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

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Two 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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The first time Gunn saw Angel drinking blood was on
Saturday night, after they all got back from their
first training session together. The blood was in a
flask at the back of one of the salad crispers, and
Gunn watched as Angel poured about half a pint into a
plastic beaker and then put the beaker in the
microwave.

"What sort of blood is it? I mean, what from?" Gunn
was looking at Angel as Angel drank, expecting to see
some sign of vampire hunger or satisfaction, but there
was nothing to see.

"Pig." Wesley was still busy piling a plate with bread
and cheese and potato salad and pickles. "Angel says
it's the most nutritious. That is, judging by how much
he needs."

"What do you tell them at the slaughterhouse? They've
got to wonder."

"I tell them I'm making black pudding. That's a
sausage made with blood." A small smile "Crucial in
giving traditional English food its fearsome
reputation. I've probably given the men at the
slaughterhouse the impression that it's almost all we
eat. I don't know what kind of blood it's really made
with."

"It's made with pig's blood." Angel was looking at his
beaker, now nearly empty. His tone seemed
absent-minded, like he'd been only half-listening and
was only half-replying.

"Is it? That's fortunate."

"There were some villages that used geese, too, but
that was rare. I only heard about that. I never tasted
it."

"Was this in Ireland?"

Angel nodded without looking directly at Wesley, then
finished drinking and turned immediately to the sink
to rinse the beaker.

"I thought it was a good training session tonight."
Wesley's remark seemed to be directed mostly at Angel,
but with a flick of the eye to include Gunn.

Sharp: "You're becoming predictable again. I could see
what you were thinking." Angel had already made this
point during the training session itself, and more
than once.

"I know. I'll do better tomorrow."

To Gunn, less sharp: "You weren't... You can fight
much harder than that." Angel had said little to Gunn
during the session, beyond a few direct orders.

"Charles was holding back, I think. Since it was his
first session with us."

"Yeah. You won't have it so easy tomorrow."

"We have to train tomorrow."

"We will, Angel. We should train every night."

After Angel had gone to his room, Gunn said, "I
thought it was a good session, too. When he fights,
you'd never guess there was anything wrong with him.
And you know how to get him back when he starts to
lose his focus."

"I think his body carries him through. It has its own
attention span. You learn, after a while, what's
likely to get its attention."

"We really should train every night. Has to be good
for him, actin' almost normal for a couple of hours
every day. Gettin' out of the apartment, too."

Gunn had spent about an hour that day, on and off,
wondering what Angel did with his time during the
hours he spent shut in his room. Read and sleep? And,
recently, listen. Gunn had spent even more of that day
wondering what he himself was going to do with his
time. Wesley and Angel were the type to have the
patience to sit down and just read, do nothing but
read and maybe, away from all of the distractions and
interruptions of the crew, Gunn would learn that he
did have it in him to get so caught up in a book that
he wouldn't want to do anything with his evening
except read the book. Couldn't really imagine that,
though. Keeping busy, working off energy - that was
natural to him, not some story that only happened
inside your head. He had to get out and earn his share
of the bills, too. He had some ideas for making more
of Angel Investigations, and he'd discuss them with
Wesley on Sunday, to be ready to make a start on
Monday.

Gunn managed to take Wesley out for a few hours on
Sunday afternoon, driving up the coast. Wesley really
hadn't been happy about the idea of leaving Angel for
so long. Yes, he'd leave him when he had to, for work,
but just for a drive? Irresponsible. Gunn had been
starting to think that Wesley really wasn't going to
budge when Angel had suggested they just call in every
fifteen, twenty minutes.

They went as far as Zuma, took a walk on the beach,
sat on a rock and shared a soda. Wesley said, "What
would you normally be doing on a Sunday afternoon?"

"Having a game of pickup, probably. We'd go to Venice
most times. There's an empty schoolyard a couple
blocks from the base, but Venice seemed more worth the
ride."

"So you'd still be at the beach. Whereas this is
different in every way from my normal Sunday."

"Yeah, I can guess. Hope we can do something like this
every week."

Wesley nodded. "Angel usually has at least one good
day in a week, even if it isn't always a Sunday."

