Fast Times at Sunnydale High

*





Exam week was a fairly quiet one for everyone. Mostly they studied, even Lindsey, and as he predicted he would, he aced each and every one of his exams, and as soon as the end of term report came out, his daddy would think he was smart again, and set up a summer internship for him at Wolfram and Hart.



Not that he wanted to work there, for the summer, or after college like his daddy expected, but he had to do something with his life, and he didn’t think sponging off his old man and playing in Angel’s garage for the rest of his life was really an option.



No, being a lawyer wouldn’t be all bad; he’d make lots of his own money, and he’d get to show off how smart he really was, and he did kind of get off on the idea of people watching him argue, watching him win, and he knew he’d be good at it.



He just hoped that living, working, going to school, in LA wouldn’t be too hard on him and Wes. He knew his boyfriend planned to stay in town and go to UC Sunnydale, with Spike, which Lindsey thought was stupid, because Wes was smart, and his dad had money, and he could go anywhere he wanted. Then again, Sunnydale to LA had a better shot at working out than LA to Ithaca, or Cambridge, or Providence, or... shit if he went back to England, and Lindsey was happy about that.



Wesley didn’t have to cram quite as intensely as Lindsey did during the week. He’d paid more attention throughout the semester and had done all of his homework assignments, so when exams rolled around he already knew all he needed to know, and only studied to refresh him memory. He did rather well, too.



College applications would be sent out soon, and he’d applied to several, but he already knew he was staying in Sunnydale. He liked it there, the university was actually a very decent one, even though it didn’t have the reputation of some others, but Wesley thought that most of those schools were highly overrated.



No, UC Sunnydale was a good school, with an excellent history department, run by professor Giles, a world class archaeologist, and though Wesley wasn’t entirely sure what he had planned for life after college, that sounded like something he could be very interested in.



And Sunnydale was close to Los Angeles, close to Lindsey, and he knew it was stupid to make those kinds of decisions based on someone you’d only been dating a few weeks, but that wasn’t what he was doing. He’d planned to stay in town before he’d gotten together with Lindsey, and it was just a happy coincidence that they’d be close to each other.



Also, he was very much looking forward to going to college with Spike.



***



Friday night, Spike and Wesley decided to throw a party. Not that they didn’t almost every weekend, because they were in high school, and lived in a relatively small town, and really, what else was there to do? But this time they had a reason. Exams were over, Christmas break had started, they had almost three weeks off school, starting tomorrow, and after a week of stress and studying and seclusion, they could all use an excuse to blow off a little steam.



“You two look... cozy,” Gunn shouted over the music as he came to stand beside Wesley and Lindsey, arms around each other, smiling and sharing occasional kisses and leaning against the wall, watching and listening to Hellomouth completely murder AC/DC’s Mistress for Christmas.



Wesley turned to look at the large, black boy, unable to suppress the euphoria he was feeling. He was with Lindsey. Finally. And Lindsey wanted to be with him, really liked him, and they were having sex, and dating, and everyone knew, and nobody cared, except for the people that thought it was great, or the people they didn’t care about, and they could show their affection, freely, and it had been a while since Wesley had that with someone.



“Yes, thank you,” Wesley told him, and almost didn’t even notice when Gunn rolled his eyes. “So, what do you think?” Wesley asked, nodding toward the corner where Hellmouth was playing.



“What do you mean, ‘what do I think’.” Gunn asked, looking at the band and screwing up his face. “Same thing I always think. They suck.”



“I meant,” Wesley said, shivering as Lindsey’s hand slid a little lower on his hip. “What do you think about Faith? She looks rather beautiful tonight, don’t you think?”



“Dude, she always looks beautiful,” Gunn said, shaking his head. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”



“I think she might appreciate it if you told her that,” Wesley said, and apparently Gunn was dismissed, because he turned back to Lindsey with a silly grin, and captured his lips in a heated kiss.



“Tryin’ to play matchmaker, are ya?” Lindsey asked, when Gunn had wandered off.



“It’s obvious they’re into each other. And they deserve to be happy.”



“Yeah, and the rest of us deserve to not have to listen to this crap anymore,” Lindsey said, nodding at the band and making a face of disgust. “Seriously, why do they even play, when they’re so bad?”



