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Rescue Me

 

Gunn hated this. The whole situation. Feeling as if he were a part of it by just doing nothing. By letting it happen up there in Angel’s bedroom, right now.

 

He didn’t have vampire hearing but when he closed his eyes he could hear the voices anyway. Angel low and intense:

 

“Please, Wes, I need it… Wes…”

 

Pleading and demanding at once; that arrogance behind it, knowing the Englishman was incapable of saying ‘no’ to him; knowing that Wesley was besotted, enslaved, all wide-eyed and adoring, so grateful that Angel had taken him in; still thinking Angel was so noble and good and better than anyone else. One kiss and Wesley melted; one touch and he was putty in Angel’s hands. That had always been the case, of course. Wesley seemed to have packed his hero worship in his suitcase along with his clean underpants. The difference was that in the past Angel would never have taken advantage. Not like this. Not rough and hard and ever ready; kill a demon, shove Wes up against the wall, kiss him hard, squeeze him harder, bruise him everywhere, especially in his much too trusting heart.

 

“But, Angel… Now…? I think Gunn may still be…?”

 

And then Wesley’s objections were smothered by something and Gunn just knew it was by Angel grabbing him, pressing his mouth to Wesley’s, all hungry, passionate and needy. Shoving him against the wall, tearing open his clothes, tongue down the throat, hands down the pants, needy. And it was jam on pancakes for Wesley to be needed after all this time of watching Angel covertly when he thought no one was watching him, while Angel pretended not to notice but knew all the time, every time, when that longing helpless glance was cast in his direction. Except it wasn’t Wesley Angel needed and they both knew it. It was Darla. Angel had supposedly pulled back from the brink but to Gunn’s eyes he was just hovering there; dark and getting darker; heading for some meltdown while they all stood around watching, and in Wesley’s case got used every day by a guy who was not who he had been. Maybe he hadn’t turned bloodsucking baby-killing evil yet. Maybe he wasn’t Angelus. But he wasn’t the vampire who had first taken Wesley in off the streets; wasn’t the gentle noble protector guy who had been the one to capture the ex-Watcher’s heart. No, this was someone else. Someone Gunn didn’t trust. Someone who set his teeth on edge, made him jittery, angry, bitter. And pissed. Majorly majorly pissed.

 

Because Wes, dumb pansy-assed skinny white English guy or not, deserved so much better than being used as Angel’s fuck toy while the vampire had a nasty itch he couldn’t scratch. Being used as the methadone substitute for the heroin the guy was really addicted to.

 

Gunn grimaced as he heard the sounds; couldn’t help going closer all the same; creeping up the stairs, knowing even Angel was way too caught up in the moment to be listening out for eavesdroppers and probably wouldn’t even have cared if he’d known Gunn was there. He was so freaking alpha macho asshole right now he was probably only one bite away from branding Wes with his initial.

 

Groans and gasps and those pained little sounds from Wesley that made him grit his teeth until the enamel was in danger of cracking. And there it was, the sound he really hated, the hammering headboard accompanied by that animal grunting from Angel, hard and fast, as he slammed into Wesley, trying to get to a place he couldn’t reach by the route he was taking; by the route that was only going to lead to Wesley’s self respect getting shredded a little more every day.

 

The only thing to be said for it was that it was quick – never more than ten minutes and little enough of that foreplay – Angel chasing the next climax; demanding that Wesley came as if it were his right. What was that anyway – a sop to his conscience, so he could tell himself he wasn’t really being the arrogant selfish bastard that he was? The day Gunn saw teeth marks he was calling a halt. That was it. No way was Wesley feeding that undead son of a bitch. If Angel asked, Gunn was going to do something desperate, because Wesley had no answer for any question of Angel’s that didn’t end in ‘yes’.

