Heat

The school didn't look any different.

Wesley thought it should, thought everything should look different, but somehow it was as if nothing had changed. He'd insisted that Giles drop him off at his apartment, that he'd take his own car to the school. The older man had quirked an amused smile at him and nodded.

They . . . he blushed just thinking about the shower they'd taken together, the way Giles' hands had moved over his body once again. Had there been time, he was sure they'd have ended up . . .

No, he could think about that. Thinking about that would turn him as red as a tomato.

Pushing through the library doors, Wesley found everything as it typically was. Willow was there, leaning against Oz. Xander stood behind the check in desk, apparently have turned to snack food to relieve his boredom. Buffy had apparently not made it in yet. Faith wouldn't be around until after lunchtime and . . . Dear God, what would he do when Ms. Chase arrived? Giles was likely in his office because Wesley didn't see him anywhere else.

"What happened to you?" Xander was the first to notice him and Wesley wished he could melt into the floor. "Meet up with a girly vamp on the way home last night?"

Wesley was about to respond in kind when Giles stepped from his office.

"Someone broke into the school last night," the older man answered for him, never taking his eyes off the book he was reading as he made his way to the table. "Wesley was rather badly beaten Xander, so please, some consideration?"

"What?" Xander looked at Giles as if checking to be sure he hadn't grown a second head. "And miss out on the chance to praise his Watcherly reflexes and fighting skill?"

"Yes, because we've never seen you beaten black and blue by upwards of three people, have we?" Giles raised an eyebrow at the boy. Xander snapped his mouth closed, his eyes widening.

"Uh, anyway," Oz piped in, "Willow, thinks she found something."

Wesley forced himself to move into the library, toward the office, though he was sure was practically glowing with the force of his blush.

"I did," Willow quickly nodded. "I found a small, teeny, tiny reference to Ascension, but . . . I think it means to a throne," Willow ended with a sigh.

Once in Giles' office, Wes removed his coat and all but collapsed into the desk chair. He was breathing too fast, his heart pounding.

Oh, god, no. I will not panic, I will not panic.

"Wesley," Giles' voice proceeded him by only seconds. "Are you anywhere near--" shutting the door behind him, the older man immediately changed topics. "Are you all right? Looks as if you're about to melt."

"I, uh, I'm--" there were so many words and phrases to choose from. Insane. Scared. Hurting. Tired. Panicking. Lost. Hoping. The last was, of course, the worst. "Confused," he finally decided on, laying his head in his hands.

Giles sat on the edge of his desk, hand reach out to brush the side of his face. Wesley looked up at the soft touch, surprised. He wasn't sure exactly what the older man wanted from him and that put him on edge.

"What are you confused about?" Giles' voice was soft, soothing, and just a little husky. Wesley had never heard him speak that way, not even to the children. Despite the panic clawing at his gut, he couldn't help but lean into the touch when Giles brushed his cheek a second time.

"I, uh . . . everything, at this point," he said with a snort, trying to make a joke of it. Giles wasn't having it.

"Talk to me, Wesley." The older man withdrew his hand a little before rubbing it lightly over a spot on Wesley's forehead, most likely a bruise.

"U-us?"

The word hurt. What if there wasn't an 'us' for them to speak of? What if it had just been a . . . moment, a thing that was never going to happen again and . . . Wesley could feel the panic rising. It wasn't all related to . . . to that morning, but one thing led to another until he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

"Wesley? Wes?" Giles' sounded worried, but Wesley couldn't find the air to reply.

The door opened. Giles snatched his hand back as if he'd been burned, turning to whoever had come in.

"I need a paper bag," he snapped, but Wesley was beyond understanding what was going on around him.

Laying his head in his hands he fought to breath, but his mind kept throwing up imagines of waking up alone and cold on the floor in the stacks. His heart was racing and his clothes felt too tight and--

"Wesley," Giles' voice again, softer. "Here, breathe into this. Put your head down, right, good."

Head almost between his knees, a paper bag held against his lips, Wesley began to calm. However, he thought that had more to do with Giles' soothing voice and the way the man kept stroking his arm.

Lovely, he thought with a sigh. A panic attack in front of the children. They're likely already snickering behind my back. Not as if they won't do it to my face as soon as I show it. They're probably all gathered around the door, watching.

Taking his courage in both hands, Wesley straightened, surprised to find himself and Giles alone in the office, the door firmly shut.

"Better?" The older man was kneeling beside him, one hand on Wesley's arm, the other on his thigh.

"Um, y-yes. I'm . . . sorry."

"Is it being in the library that did it?" Giles stood, moving to lean against the desk.

"Partially," Wesley admitted, forcing himself to stand and straighten his clothing.

"What else?"

Wesley shook his head. "It's nothing, just . . . everything."

Giles raised an eyebrow at that, waiting, apparently for him to explain.

"Being here, the . . . the children, the confusion. It's . . . everything." Wesley was trying very hard not to meet the othen's n's gaze, fussing with his briefcase, taking out his translation notes and then fussing with them.

"You said you were confused," Giles reached out and brushed his hand along Wesley's arm. "About us?"

Wesley nodded, still staring at the desk, waiting for Giles to tell him it had been a nice diversion, but he shouldn't expect anything further.

Giles leaned forward, pushing Wes' head up with a finger to his chin. The older man leaned in, pressing his mouth to Wesley's split lip, his fingers moving up to cup Wesley's cheek. "Wes, it's only natural to be a little confused at the beginning of a relationship. We'll . . . we'll work it out." Giles pulled away, giving him a small smile before turning and heading to the door.

"And I need that translation. I think it's important," he said, opening and returning to the library proper.

Wesley stood staring after him for a moment, blinking rather owlishly.

Relationship?

Grinning though he tried to stop himself, Wes turned back to his work.