"Difficult takin' time from work, though. 'Angel's
havin' a good day, so we're goin' to the beach.' "

Wesley looked at him, eyebrows raised. "There are
evenings. What sort of work do you mean? I can't
really imagine you working nine to five."

"Nine to five's for guys who can show they graduated.
I'd be looking at shift work. But that's only if you
don't think you can use me in your business. In Angel
Investigations."

Wesley looked surprised, then guilty. "We don't get
enough work to keep me busy. I can't think what you
would do."

"I'd go out and look for more work, for a start.
Follow up your old cases, see if there's more people
with the same problems. Track the news, the word on
the street, for people whose problems might be with
demons, they just don't know it yet. And maybe there's
people who just want to hear stories about demons,
and'll pay by the word."

Wesley looked very reluctant. "That's a lot of talking
to people. What could you say, to most of them?"

"You think I need to know more about demons, first? I
guess it's whether you could teach me quick enough."

"I don't know how much you'd need to know. You could
talk to people like that all week and maybe only one
would hire us. Most would treat you as if you were
insane, or running a confidence trick. I know."

"I've been treated worse. You just ignore it, kind of.
It's worth it for that one person who does hire us.
Bein' able to pay the rent doin' what you want to do -
always worth it."

"I don't think you want to spend most of your day out
just chasing work. Surely. I'm earning enough doing
the translations. The business was Angel's idea and it
must be two months at least since he last mentioned
it. We don't have to keep it going. You shouldn't let
it stop you from looking for something better."

After several seconds of looking hard at Wesley, Gunn
said, "Are you set against this for your sake, or my
sake, or what? You really do think you can't teach me
enough, or I got the wrong image or somethin'?"

"Charles." A long, serious pause. "I doubt if I have
anything to teach you. But I'd never ask you to do
that for Angel Investigations, when you don't have
to."

Gunn frowned. "You sound like you'd be asking me to
eat broken glass, or somethin'. I like gettin' out and
talkin' to people. Figurin'em out. Tryin' to talk 'em
round. 's what I was doing when I asked you out to
lunch that time. Which didn't turn out anythin' like
I'd planned."

Another pause, with Wesley looking like he was
replaying his memories of that lunch, seeing them from
a different angle. Then, nodding: "You do enjoy it,
don't you? We're so different. I hadn't - Probably
because Angel seemed to hate it in the same way I do."
Slowly: "This must be the difference that lets you...
make that first move with someone." Without taking his
gaze from Gunn's face, Wesley lifted his hand from the
rock, and placed it lightly on Gunn's arm, just above
the wrist.

"I guess." Gunn wanted to look down, to see Wesley's
hand as well as feel it. How far was he now from the
point of  envying everything, but everything, that
Wesley touched? But he didn't look down, because they
were at the beach with people all around, and they had
to look like they were just friends and when a friend
touches you on the arm, you both know it's casual,
last thing you'd do is stare like it had never
happened before. "Time to head home? Unless you know a
place near here where I can kiss you without worrying
that we're about to have garbage thrown at us."

Wesley smiled and stood up. "Home."

Gunn drove. They were halfway home when Wesley said,
"Given all the ways we're different, it's fortunate
that we both happen to be a disgrace to the fine cause
of Gay Pride. I know I should be blazingly angry that
we can't do something as simple and harmless as kiss
on the beach, when there were straight couples all
around us who wouldn't have to think twice about it.
I've known men who'd regard every situation like that
as a chance to make a point. Take a stand. And who had
very little patience with any gay man who wasn't as
angry with the state of the world as they thought he
should be."

Gunn shrugged. He'd never met anyone like that - had
hardly talked to any gay men - but he could imagine.
"There's only so many battles I want to fight. Not
like I've ever really lied about it, and I've never
felt ashamed of it, wanted to be different. But I
won't go lookin' for trouble."

"Exactly. Well, I've frequently wanted to be
different, but not because of that."

