[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part One 8/11 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part One 8/11

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 had promised himself at the start of patrol that
he'd hold out until at least two a.m., and he kept
that promise. He got the team back to base, told them
as they were getting out of the truck that he would be
away for the night, and then drove straight out again.

Wesley answered before the 'phone had even finished
its first ring. "Charles. I got your message. Are you
on your way?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Wesley must have been watching for the truck, because
he was standing in the doorway, waiting. Once they
were inside the apartment, they stood just looking at
one another for long moments - the space of four
breaths? five? - and then they reached out for one
another. Gunn had been looking forward to this all
day, remembering and imagining, but from the first
touch, Wesley's lips so soft, opening so slowly, he
realised he'd been remembering almost nothing of how
it really felt to be Wesley's lover. His mind, his
imagination couldn't get close to this: the reality of
Wesley here, now, with the night ahead and neither of
them knowing what would happen between them. Would he
ever learn to remember? Or would he be amazed like
this every time?

Wesley was in his robe, but he hadn't gone to bed yet;
he'd been sitting up, reading and waiting. The robe
was for speed. He unfastened it and shrugged out of it
as soon as they were in the bedroom, and then they
both took their time over undressing Gunn.

"Y'know, I can't believe Angel gave you the message.
Had he written it down?" They had just got into bed,
and were sitting, half-turned towards one another.

"I think he started to. He'd filled two pages of my
notepad with drawings of  swords and axes by the time
I got back. I knew something had happened. So it was a
matter of asking questions until I found the right
one. Or what seemed like the right one. You had
called, hadn't you, to make it clear that I could call
you for help tonight if Angel got a tip-off?"

"Yeah. I thought, since it was the first night you
knew I was on patrol..."

"That's what I guessed. Thank you." A brief pause.
"I'm surprised Angel picked up the phone. It must have
been a strange conversation."

"Conversation not really the word. He said you were
late, though. Was that with your translation?"

Wesley nodded. "I couldn't concentrate. All I wanted
to think about was you. Especially... wondering what
we would be in the mood for tonight." Wesley's voice
had suddenly gotten rougher. "Do you want to fuck?"

Gunn shook his head. "I'm not ready. I mean, I do.
Hearing you talk about it, God, yes. But -" He
swallowed. "Do you like it? Hasn't it gotta hurt?"

"It's not the easiest thing to get used to. I don't
often want it. But I do with you. When you're ready."

"I haven't been with that many men."

"No, neither have I." A half-smile and a raised
eyebrow. "Both women and men seem to find me equally
resistible."

"I don't believe that. I think you just never noticed
them comin' on to you. I bet you picked up the
strangest ideas about how people behave with their
friends."

They both laughed, then Wesley said, "So what are you
usually in the mood for, when you do go with men?"

Gunn shrugged, then said slowly, "To find out what
he's like, I guess. If he feels the way he looks he
would. See what his style is - how it fits in with the
rest of him. Usually seems to end up with us suckin'
each other off, though. What about you?"

A sigh. "When I'm in the middle of a ridiculous crush
on a dashing man who doesn't seem to know I exist, I'm
always in the mood for something slow and serious.
However, the ones who do notice I exist are always in
the mood for the opposite - which is better than
nothing, of course. But did you ever come away
wondering if he'd done it for a bet?"

"A bet? With you? Means you're paranoid and you never
looked in a mirror. Or... Yeah, could be you've met
some real shitheads in your time." Wesley did look
easy to hurt, had to admit. Sort of look that might
bring out the worst in a lot of people.

Wesley smiled. "A few, but probably not like that. If
it helps, I think I'm less paranoid than I used to
be."

"But you still like it slow and serious?"

"I certainly did last night. Though it was this
morning that really stopped me concentrating on the
translation."

"Will you settle for slow and serious tonight?"

Wesley shook his head. "Not 'settle'." A pause. "I -
Can we try it without speaking? If that's not too
strange. Words... Sometimes they don't know how to be
serious, but touch..." He knelt up, laid his hand on
Gunn's left cheek, then leaned forward to press his
lips against the other cheek. A few seconds only, then
he drew back and looked at Gunn, eyebrows raised,
slightly uncertain. Gunn nodded, and brought his hands
up to touch his fingertips to his own lips and to
Wesley's and then they moved into a kiss, and Gunn
started to discover just how serious Wesley had meant,
and how slow.

