Heat

Wesley settled into his research, letting the words engulf him and drown out the riot of his thoughts. Buried in the work, he didn't even hear Rupert's occasional curses from the bathroom. The dull thump, however, was near impossible not to notice, especially given the rapid cursing in several languages that followed.

Wesley was out of his seat in a moment, swing into the bathroom and ready to see, he thought, just about anything. He found Rupert glaring at the corpse, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and gripping the leg of the man's trousers, which ere down around his ankles, with the other.

The picture was so strange Wesley couldn't help his sharp bark of laughter. Rupert turned a mild glare on him, but it quickly faded into an embarrassed smile.

"I was trying to get into his pockets," Rupert explained with a shrug.

"Are you certain that's all you were trying to get into?" Wesley couldn't keep the laughter down. It bubbled out and he covered his mouth to try and stifle it.

Rupert let out a laugh of his own, but then stopped to rub his head once more. "Ow. I hit my head."

"Here, let me take a look." Wesley found it hard to stop laughing, but he tried, going to examine his lover's head. There was actually a small lump and Wes turned Rupert, checking his pupils, leaning in to brush his lips over Rupert's briefly and then feeling rather embarrassed about it. "How did you manage this?" he asked to cover both the action and his nervousness, reaching up to touch the back of his lover's head.

"Well, uh, it's-it's not easy, undressing a corpse," Rupert said, apparently in his own defense, though he, too, was still having a bit of trouble not laughing and his eyes were sparkling in the most inviting way.

"I wouldn't know," Wes answered, shaking his head. "Come on. Have a seat and I'll make you some tea and you can . . . er, undress the corpse later."

"Well, I don't need to now," Giles said with a smile and mock exasperation. "After all, I have his trousers. Let me just finish here and then I'll be out for that tea."

Watching as Rupert finished getting the trousers off the man, Wesley laughed and then turned to go and make them both a cup of tea. He enjoyed making tea for someone beside himself. There was a feel of ritual about it. When it was just for himself, Wesley barely noticed doing it at all, his mind on other things. Now, though, he found himself smiling and not quite able to say why.

Placing everything on the tray, he quickly rifled through Giles' cupboards, feeling just a bit as if he were doing something untoward. Snorting at himself, he found a stash of biscuits hidden in the back and set out some of those as well. With the tray finished, he took it out into the living room to find Rupert sitting on the couch, looking over a few small bits of paper.

"Did you find anything of use?" he asked, putting the tea tray on the coffee table and moving to sit next to his lover.

"No. Nothing. These are all that was in his pockets. One is apparently a receipt, though the ink is too light to read, and the other's blank. All that trouble and we still have no idea who he was." There was a growl in Rupert's voice and Wesley sighed, reaching out to lay his hand on the nape of his neck.

He didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but he knew it always calmed him when Rupert did it. The smile he got from the other man, though small and distracted, was more than enough reward.

"Well, I should go back to the book." Wesley said. "It seems it’s the only thing we have to go on. If I can narrow down our search tonight, I have a feeling your head, at least, will thank me for it."

Rupert snorted, leaning against him. Wesley swallowed hard, suddenly finding himself in Rupert's usual position. His lover seemed to need from him what he normally gave and Wes wasn't sure he knew how to . . .

Stop it! he told the little voice in his head that was beginning to panic. He rubbed lightly at the other man's neck and hoped that was enough.

"I think we'll all be thanking you, Wes. No one wants to go tromping about through those caves all night."

"Yes, I do suppose you're right." Sighing, Wesley cast an eye to the books. Buffy would return soon and he was sure the others wouldn't be far behind. He really should get back to work, but he didn't want to leave Rupert, didn't want to stop touching him. The feel of his skin beneath Wesley's fingers was comforting, somehow. Familiar, though they'd barely had time to . . . explore one another.

"I talked to Oz," Rupert said, glancing over at him with a curious look. "Frankly, that is a conversation I never wish to have again, but . . . well, I thought it would be best . . . until we'd decided how to handle things."

"He's not going to tell Willow?" Wesley sighed his relief, accepting the cup of tea Giles handed him. He could stay long enough to finish his tea, of course.

"Uh, he . . . he said he's not going to mention it to her, but if she asks him directly, well . . . He said he won't lie, but he'll try not to say anything." Giles shrugged slightly. "It's the best we could ask for."

"Yes, I suppose. Uh, Angel." He felt Giles stiffen just the slightest bit under his fingers and his brow furrowed. It was obvious Giles didn't like Angel, but he was unsure why. He supposed it could be because Angel was a vampire, but that seemed too narrow a view for Rupert. "I went to pick up my car at Faith's motel and he was there getting some of her things. He, uh, he knew . . . I asked him not to tell anyone and he agreed."

"Did he? Well, we'll see." Rupert didn't pull away from him, but Wesley was left with the feeling that Rupert had pulled inside himself, staring at the wall, his eyes distant. His muscles were just a shade more tense under Wesley's rubbing fingers, his breathing just a bit harsher somehow.

"Are you all right?" Wesley asked, confused as to what had happened. Had he done something wrong? Said something?

"Hmmm?" Rupert looked at him as if he'd been startled and Wesley raised an eyebrow, a bit worried. It seemed Rupert had forgotten he was even in the room.

"I asked if you were all right."

"Oh. Yes," Rupert gave him a weak smile, not at all the kind to which Wesley had become accustomed. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I just, uh . . . got lost in thought for a moment."

Wesley opened his mouth to pursue the topic, but he was uneasy now and he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to push. Rupert's fingers brushed his hand then and he gave Wes a real smile, pushing the uneasiness away.

"How about we get back to our work? The sooner this is finished, the sooner we can come home and relax without worry of the children showing up." Rupert sat up and Wesley ducked his head to hide a slightly confused smile. Despite the uneasiness of a moment ago, Rupert's words stuck in his mind. He knew the real meaning of course, but part of him liked to pretend, if only for a moment, that Rupert had called this place 'their' home, instead of simply meaning 'his' home.

Finishing the last of his tea, Wesley set his cup back on the tray. "Right," he said. "I should get back to translating."