Heat

"I'm sorry I worried you earlier," he said softly, caught in olive-colored eyes.

Rupert shrugged, half-sitting against the desk. "It's all right. You were clearly quite upset and . . . I wish I understood why."

Wes took a deep breath, pressing his lips together and sucking them between his teeth as he tried to form the right words to answer the implied question.

"I . . . Rupert, I don't . . . Lovely, I spend all day thinking about this and I still sound just as incoherent as I did this morning." Shaking his head at himself, Wesley looked up to meet the other man's gaze once again.

"Why don't you think about it and I'll make us some tea." Rupert tilted his head, examining him in that way that had once unnerved him and now made him feel . . . cared about.

"Yes, please. Thank you." Wes stood, moving to the sofa and slumping onto it, his glasses dangling from his fingertips. He twirled them between his fingers, thinking on exactly what he needed to say, needed to know.

"Here you are." Rupert's voice didn't startle him, though he hadn't actually been expecting it. He took the cup and saucer from his lover with a smile, automatically leaning into the man as Rupert settled onto the sofa beside him.

"I need to know why," he said softly, focusing his eyes on the tea instead of on Rupert. This could change everything between them and Wesley tried to push aside the surge of panic inside him. His eyes flicked around the room of their own volition before falling closed, the better to memorize the feel of the other man's body against him.

"Why?" Rupert shook his head. "Why what?"

"Why . . . why you suddenly saw me as . . . well, something other than an annoyance." Wesley snorted, finally forcing his eyes open to meet Rupert's once again.

The man blinked, glancing at his own tea as if trying to form words. Still, his hand moved gently over the back of Wes' neck. Wesley found the gesture comforting, telling him that, even though he was, essentially, questioning Rupert's motives, the man was not taking it badly.

"You asked me this already." Rupert's tone was confused, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Before we had sex, the first time."

"Yes, but, uh . . . it's different, now. Then, I was asking why you wanted to . . . why you . . . wanted me . . ." The words alone sent a small shiver along Wes' skin, "You told me that you, uh, f-found me intriguing, attractive." Wesley smiled at that, still remembering how hearing those words in Rupert's voice had affected him. "However, that's . . . I want to know what made you see me that way. Why, all of a sudden, you . . . I simply need to know, uh, what you're thinking."

Wesley looked up to find Rupert watching him with a small smile.

"You're worried that it's temporary? Or that it, uh . . . isn't?"

"Well, uh, to be frank, I'm worried that you . . . after I was attacked, you saw me differently. I'm worried that it's because I . . . needed you." Wesley wasn't quite sure how to explain it. "Oh, good lord." Sighing, he placed his tea on the coffee table and stood. Pacing the floor before the fireplace, he shook his head. "I just don't understand why you've been so . . ." He gave Rupert a searching look.

"I'm sorry, Wes. I want to help you understand, I do, but I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to be explaining." Rupert's eyes were sympathetic, worried and it seemed just one more example of what Wesley was trying to say.

"You've been wonderful," Wesley admitted, looking to the floor, more than a bit uncomfortable admitting just how much he'd enjoyed the past few days. "I-I feel . . . uh, at-at ease with you and, uh, I don't understand why you've gone to such trouble to make it so."

Rupert raised an eyebrow and Wesley thought that man might be wondering whether he'd lost his mind.

"What trouble?" Rupert shook his head. "Wesley, I-I'm sorry, but I don't think I've done anything out of the ordinary."

Wes opened his mouth to say otherwise and then snapped it shut, considering. He'd been going on the assumption that Rupert had been working to make him comfortable, put him at ease. Assuming that all those touches and looks and smiles had all been . . . What? Contrived? No, that wasn't what he meant, but, in some ways, he had thought that.

Blinking, Wesley sat in the armchair without thinking, his eyes focused on the floor, his forehead wrinkled.

