Fast Times at Sunnydale High

*





Monday night, Wesley arrived at Lindsey’s house, and was ushered into the living room, both boys feeling a little bit foolish over the way they’d felt and acted the previous week, and wanting to get passed it.



It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, though. Wesley was feeling wrong-footed, and just as awkward as the first time they’d gotten together like this. A week had passed since Lindsey had made him feel guilty over having a boyfriend that he didn’t even have, and the feeling that he’d somehow disappointed Lindsey, as ridiculous as that was, still niggled.



The knowledge that he had in fact lied to him, omitted certain facts when he’d denied his relationship with Connor, sat heavy in his gut. He didn’t know why he’d said there was nothing between them. Perhaps because in his mind there really hadn’t ever been, except for the sex, but more probably because he wanted Lindsey to know he was very available, should he have some sort of sexual preference shift and decide that Wesley looked good to him.



And Lindsey’s reaction to the news about Wesley’s ‘boyfriend’ had given him hope that that was a possibility, however false he knew it probably was. Blast, he thought. Things would be a whole lot easier if he could just somehow talk himself into falling in love with Connor.



And thinking of Connor did nothing for Wesley’s mood, as Lindsey passed him a beer from the fridge and offered him a somewhat forced smile before sitting down across from him. The poor kid had followed Wesley out of the lunchroom at school on Friday to ask Wesley if he wanted to do something with him on the weekend, and Wes had practically screamed at him, saying things like ‘I’m not your boyfriend!’, and ‘get over it’, and ‘find someone who actually likes you’. He had, of course, felt awful, and immediately apologised and begged forgiveness, and even hugged the boy, one arm around his waist, the other hand buried in his soft mop of hair and when Connor finally pulled back, eyes glazed over with unshed tears, Wesley had kissed him, gently, on the cheek.



He mumbled a thanks to Lindsey and took a sip from his bottle, then stared down at the empty kitchen table, finding the knots in the wood very interesting.



Lindsey had been out with Fred twice in the last week, and both times they’d ate or watched a movie, or gone for a drive and held hands innocently, and ended the night with a fairly chaste kiss, and Lindsey found himself wanting to push for anything sexual in nature less and less.



It wasn’t because he was thinking of Wesley, exactly. He hadn’t really thought much of Wesley all week, tried hard not to, but something just seemed to be missing with Fred lately, some sort of chemistry that maybe had never been there in the first place, not for him, and he’d only been trying to force, but Lindsey didn’t want to admit that was true.



And again, not because that would mean that he was attracted to Wesley in a way that he couldn’t ever be attracted to Fred, and he still didn’t think he was gay, but because he really did like Fred, really cared for her, and she meant more to him than anyone else he’d ever dated. More than almost anyone else he’d ever known.



He didn’t want to admit what he was really feeling, that their romantic relationship was over, and he didn’t want to hurt her by telling her that, but he had a feeling she already knew. She probably knew before he had even figured it out.



Wesley had only been in the house for ten minutes. The two of them had only been sitting at the table for seven of those minutes, and already they were both finished their first beer. It was amazing how much you could drink, and how quickly, when you were going out of your way not to speak.



Lindsey held his bottle by the neck and twirled it around, the base making circles of condensation on the table. “You want another?” he asked, and hoped that Wesley would agree.



“God, yes,” Wesley sighed, in relief. He needed something to keep him occupied so that he didn’t say or do anything stupid. And perhaps a couple of beers might relax them both enough that they could get back to what had been passing for normal between them lately.



Lindsey let out a soft, honest chuckle and grabbed them two more.



***



An hour and a half, and four beers each, later, they were, in fact, significantly more relaxed.



“Are you out of your mind?” Wesley asked, a little bit drunkenly. “Seriously? Christina Aguilara?” They had moved into the living room at some point and Lindsey had settled on MTV, and had become appreciative of the view, if not the music, when the pop singer’s latest hit video came on.



“What?” Lindsey asked, swallowing another large mouthful of beer. “She’s hot.”



