[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Three 13/18 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Three 13/18

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 gone back to kneeling with the magazine. He
didn't stand up when Wesley returned, just reached up
to take the beaker. Wesley knelt too, along the edge
of the mattress closest to the door.

"Thank you." Angel handed the empty breaker to Wesley,
who put it on the floor.

"You're welcome. Would it be stupid to ask you how
much you remember?"

A sigh. "That I'd been getting worse. Much worse.
Dangerous. Hallucinating. I knew there'd been Doyle.
Then you. But I - I didn't know who'd come after you.
How many, or - Are we still in L.A.?"

"Yes, we're in Lawndale. The Thomas Guide's down in
the car, but I'll show you tomorrow. We've only moved
five miles."

"Lawndale..." Angel was shaking his head. "I can't
even - I should know Charles. Shouldn't I?"

"He's been with us since October. But there's no
'should'. I don't expect you to remember anything."

"But what about this?" Angel pushed the magazine at
Wesley, across the mattress. "Should I know all of
these people?"

"God, no! It's a celebrity gossip magazine. You - find
them funny sometimes. It was a stupid thing to give
you now, I'm sorry."

"So I don't know..." Angel reached over for the
magazine, flicked through it and found the page
quickly. "So I don't know this... 'Cordy'?"

"Oh, Cordelia! Yes, you do know her. You knew her in
Sunnydale for several years. Before she got famous."

"In Sunnydale." Angel was nodding. "Yes, I can see..."
He trailed off then pushed the magazine at Wesley
again. "So all this is real? Everything in there?"

"Um... It's a very selective view of life, and
presented in a deliberately misleading way. But it's
not a hallucination. Or a trick. Was that what you
thought?"

"Something like that."

"I'll bring you our newspaper instead." Wesley put the
magazine on the floor next to the beaker. "Unless
you'd like something else. I can get different books."

Angel turned to pick up the books and looked at them
front and back. "I need to know where I am. When. Will
these be good books?"

"Probably not. I'll get you some books about the last
few years in L.A. I'll get them for tomorrow if that's
alright. If you'll be OK with the newspaper for now."
Angel nodded and Wesley picked up the magazine and the
beaker and got to his feet. "I'll go and get it."

Wesley took Angel all of the sections of the L.A.
Times, and Angel ran into problems from the headline
of the first section. "Bush? Bush is President? But
wasn't there... I remember Arkansas."

Wesley explained, and that took some time. The other
articles on the front page were about proposed tax
cuts, poisoned whales, a coalition in Israel, and
grocery chains hiring union labour. Angel coped with
those fairly smoothly, but then page three had the
California energy crisis and Wesley was into another
long explanation, and Angel was frowning and looking
to Gunn like he was getting a headache. And then there
were three stories in a row about legal disputes -
over trying juveniles as adults, over distributing
money among 300 high-schools, and over placard fees
for disabled drivers - and Gunn wasn't surprised when
Angel didn't turn over for page four, but sat back
shaking his head.

"I can't. There are too many... pieces. I can't put
them together. With the magazine I didn't - That just
had one story." Gunn thought Angel had that right.
Dresses and parties and who's hot and who's doing who.
That one story. Same on every page.

"Yes, it must seem fragmented. You don't have to read
every article, though. Just what interests you."

"I don't know what interests me. I hardly recognise
anything. Just you. And Cordelia. And Doyle's
computer. I want the magazine back."

"Of course. Charles? Could you bring us the magazine
that's on my desk?" Gunn handed the magazine directly
to Angel, who wouldn't quite look at him but did thank
him.

Wesley said, "I hope that will help you remember, if
you're not sure where you are the next time you wake
up."

"Will I know you're real?"

"I don't know." Gunn could hear that Wesley was
smiling. "I'm not in any magazines like Cordelia. I
don't know what proof I could give you."

Angel was looking at Wesley, from head to knees and
back again, very serious. "Your shirt? I remember your
shirt."