“They are not,” Wesley protested, shoving Lindsey a little with his shoulder. “They’re great. One of the best bands I’ve ever heard.” As serious as Wesley was trying to sound, he couldn’t manage to keep his face entirely straight, and Lindsey snorted, and bit his lip, almost hard enough to hurt.



“Shut up,” he said, without much force, and pulled Wesley closer.



“Mmmm,” Wesley continued. “They’re terrific. Especially Spike. He’s so talented and handsome and ever so dreamy....” Wesley exaggerated a sigh and placed a hand over his heart, staring at Spike with a goofy look.



“Well, you obviously have shit taste,” Lindsey groused, trying to hide his smile.



“Says my boyfriend.”



“Damn right I am,” Lindsey said, and kissed Wesley, hard and fast, as if he were trying to prove a point. “So maybe it’s time you stopped checkin’ out other guys.”



“But you’re so adorably irresistible when you get all possessive,” Wesley told him, not-so-casually rubbing against him.



“Yeah, I’m gonna be adorably kickin’ your ass if you don’t cut it out,” Lindsey warned, but he let his eyes drift shut for a moment, and moaned, belying his feeble threat, as Wesley worked a leg between his and over his rapidly hardening dick.



“You’ll be adorably begging me, Lindsey, later on tonight,” Wesley whispered into his ear, teeth closing gently over the lobe. “Begging me to give you what nobody else ever has, what you crave. Begging for my cock.”



Lindsey moaned a jerked his hips forward, tugging unintentionally on Wesley’s short hair.



“Feel free to start now,” Wesley said with a smug smile and stepped back a little. They were in a room full of people after all, and Wesley had well and truly learned his lesson about letting things go too far in public.



Lindsey swallowed and blinked and when he managed to regain some conscious thought, scowled. “I need another drink,” he said, and walked off toward the kitchen, and the fridge. Yeah, another drink, and maybe to hang out with someone I don’t want to bend over for, for a while.



***



Lindsey ran into Fred, and that was a little better, and turned out to be much less awkward than he’d thought it would, after that night at the movies. They talked about exams and how well they both did, and what their plans for the summer were, and they talked about Spike.



How Fred loved him, and how Lindsey thought she was making a mistake, and about how that didn’t matter, because even though she appreciated Lindsey’s opinion, he really didn’t understand how absolutely amazing Spike could be. To her, anyway.



They talked about Wesley, and how that whole thing had been difficult for Lindsey and how he’d tried to fight it, but how Fred had known all along, somehow, and had been hurt, but had understood, and had moved on, because it would have hurt more to try to hang onto something that she ultimately couldn’t have.



They talked about how happy they both were, and how much they missed each other, and they both wished, just for a second, under the influence of several drinks and sexual desire for other people that had to wait until later, that Lindsey hadn’t turned out to be gay.



And around the corner, in the dimly lit hallway that led to the washroom, they kissed.



Real and deep and passionate, if not lustful, and trying to say everything with their bodies that they’d just said with words and both of them were panting and momentarily confused, and slightly ashamed as Anya walked by and frowned at them.



“Wesley and Spike are my friends,” she informed them, as if they didn’t know that. “And if the two of you are playing some sort of sick game with them...”



“No!” Fred shouted, waving her arms around and moving a step back from Lindsey. “No, we’re not. We swear.”



Anya narrowed her eyes and looked between the two of them. “I’m fairly certain that if you’re in a relationship with someone, you’re only supposed to make out at parties with them. And thank God Xander’s going to be back in a few days,” she added, fed up that everybody seemed to be making out with someone lately but her.



“We weren’t....” Lindsey started, and sighed. “It was nothing, Anya. Just a slip. I want to be with Wes. Trust me. And, crazy as she probably is, Fred wants Spike.”



“I don’t want to see my friends get hurt,” Anya said, sternly.



“They won’t,” Lindsey told her, face serious and hoping she would understand. As long as you don’t say anything.



“Well, the two of you should stop having sexual intercourse immediately. It’s not right.”



“We’re not having...” Fred started, almost panicking.



“Nothing’s going on,” Lindsey reiterated. “And Anya, please... don’t mention this.”