Wesley rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he said, as if he were an expert on the subject of hot girls. “She just looks so... Anyway, if I were to have sex with a woman it would be someone more like...” a man “Katie Holmes.” Because she seemed nice, and sweet, and not really all that sexual in Wesley’s eyes, which was a great bonus, because Wesley would have to be imagining Brad Pitt or Denzel Washington anyway.



“Yeah,” Lindsey snorted. “I’m sure she’d be real flattered to hear that.”



“Well, she’s no Viggo Mortensen, but she’s a very attractive young lady.”



“Very attractive young lady? What are you, 70?” Lindsey teased, realising his beer was finished and heading off to the kitchen for another. He pulled one out of the fridge, shrugged, and grabbed another for Wesley, just in case. “I know you’re a queer and all,” he paused to hand Wesley another bottle and received a lopsided smile of thanks. “But you’ve got to be able to come up with a girl you’d want to fuck more than Katie Holmes! Besides, she’s married.”



Wesley took a rather large chug out of his bottle and then rolled his eyes. “Yes, and I’m gay.” He emphasised the last word, as if it was something that Lindsey was having a hard time understanding.



“And if you think you could do better,” Wesley said, wagging his finger from his seat next to Lindsey on the couch, “why don’t you tell me what man you find attractive enough to cliff.”



One seriously hotter that Katie Holmes, Lindsey thought. “Man, if I was gonna have sex with a guy...” he trailed off, becoming momentarily sober at the thought of what he’d just said. If he was going to have sex with a guy. It would be someone like Wesley. Not overtly macho, but not effeminate either. Someone who was sexy and smart and funny. Someone who made him laugh and made him feel comfortable, and someone who would look good face down on his bed with his ass in the air, or above Lindsey forcing his hands down and looking into him as they... “George Clooney!” he shouted, and jerked back from Wesley, putting some space between them.



Right. George Clooney. He was hot. Right?



Wesley laughed. “Yes, I would too.”



Lindsey was thankful that Wesley hadn’t noticed his small brain melt, and decided that a change in subject was in order. “So, since MTV seems to suck pretty hard, you wanna put on some music instead?”



“That depends,” Wesley answered dubiously. He didn’t trust Lindsey’s taste in music any more than he did his taste in television. “What did you have in mind.”



Lindsey looked over at Wesley and smiled. “Anything you want,” was his answer. It couldn’t hurt to be courteous. After all, everything in the house was his, so letting Wesley choose from his own collection wasn’t a big sacrifice.



“Alright,” Wesley smiled, and got up to get his bag from the hallway. “Play this,” he instructed, handing Lindsey a CD and sitting back down on the couch.



Lindsey shrugged and did as Wesley asked him to. Most music was pretty good in his eyes, and he liked to see that little sparkle that crossed Wesley’s face when he was happy about something.



He put the disc in the player and sat back down next to Wesley, hitting play on the remote and waiting.



“You’re fucking serious?” Lindsey asked after a few seconds, incredulous. “Hellmouth?”



Wesley downed the last of his drink and plopped it down on the table next to him. “I happen to like Hellmouth,” he said, with an air of conviction that only the suitably drunk can properly possess.



Lindsey let it go for a minute, for two, for five, and Wesley seemed to be honestly enjoying the ‘music’ that was emanating from the speakers. What the hell was wrong with him? This music sucked, and not just because it was Spike’s band, but because they... Spike’s band. Shit. He should have known.



And the five beers Lindsey had consumed in less than two hours had loosened his tongue significantly.



“You’re hot for him, aren’t you?” he asked, shaking his head. He should have fucking known.



“I... what?” In Wesley’s defence, he really had no idea what Lindsey was talking about.



“Spike.” Lindsey spat the word out like it was poison. “You want him. That’s why you follow him around, go to see his band, listen to his shitty-ass crap that passes for music. Fuck, why am I surprised?”



Yes, that’s it, Wesley thought. One moment I’m Connor’s boyfriend, the next I’m in love with Spike. Wesley had come to gain a great respect for Lindsey and his intelligence over the past weeks, but their interactions of late seemed to be nullifying that opinion. And then it hit him. Like the proverbial tonne of bricks.