"My shirt? This shirt?" Gunn could imagine the bemused
look on Wesley face, exactly; also knew to the second
when Wesley was going to give that shrug. "Well, yes,
maybe that would work." Wesley lifted up slightly to
pull the shirt out of the waistband, and then started
undoing the buttons. Gunn had to close his eyes. Not
jealous. Not quite jealous. But he remembered how much
it had meant to him when Wesley was ready to let him
see. Angel had already seen, though. Seen everything.
Angelus too. And of course Wesley would never blame
Angel for what Angelus had seen.

Gunn opened his eyes just as Wesley lifted the shirt
off his left shoulder. Wesley didn't try to deal with
the last stage himself, but held his right arm out to
Angel, and Angel took the hint and pulled at the cuff.
When Angel had the shirt in his hands he pressed it
briefly to his face, then nodded at Wesley and put the
shirt down on top of the magazine.

Wesley stood up. "I'll just be next door. Call me if
you need anything. Want to ask anything. I'll leave
the newspaper. You might find something. I don't know,
maybe a review of a book you'll want to read?"

"Don't get me any books about the energy crisis." Not
a joke, but an urgent order. Gunn guessed he really
didn't want to feel that headache coming back.

Another smile. "I won't." Then Wesley left the
bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

When Wesley came back into the living-room with a
fresh shirt on, Gunn said, "I could do you the book of
all time about nightmare roommates. 'I saw him sniff
my boyfriend's shirt'. God, they'd love me on the
daytime shows with that."

"If they'd believe you. And wouldn't they want the two
of us along for you to shout at? How much shouting
would you need to do?"

"Dunno yet. Later. When we're done with work. Before
training."

Later was when they were walking down to the truck.
Wesley said, "Is it time for the shouting, then? About
Angel and the shirt."

Gunn shook his head. "I'm not angry. Turns out. Just
feel... Don't even know what I'd call it. Of course
you have to... Course you do. Just hard to watch."

"I can imagine. It doesn't mean anything to him, you
know? Probably less than those pictures of Cordelia.
He's beyond being able to understand how it would seem
to a human."

"Yeah. Wes? If somebody gave you a ring, would you
wear it?"

Wesley looked thoughtful. "I've never worn a ring. I
used to have nightmares about industrial machinery." A
lopsided smile. "Which could be called misdirection."

"But would you wear one now?"

"I don't see why not."

"Yeah? OK."

After training Gunn dropped Wesley off at the nearest
Barnes and Noble and went to Blockbuster ("Terminator
2" and "Limbo") and then to get beer and curry to go.
Wesley was waiting for him outside the bookstore, well
into the first  chapter of the twenty-year-old cop
novel that he'd somehow come away with.

"Thought the idea was to bring him up-to-date."

Wesley shrugged. "I don't think he'll notice. And I
think he'll like Wambaugh. I didn't realise until
tonight that they were all set in L.A. I would have
sworn blind that 'The Choirboys' was New York. But
that's too violent for him, and very fragmented as
well. As far as I can remember 'The Delta Star' is
quite tame. And it's held together by a detectable
story-line, which seems to be what he wants."

"What else you get?"

"A travel book on L.A. by an English writer. From '93.
The girl recommended it. Maybe because of my accent,
but she wasn't pushing that aspect. We'll see."

The tape had recorded only a few minutes: some
mutterings and sounds of restless movement, then
shocked or panicked gasps followed by scurrying, and
then the gasps became muffled and must soon have
dropped below the level for the recorder. The tape
confirmed what they could see from the screen: that
Angel had woken up in hell and gone to hide in the
corner. There had been no vision.

On Saturday morning Wesley went shopping again, this
time for a new navy-blue suit and some Speedos, and,
again, Angel woke up lucid while Wesley was gone. With
the shirt and the magazine right there under his hand
when he woke up, Angel seemed to know immediately
where he was. He rolled off the mattress and onto his
feet, looked up into the camera, and called for
Wesley.

Gunn opened the door and saw Angel's smile turn
instantly to a frown, first of puzzlement, then of
concentration. "Wesley had to go out, Angel. He should
be back in half an hour. I can get you your blood if
you're hungry." Angel nodded slowly, still frowning,
and Gunn closed the door and went to the kitchen.