For a minute she looked like she might run off and tell as many people as she could find, but she eventually nodded. “Fine,” she said, with not a little exasperation. “But next time I catch the two of you with your tongues in each other’s mouths, I’m not going to keep my mouth shut.”



“There won’t be...” Fred started, but again Lindsey cut her off.



“Thanks, Anya,” he said, and smiled at her, and she walked off, frowning.



“She was right,” Fred said. “That shouldn’t have happened.”



“I know,” Lindsey agreed.



“I mean, we parted on such good terms, and we both found someone who we really want to be with, and what the hell were we thinkin’ risking all that for... Sorry. It’s just that... we were so good, for a while, and I wasn’t thinkin’ straight, and I just... missed you.”



Lindsey snickered at that. “Me too. But we’re both happier like this, and wishing we could feel different isn’t gonna help any.”



“You don’t, do you?” she asked. “Wish you could feel different?”



“No,” Lindsey said, without hesitation. “No, I really don’t.”



Neither did Fred, and they laughed, and hugged awkwardly, and wandered off to mingle, feeling somehow better about things between them.



***



“So, you’re here with Andrew, eh?” Wesley asked, downing his third shot of Jack since he’d started talking with Connor. They were sitting together on the floor, backs against the wall next to Spike’s bed, and it was getting very late.



“Yeah,” Connor agreed, taking a tiny sip out of his own shot glass. He hadn’t even finished one in the time Wesley had drank three, and he thought about telling Wes to slow down a little, because he was well on his way to being well and truly pissed.



“That’s...” Wesley started and poured himself another shot from the bottle he’d stolen from under Spike’s bed. “Good,” he managed. “Andrew’s good. He was... good.” What the hell was wrong with him? Andrew had dumped him a long time ago, and he was very, very much invested in Lindsey, and sure, Connor was cute, and accommodating, but there was no reason, at all, that he should even be thinking about Connor and Andrew. Not one.



“Wes...” Connor said, taking Wesley’s fifth shot and putting it down on the floor in front of them. “Does it bother you?”



“What?” Wesley asked, making a severe sort of face. “No!” he answered, much too enthusiastically and picked up his glass, downing the drink and pouring himself another.



“It’s okay if it does,” Connor said.



“Well, it doesn’t.” Wesley was so cute when he was drunk and petulant like this, Connor thought.



“Because that’s why I did it,” Connor admitted. “To bother you.” Something like that, anyway. Connor wasn’t sure exactly what he’d wanted to accomplish by bringing Andrew. Piss Wes off? Make him jealous? Show him he was moving on? Only he wasn’t, and Wes didn’t seem to care if he was, and Andrew was starting to get a bit too clingy.



“What?”



“Andrew has been asking me out, and I never wanted to go, but... Sorry. I thought it might get your attention if I showed up here with him.”



“Connor...” Wesley warned, and wobbled a bit, nearly crashing into Connor, even from his seated position as he reached for the bottle again.



“I know, I know,” Connor said. He did know. He’d heard it so many times he was getting sick of it, and as much as he loved Wes, he thought he might punch him if he heard it again. “You’re with Lindsey. You’re happy. You just want to be my friend.”



“You’re a good friend, Connor,” Wesley told him, letting the bottle fall between his knees, fingers going limp. “I like friends.” He smiled and slumped over, resting most of his weight on the boy beside him, and felt his eyelids get very, very heavy.



It was late, past one in the morning, and he’d a spectacular amount to drink, and he had a feeling he was going to be crashing. Soon. “I like bed, too,” he pointed out, quite happily, and then frowned, hoping that Connor didn’t take that the wrong way.



“Yeah,” Connor agreed, chuckling a little. “I think maybe we should get you there.”



“Mmmm,” Wesley hummed, absently, and didn’t protest when Connor wrapped an arm around him and scooped him up off the floor, walking him in the direction of the stairs. “Oops!” he said, giggling madly when he tripped over a spot of carpet that was in no way extraordinary, and Connor just managed to keep him upright. “There’s some gravity, right there,” he whispered, pointing. “You’d best watch out.”



“Think I got it, Wes,” Connor told him, and held onto him even tighter as he ushered him up two flights of stairs and into his bedroom.



