[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part One 5/11 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part One 5/11

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 spent a lot of that week thinking about Wesley
and smiling, whether he was thinking about the jut of
Wesley's lower lip, or about Wesley teasing him about
having had a normal life as an accountant, or about
what might have happened if he had gone back, if he'd
found Wesley waiting for him. He managed to save the
most complicated, distracting thoughts for the times
when he was alone, and while he enjoyed those times,
he didn't find himself resenting the time he had to
spend with the crew. He wasn't painfully counting down
the hours until Tuesday evening. Instead, he felt like
he was sailing through the week, surging forward on a
wave of energy and enthusiasm. He'd felt almost as
good for most of the last few months, since he'd
regained his sense of purpose and direction, his
belief in possibilities; and Wesley, Wesley's face,
Wesley's mouth, every line of Wesley's fine body... So
many possibilities there, and all so close, he just
had to reach out to touch them.

Wesley called Gunn on Monday afternoon. "Charles? It's
Wesley." Gunn knew immediately by the tone of Wesley's
voice that he was not calling on business.

"Hey, Wesley. Everything OK? We still on for
tomorrow?"

"I wondered what you'd like to eat. If you won't have
eaten beforehand."

"Pizza?"

"What kind of pizza do you like?"

"Don't like anchovies. Or spinach or pine nuts or
anything that looks too healthy. Just regular pizza
but no anchovies."

"OK." Sounded from Wesley's voice like he was smiling.
"I think I can arrange that."

"So how you been?"

"Good. We've both been fine. You'll probably be able
to meet Angel tomorrow. He thinks he remembers you."

Angel. God, yes, there was Angel. Gunn had hardly
thought about Angel. Well, Angel was a fact of
Wesley's life. If you wanted to learn how Wesley was
made, you also had to learn how to cope with Angel.
Maybe Angel would even give Gunn the opening he needed
with Wesley; hard to imagine how, but he might.

"Yeah? What sort of pizza does he like?"

"He doesn't eat pizza. He'll have eaten before you
arrive. We probably won't see much of him. Even at his
best, he's not sociable."

After he'd broken the connection, Gunn spent the next
five minutes trying to decide whether or not Wesley
had been deliberately trying to tell him what to
expect from Angel when they had their Tuesday
evenings. Reassuring him, even, that they could plan
on being alone. But that was probably just what anyone
with a difficult roommate would do. Gunn shouldn't
take it to mean that Wesley had given any thought to
what might happen when they were alone. Wesley might
not have thought about him at all in the past week,
except to wonder what to feed him.

* * * * *

Wesley looked wonderful. He was wearing a blue shirt
with the top two buttons undone, and with the sleeve
rolled up. His forearm was perfect, everything Gunn
had imagined to match that perfect hand. And the ledge
of his collarbones, and the gap between them...
Details that Gunn hadn't dwelt on during the week,
because they hadn't been important to him in the past.
But on Wesley, the sight seemed so intimate, so
promising - like Wesley had greeted him with a kiss on
the lips - that Gunn suddenly wondered how easily he
would recover if Wesley did turn him down.

"Angel? This is Charles. Do you remember him from the
thrift shop on Denker?" Angel was almost at the other
side of the room, standing at the entrance to the
kitchen. There was a smell of fresh tomato sauce and
Gunn guessed that the two of them had been standing
talking while Wesley cooked.

Angel stared at Gunn, looking like he was
concentrating hard. There was no trace of the
awkwardness that Gunn had seen after the fight. Wesley
had probably prepared him for this meeting. And of
course this was his home. "You came through the door.
You killed the vampire who was going to - There were
more of you."

"Yeah. Me and three of my crew. It was Rondell,
though, who killed the vamp who was tryin' to escape."

Angel frowned, but Gunn couldn't tell if the frown was
outright puzzlement or just a deeper concentration.
Wesley was in the kitchen now, opening the fridge.
Gunn watched Wesley fetch and open two beers, and held
out his hand to take the first bottle. Gunn had
assumed that the second bottle was for Angel, since
Angel wasn't holding a drink, and when Wesley raised
the bottle and drank from it himself, Gunn was
surprised enough to turn back to Angel and see how he
was reacting to such a deliberate snub. But Angel
didn't seem to have noticed anything about Wesley
getting beers; he was still staring at Gunn with the
same frown.

"Do you remember Charles?" Wesley had come out of the
kitchen and was standing almost between them, slightly
closer to Angel.

Slowly, still staring at Gunn: "I remember them by the
door. Was there shouting? You don't shout. But I don't
remember... You said he was at Fairfax. In the garden.
That he killed the Lurgan with a sword. And the
others, too. But I don't..." Finally, he looked at
Wesley, now clearly puzzled. "Was there shouting?
Would I have remembered if there had been shouting?"