Angel had retreated to the far wall and that damned
magazine. "I'm not in there, Angel, if that's what
you're looking for. My name's Gunn. I live with
Wesley." Charles was for family and for Wesley, not
for Angel. "Look, I'll write it down for you." The pad
was half-hidden in the jumble of newspaper; looked
like the whole pile had been thrown at the window.
Gunn waited until Angel had finished drinking before
he passed him the pad. "See: 'Gunn', with two ens.
D'you want me to take the newspaper away? Wesley got
you some books about L.A. Maybe you're ready for
those."

A pause, then: "I think so."

Gunn got rid of the newspaper then came back with the
books. "There's a cop novel and a travel book. Wesley
should be back soon."

Angel didn't seem able to settle to anything. Each
time Gunn looked up from searching for a ring for
Wesley, he found Angel doing something different:
drawing on his pad, or examining one of the books, or
looking out of the window, or running Wesley's shirt
through his fingers. Finally Angel went back to the
pad and to his favourite corner, and was asleep there,
propped against the wall, when Wesley came back.

Gunn was out digging with the boys all afternoon.
Wesley was supposed to be treating himself to some
reading but when Gunn got home he found Wesley hard at
work at his desk, surrounded by old case-files and by
sheets and sheets of neatly-written lists.

"Hey! New case come in? Or you had an idea for gettin'
Angel Investigations some more work?"

Wesley shook his head, looking discouraging and
grumpy. "He had two more of those message visions."

"Two? Jeez. Same message twice?"

"No." Wesley got up and walked over to the table,
where he'd laid out sheets of drawing paper, arranged
in two groups. "This is the first one."

A young man at a card-table, candles on the table and
metal tankards. The same man coming out of an old
house at night, face surprised as he looked out of the
drawing, like he'd just seem something unexpected; and
in the house, a woman just turning away from the
window. And then the man dead, eyes open, throat torn,
arranged sitting-up against the door of the house...
for that woman to find?

"It's Angelus, isn't it?"

"It must be. I think it's Ireland; his accent got very
strong. Probably around 1820. He was asleep when the
vision hit. And also when the second vision hit about
four hours later. He's still feeling the effects of
the second one. I turned the sound off."

On the screen, Angel was pressing himself to the wall,
shaking his head, whispering urgently. Gunn could hear
the rhythms of Angel's voice, but none of the words.
The second set of drawings showed the outside of an
ordinary house, number 25, looked like L.A. to Gunn;
and then the inside, where there hardly seemed space
in the living-room for the huge egg and the hungry
mass of slime and claws and fangs erupting out of it.

"This is now, right? I mean, this was a mission once."

"A Tahval demon at 25 Cabrillo. I didn't see it, or
the house. He refused to let me go with him. But I
remember the address. I found pictures of the Tahval."

"Why'd he refuse?"

"I'd just have got in the way. I still had my stitches
in. He wouldn't have trusted me to wield anything
heavier than a stapler."

"So he went on his own?" Hard to imagine now.

Wesley nodded. "He came back drenched in... Tahval
fluids. Clawmarks right through his coat and his
shirt. Said that if I could learn some basic moves
with an axe... If I convinced him I'd know the right
time to use the moves... Then maybe it would be worth
taking me along. So that's how it started, really.
Anyway..." Wesley turned back to his desk. "I decided
to make a list of all of his visions. With the
address, and the other things he might say or put in
the drawing. Details of the location. Description of
the demon. The victim. So if he has one when you're
here on your own, then you should be able to recognise
it. I'm sure I've forgotten some." A quick smile. "But
he'll probably have them again just to remind me."

"OK. Good idea. And you haven't tried to guess for a
second about the messages, have you?"

"Not for a second. No."

"Hmm. Angelus leaving one of his... surprises. Think
we're already pretty-much primed for that. And then
the vision that got him to start training with you.
Telling us to be careful with the duals?"

Wesley shrugged. "Take as long as you like over that.
I'm going to get showered and changed for our date."