***



“Hey, have you guys seen Wes?” Lindsey asked Faith and Gunn and Anya a little after 1:30am. They were sitting around Spike’s kitchen table playing a completely unsuccessful game of caps, flicking the little bits of metal off their own bottles of beer for an excuse to drink, because it seemed as if none of them was capable of making a decent shot.



“Hold your fucking bottle still, Ahn,” Faith bitched as she aimed at the bottle of beer that Anya was unfairly spinning between her fingers. Faith changed her mind and, with a smirk, aimed for Anya’s forehead, snapping her fingers and letting her cap fly.



“Ow!” Anya, laughed, brokenly, and rubbed her head where the jagged edge the steel disc connected. “Bitch.”



“Drink,” Faith ordered, smugly, as the cap fell from Anya’s bottle to the floor as she sloshed it around, more concerned with her head than her beer.



“Uh,” Lindsey said, a little louder. “Guys?”



“Oh, hey man,” Gunn said, hiding his snicker and looking up as if he just realised Lindsey was there. “S’up?”



“I’m lookin’ for Wes.”



“Oh, uh...” Faith mumbled and busied herself with a drink as Gunn looked down, finding the top of the table very interesting.



“What?” Lindsey asked, wondering why they were acting sort of strange. Even for them. “What’s going on?”



Faith and Gunn remained silent and Anya sighed, like it was some kind of burden that she had to speak. “Neither of them wants to tell you that Wesley went upstairs half an hour ago with Connor, and neither of them came back down.”



“He what?” Lindsey asked, stomach suddenly feeling like it was filled with rocks. “Did he say anything to you guys?”



“Didn’t say anythin’ man,” Gunn said. “He could barely stand. Was hangin’ off Connor all the way up the stairs.”



“Yo, it’s not what you’re thinkin’,” Faith said, shaking her head. “No way in hell would Wes...”



“What?” Anya interrupted. “Have sex with Connor? No,” she rolled her eyes and finished sarcastically, “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do at all.”



“Faith’s right,” Gunn said. “Wes ain’t no cheater.”



“You’re probably right,” Anya agreed, in that way of hers that made impossible to tell if she was being serious or not, and turned to look at Lindsey. “Still, if it were my boyfriend upstairs with someone I know he enjoys having sex with, I wouldn’t be down here talking to us.”



“Yeah, I’ll...” Lindsey said, trying to believe them, wanting to believe that Wes wouldn’t do anything wrong, and wanting to get upstairs as fast as he could, just to make sure. “See you later.”



***



“Why the hell am I so tired all of a sudden?” Wesley wondered out loud and stumbled toward his bed when Connor let go of him.



“Because,” Connor said, looking behind him and closing the bedroom door. “You had like, four beers, and then six shots in less than an hour?”



“Oh, yes. That would do it.” Wesley bumped into the foot of his bed and fell forward on it, laughing and crawling up it to lie down. “You know, I seem to recall thinking it was a good idea not to drink this much.”



“You’re probably right about that,” Connor smiled, and had a hard time resisting the urge to climb in bed with Wesley and wrap his arms around him. God, he loved him. “And you should probably take your clothes off, if you’re going to sleep. It’s not gonna be too comfortable.”



Wesley tried to stand, fell down, tried again, this time managing it, holding himself up with one hand on his dresser. He raised an eyebrow and slurred, “You just want to see me naked.”



Connor snickered and shook his head. Even when he was drunk and pompous, Wesley was adorable. And he was right. Of course Connor wanted to see him naked, but that honestly wasn’t why he’d suggested Wesley take his clothes off. It really would be more comfortable.



“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, with a smile. “I’m on a date tonight, remember?”



“Yes,” Wesley said, trying to remain upright as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt. “With my ex-boyfriend, and only to get my attention. I do remember.”



Connor stepped forward and batted Wesley’s hands out of the way, working the buttons of his shirt through the holes for him, because Wesley clearly wasn’t going to be able to get it done. Wesley jumped back and almost fell as Connor’s fingers grazed over his skin, but Connor grabbed his arm and kept him balanced.