 

He waited in the corridor; eyes squeezed closed, hating this so much, Wesley in there getting pounded through the mattress while Angel got in touch with his inner darkness through Wesley’s tight inner heat. And yeah, when he thought about that it made him hard, but when he thought about Wesley’s hopeless adoration for a guy who was only fucking him because he was heading for a place where a sweet guy like Wesley should never have to follow, it just made him want to weep. And smack Wesley hard for getting himself into this situation. And then wrap his arms around him tightly and take him away to a place where he could be loved for who he was and not for who he wasn’t.

 

Today he meant to wait it out, be standing there when Wesley stumbled out of that bedroom carrying his shoes, shirt missing half its buttons where Angel had all but ripped it from his back, looking Wesley straight in the eye to let him know he knew and oh so really didn’t approve. But at the last minute he found he couldn’t do it. Knowing how Wesley would cringe at the sight of him, wither in the face of his disapproval, would look so lost and young and painfully vulnerable.

 

So he sprinted silently down the stairs and went outside, counted to a hundred to give Wesley time to get himself dressed and back in the lobby, then came in whistling as if he’d only just come back from some important errand.

 

“Gunn…”

 

He looked across at Wesley and his heart just turned over. The guy looked just the way he’d pictured him – so completely lost. He stank of Angel. His hair was all mussed and he had his glasses in his pocket. He looked so pretty too. Those big blue eyes not hidden behind the spectacles. Skinny and pale and pretty and more in need of rescuing than anyone Gunn had ever known.

 

He gave him a smile that he knew must look forced. “Hey, English. How are you doing?”

 

It was a miracle that Wesley didn’t crumple right there in front of him. For a terrible second he thought he was going to; just keel over and start sobbing with the misery of it all; the humiliation of letting himself be used like this by someone he knew didn’t love him and yet who knew and was happy to take advantage of how much Wes loved him. But he found a ghastly ghost of a smile.

 

“Oh, fine. I thought you’d gone home…?” He said it wistfully and Gunn realized that although Wesley hadn’t wanted his quick tumble with Angel to be witnessed he didn’t want to be alone either.

 

“After a fight like that?” Gunn approached him carefully, as if Wesley were something likely to bolt, while trying to keep his voice level and friendly and gentle. “You know how it makes me when we do the demon dice and slice. What do you say to some ribs and a movie? Any one you like as long as it’s one of the six I have in my DVD collection.”

 

“That sounds like a date.” Angel’s voice. Damn. Why couldn’t the bastard just roll over and start snoring like the pig he was turning into, instead of coming down here for another cup of blood where he so wasn’t wanted?

 

Gunn turned to look at him, momentarily unable to hide his dislike. “Sounds like none of your business to me.” As Angel looked at him in surprise and Wesley blinked in confusion, Gunn forced a smile. “Is there a no-dating clause in our employment contract cause I don’t remember seeing it?”

 

 “So, you and Wes are dating now?” Angel wasn’t making it a joke. Just looking pissed and suspicious as he glared at Wesley.

 

“No, of course not.” Wesley darted him a quick appeasing look; blue eyes begging him not to be mad, ever.

 

“Sure we are.” Gunn shrugged. “Hey, Wes didn’t want you to know but I think it’s time we were open about it.” He put an arm around Wesley’s shoulders. “You can be the first to congratulate us.”

 

Wesley gave Gunn another look of complete confusion. This was evidently a joke he didn’t get. Now they were standing so close, Gunn could smell Angel on him more pungently than ever; vampire come all over him; could feel the heat of Wesley’s skinny slightly battered body against his.

 

Angel looked at Gunn narrowly and there was a flicker of, yes – jealousy. Gunn could have punched the air in triumph; even though it was a scary look, Angel in that dark place he’d reached now, looking at Gunn as if he were a rival; but it made him look at Wesley right afterwards and there was a flicker of the old Angel there, the one who could be reached, a guy feeling a sudden sharp pang at the thought of losing what he was taking for granted. Gunn realized then that this was something he had to do; had to find Wesley’s self respect for him and keep it safe even if the Englishman was too infatuated to manage it himself.

 

“So, Wes…” Gunn tightened his grip on his shoulders briefly. “Which movie is it going to be?”