* * * * *

First thing on Monday morning, Gunn started working
through the Angel Investigations filing system. Well,
working through the files, anyway, 'cos there wasn't
much of a system. All of the files contained a sheet
with names, addresses and telephone numbers, most
files had a second sheet giving the basis for fees and
lists of hours and expenses, and some even had a copy
of a printed invoice, but the title on the invoice was
sometimes the only clue about what the case had
involved. Yes, usually there were some scribbled notes
that must have been from a first phone call ("chanting
in basement", "green gunk") and sometimes these
included a guess about what was behind the weirdness
("Vernal ritual - botched or corrupted?", "Garnax
demon?"), but if you wanted to know what Angel
Investigations had found or done, you'd never get it
from the files. At best you'd get a page of notes in
Wesley's handwriting about a particular demon, or a
printout of a web page. Never anything as helpful as
"Yes, it was a Garnax demon, and it had moved into
that house in that area at that time because..."

Gunn read everything in each file, made his own sheet
of notes and question on each case, then sorted the
files into chronological order and in the afternoon he
and Wesley went through Gunn's questions, starting
with the most-recent case. After a couple of hours
they had dealt with all of the cases that Wesley had
worked on, and Wesley said that he knew very little
about the earlier cases. "We'll have to ask Angel. I
suppose you could look on the computer as well. I
think Doyle might have kept some notes there. He was
the one who really used the computer."

"You've got a computer? And who's Doyle?"

"He had the visions before Angel. He joined Angel..."
A pause. "...was sent to join Angel soon after Angel
got set up in L.A." Wesley looked serious and
uncomfortable.

"I'm guessing he's dead."

Wesley nodded. "He died saving Angel. A hero's death."
A sigh. "That's all I know. That's all Angel would
say. I don't know if it happened because of a vision.
Or if it was a case. Or just an accident. Angel took
it very hard. It's obvious from..." Wesley shook his
head. "... what he won't say. I haven't been able to
get much impression what Doyle was like, not from what
he wrote in the files or anything else, but I think he
must have been -" Wesley looked into Gunn's eyes, with
a tender, admiring expression so similar to the one
he'd worn at the beach that Gunn held his breath,
waiting for Wesley to touch him. "I think he must have
been a lot like you."

After a few seconds Gunn released his breath. "Sounds
like I shouldn't ask Angel about him."

"Not directly, no."

"So where's the computer?"

The computer was an iMac, and it was kept well out of
sight, in a closet near the front door. Wesley turned
it on, showed Gunn the invoices and then the little he
knew about looking for other files. Gunn explored on
his own for a while but found nothing that seemed to
be related to the cases, apart from what looked like a
file of calculations for the invoices.

"Was Doyle the one who got on the internet? There was
web stuff in some of the files."

"He must have been. I don't think we can do that here,
though. We brought the machine from the office."

"Don't you just plug it into the phone?"

"I don't know how it works." Wesley looked slightly
panicked, and Gunn guessed Wesley thought of computers
the way - well, the way most people thought of demons
and magic (which was kind of cute). Not that Gunn knew
much himself, but now that he finally had a computer
of his own, he was gonna find out how to use it
properly.

Angel was only able to answer about a third of the
questions Gunn asked him, and Gunn was gonna pretty
much ignore most of those answers, since Angel was
obviously confusing some of the early cases with later
ones that Wesley had already covered. After about half
an hour and fewer than ten cases, Angel's
concentration dropped to the point where he didn't
understand that Gunn and Wesley were talking about
things that had happened in the past. He started
trying to organise them to investigate the cases, and
got puzzled and angry very quickly when they didn't do
what they were supposed to do. Gunn made a show of
getting ready to go out and work on the cases while
Wesley reassured and distracted Angel, and in the end
Angel went to his room after only the slightest
suggestion from Wesley.

"Ask him again later. Ask him about all of those cases
again. He might remember more and he's unlikely to be
annoyed with you for asking again."

Gunn nodded. "Looked like that was way too much for
him. I'll just ask him about one case at a time."

Warning: "That might take you weeks. And a lot of
things, he'll never remember."

"Gotta try. And you know more about those cases than
you'd said."

"Than I'd realised." A shrug. "He gave me details in
passing, I suppose. We certainly never sat down and
talked about them."