“You’re jealous!” he stated, proudly, emboldened by the alcohol, and ecstatic at the prospect.



“Fuck off,” Lindsey said, casually, dismissively, but he looked down, averted his gaze, and he knew that he’d just given himself away. He was jealous. He’d been thinking, and rightly, for the past month and a half that Wesley had been wanting him, and based on that fact, and unwanted flares of lust that made themselves known from time to time, Lindsey had begun to reciprocate. And yeah, it pissed him off that Wesley wanted someone else, even if Lindsey wasn’t prepared to fully return Wesley’s feelings.



“You are!” Wesley was almost too excited to sit still. “You want me to love your music more, and think that you’re the coolest, and like you the best.” He looked down a little then, hiding his smile, embarrassed at what he’d just said, but unable to deny the truth in it. “You know I... I... feel... for you, and you want to keep it that way, lest your ego take a hit because I find someone else mildly attractive.”



It was that first time that Wesley had openly admitted his feeling for Lindsey, not that Lindsey hadn’t known very well how Wesley felt, and he half expected the other boy to laugh at him, to kick him out and say that he was crazy, but instead, Lindsey smiled.



“Let’s just listen,” Lindsey suggested, and Wesley thought that was the best idea he’d heard all day, and closed his eyes, relaxing back into the couch and feeling the warmth of Lindsey so close by, was able to just sit, and enjoy the music.



Lindsey was right. Hellmouth was terrible. The only reason he’d ever listened to them was because of Spike, but he’d gotten over his crush on Spike long ago, and now he only listened out of a sense of friendly obligation.



And Lindsey couldn’t help but think that Wesley hadn’t denied the accusation that he was, indeed, hot for Spike. And he didn’t know why it bothered him so much.



“I don’t, you know,” Wesley said after long minutes.



“Huh?” Lindsey asked, eloquently.



“I don’t find anyone else mildly attractive. Not when held up against you,” Wesley confessed, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that Lindsey wouldn’t make him feel terrible about the admission. Fuck, hadn’t he sworn off drinking? Yeah, and this was the reason.



Long minutes passed, and neither of them said anything, both sitting remarkably still and listening to the atrocious sounds coming from the stereo. “You know what, Wes,” Lindsey offered, after some time. “You’re alright.” He leaned his head down on Wesley’s shoulder drunkenly, gaining comfort and warmth in the gesture and its acceptance. He was suddenly feeling very drowsy.



“I....” Wesley started, pulling back slightly and Lindsey’s head came up, just a bit, looking at him.



Lindsey couldn’t breathe. He felt himself drawn in, held by Wesley’s eyes and unconsciously moving forward, as if he and Wesley were opposite poles of a magnet, and he knew his lips were on a direct path for Wesley’s, hoped they were, just a little. And when they were mere millimetres away, and Wesley closed his eyes, taking in a short breath and letting his tongue poke out just the smallest bit from between his lips to moisten them, Lindsey stopped himself, cursing inwardly, and also relieved.



“It’s...” he sputtered, pulling back and trying not to seem like he was dismissing Wesley, like he’d only just noticed the time and he was sorry they had to cut things so short. “It’s past ten. You can go, if you want.”



He hadn’t moved though, and Wesley had a feeling that if he insisted, that he forced his hand, he could get Lindsey to agree, to take that next step with him, however scary. “But... I’m not...”



“Please,” Lindsey begged, and Wesley knew he wasn’t ready yet, and if he pushed he might get what he want tonight, but it would definitely come back to bite him in the ass.



“All right,” Wesley agreed, not wanting to force him, or make him any more uncomfortable, not when they’d gotten this far. “I’ll go. But... I’m afraid I’ve had a bit much to drink.”



Lindsey laughed out loud and got up from the couch, handing Wesley the telephone. “Call Spike. He’ll come get you.”



Wesley silently agreed and dialled the number. “Spike? Oh, thank goodness. Yes, I’m with Lindsey.... No, I didn’t... Yes... no... NO... for the love of God, just come and get me! Thank you.” He hung up the phone and looked apologetically at Lindsey.



“He’ll be here soon.”



