's hot,
sweet first fuck. A different Wesley. Gunn closed his
eyes, pulled his hand slowly down across the key, and
whispered, "But he'd still love me. I'd be the one he
dreamed about. Where he had to be."

He was waiting for the sound of the car, and he went
straight down to help carry. In the kitchen he stopped
Wesley from reaching for the kettle and said, "Will
you leave it? Come to bed? Last half hour, can't think
of anything 'cept you sucking me off."

Wesley looked at him, then down at the bulge in his
pants. He started shaking his head, but that was only
at the idea of bed: he was dropping to his knees and
sliding his hand under Gunn's T-shirt to take hold of
the waistband. Wesley didn't want anything, except a
promise for later, in bed, and for Gunn to stop asking
questions and give proper attention to the kiss.

Angelus was there for most of the evening, but very
fractured, sounding like he'd just been shaken awake,
or was just about to fall asleep. He did fall asleep
around eleven, when they were starting their third,
deciding round of Yahtzee, but his sleep was fractured
too, and when he suddenly went quiet they didn't sigh
with relief, but instead broke off their playful
discussion of how Gunn was going to celebrate his
victory, and started slowly getting to their feet and
agreeing the details of getting Angel ready for the
shower.

Angel had woken up lying on the mattress, facing into
the room, but by the time Wesley opened the door Angel
was on the floor, turning to hide against the base of
the wall. He flinched and shivered when they pulled
the mattress out of the way, and when Gunn took his
left wrist to hold the padlock steady he went rigid,
then started a slow movement away, like he was trying
to pour all the rest of his body into a crack, leave
his left arm behind.

After he'd freed the arm Gunn looked at Wesley,
expecting him to order Angel to pull his sweater over
his head and off his arm, but Wesley was frowning, and
then shaking his head.

"I'm changing my mind about the shower. Let's wait.
See if we can do better than this."

Gunn shrugged and nodded. "Couldn't do worse." Angel
had given a strangled gasp when Wesley started
speaking and now he was almost moaning, struggling
with his whole body, dragging his head against the
carpet, banging it against the wall, and fighting
against the last chain harder than they'd seen from
Angelus. Gunn moved back out of range, and they stood
and looked down at Angel.

Gunn was thinking about what Doug had said, that all
of them in the squad would be losing sleep over Angel.
Was there anyone apart from Lilah who could see this
and not feel sorry for him? What about Angel himself,
back when he was lucid? Would he be purely horrified,
or would he think it was justice? The toughest
justice, but still what he deserved. And probably it
was, but there was a big difference between thinking
it was justice and being happy to watch it day after
day. Gunn sighed then said, "We gotta have a better
chance if we set him free now. I mean, of helpin' him
get lucid."

Wesley nodded slowly, raised the bottle of holy water
to move in again to cover Gunn, then stepped back as
he got another idea. "I'll bring him in a change of
clothes. We should be able to tell something by
whether or not he uses them."

Wesley placed the clothes on the edge of the mattress,
then got in position to reach Angel's neck and face
with the water. Angel was still moaning, still
struggling, but with a fraction of that first energy.
"Angel?" Wesley's gentlest voice. "Could you hold your
right arm back for Charles? Just for a few moments, so
he can set you free." Again Angel gasped and held
still. He curled up slightly, his left hand coming to
cover his face, but at the same time he was slowly,
slowly moving his right hand back towards Gunn; the
chain rattled quietly as it was dragged across his
thigh.

Wesley asked Angel if he was hungry, and if he got any
response it was a shudder and a shake of the head, and
so Wesley wished him a good night and they left him
alone. When they came out of the bathroom he was in
his corner, curled tight with both hands pressing his
head down onto his knees.

Depressing, all damn depressing. But then they got
their door shut, and Wesley reminded Gunn of his
promise and his victory, and then made him forget
everything else.

Lying awake after Wesley had fallen asleep, Gunn
realised that the sounds were all traffic, that were
was no wave about to break in time with his next
breath. They'd been in San Diego just that morning but
it felt like a month ago. And that wasn't... five
minutes of Angel wiping out all the good that they'd
got from their vacation. No. In fact, those minutes
with Angel were the main reason he was wishing Wesley
was awake, so he could say, "I'm glad you made us come
home. It's good to be home." A difficult life and they
were right back in it, and they needed to take better
care of themselves. But important too, and he was
proud, he was proud, to share the responsibility with
his strange, skinny, fucked-up Englishman.

* * * * *

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