Heat

Wesley woke up slowly. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't feel disoriented, knew exactly where he was from the moment even the smallest spark of consciousness found him. This was due to Rupert's strong arm thrown over his chest, and the man snoring softly against his neck.

Unable to fight a small smile, Wesley let his hand travel up his lover's arm. He lay there, closing his eyes and taking it in for long moments. Then the alarm clock went off and he jumped, as did Rupert.

Shaking his head, the older man flopped over and turned the thing off. Blinking blearily as he sat up. Wesley watched him stretch, eyeing the lines of the other man's body with a sheepish fascination. He quickly glanced away when Rupert turned to him, but not, he suspected, before he was caught. Smiling shyly at Rupert's grin, Wesley shrugged and looked away.

Chuckling, the older man lay back down beside him and Wes' smile widened a little as the man propped himself up on his elbow. "Sleep well?"

Wesley stretched, nodding. "Very. I only wish . . . er . . ." he'd been about to say he wished they never had to get out of bed, because out there, in the actual world, he'd have to think again. If he could just lay here and be he wouldn't have to wonder what to do about Faith, wouldn't have to wonder what to do about the . . . attack, or . . . anything but being here.

You'd still screw it up, say something stupid to Rupert or--firmly telling that voice in his head to bugger off, Wesley rolled to his side, facing Rupert and mimicking the older man's position.

"How did you sleep?" Reaching out a hand, he brushed it lightly along his lover's arm, still marveling over those words. His lover. His. Lover. Both were equally wonderful, and put together . . .

"Wonderfully," Rupert replied. "I'm glad I thought to set the alarm clock for slightly earlier though."

Wes sighed, nodding. "Yes, I'm . . . I'm sorry you have to get up early to drop me off at my flat--"

"Hmm? Oh, no. That takes almost no time, Wes, and I hardly care given it means I get the pleasure of your company the night before. No, I set the clock early so we didn't have to rush right out of bed." Rupert's hand caught his elbow, sliding up his arm to intertwine their fingers as the man rolled over onto his back.

Wesley smiled, biting his lip and scooting closer. As Rupert certainly hadn't seemed to mind the night before, Wes pressed his body along the older man's, letting his arm lay across Rupert's stomach, their hands clasped together. Rupert closed his eyes, the arm against which Wes had laid his head moving to make a better pillow.

Wesley was uncomfortable for a moment, unsure what to do or say. Rupert didn't seem to expect conversation though. In fact, he seemed perfectly happy to just lay there . . . with Wesley curled up to him.

Wes actually fell asleep again, waking to Rupert's gentle nudging.

"Wesley? Hello? Wes?"

Wesley looked up at Rupert with an apology on his lips, only to have it die there when he saw the expression on the older man's face. It was amused, but . . . something else, something very nice.

"We have to get up," Rupert made it sound like the direst hardship, which only made Wes' small smile widen.

"I suppose we must all make sacrifices for the good of the world."

Though getting up was much groaned about, they did eventually accomplish it. Wesley stood and stretched before remembering he was naked. Freezing, he turned to find Giles standing by his dresser, his eyes riveted. Feeling self conscious, Wes reached for his clothes.

"Join me in the shower?" Giles walked past, completely naked with his clothing tucked under his arm. Wesley could help but watch the man walk down the stairs, leaning closer to the loft's railing to watch his lover saunter to the bathroom.

Blinking himself out of his stupor, Wesley thought about that for a moment, his eyes sliding to his clothes and then back to the bathroom door. He wished he could be so casual. Spotting Rupert's bathrobe, he quickly pulled it on, grabbing his clothing and hurrying after the older man.

Rupert said nothing about the robe, for which Wes was grateful. Wes hopped into the shower quickly, still feeling a bit self-conscious. Which was actually an improvement on when they'd showered together the day before. Then, he'd been red from head to toe.

Rupert handed him a washcloth and the soap, as if it were normal for the two of them to be together, naked, in the shower. Rupert's calm seemed almost contagious. In fact, Wesley found himself chatting with the older man about the information they'd gathered the night before as if they were having tea instead of showering and washing each other's backs.

"Well, I did learn some interesting things about the demon hoard. Their leader," he said as he stepped from the shower, offering Rupert a towel before taking one for himself, "was a young half-demon man whose power was said to be contained in his knife. It was a gift to him from . . . oh, good lord, I don't remember. I'll have to check my notes, but it was said to be quite valuable, though I believe there was mention of some curse. He seems an interesting fellow really, if one discounts the cold, vicious insanity."

Rupert chuckled at that and Wes ducked his head, glad the man had finally seemed to get that he wasn't actually being serious, or rather was attempting dry humor in his own way.

"Well, that book, those chapters in particular, mean something. We just have to work out what." Wesley followed the older man into the kitchen, leaning in the doorway as Rupert made coffee. "Wes?"

"Hmm?"

"Did the book happen to describe the knife? Perhaps tell one were it might be located?" Rupert turned to look at him, and Wesley's eyes widened. He turned and went to the book, carefully pulling it open to the place where he'd stopped for the night.

He didn't bother trying to understand the sentences, or even translate every word until he found words that were likely description. Picking up his pen and notepad, he began to translate those lines, only vaguely hearing as Rupert called the library.