They ate at the table, with the computer moved onto
the floor. Angel seemed to be slowly falling asleep
and they both ignored him easily. Over coffee, with a
switch to Gunn's choice of music, they held hands and
argued about whether they should have saved
"Terminator 2" for this proper date, rather than
taking a risk on "Limbo" which neither of them had
seen. Gunn had needed winding down the night before
but he didn't now, and besides he'd chosen "Limbo"
because it was by the same director as "Passion Fish",
so it was obviously a Wesley-date movie.

Suddenly Wesley flexed his fingers against Gunn's then
drew his hand back slightly. "You're sizing me up for
a ring, aren't you?" Not turned self-conscious, just
curious.

"Um... Didn't know I was, not just then, but yeah,
been thinkin' about it a lot today."

"What type of ring?"

"A signet-ring? Really simple, hardly know it was
there. I'd show you first."

Wesley gave a slight smile and pushed his hand back
towards Gunn, right over Gunn's palm until his
fingertips were stroking Gunn's wrist. "Should I get
you one too?"

Gunn shook his head firmly. "I don't need one from
you. And I'm guessin'... you don't feel like you need
anythin' from me, either."

Wesley frowned slightly, thinking, then shrugged and
nodded. "I'll be very glad to wear it, but I already
know how you feel about me."

"Yeah. Same here." A harsh sigh. "Thing is, it's not
about you and me, me and you, it's about Angel. And -"
Another sigh. "And how I can't settle on any one way
of lookin' at him. Just can't seem to. 'specially
where you're concerned, how he acts with you. I get -
I dunno, whenever he does somethin' new like with your
shirt. Or makin' us think about how we're gonna havta
shower him. That'd be bad enough, freak me out for the
rest of the day. But on top of that I get half the
other stuff comin' back, from the last times he
freaked me out. So I got six different feelings
churnin' round and I dunno what they're gonna end up
makin' me do."

Wesley's hand had tightened around Gunn's wrist, and
he looked very watchful. "Like the time you asked me
if I ever wanted to kill Angelus?"

"No, I - Damn, that seems a long time ago. Angelus, I
got sorted. Turn the sound off him, shut him out. It's
Angel. Where we havta be in there with him. Havta be
close so we c'n help, but... God, he wants the
weirdest kinda help. Your shirt. Seein' him with your
shirt..."

Wesley had relaxed his grip and was nodding. "Of
course. How are you supposed to react to something
that? To decide how to react. But why a ring? How
would that... help you deal with him?"

Gunn shrugged. "Hopin' it'll stop me from yellin' at
him to back off, get the fuck away from you. 'cos...
'cos I got there first, I got somethin's always closer
to you than he's gonna get. So that's the first thing
I'll think when he freaks me out, and it'll slow me
down, give me time to stop from doin' somethin'
stupid."

Wesley smiled, and slid his hand back down to link his
fingers with Gunn's. "Your mantra. So it would be the
focus for your mantra."

"I guess. Not like I thought it through like that, I
just - Well, I was thinkin' at Christmas that someday
I'd like to get you a gift you wouldn't drink up,
somethin' you'd always have. On your hand would be
best 'cos God, I love your hand. But I couldn't see
you bein' glad to wear anything like that, just didn't
seem like you. 'n' then Angel's suddenly too close 'n'
wham! Somethin' in me's goin', 'The ring. Get the
ring. You need the ring.' " He laughed and shook his
head. "Now that, that's the mantra."

A brief smile, then slowly: "No, it wouldn't have
seemed like me. Not back then. But now... I think that
could work for me too. My version of your mantra. That
I've always got you that close to me. Keeping him at a
manageable distance." A pause. "Do I make it more
difficult for you? To decide what to think about him.
Am I... being inconsistent? How often am I being
thoughtless with you?"

"Man, you're bein' totally consistent. You take care
of him, you havta take care of him. 'n' bein' you, you
have to do everythin' you can. I'd hate to see you any
different. Would help, though, if you'd go into a
jewellery story and find out your size."

"Monday. I'll do it first thing on Monday."

Gunn lifted Wesley's hand and kissed his fingers, and
then they were getting to their feet and heading for
the bedroom. They sucked one another off, on the bed
but still dressed, then lay mostly in silence, just a
few stray remarks about the ways the date would have
been different if they'd been able to go out.

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