[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Four 6/11 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Four 6/11

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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Afterwards, when Wesley's voice had recovered enough
to put together a full sentence, he asked again about
the beach-house. Gunn told him far too much about
Wave-Race, starting it as a joke to see when Wes would
make him stop, but Wesley's limit must be set way past
his own.

"You should come along next time. You steer, I'll do
the throttle, we'll be doin' backflips down the
glacier."

Wesley's laugh was obviously a no, even before he said
he had to stay in with Angel. "And I haven't really
changed my mind about them being too young and
boisterous for me."

"But you love hearin' about it."

"I love hearing about it from you."

They got hot again for a while then eased back, and
Gunn thought about himself happy out with his friends
and Wesley happy alone with his book; and about
fucking and how it got him hot to think that Wesley
was the only man who'd ever done it to him, and how it
also got him hot to think that he wasn't the only man
who'd done it to Wesley.

"Wes? Who was the first man who fucked you? Was it one
of your language friends from college?"

Wesley shook his head. "That would have been the
fourth or fifth. It was a boy at school."

"Oh, right." Yeah, Wes had said they were young. "Hey,
was it your friend with the computer? You used to play
those old games?"

"Ellison?" A thought that Wesley had never had before.
"No, no, we wouldn't - I mean, we were in Lower Fifth
then. It was a boy in Lower Sixth."

"So that's a friend you made later? Was he into books
'n' research 'n' stuff?"

"More than most, I suppose. But we weren't friends. I
said he was in Lower Sixth. You wouldn't make friends
with someone even one year different."

"But he was your first. You must've..."

"He wanted sex. He chose me."

After about five seconds, Gunn said, "You're saying it
was rape. That is what you're saying?"

Wesley shrugged. "In that there was very little
question of my saying no. But he wasn't trying to hurt
me, he just didn't know how not to hurt me. That makes
a difference. It got easier. And he was kind to me.
More than once."

"Wes. Wes." He wasn't going to ask how old Wesley had
been. What was the point in making himself angrier?
When Wesley just seemed to want him to see how this
was different. "That shouldn't've been your first. I
thought... I thought it was you and a friend like me
'n' Luke - and you wanted each other so much you had
to try it together. Together. Y'know."

"I know. I'm glad it was like that for you. But I
don't want you to... He was kind to me. I knew there
was much worse. Even at the time... There were many
things I dreaded but that wasn't one of them."

So that was the main thing they had in common: their
childhoods had taught them to get by on almost
nothing. Give Gunn a group of friends and a direction
to lead them, and he'd find his own roof and food and
services and clothes. Show Wesley a trace of kindness
and he'd forgive you almost anything. Gunn had never
seen Angel being kind to Wesley, except maybe in how
smoothly he'd adjusted when Gunn moved in. But there
must have been some times in the early days, when
Angel brought Wesley home from the hospital.

"Do you - D'you ever think about him? That boy? Does
it ever get you hot?" When he'd started asking he'd
been looking for a buzz, and now he felt kind of lost.
Should be much worse than lost, should be facing a
sleepless night of imagining, and of feeling guilty
for imagining and for asking. But you'd think that
Wesley hadn't even noticed the question; Wesley acted
like it was a simple fact, like who'd won at
Wave-Race. So Gunn was left thinking about... the
strange things that can happen when you go looking for
a buzz.

"Not really about him but... I've been through
hundreds of fantasies that use aspects of the
situation and I'm begging you not to ask for details.
I know they're anything but healthy." Wesley didn't
sound worried, more like resigned.

Gunn smiled, and slid his hand up around Wesley's
waist. "Hmm. Only if you buy me off by tellin' me a
healthy one. You got any?"

"Oh, just as many. Since I met you. But there's not
much to tell. There aren't any... gimmicks. No
costumes or - It's just... the things I think about
you that make me lose track of time, of where I am.
The things I remember."

Making Wesley lose track of time. Gunn liked that.
"Yeah? So what'll you remember about this? About
tonight?"