 

Wesley did seem to be finding some strength from Gunn’s company; perhaps just from having someone act like his friend, not recoiling from him in disgust or shoving him up against a wall. “Not ‘Assault on Precinct 13’ again, please.”

 

“It’s a classic!”

 

“But you’ve made me watch it ten times.”

 

Oh, Angel didn’t like that. He was doing all kinds of math now. It was all Gunn could do to stop himself grinning. Ten viewings equalled ten…? Except it didn’t, of course. His relationship with Wesley was pure as the driven snow. But Angel didn’t know that. And Angel was pissed now. Angel was wondering how he’d missed the signs, the scents.

 

“So, this has been going on for a while then?” He looked between them, gaze hostile as it looked at Gunn, stern as he looked at Wesley.

 

Gunn felt Wesley falter under that look and spoke quickly so the Englishman wouldn’t. “Hey, all work and no play makes for two wound up demon hunters. Relax, Angel. We’re not the ones with the gypsy curse, remember?” He reached across and slapped the vampire on the shoulder as if they were friends, as if they didn’t both want to punch each other hard in the mouth right now. Still gazing into Angel’s eyes, he added: “There’s no danger of me going evil-ass however happy Wes makes me.” Then he firmly turned them both around, his arm around Wesley’s shoulders not allowing him to skitter away or start making explanations, and walked them both out of the Hyperion, leaving Angel looking after them with that confused, angry, jealous look on his face.

 

“Suck on that, vamp boy,” Gunn muttered.

 

“Why did you tell Angel we’re…?” Wesley looked at him in confusion.

 

Gunn shrugged. “Why should he think we’re always there at his beck and call every time some nasty wants slicing up? It’s good for him to think we have lives. Even if we don’t.”

 

“But don’t you mind him thinking…?” Wesley looked cute when he was confused, especially with the bed hair, all mussed up from Angel’s fingers – damn he hated knowing that was what had given it that sexy tousled look – those blue eyes looking huge in his thin pale face.

 

“Hey…” Gunn gave him a look of mock hurt. “You don’t think I'm a good enough catch for a pretend boyfriend or something? You want to tell Angel you’re dating Antonio Banderas? Cause I gotta tell you that guy is short. You’d just be looking down into some dandruffy little parting the whole time. With me, you get the inches where they count – and yes, that was meant to sound that dirty. So, what do you say…?” He didn’t sound nervous, luckily, despite the babbling – just cool and in control. There was a lot to be said for the old alpha male pose and it was carrying him through now because Wesley was getting more relaxed and less confused with each moment.

 

“Well….” A smile. Hallelujah and praise the Lord. Wesley was coming out of the angsty humiliated abjectly infatuated place to something approaching normality.

 

“English, you know I know a lot about pain, and let me tell you now, I don’t take rejection well…”

 

And that was a real grin. The idea of Gunn having to convince Wesley that he was a catch clearly tickling Wesley’s funny bone.

 

“Well, when you put it like that, of course I'm terribly flattered and would be thrilled to have you as my pretend boyfriend to prove that we have pretend lives.”

 

“Okay then, but we need to talk about your taste in movies…”

 

And it was happening. He was steering his skinny white English friend away from the using and abusing scary vampire to whom Wes was incapable of saying ‘no’ and into his van; and he was going to take him back to Gunn’s place, let him use Gunn’s shower, change into some of Gunn’s clothes, and after they’d watched one of Gunn’s movies, Wesley was going to fall asleep with his head on Gunn’s shoulder sitting on Gunn’s couch and Gunn’s arm around him, keeping him safe. And in the morning, Angel wasn’t going to be thinking that he could get himself some Wyndam-Pryce take-out any time he felt like it, he was going to be sniffing and suspicious and maybe remembering how much Wesley actually meant to him when Angel wasn’t all hard-on and no sense, and how he didn’t want to lose him and maybe already had lost him. And Gunn couldn’t help thinking that could only be a damned good thing.

 

The End