"There wasn't much shouting. But you wouldn't have
remembered anyway. You weren't there. You had to stay
here."

"But I saw it. I saw it in the garden. I knew about
the sword."

"You remember the pictures they showed you. The
Powers. You remember what I told you afterwards. About
how we killed it with the crossbows and the swords."

"Does he know I wasn't there?"

"He knows."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. He knew already."

Angel nodded slowly, then looked back at Gunn. "I
wasn't there. Wesley told me." Gunn wasn't sure if
Angel was talking to him, or to himself. Angel didn't
seem to be expecting a reply, so Gunn just nodded in
return, and then took a long swallow of beer.

Wesley had been absolutely right: this man couldn't
have gone on patrol with them, not even on one of his
best days, when he was well enough to face another
person without flinching. The poor bastard. What would
have happened to him without Wesley? At best, he'd be
in an institution somewhere, lost, probably terrified.
At worst... On the streets. Starving. Definitely
terrified.

But you wouldn't guess, to look at him, that he was so
far from being able to fend for himself. You couldn't
guess. He looked so healthy, so much in control. And
it wasn't just the body, it was the presence. Angel
gave the impression of being a good four inches taller
than he actually was, and he gave off a charge strong
enough to bring a shiver to the skin of Gunn's arms
and stomach. Most of that shiver was sex, but it was a
sexual reaction that brought no feeling of pleasure to
Gunn; instead, it felt like an assault.

Whereas with Wesley... Gunn turned his head, found
Wesley looking at Angel with an expression of mild
interest and approval. Well, Wesley was a man who
probably had the opposite of presence, who didn't
command attention at first sight, but when it was
Wesley's body that called out to his, then the
reaction seemed natural as breathing, and just as
necessary. What was the difference? Just that he liked
Wesley, maybe more than liked him? Or some chemistry
thing, that you could never really understand?

Wesley was turning to look at him, and Gunn had to
look away, back at Angel, not ready to face Wesley
when his feelings were so close to the surface. Trying
to find something to say to Angel, something that
might move Angel on from that unnerving stare... Well,
he'd thought beforehand that Angel might be a useful
distraction from Wesley. In the past day he had only
managed to think of three things he could try saying
to Angel, so he gave himself five seconds and then
chose the least unpromising. "Wesley says you've been
feeling better this past week."

If anything, Angel's stare became more unnerving,
harder to read. Gunn was about to use his beer again
as a way of breaking eye-contact when Angel suddenly
took a step forward and said very abruptly, "Wesley
wants you to be here." Then he turned and walked away,
heading straight for his room and closing the door
behind him.

"Goodnight, Angel." Wesley was perfectly calm and
friendly, like he was saying it to a normal roommate
at the end of a normal evening.

Gunn took that drink, then dragged a hand slowly over
his head to the back of his neck and gave a deep sigh.
"Meaning he doesn't. Doesn't want me to be here."

Wesley shook his head, very definite. "I don't think
he meant it like that at all. I think he meant that
he'd noticed that I've been looking forward to this
evening. It was his way of trying to make you feel
welcome."

Gunn pulled a face. "Jeez."

Wesley nodded. "I know."

Then they laughed and stepped forward to clink beer
bottles, and Gunn finally saw the full meaning of what
Wesley had said, as something about Wesley and himself
- not just about Angel. Wesley had been thinking about
him, enough for even Angel to notice. OK, he mustn't
read too much into it, but it was good to hear; even
if they would only ever be friends, it was good to
hear. And they would be friends, wouldn't they?
Strange that in all the time he'd spent that week
smiling over what he liked about Wesley, he had
somehow not realised how much he was missing his
company. Yes, he wanted to take that last step forward
and reach out to undo the next button on Wesley's
shirt, but more than that, he wanted an evening of
pizza and beer and talking; he wanted the evening that
Wesley had been looking forward to.

"I never thought you'd be making pizza. The dough and
everythin'?"

"It's the first time I've really tried to cook with
only one hand. Do more than just heat. Angel... Well,
food doesn't feature with him. And when it's just for
yourself..." Wesley shrugged.

Gunn nodded towards Angel's door. "I can see you'd
think twice about havin' friends around."

"If I had any other friends in L.A. In California.
I've only even -" He frowned down at the kitchen
surface. "And that doesn't really count."

"What doesn't?"

Wesley looked at him, head tilted, like he was sizing
him up. "You'll think I'm making it up."

"Now I just gotta know what you think is gonna sound
weirder to me than this." Gunn gestured around the
room with his beer bottle.

Wesley paused, then gave one of his half-smiles. "OK.
Do you watch television?"

"Yeah?" Gunn thought it was an odd question, then
looked over his shoulder to check, and realised Wesley
didn't have a TV. Not in the living-room, anyway.