"Probably... what I'm feeling right now. Very sore and
rather sticky and hoping for more."

Gunn groaned and pulled Wesley on top, held tight in a
kiss - while his other hand was already testing that
soreness. They were louder than before, maybe louder
than ever before.

* * * * *

On Tuesday morning Angel thanked Wesley again, and
this time Gunn was there to see it. Yes, Angel was
frightened, he was expecting something terrible to
happen. He didn't seem "horrified" when Wesley told
him he was welcome - nothing as bad as that, but very
confused and upset, anything but normal as a reaction
to Wesley's smile. Wesley thought the guards must
sometimes have forced him to thank them and then
punished him for not doing it properly, and he must
have been remembering that recently for some reason.
He certainly seemed to be having a lot of nightmares
about his time in hell, and about one day in three
he'd wake up acting like the demons who tortured him
had only just left his cell. Another phase, like the
yearning for human blood. Wouldn't be the last, God
no.

* * * * *

"This was not a happy pig." Angel to Wesley, in a
mournful tone after two slow mouthfuls - and on a day
when Angel had woken all hunched and closed-in, not
likely even to look at them. Gunn did a double-take,
saw the same from Wesley; and then Wesley laughed, and
Angel tilted his head slightly, smiled, and took
another mouthful.

"Well, when you consider the circumstances... You
can't be saying that they're usually happy at that
time?"

Angel shook his head. "This one had been worried about
something for a long time. I think... about losing
weight." Nearly straight-faced, but not quite. There
was something in those eyes. Angelus! Could it be
Angelus? A new phase where he'd somehow got smart
enough to pretend? Gunn moved up right next to Wesley,
eyes fixed on Angel. Angel gave no sign of noticing
Gunn. And was that natural, with Wesley laughing
again, or was that Angelus?

"Or maybe about going bald? If it really tastes that
bad I can get you another pack. Although I can't
guarantee that it will be from a carefree pig."

Angel shook his head again, smiling openly now.
"There's nothing wrong with it. When you consider the
circumstances." And he lifted the beaker and took a
very long drink.

"So how long have you been planning that joke?"

"Since... I think since the last time." The last time
for what?

"Well, I appreciate the effort. Thank you."

Angel drained the beaker and handed it back. "You're
welcome." Then his expression suddenly turned serious.
He looked hard at Wesley for three or four seconds and
then dropped his head so he was staring at the ground.

Quietly: "Angel? What's my name? Do you know my name?"

A shake of the head, but so hard and so quick Gunn
thought it could be "go away" just as soon as "no".

"My name is Wesley. You can call me Wesley."

Angel raised his head, but to look at Gunn, not
Wesley, and not meeting Gunn's eyes. But then Angel
gave a split-second glance across at Wesley, a
more-direct look at Gunn; and then he closed his eyes,
nodded twice, and turned away.

Gunn slid the bolts, then: "What the fuck?"

Wesley nodded then shrugged. "I am not going to make
any guesses. Raise any hopes."

"So... not going to guess it was Angelus?"

Wesley looked stunned, then kind of sick. "We'd be
dead or wishing we were. He wouldn't waste his chance
like that. And... the way he admitted he'd been
joking. I know how Angelus smiles, it's never like
that."

"Yeah. Was just a first guess. But he was after
something, 'n' that's more Angelus than it is Angel.
Worth bein' careful. 's all I'm sayin'."

Wesley nodded. "We shouldn't go in without holy water.
Until we're sure."

* * * * *

"This was not a happy pig." Thursday evening, and Gunn
had been waiting for Angel to wake up before he could
leave for Caritas. Angel's delivery was exactly the
same as on Tuesday morning, though he hadn't been
nearly as closed-in beforehand.

"No?" Wesley sounded concerned and alert, like he was
thinking hard what might have gone wrong. "Was it one
of those pigs that worry too much about losing
weight?"

Angel seemed frozen with astonishment - and, yes, Gunn
did believe now that it was Angel; Angelus would have
felt a surge of rage when Wesley had spoiled his joke
and his plan, and he wouldn't have been able to hide
it. Eventually: "Yes. But I - You know."

Wesley smiled. "It was a lucky guess. But I think I do
know your sense of humour. There isn't really anything
wrong with the blood, is there?"

Angel shook his head, then concentrated hard on
drinking.

"Thank you." Wesley took the empty beaker. Angel
nodded, very serious. "I'm sorry I stepped on your
joke. You would have told it much better than I did. I
promise you I won't do that again."

Angel looked like he'd never heard an apology before,
was gonna need the rest of the day to work out what it
meant. Some long moments of frowning, then he slowly
raised his hand toward the beaker, frowning even more
deeply. Taking it back so they could start again? Gunn
wouldn't be surprised if Angel was confused enough
about time that he thought he could rewind it. But
Angel stopped a few inches short of the breaker, then
let his hand drop back. "You... You shouldn't be..."

"We shouldn't still be here now that you've fed? I
know. We'll leave you alone until tomorrow." And maybe
that had been what Angel had meant, because as soon as
they left he went to lie curled up on the mattress,
went straight there like he'd been thinking of nothing
else all the time they were with him.

The boys had started to wonder if Gunn was going to
show at Caritas that evening, and they were very glad
to see him because they wanted to tell him about this
idea they'd just got for the summer: running tours of
L.A. for demons, using the tour that Wesley had
designed for them as their starting-point - if that
would be OK with Wesley. They also wanted to use
Wesley's survey to help reach their market, and they
didn't know anyone who'd do better than Wesley when
they were ready to put together new tours. Of course
they'd pay, whatever Wesley and Gunn thought was
reasonable.

Gunn didn't think they had a chance of earning enough
to be able to afford Wesley, not with nearly half the
summer already gone, but he said he'd ask Wesley. Of
course they'd give as much help as they could, even if
it was Gunn doing the research instead of Wesley. And
it might end up as a good way of advertising Wyndham
Gunn.

Wesley was lying on the couch again. Angel was still
on the mattress, but asleep now. Wesley agreed that
they'd help the boys: work something out with the
survey, set them a special rate, probably give them a
few hours a week for nothing, depending on how much
work the boys themselves seemed to be putting in. But
Wesley wasn't showing as much interest in the boys as
usual. He was preoccupied.

" 's up? Somethin's buggin' you." And Gunn had his
answer just from the way Wesley turned his head to
look up at the screen. "You handled that fine, Wes.
All we knew, it coulda been Angelus. Next joke, 's all
his."

"What? No, that was..." Wesley swallowed. "We've moved
on since then. We talked for a few minutes."

"Yeah, when? What about?"

A shrug and a grimace. "I'm not really sure. About
half an hour after you left he knelt up and was
looking at the door. I thought I'd better go in, in
case he needed... I don't know. He was truly
frightened when I first opened the door. Almost
panicked. And then I asked him if he needed anything
and he looked so relieved. He came closer and after a
while he asked me..." Another shrug. "What I needed.
What I was like with the others. Whether they let me
meet him. Meet Angelus, he must have meant. I tried to
answer properly but whenever I asked him what he meant
he seemed to take that as the answer itself and then
he'd say something that I couldn't understand even
well enough to...." A sigh. "I told him my name again.
And then I think he ran out of questions. I asked him
again if he needed anything. He shook his head and
then he turned and went back to the mattress. And he's
been like that ever since. But he seemed... He acted
as if it was his idea of a normal conversation. With a
natural end. When he went back to the mattress it
wasn't because something had suddenly made him want to
run away."

"He's decided he likes you." A joke, to avoid the idea
that Angel might be clawing back some lucidity. How
long had it been since the last vision? Three weeks at
least, Gunn thought. The longest gap since Gunn had
known him. Long enough for his mind to start to heal?
Maybe that would be good news, maybe Angel would even
recover enough to be able to join them on missions
again. Seemed more likely, though, that it would be
bad, very bad: that he'd just heal enough to be able
to break again. And there was nothing to say he'd
break in the same neat patterns, with Angelus kept at
a safe distance by sleep.

Wesley laughed. "Well, he did only say that there was
nothing his guards could have done to make him trust
them. It's all-too-possible to like someone you don't
trust."

"God, yeah. So that's why he's been runnin' away. He
remembers all the times you stood him up. Stuck him
with the check. Just 'forgot' to invite him to the
party."

"Of course. I suppose I did take advantage. I knew he
couldn't resist my rakish charm."

They both laughed then, but by the next time he went
to Caritas, Gunn had decided that Wesley had, in fact,
achieved both miracles: he'd made Angel like him, and
he'd made Angel trust him. Some days were bad days and
Angel didn't know Wesley at all, but on his good days
you could see him coming back again and again to the
question of what Wesley really meant, and returning
with fewer doubts each time.

Gunn had also decided that Angel wasn't becoming
lucid, not really. You couldn't call him lucid when
his mind was still broken apart in the same way, even
if he was taking to Wesley again. Angel still thought
he was in hell, he didn't know he had visions, and he
didn't know his brain had been damaged, that he could
hardly trust anything it told him.

Over the weekend Angel had asked Wesley over and over
why he was so different from the other guards ("Didn't
they tell you about him? You don't know what I've
done?"). Wesley had tried to tell him the truth,
thinking he might be close enough to lucid, that it
might be what was needed to bring him back, but
instead it showed how far Angel had gone in accepting
his place in hell. He thought Wesley was answering his
question with a lie, an obvious, glaring lie, and that
this was also Wesley's answer: that he wasn't
different from the other guards, not at all. Angel had
vamped up and thrown Wesley towards the window -
towards the view that had never bothered him before,
that he'd recognised from the start as a meaningless
illusion - and Gunn had blasted him with holy water
and dragged Wesley out.

Angel had howled his fury and betrayal for hours then
had a series of terrible nightmares about the other
guards and probably about Wesley too. When he woke he
was wary of Wesley though he didn't seem to know why,
and the next day he'd forgotten everything and was
asking the question again like it was the first time
("I don't know, Angel. I don't know anything about the
other guards."). Wesley's shoulder was still stiff
from being slammed against the barrier on the window,
and the huge bruises there were still solid purple.

All of Angel's nightmares over the last few weeks must
have been anxiety dreams about trusting Wesley. Made
total sense to Gunn now. Of course Angel saw that
Wesley was different: it was in everything Wesley
said, how he said it, how he listened. And of course
Angel would think this had to be a lie, another round
in his torture. So he was still fighting, but Wesley
was going to win. When the door opened and he saw it
was Wesley, you could see the relief and the welcome,
even on the screen.

How sick was it to be comfortable, more than
comfortable, with the idea that Angel would never get
out of his hell, that he would never be in a state to
take in the truth? Gunn knew he would never like
Angel, but he didn't hate him now. He used to think
there was nothing Angel could do to make up for that
terrible time he'd hurt Wesley. Not properly, not to
make the words go away like they'd never been spoken,
never even been thought. Wesley deserved so much
better from Angel and maybe Angel didn't even know
that, and Gunn had thought he could never forgive him.
But now... Wesley did deserve for Angel to learn to
trust him in hell. He did deserve to be the centre of
all the good thoughts that this Angel had. He deserved
to know it and this Angel told him every time they
met: not in words, but in that look of welcome.

Wesley, being Wesley, wouldn't accept any credit for
himself - he talked of the change as an accident, pure
chance - and Gunn didn't argue, just teased him about
his "rakish charm". Wesley was so happy, though, he
could hardly stop talking about how good it was to see
the difference in Angel now that he had days in his
hell when he knew he was safe. And Gunn would never
argue with that, because it was good to see.

* * * * *

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