Heat

Wesley swallowed hard, trying to force down the bile as he washed his hands for the third time. Rupert didn't comment and Wes was grateful. He wasn't sure he could have taken derision from Rupert at the moment . . . or at all, ever.

His main thought was that there was something very wrong about having a dead man in the bathtub. Shaking his head, Wesley dried his hands and turned to go back into the living room. The sound of Rupert shutting the bathroom door was a relief.

"What, uh, what . . . do we do with it now?" Wes collapsed onto the couch, removing his glasses and putting them on the coffee table to scrub his hands over his face. "Calling the police entered my mind, but . . . won't there be questions and . . . we did move it. I . . . what do we do?"

He felt Rupert take seat next to him and glanced up to find his lover looking tired and worn. Without a thought, he leaned against Rupert, brought--somewhat--back to reality by the arm the man laid over his shoulders, a solid, comfortable weight.

There's a dead body in the bathroom. That man had threatened them, had taken his own life . . . why? For what? A dagger? The puzzle began to draw him even further back, though it did nothing to lessen the vague numbness that still clung to him, nor did it quell that little voice in his mind that seemed to be laughing hysterically.

"Uh, I suppose we . . . dump it. Uh, in water, somewhere. Let the police find him and . . . well, it isn't as if they're anything near good at their jobs . . . Dear Lord, Wesley, how am I supposed to know what to do with a dead body?"

"I'm sorry. I . . . just, uh, thought . . . well, you're so calm."

"It's not as if we killed him. However, I do find it quite disturbing that the man killed himself rather than answer our questions. What did he think we'd do to him?"

"Does it matter?" Relaxing against the hand that was rubbing his tense neck, Wesley shook his head. "I . . . a dead man is in your bathtub. I find that very disturbing. In fact, it's going to be hard to shower here," Wes sighed and then realized what he'd said. Afraid he'd been a bit presumptuous, he glanced over to find Rupert shrugging.

"I can't say I'm particularly thrilled either. Perhaps we'll need to stay at your flat for a day or two, or at least shower there if the thought is too disturbing." Rupert shrugged once again and Wes found himself warmed by how easily the man said 'we' and acted as if the solution were only natural.

If they couldn't shower at his place, then they'd simply do it at Wesley's. It was such a small thing, but seemed another sign of acceptance, or continuity, and made him feel . . . wanted.

"Yes, of course. I, er," he wasn't sure if he should continue, didn't know what was proper or not for so early in a . . . relationship like this one. "I enjoy staying over here," he finally admitted, a bit nervously.

"Then we'll just shower at your flat," Rupert said, off-handedly, his mind obviously elsewhere. "We need to talk to the others. There's clearly something going on here. Those men were dangerous and if they are after this dagger . . ."

"I'll get back to the translation," Wesley said with a nod, sighing. The brief moments of a completely different kind of nervousness helped him to push back the hysteria. It didn't hurt that he now had something else upon which to focus. The translation. If he just concentrated on that . . .

"Right. I'll call Buffy and the others, have them come here after school with some books from the library. If you can find that dagger's location, I'd like to have Buffy along when we check it out."

"Good," Wesley said with a nod, still not quite able to move from the warmth of Rupert's hand. "A plan is good. Uh, when . . . when will we have time to dump the, uh, the body?"

"Well, I'm hoping that Angel will take care of that while we check out locations."

"Oh, thank god," Wesley muttered and then blushed, realizing again how . . . weak he must seem to Rupert.

"I quite agree," the other man responded with a snort and Wesley glanced at him, finding his lover watching him with a worried expression. "Are you all right?"

Wesley straightened, putting his glasses back on and swallowing hard. "I'm fine. It's a bit of a shock is all."

"That it is." The man leaned in and Wes closed his eyes at the feel of Rupert's lips, soft and quick, against his own. "We should get started."

Wes nodded firmly, standing and going back to his translation. It took him a while to get back to where he had left. He listened to Rupert on the phone, telling the children that they needed to come by after school. The man, wisely, he thought, didn't mention what had happened.

Sighing, Wesley forced himself to work and was lost again for a long while. He stared at the words until he thought the convoluted structure might make his eyes bleed, but finally seemed to be getting somewhere. There was mention that the horde's leader had a fondness for the ocean and a particular set of caves.

It apparently took Rupert a few tries to get his attention. Wes looked up to find the other man sitting on the edge of his desk, an amused smile on his face.

"I wanted to ask if you feel up to eating."

"Uh," Wesley thought about that and then shrugged. "I feel fine, but not particularly hungry."

"Why don't you come away from the research for a little while regardless? You've been at it all day and the children will be here soon."