“I’m not trying anything, Wes,” he promised. But he could, he was pretty sure, if he wanted to. Wes was drunk, and if Connor pressed him, he’d probably give in pretty quickly, and Connor was thinking he could get away with just about anything. Especially if the bulge in Wesley’s pants that brushed up against Connor’s hip when Connor wrestled Wesley’s shirt off him and to the floor was anything to go by.



“Good,” Wesley said, nodding, and managed to get his own pants unfastened and slid down his legs. Along with his underwear.



He blinked and looked down and looked back up at Connor, a little confused that he suddenly seemed to be naked, and glanced back down again at his very erect penis, and laughed. “Well, it seems as if little Wesley rather wishes you would try something.”



Connor stepped back, needed to put some space between them, because he was trying to do the right thing here, and if Wesley was going to look like that and sound like that and say those kinds of things to him, he didn’t think he’d be strong enough to stop himself from doing something very stupid. Again.



“You should get into bed,” he said, with a shaky voice, and breathed a sigh of relief when Wesley nodded and yawned and crawled under the covers. He watched Wesley roll over to face the wall, blanket drooping down to expose his back and ass, and it wasn’t long before his breathing evened out, and Connor thought he was asleep.



And then he couldn’t help himself. He stripped off his own shirt and climbed into bed next to Wesley, pulling the blanket over himself and around both of their waists, and draped his arm over Wesley’s chest, hugging him gently before releasing him and letting his fingers play over Wesley’s bare skin.



He shouldn’t be doing this. He was smart enough to know that it was a really bad idea, because Wesley didn’t want him, and Wesley was drunk, and passed out, and he’d never let Connor do this if he was awake, and Connor was only torturing himself by getting this close, but he couldn’t help it.



He wasn’t going to do anything, just lay there with him, hold him. It was completely innocent, and he’d be gone long before Wes woke up and nobody would get hurt. It was fine.



And then Wes moaned, a distinctly pleasurable sound, and one of his hands covered Connor’s, pushing it down his stomach and over his pelvis, settling on his prick and urging Connor to wrap his fingers around it, to stroke it.



Connor stopped. Stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped breathing. And just as suddenly as he had stopped, he started, moving his hand over Wesley like he wanted to, like they both wanted him to and he pushed himself a bit closer to Wes, brushed his chest and groin and legs against the back of Wesley, and closed his eyes.



Oh God, this was so, so wrong. But Wesley seemed to want it, and though Connor really wished he could stop, Wesley’s desire was his law, and he kept going, mouth moving ever closer to Wesley’s neck, ghosting kisses over it and hoping that Wesley would end this and that he wouldn’t.



“Oh, fuck,” Wesley panted in a sleepy haze, and rocked his hips back against Connor’s, hands still working together on Wesley’s cock. “Lindsey...”



And Connor stopped again. Really stopped this time, and slowly removed his hand from Wesley’s dick, placing it innocently on his leg, instead, forehead resting against Wesley’s shoulder, and he tried not to cry.



Lindsey. Of course. Wesley was sleeping, or in some drunken stupor and clearly thought he was with his boyfriend, and yet again, Connor was being used for nothing more than convenience, and yet again, he was so close to not caring.



But he couldn’t let it happen. It would be tantamount to abuse, to rape, and he wouldn’t do that to Wesley, and he’d put up with a lot to be with Wes, but he didn’t think he’d be able to recover from this if he let Wesley pretend he was someone else.



Wesley stumbled in his movements when he realised his boyfriend wasn’t touching him anymore, and he frowned in confusion and began rocking slightly once more, grabbing for Lindsey’s hand and trying to place it where he wanted it. “Lindsey,” he moaned again. “Oh, God, fuck me.”



And then the door opened.



***



Lindsey climbed the stairs from the basement to the main floor, crossed the house, and continued up the stairs to Wesley’s room, telling himself the whole time that there was nothing to worry about, nothing was going on, but for some reason, not quite able to believe it.



He reached Wesley’s bedroom door and took a breath, prepared to knock, but then decided against it. It wasn’t like he wanted to catch Wesley doing whatever the hell it was he was doing, just... what if he was asleep? He didn’t want to wake him up. So he took the doorknob in his hand and twisted, slowly, pushing the door open just a crack.