Gunn spent the rest of the afternoon working with the
small set of cases he was sure about, pinpointing each
case on a map of L.A., putting the details in the
computer, and printing out lists. In the process, he
also decided on his first plan to find more business:
he was going to start by choosing three clients to
contact, three neighbourhoods to investigate, and
three advertising methods to test. He had ideas
already for each three, but he wanted Wesley's opinion
before he'd make the final choice, especially about
the clients. When he'd done everything he could with
those clients, neighbourhoods and methods, then he'd
make a second plan and so on. No one could make him
believe he would ever run out of ideas or give up
hope.

Angel came out of his room early in the evening,
asking about their training session, and then asking
what they were talking about, what Gunn was doing.
Wesley explained the plan, and Angel was interested
and enthusiastic. "Why haven't we done this before? We
haven't, right?"

"Because we're both introverts. Charles is a normal
person."

Angel agreed with Gunn's choices for neighbourhoods
and advertising and his reasons for those choices, but
suggested two different clients, from the early days
of the business. Gunn found the files for those cases
and this time Angel was able to answer almost all of
Gunn's questions. Angel was still alert when they came
back from the training session, so Gunn asked him
about another two cases. Then they sat around and had
a beer and talked about L.A. and modern weapon-makers
and sword-fight movies, until Angel said he was
starting to lose track and wished them goodnight.

"You're good for him, Charles."

"Seem to be. Dunno why. You'd think he'd find it hard
to get used to me being here. Feel lost or something."

"Maybe he was bored. You give him the right
stimulation. He did say I was too predictable."

Gunn immediately disagreed, as he had to, but he
couldn't help feeling pleased with himself. It had
been a good day, good enough to make both body and
mind feel stoked and to put him in the mood for a lot
of energetic sex - so he needed to find out if it had
been the same sort of good day for Wesley. It had.
Definitely it had.

* * * * *

On Tuesday, Wesley phoned the two chosen clients that
he had dealt with personally, and asked if they would
be willing to speak to Angel Investigations' new head
of Business Development. One agreed immediately, but
the other seemed embarrassed about having ever asked
for their help. Wesley put up more of a fight than
Gunn would have expected ("Yes, Mr. Jordan, maybe they
were some rare type of rat and not a nest of Nebinec
demons at all. But would you agree that treating with
them as if they were Nebinec demons did get rid of
them more effectively than treating them as if they
were rats?"), but he let it go far short of a
confrontation. Wesley offered to call one of the other
clients they'd discussed, but Gunn said that could
wait.

"I'd save your energy for getting Angel ready to make
the call to his client. I got enough to keep me busy
today."

By the end of the day, Gunn had his own business cards
made up, copied straight from Wesley's and describing
him as a "Partner" in Angel Investigations - whatever
anyone wanted to make of that. He'd also found out (by
asking a salesman in Best Buy) what he needed to do to
connect their computer to the internet, and which were
the best books for getting started with an iMac. And
he'd also driven around El Segundo, Westwood and
Fairfax, checking out the places where the demons had
lived and hunted (or partied all night, or sunbathed
naked), and looking for likely places to find the next
pack of demons, or to meet people who might have seen
them. He'd be back later in the week, when he'd
learned enough about the neighbourhoods and their
problems to make himself worth talking to.

In the evening after they'd trained and eaten, Gunn
set to work on the computer, and within half an hour
he was connected to the internet. He and Wesley tested
it out by looking for the web pages that Doyle had
printed, then Wesley suggested moving the computer out
of the closet and onto the dining table if Gunn was
going to be using it every day. "I'd rather not have
it on my desk. I have a way of working. Laying things
out."

Gunn smiled, feeling affectionate. "And you're still
spooked by the thing. Admit it."

Wesley shrugged. "If I could still type properly I'd
probably think it was worth giving it the space. As it
is, I'm happy enough with the results I get using pen
and paper."

Of course. Gunn hadn't taken the typing into account,
because he hadn't seen Wesley trying to type, only
using the mouse. "You must be able to get one-handed
keyboards."

"We can look into it. Or we can add 'Head of
Computing' to your business card. Experiment with
division of labour."

Gunn laughed, then started shutting down the computer
to move it over to the dining table.

* * * * *

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