"Wesley?" Giles moved and Wes looked up to find the man standing next to him. "I'm sorry if you thought I was, uh, I don't know. I'm still rather confused." Sitting down on the arm of the chair, Giles reached out to brush his hand along Wesley's arm. Again, he didn't even seem to think about it and Wesley wondered for the first time if, perhaps, Rupert touched him and smiled at him, talked to him so comfortably because the man simply felt that way.

The thought astounded him for a moment. The idea that anyone could be so . . . tender toward him was not one he'd considered and, as much as he'd trusted the other man's motives, or had thought he had, Wes suddenly realized that some part of him and been waiting for it all to fall apart, for Rupert to reveal what he'd really been after, or . . .

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," he said softly, sighing. "I've . . . I've only been in a very few, uh, relationships and none of them . . . they were superficial, to say the least. I'm not used to this, Rupert." He met the man's eyes and saw some of the worry fade, replaced with something soft he couldn't properly name.

"Well, uh, all right." Giles removed his glasses, slipping one end between his lips. Wesley watched it, unable to pull his eyes away for a long moment. "So, we'll take it slow," Rupert shrugged, giving him another of those smiles, even more charming because there was less worry to it. "What did I do that made you uncomfortable?"

"No!" Wesley shook his head, laughing at himself. "No. You weren't making me uncomfortable at all, Rupert. Just the opposite and I . . . didn't understand why."

"You didn't understand why I was making you comfortable?" Both Rupert's eyebrows rose with that. "No, you said you didn't understand why I'd gone to so much trouble . . . to make you feel comfortable? Wesley, honestly, I haven't done anything, or I haven't tried to. I simply reacted."

"I . . . I know, now. Uh, I didn't mean to imply that you were . . . My head is a very confused place at the moment," Wesley snorted, sighing and leaning against Rupert, almost without a thought. He caught himself, but didn't stop. He did remain a little stiff until Rupert's fingers brushed the back of his neck. He simply wasn't used to that kind of ease, the sense that he could reach out and touch the other man at any time, or that Rupert might not even think about it, but simply do it, simply react.

"Is there anything I can do? Besides fix us both a Scotch and move this conversation to the sofa?"

Wes smiled at that. "I don't know, but those both sound like a good start. Please, uh, forgive me for being overly dramatic, I--"

"Did you mean everything you said?" Rupert asked, cutting him off.

Wesley felt his forehead furrow. "Of course."

"Then there's nothing for which you need apologize. I'll go make our drinks."

Wesley moved to the sofa, working himself comfortably into the corner where he could see Rupert as they spoke. He still had questions, worries, and he still didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he found himself a good deal calmer about that fact now. He felt almost numb, with so many new thoughts whirling in his mind that he was unsure what to think or feel.

The idea that Rupert was simply being himself was nice. It meant that the ease between them hadn't been something manufactured. He liked the thought that they might simply be that way together. Still, there were other things. His father, for one. He didn't know exactly how to explain his earlier panic at the thought of others knowing, but he was all but certain Rupert would ask, would want to know. He would have, in the other man's place.

"All right," Rupert said, settling across from him on the sofa and handing him a Scotch. "So, what's on your mind?"

"Well . . ." Wesley snorted and shook his head, the only words coming to mind the ones that he'd earlier dismissed. "I want the possibility of something more with you, but the thought scares the bloody hell out of me because I don't know what it means to me and my life." So, maybe that wasn't such a horrible way to open the conversation, though he suddenly felt very . . . exposed.

Rupert's eyebrows rose again and Wesley worried jokingly to himself that they might get stuck that way.

"I see. Wes, this relationship is very new. I enjoy your company and I'm extremely attracted to you. I'm glad we both want that possibility, but . . . it's not anything we have to worry about now. I never should have brought up the children, but, uh, I wanted to know what you thought. It seemed--seems--important." shrugging, Rupert reached out and touched his knee.