After it was over, Gunn found that it was a long time
before he even wanted to speak. Felt like their
silence was a shield held over the two of them, and he
didn't want to push it aside.

Finally, though: "I've never done that before. Not on
purpose."

Wesley drew a deep sigh. "Neither have I. When I
thought about it before, when I was having one of my
crushes, it was... I'd never really talked to them,
anyway. I hadn't thought the difference it would make,
with someone I could talk to."

"What difference did it make?"

"I think we could do this every night forever. And
still be amazed by one another." A sigh. "I'd say
there's a good chance we're in love, except I don't
really believe it can happen this quickly."

Gunn raised himself on an elbow and looked down at
Wesley, smiling slightly. "That the most you'll ever
bring yourself to say?"

Wesley nodded, with a similar smile. "Until I've
allowed myself enough time to be sure. You can wait
five years, can't you?"

"Five years of this?" Gunn put his fingertips to
Wesley's lips, then  ran them down Wesley's throat to
his chest, while Wesley arched his head back and
sighed. "I dunno... You're askin' a lot, man." 

They laughed, and kissed, then returned for a while to
their silence.

Wesley was the one who spoke next. "Have you been in
love with a man before? Is it something you look for?
With men?"

"I was in love with my best friend when I was sixteen,
seventeen. Pretty standard, I guess. Luke. Woulda done
anything for him. We fooled around a coupla times. But
for him it was just somethin' to do if he didn't have
a real date. And I guess I let him think it was the
same for me. And then we grew apart, anyway. Used to
be, every new thing, it almost didn't count till I'd
been able to talk it over with him." Gunn shrugged.
"And then, two years later, and it feels like a chore
catchin' him up on the last six months. But he was the
first person where I thought everything about him was 
wonderful: his eyebrows, sound of his voice, way he
wore his clothes. Shape of his head. Most of the men
I've been with, they've had something of him."

"Was he black, Luke? I'm just assuming."

"Yeah. And all the others. And yours were all white?"

"Yes."

"I guess that's kinda interesting. So what about you?
Bein' in love with a man, I mean?"

Wesley shook his head. "Nothing real. Nothing more
than my stupid crushes. Nothing I ever did anything
about. The first few times I thought I was in love,
but..." A deep sigh. "It was just what I wanted to
think. I can see that now."

* * * * *

Wesley had bought a selection of doughnut-holes for
Gunn's breakfast. "You said you needed something
sweet, and I'm afraid I made my choice in the end
according to the visible amount of sugar. I hope
there's something in there that'll feel like a proper
breakfast to you."

"Oh, man." Gunn ate two straight away, then took a
drink of coffee and licked his fingers a couple of
times. "Y'didn't just choose sugar, you chose powdered
sugar. That's a jump-start. Swear it goes into my
blood right through my taste-buds."

"Is that what you'd usually have?" Wesley was having
one of his vanilla yogurts. "Or is there something
else you'd like even more?"

"Usually have some kind of Danish. If it's a really
good Danish then it feels like it's three kinds of
sweet in one. The filling's gooey so you could almost
drink it, but then the pastry's got a crunch to it.
And on top of that there's icing!"

Wesley was smiling at him, obviously amused. "You'll
have to show me what to look for. Do you think a
person could judge how good a Danish was without ever
having to eat one?"

"I'll eat almost anything with icing and enjoy it.
Soon's I find a bakery that gets the filling and the
pastry just right, they seem to go out of business.
Get me somethin' with icin'. I'll be happy."

"What about powdered sugar? What else do you like with
powdered sugar? Because I like..." Wesley stepped
forward, gaze fixed on Gunn's mouth, and raised his
hand to brush his fingertips lightly along the lower
edge of Gunn's bottom lip. Gunn opened his mouth,
touched his tongue to Wesley's fingertips, and tasted
sugar.

"You like messy eaters? Wouldn't have guessed."

"You look..." Wesley's gaze moved back and forth
between Gunn's eyes and mouth. Gunn could see him
working hard not to smile - but he was failing.

"I look...?"

Wesley's eyes were gleaming with a weird kind of
innocent wickedness. He caught his lower lip in his
teeth, then suddenly released it and gave one of his
half-smiles. With a quirk of his eyebrows, almost in a
whisper: " 'Sugarlips'."

Stern: "Well." Gunn put his hands out to take Wesley
by the waist, and pulled him close. "I might've let
you get away with that if I thought you meant anythin'
good by it. But since you already told me..."

Wesley interrupted him. "You'll make me eat my words?"
And then Wesley's lips were on his lips, and Wesley's
tongue was pressing sweetness onto his tongue. The
kiss continued long after all of the sugar was gone.

"So... You gonna have to eat ten cans of anchovies
now? T'get your system back into balance?"

"Five cans. I think I got you to eat most of it. Of
course, next time you might be more determined. Do you
think I should prepare for twenty cans?"

"Probably. Depends exactly what words I have to make
you eat."

"Well..." Again, that gleam of wickedness that looked
like it was a completely new expression for Wesley's
face. "I know quite a lot of words. What if the next
time I say it in Ossetic? Or proto-Bantu?"

"Don't fool y'rself, Wesley. You're always gonna get
that look right before you say it. I'll know. I'll
always know."

Wesley looked thoughtful. "I think I can get rid of
the look. If I practise in front of the mirror for a
day or two."

"Yeah, you do that. While I'm teachin' myself the
words for 'sugarlips' in every language you know."

"Except for Tifinagh, obviously. Where there's no word
for sugar. For anything sweet. Or Dirkou, where
there's -"

"No word for lips, right? Now, do I ever wanna hear
you speak that?"

"You need to be able to rub things that we don't have.
I can read it. Some of it. But I don't really know
what it's supposed to sound like."

"You serious now?"

Wesley nodded. "I had to learn some for a case we had
a few months ago. I'll have forgotten most of it in
another few months. We did manage to communicate,
though. It was interesting."

"Did you get paid?"

"We did. Eventually."

"Enough?"

"I think so."

"Don't get rid of the look, English. Don't practise.
But how much d'you really not like sugar?"

Wesley smiled. "You were just right. You made me want
more, when I usually want less."

"More." On a long, wondering sigh, and then they were
kissing again. Gunn couldn't imagine how he was going
to make himself leave. He was teaching his first
self-defence class at Anne's shelter. And Angel was
going to want to come out sometime, get something to
eat. But letting go of Wesley, stepping away from
Wesley... Not fair to expect him to. Just not fair.

* * * * *

Gunn arrived at base that morning knowing that he was
going to leave his crew. He had been making the
decision steadily over the last day, since the
previous morning when he'd woken up with Wesley for
the first time. Most of that process hadn't been
conscious, but when he had woken up that morning, with
Wesley, still asleep, fitted loosely along the length
of his back, he'd found the decision there,
fully-made, and he knew exactly how it had been put
together.

The only way he could stay with the crew would be if
they could accept Wesley, him and Wesley, and accept
the fact that he would always put Wesley first now. If
Wesley called, needing help with a case, with one of
Angel's tip-offs, then Gunn was gone, whatever the
crew had been doing; he would be useless to the crew,
from the moment he got that call. Course they wouldn't
accept that, what gang would? They needed a leader
they could trust. A leader they could be proud of.
Yeah, if they met Wesley one-on-one, most of them
would end up liking him, enough to admit - in private
- that he had his own kind of style, they could sort
of see how he was right for Gunn. But in public...
Wesley was a curse on the crew, impossible for them to
face down. Their leader had chosen a freak. And
someone so far from being a part of their world, you'd
have to think that Gunn had looked at all the crew and
decided he wanted the opposite. Gunn was better than
any of them at putting on a front, toughing things
out, and he couldn't think of any way for them to
handle it; there wasn't enough front, not in the whole
of L.A., to tough out a disaster like Wesley. Gunn
would have to go.

Not really a big deal. The crew would be fine; they'd
take care of each other, he'd shown them how. Wesley
needed him more; and he needed more of Wesley. 

He didn't know where he'd go, or when, couldn't see
much beyond the ugly showdown that was surely coming.
Vince would get in there first, with Elton as his
chorus; he'd been looking for a chance, Gunn had seen
that months back. Best just to choose a day, call them
together and tell them, not wait for Vince to bring
the fight to him. And Vince would be expecting a
fight, would be relying on it, even. But there was
nothing Gunn needed to keep, nothing for him to fight
about. It was over. Already over. No matter what they
said about him, about Wesley, he should just walk
away.

Next week, maybe. He might tell them next week. He
needed to explain things to Wesley first, because he
knew Wesley had no idea what was brewing with Gunn and
the crew, and that wasn't something you should learn
about afterwards. Wesley should know Gunn had already
decided to leave, that he'd decided it before the
showdown, and that the decision had been easy. And
Gunn wanted a change to talk properly with Wesley
about how they were going to arrange things once Gunn
was free of his crew; which meant, really, how they
were going to arrange things around Angel. How much of
Wesley's time did Angel need each day, to help him
keep hold of who he was? And how much did it disturb
him, to have a stranger in the apartment? Angel might
need months before he could cope with Gunn being there
for the entire day. Wesley would want a chance to plan
how to deal with Angel, of course he would.

Gunn found himself thinking a lot about Alonna as he
did his rounds of the base that morning. Thinking
about Alonna, and also suddenly seeing everything and
everyone almost with the eyes of a stranger. Such a
difference it made, to know he'd be leaving all this
in a matter of days. Would he have made a different
decision if Alonna was still here? Would he even have
got to the point of making friends with Wesley? Not
that Alonna would have warned him off Wesley or
anything, but so many things would have to be
different, for her to be there; made it hard to just
wonder what she would think or want. But if everything
had happened with Wesley in the same way, would he
have told her about Wesley by now, and about Angel and
all the things that Wesley shouldn't have to face
alone? Well, she would have asked by now, where he had
spent the last two nights. Would she understand? Would
she make it easy for him to leave? Or try to make it
impossible? If she'd guessed about him and Luke, or
any of the other men, she'd never said.

She'd probably tell him he wasn't thinking straight,
he was taking things way too fast. Maybe this Wesley
was worth leaving the crew for, but how could he know
that? What did a few fights with demons, a few beers,
a few nights in bed really teach you about a man? They
had so little in common - and maybe that was even all
there was to the thrill they were gettin' from each
other. Nothing to do with love, with fitting well -
just the kick of something so new, that you'd never
thought you'd be doing. There might even have been a
hundred warning signs already, all saying this was
never gonna work, and all missed because they didn't
understand each other well enough even to read those
signs.

Yeah it was fast, Gunn knew that. Be better if they
could give themselves a couple of months, at least,
before making any big decisions. Easy to say that:
"take it slow". Easy if there weren't the tip-offs,
there wasn't Angel. If Wesley was someone he could
show to the crew, casually, without lying, bring to
the base once in a while on their way to or from a
date. Like he had with Denise. But since Wesley was
what he was - and Angel, and the crew - Gunn was
looking at just days to decide between them.

He didn't know Wesley. Hardly at all. But there was
only one way to find out how real it was, whatever was
happening between them, and he wasn't gonna let that
go, not for anythin'. Not for anyone.

If he'd said that to Alonna she would have told him
outright that he was thinkin' with his dick. He was
tryin' to make it sound like one of his great, cool,
help-everyone projects but the real reason he was
leavin' all his friends and everythin' he'd worked for
was his dick. 'cos his dick had somehow taken a fancy
to this English guy's body.

So what if it had? If he could tell his dick who to
like he wouldn't have decided any different. Wesley
was a good, brave man. Even if things didn't really
work out for the two of them, they'd still manage to
do some good. Gunn would still be doing what he
believed in. He didn't know if it was the best choice,
like the perfect choice, but you couldn't ever know
that. But he knew it was a good choice: not stupid,
not a mistake. He might not have been able to convince
Alonna just by telling her, but after enough time she
would have seen for herself.


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