"Have you ever seen a show called 'Cordy'?"

"The ditzy chick with the mouth out to here?" Gunn
tapped his fingers high on his own cheekbone. "Sure.
Who hasn't?"

"Me and Angel. He'd heard about the show, though.
Showed me some magazines. We knew her in Sunnydale.
When she was in high-school. I took her out to dinner
once. And apart from lunch with you, that's the only
time I've eaten socially with someone since I came
here." Wesley wasn't bitter; he sounded like he'd only
just noticed the fact himself.

"And you say dinner with Cordy doesn't count? Have to
wonder what would count."

Wesley shook his head. "We weren't friends. We had a
stupid crush on each other for a few months, then we
finally worked up to..." He swallowed. "Kissing. And
that put a stop to it for both of us."

"Yeah? It was that bad? Was she not...? Well, I
suppose in high-school -"

"No, no, it's wasn't - It just didn't work. Imagine
anything you like. It couldn't be any more
excruciating than what actually happened." A
quarter-smile this time, lopsided  and wry.

"So what's she like? Apart from what I'm not going to
imagine."

"She's sharp. Very good company when she wants to be.
Says exactly what she thinks, which saves a lot of
time." A shrug. "There's a lot to admire about her,
including the smile."

"You must wish -"

An abrupt shake of the head. "I don't think about it.
It was out of the question then, and now Angel
wouldn't want to see her again. Even at his best, he'd
think it was pointless, he'd be - And she could take a
lot in her stride, but... Why would she?"

"Right. You don't think about it."

Another shrug. "It was just a stupid crush."

Wesley and Cordy. Cordy in high school. That gave Gunn
a lot to think about. A white woman. No. A white girl.
But it hadn't worked out. Really hadn't worked out.
He'd said they weren't even friends. Did that mean
Wesley was basically gay? Did it mean his chances with
Wesley were better than Cordy's because he and Wesley
were friends? Or did it just mean there was no wonder
Wesley'd been looking forward to the evening, if Gunn
was the first friend he'd made since he came to
California?

"Why don't you have a TV? Does it bother Angel too
much? The pictures?"

Wesley and Angel both preferred to read. Angel hadn't
had a TV even before the accident. Wesley got his news
from the newspapers, would always rather see a film in
the cinema, had no idea about TV shows. His family had
never had a TV, his fancy school hadn't let them watch
TV, and nothing he'd heard since had made him want to
start. "What do you like to watch, then?"

A good question, since it was six years since Gunn had
been to see any film that wasn't by Spike Lee, or
didn't involve Denzel or someone else from "Malcolm
X", and it was nearly two years since he'd started
steadily crossing TV shows off his list. "The worst of
them I just won't watch. I leave the room. 'E.R.' -
I'm outta there. I see those credits, the way they
have all of the whites first, leave the black men
right to the end, and I'm reachin' for my axe. Keep my
mouth shut, though. Well, mostly. Nowadays. You gotta
watch somethin', right? Crew needs their ways t'wind
down. If they can manage to ignore that shit, then..."
He shrugged. "I ignored it for enough years. Not like
I'm doing anythin' about it like writin' to the
networks. They're only stupid TV shows. You could sort
out every single one, and it wouldn't make any
difference to what's happ'nin' on the streets. But I
see now what they do, how they do it, and I'm not
gonna sit and suck it up like everythin's OK."

Wesley asked him more about the worst shows, if
Cordy's show was crossed off his list, and then
whether he'd seen "Summer of Sam" - Spike Lee's latest
- and what he'd thought of it. It wasn't Gunn's
favourite, but he had certainly enjoyed it more than
Wesley, who had walked out after less than an hour.
"There were too many stupid, inarticulate people
having the same stupid, inarticulate conversations
over and over again. I'm sure it's very true to life,
but when a film's giving you a pounding headache, you
know you have to leave."

Gunn could see Wesley's point, but thought he would
have got more out of the film if he'd been closer to
that kind of background, and while Wesley was rolling
out the dough and constructing the pizzas, he
explained what the film had to offer if you'd grown up
in the inner-city.

"I thought it must be something like that. But I'm not
going to see it again."

"No, no reason you should. Fuck, I wouldn't try to
watch 'Eyes Wide Shut' again, even if you told me
there were a hundred good reasons."

"I didn't see that. I've been boycotting Tom Cruise
since 'Top Gun'. Was that the last film you walked out
of?"

The subject of films and actors they hated kept them
occupied very happily while they were eating and for
long afterwards. They didn't agree entirely on any of
the films or actors, and some, the other had never
even heard of, but at least they didn't disagree
entirely, either. Gunn thought it would be years
before he would be able to predict what Wesley would
hate, or what they would both like, but the learning
was gonna be fun, every step of the way.


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Rather read Kungai in HTML? See http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai