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Lies
by The Brat Queen
http://countylimerick.prohosting.com
Summary: Utopia isn't the only thing that's not true.
Rating: PG
Author Notes: Thanks to Wolfling for the beta read.
Disclaimer: Not mine, all theirs, blah blah ding dong.
Things are busy, once Jasmine arrives.
There's work to be done. Demons to rout. New followers to meet and greet.
It takes all day and all night and in every moment of it Wesley thinks to
himself that he is happy.
They work together. Each adding skills to the fold. Teamwork, truer than
it ever was. A blessing, a thing to be savored because they work for - no,
not for, with - Jasmine and with Jasmine there is nothing wasted, nothing
wrong, nothing out of place.
Not even Wesley himself, as he discovers one night when exhaustion claims
them all and they climb up to their beds one by one except for him, who
does not live in the hotel, and who gathers his coat up and readies
himself for the achingly long drive back to his flat. Alone. Almost a
punishment for being so capable as to be able to keep a home of his own.
But then a hand stops him, and he turns to see Angel smiling at him,
wondering where he's going. And when Wesley explains Angel laughs, teasing
him for being so foolish as to think that Jasmine's love had limits, that
it had some sort of maximum occupancy that he would be made to respect. Go
home? What a silly notion. Wesley belongs here.
Angel leads him upstairs.
It becomes a joke amongst them all. For weeks after it is a running gag.
Spare keys gone missing? Perhaps they're at Wesley's flat. Need to use the
lavatory? Well there's always Wesley's flat.
They needle him, each of them, but Wesley doesn't mind. He smiles,
because Jasmine, who was quietly amused by the gesture herself, tells him
humility is a strong virtue that she's pleased to learn. And because the
one who teases him most of all is Angel, Jasmine's proud general, who not
only brought him upstairs in the first place, but invited him to stay in
his room.
There are many coming. The hotel will not hold them all. Angel thinks it
is wise to start doubling up now, and Wesley agrees with him.
They split Angel's bed, falling into it night after night - or on some
days, dawn - blissfully exhausted from the day's achievements. Wesley
tends to Angel's wounds from battle. Angel listens attentively to the news
and events of the day. Each expresses a wistful desire that they could do
more.
Fred's betrayal shocks them both.
Neither one of them knows what to make of it. They yearn for Jasmine's
confidence, yet both despair of achieving even a fraction of it. They form
plans, search, find close call after close call and fail time and again.
Jasmine assures them that love will conquer all, but at night they quietly
confess to one another of their concerns.
Finally, on one such night, they find comfort in each other.
They hug and they kiss and if there is a wrongness to be found in the
gestures Wesley is unaware of it. If there was a time in his life when he
would not have done such things he has forgotten it. For love is the
greatest of all blessings, and it is in love that he and Angel come
together, touching one another and bringing life to the joy and the bliss
that has been given to them. There are no boundaries, there are no fears.
Instead there is only giving, and Wesley happily gives of himself to the
vampire, holding him tight in his arms and confessing in a flood that yes,
he loves him, yes, he needs him, yes he would have given body, mind,
blood, self, soul if it meant getting Angel back.
Angel confesses in turn a horror at any life that would not include
Wesley's company, Wesley's wisdom or, for that matter, simply Wesley.
They make love.
Slowly, clumsily. Not because of Wesley's mortal youth but because of
Angel's soul-cursed sexual inexperience. The vampire stammers, quakes,
apologies for not knowing more, not being better at it, not being able to
give to Wesley a gift as powerful as the one Wesley gives to him.
Wesley kisses him, comforts him, and then guides him, showing him how it
is possible to love in touch and feel and the trust that nothing shall go
wrong, because nothing ever does go wrong anymore.
Angel learns quickly, eagerly, and then shows Wesley how fast the student
can surpass the teacher.
This becomes part of the everyday.
In the mornings they break their fast with the others - Angel with coffee
and heated blood, Wesley and the rest with the latest servings from those
on kitchen duty that day. Then they go off to tasks - killing demons,
tracking down Fred, organizing the faithful, assisting Jasmine in her
daily goals to do more, learn more, love more.
Angel fights hard, coming home from combat cheerfully dirt and
blood-stained, often joking and laughing with Connor when he returns.
Wesley works harder, pulling triple duty on hunting and tracking and
managing and it isn't until Angel finally comes to him, alone, in the wee
hours of the night, that Wesley allows himself to be taken by the hand and
dragged off to bed where Angel's touch feels like Jasmine's own against
his skin.
They stay up, hours after they should, talking like excited schoolboys
about how wonderful everything is, how perfect.
Angel resumes his hobby of sketching, and Wesley encourages him to
continue, assuring him that every drawing truly is beautiful enough to
capture Jasmine's form.
Wesley dares to write, then feels deeply ashamed of it, then basks in
Angel's pride when he reads it, insisting that Wesley let Jasmine see.
Wesley isn't nearly confident enough for that yet, but he imagines one
day he might be. That he might follow Angel on open mic night, and read,
and see his God and his lover looking back at him in approval and know in
that one moment that nothing could possibly be better.
They remain together, even when the hotel becomes more crowded still and
Lorne and Gunn are next on the list to join their room. The four of them
make up two beds in the living room of the suite, then Angel and Wesley
retire to the one in the proper bedroom, closing the doors behind them and
clamping their hands over each other's mouths as the feelings of pleasure
make them want to laugh and scream.
One night Wesley comes so hard that he bites into Angel's hand as it's
quieting him, and he's immediately contrite and apologizes. Angel smiles,
kissing him deeply, and reminds him that there isn't anything either of
them need to feel sorry for ever again.
Vampire stamina allows them to make love one more time before going to
sleep that evening.
They don't tell anyone. It never occurs to either of them that they might
need to. They love each other - that isn't news. Everyone loves everyone,
it's the way of utopia. Angel and Wesley are simply more physical about it
than others might be. Truth be told, the others might be just as physical
as they. Angel and Wesley don't know, or think to ask.
But if approval is needed, they have it. They get it one night, when the
arrival of a new butcher to the fold brings with it steaks, pork and
chicken, and they take to the courtyard and the streets for a mass
barbeque. Musical instruments are found, and songs are created, sung.
There's impromptu dancing. Children play games of tag, darting through the
crowds as fast as spirits. Grown-ups gather together in various groups
that grow, change, mix, as everyone has something to share and thinks of
saying it to their neighbor.
An elderly woman stops Wesley, encouraging him to taste the potato salad.
Wesley tries a bowl, thanking her, and overhears the familiar voices of
Angel and Connor playfully arguing. He joins them, and finds out that this
time the battle is over football, and who would win if the father and son
were on different teams (Connor is confident in his ability to pass, Angel
is equally confident in his ability to tackle). Wesley listens, sharing a
bemused look with Gunn, then ventures forth the opinion that neither one
of them should speak unless they wish to talk about rugby, a true man's
game.
Angel and Connor think that over, both of them near-mirror images of the
other, then with one mind leap forward to tackle Wesley.
It becomes their own game of tag, then. Wesley drops his salad and runs
through the crowd, Angel and Connor chase after him. Gunn joins in the mix
but whether to help or to hinder Wesley can't tell.
Moments later Wesley is caught. By Angel, who pins him against the gate
to the hotel. They stare into each others eyes - Wesley breathless for
more then one reason - then press their lips together.
Jasmine passes by. They break apart, wondering if she needs them. She
merely smiles, brushes a hand across their shoulders, and agrees that her
love has many forms.
Someone sets off fireworks later that night. Angel and Wesley watch them
together, their hands intertwined, and time seems to last forever.
"She moved," Angel tells Wesley later, lifetimes later, when they're
sitting in one of the few empty rooms left in the hotel waiting for Gunn
to open both literal and metaphorical eyes. Fred and Lorne are with them,
each lost in quiet thought. "Cordy. When I went to take her blood. She
moved."
Wesley listens to this, feeling the blood in question burn through his
veins.
"She grabbed my hand," Angel says, talking with soft eagerness about a
woman who only days before he'd thought of and loved only as the mother of
their salvation. "Like she knew I was there."
Wesley closes his eyes. His depression is so strong that it fills his
lungs. He remembers having pneumonia and wonders if it's possible to die
from a feeling.
Angel presses on. "That's - that's good, right?"
Wesley swallows, then lies to Angel, his friend. "Yes," he says, damning
himself back into loneliness. "That's good."
The two of them never speak of it again.
Fin.
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