Wesley smiled, laying his own hand on top of Rupert's, trying to explain. "I know that. I do. I know that it's just the possibility of more, and certainly no guarantee." Why did those words hurt? Wesley pushed that thought aside for later examination,. "Still, I need to know that it wasn't just because I was, am, injured. I really would like to, uh, explore this and if it's all based on . . . that, I . . ." Wesley looked down, hating how vulnerable he felt. He didn't like feeling as if Rupert could reach in and twist his guts this way.

"Wes?" Rupert stopped there and Wesley finally forced himself to meet the other man's eyes. "I enjoy your company. Even before the attack, when we were researching and you weren't trying to show me up, or battling with me for control, you were good company."

Wesley shook his head, sighing. "You do realize that this relationship doesn't mean I'm going to back down if I--"

"Of course," Rupert raised his hand, a smile on his lips. "I would never expect you to go against your own beliefs and principles simply because we disagree. I'm not saying I don't know you'll be an utter prat now and again, and," he said as he raised his hand to keep Wesley from cutting in, "I know you're more than likely to think the same of me from time to time."

Wesley raised an eyebrow at that, but gestured for Rupert to continue. "The reason, uh, things changed after . . . Wesley, I was very worried about you, not that I-I shouldn't have been, but . . . I found myself quite angry on your behalf and, frankly, I just didn't expect to connect such, er, depth of-of feeling to you, and I know that sounds callous, but--"

"It doesn't," Wesley contradicted. "I certainly didn't expect it. So, it is because--"

"No, Wes. That's what I was getting at. Even before the attack, I found you attractive; I enjoyed your company, when you weren't being a git. I just didn't realize . . . I didn't realize how attracted to you I was, I suppose or, rather, I simply thought it physical and nothing more. Regardless, it wasn't just because of the attack."

Rupert squeezed his knee. "I've . . . very much enjoyed the last few days and, while I know they're not necessarily indicative of how things will go, especially considering all that's happened, I think there have been, uh, well, moments." Rupert shrugged, apparently unable to find words.

Wesley bit his lips, laying his hand over Rupert's and nodding. "I agree. However, uh, you . . . you said--" And again with the fear. Wesley took deep breaths, determined to see this conversation through to its end, here and now, before things could get anymore . . . 'more'. "You said that you wouldn't want to hide, from the children, I'm sure, but . . . how far does that extend?"

Rupert opened his mouth and then closed it, sighing. "Well, most certainly to the children. As for anything else, as far as we're both comfortable. I'm not exactly going to print up flyers and rain them down on Sunnydale, if that's what you're worried about, but the children would have to know. Not-not right now, but, uh, if . . . if there were to be anything . . . more."

Wesley nodded, a good deal relieved by that, though the thought of the children knowing still made him uneasy. He didn't know if he could deal with them, but it wasn't something they could talk over. He'd either be able to deal with it, or he wouldn't. If the way he felt with Rupert was any indication . . . it might be worth whatever ribbing he took.

"Well," he said with a shrug, "now that I've made a complete girl out of myself, I should get back to that translation."

Rupert chuckled at that, soft and warm, and Wesley couldn't have kept himself from smiling in return. "I hardly think that discussing things that were obviously worrying you makes you a girl." Rupert smiled at him, leaning in close and speaking in a low, husky voice that sent shivers along Wes' skin. "However, I am quite sure I know the differences so, if you'd like me to check . . . later."

Wesley's breath caught and he shook his head at himself, smiling. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm an anxiety he knew it was probably ridiculous to feel over something so small, he reached his fingers up to brush them along Giles' lips.

"Thank you," he said softly, thrilling at the way Giles kissed his fingertips. "For, uh, well, everything."

"There's no need to thank me," Rupert replied, pulling back with a sigh. "However, there is a dead man in the bathtub, a book to translate, and . . . a dead man's pockets to search. Why don't I do the searching and you can have the translating?"

Rupert didn't look particularly thrilled at the prospect, but given that Wesley was almost sure he'd disgrace himself, again, if he had to touch that corpse, he nodded.

"And, thank you, yet again," he said eagerly, the laugh that got from Rupert doing a good bit to ease his frazzled nerves.