“Oh, God, fuck me,” was the first thing he heard, in his boyfriend’s voice, and he snarled and pushed the door wide open. He was greeted to sight of a very naked Wes and a very naked Connor, under the blankets on Wesley’s bed, Connor behind Wes and his arms around him. And Wes really looked like he was having fun.



“What the fuck!?” Lindsey shouted, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind him.



Connor pulled back from Wes lightening fast and snapped his head around, looking into Lindsey’s angry, hurt eyes, and he propped himself up slightly, thinking, for some reason, that this would go better if he was sitting. He was smart enough not to say anything.



Lindsey’s shout pulled Wesley at least part of the way out of his slumber and he turned, confused, to the sound of his lover’s voice. “Lindsey?” he asked, blinking and trying to wrap his head around the situation. “What are you doing all the way over there? And why do you look pissed off?”



He wasn’t at all aware of the situation, only knew that he wanted Lindsey, needed Lindsey, to touch him, kiss him, hold him, and Lindsey was standing by the door, looking like he wanted to either kick Wesley’s ass, or cry. Possibly both.



“Jeeze, Wes,” Lindsey said, sarcastically. “You know, I would come over there with you, but three’s a crowd, I think. Besides, you looked like you were havin’ a pretty good time without me.”



How the hell could Wesley have done this to him? It wasn’t the first time he’d been cheated on, but he thought Wes would be different, thought they... Well, never mind. That was obviously only something he had felt, and Wesley clearly didn’t give a shit about anything besides keeping himself satisfied.



Shit. He so wasn’t going to cry.



“Three... what...?” was all Wesley could get out before he sat up, blanket falling around his thighs and exposing a little more than Lindsey wanted to see at the moment. And then he noticed Connor, next to him, seemingly equally naked and in his bed, and Lindsey was standing across the room, and Wesley remembered, vaguely that he’d had quite a bit to drink, and Connor had helped him up bed and... no. No.



“No!” he said, shaking his head, and regretting it almost immediately as the room started to spin around him. Fuck. He placed his head in his hands for a second until the nausea passed and looked at Lindsey again. “No. This isn’t...” And he looked at Connor, helplessly, silently begging for some support, because he hoped to God that it wasn’t what it looked like, but he really couldn’t remember.



“And yet,” Lindsey said, smiling a cruel smile that he couldn’t quite get behind. “It looks so much like it is.”



“Lindsey no,” Wesley desperately begged. “Please just...” Oh, crap. What the hell was going on? He honestly had no idea what had happened, and the way Lindsey looked... shit, he’d rather stick a knife in his own heart than be the cause of that look on Lindsey’s face, and yet he was, and he felt tears prick his eyes, and he begged again. “Please.”



“Please what, Wes?” Lindsey asked, doing his best to cover up his broken heart by being snide. “Please just don’t mind while you fuck around? Fuck, Wes, I thought...” he trailed off and growled in frustration, smacking the back of the bedroom door, hard, with his hand. “Never mind. You were right before. This was a mistake.”



“God, no, Lindsey, please don’t say that.” Wesley couldn’t hold back his tears at that, but he was thankful that only a few fell, and not the waterfall that he knew was lurking just behind his meagre control.



“Why not? Don’t you want to be free to fuck whoever you want, whenever you want?” Lindsey asked, casting a hard glance at Connor, who had the decency to look away, and pretend he wasn’t hearing what he was. It was incredibly uncomfortable for him, and he truly felt bad for Wesley, having to go through this, and he honestly hadn’t intended for this to happen, but now that it had, he couldn’t help but think that a wedge like this between Wes and his loser boyfriend could only be a good thing for him.



“No!” Wesley almost screamed. “I want you. That’s all. I don’t know what happened here, but... God, Lindsey, I’m sorry.”



“Yeah,” he said, bravado failing him as he deflated and let his true emotions show for a second or two. He hitched in a breath and blinked back his own tears and opened Wesley’s door, stepping back. “Me too,” he said, and closed the door behind him. And God was he ever sorry, because he really thought that it was going to be good, him and Wes, and that they had a real shot at being happy together, and tonight, Lindsey had planned to tell Wesley that he loved him.



TBC