For the next twenty minutes Lindsey and Wesley did a good job of pretending they hadn’t just almost kissed, and didn’t still want to, and when Spike showed up, on foot, and banging on the door for Wesley to come out so he could drive the Volvo home, Wesley offered Lindsey a shy smile, before he bolted out the door and straight into Spike’s friendly punch in the ribs.



***



The car ride home was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Wesley was enjoying his buzz, head tilted to the side and leaning against the window as he watched houses and streetlights pass by, and thought about Lindsey.



He told Lindsey how he felt about him, not that he hadn’t already known, but he’d told him. Plainly and clearly told Lindsey that he liked him, and the world hadn’t ended. In fact, he was really beginning to believe that Lindsey might share his feelings, or at least be starting to, or perhaps he’d had some kind of mild stroke, because Lindsey had almost kissed him.



He sighed and sat up straighter as the car pulled into the garage. Lindsey had been drunk, and flattered by Wesley’s admission, and even if he had wanted to kiss Wesley tonight, he’d hardly be leaving his girlfriend and jumping into the ‘homo affair of the year’ with him. Still, he couldn’t help but hope that he would.



“Oi. We’re home,” came Spike’s amused voice and Wesley shook his head, realising the car had come to a stop, and Spike had his own door open, waiting for Wesley to follow him.



“Oh, yes, quite,” Wesley agreed and got out of the car, walking after a chuckling Spike and into the house. “Sleepover?” he asked, hopefully, as they stood in the hall and toed off their shoes.



Spike snorted. “Sure. On one condition.”



“I’m not having sex with you,” Wesley warned, trying to sound serious, and lost his balance a little as his second shoe flew into the opposite wall. He managed to catch himself before he fell, though, and had to be proud of that, at least.



“Thank God for that,” Spike mumbled. “Alright two conditions. One you stay on the couch. I don’t trust you not to take advantage of me while you’re like this.” Spike’s teasing smile, and arm around Wesley’s shoulders as he led him down the stairs, let Wesley know that he was joking around, but Wesley couldn’t help wholeheartedly agreeing. Last time he’d been drunk he’d managed to seduce someone he found much less attractive than Spike, and tonight he’d already managed to nearly kiss a boy with a girlfriend.



“I’ll try to control myself,” Wesley said, dryly, and once they reached the bottom of the stairs, promptly stripped down to his boxer shorts and threw himself on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and head resting comfortably on the cushion. “And the second?”



“That’s you controlling yourself, is it?” Spike wondered out loud. “Figures. The second,” he said, jumping down on the couch next to Wesley, and making the whole thing shake with the force of it, “is that you tell me all about what happed at Lindsey’s place tonight, and why you thought it was such a good idea to drink so much that you had to call me to come get you.”



Wesley smiled at the reminder of Lindsey and all that had happened that night, and he twisted around to that he was lying on his back, head propped up on the arm rest and gangly legs draped over Spike’s lap. “I think he might be gay.”



“You’re insane,” Spike told him, finger pointing straight at his nose. “There is no way that boy likes dick.”



“I don’t know, Spike,” Wesley slurred, and closed his eyes. “You don’t know him like I do.”



“You don’t even know even like you think you do!” Spike growled, exasperated. “It’s been less than two months that he’s been forced to spend time with you, and sure, he might be a nice guy, underneath how much of an utter twat he is, and the two of you might even be getting along, but Wes, you don’t know him. And he doesn’t want you.” He hoped he didn’t sound too harsh, but damnit, Wesley had to understand this.



“He almost kissed me,” Wesley told him, voice far away and with a somewhat goofy grin.



“He what?!” Wesley opened his eyes and laughed out loud at the incredulous look on Spike’s face. “You’re drunk.”



“Mmmm, yes,” Wesley agreed. “But it’s true. He almost kissed me.”



“Oh...” Well, that was... fuck. Could Wesley be right? Could Lindsey really be into guys? Into Wes? Out of all the things in the world that Spike couldn’t ever see happening, that was at the top of the list. Right up there with Hellmouth winning a Grammy, and Elvis making a comeback.



But if he was right, if Wesley did have a chance in hell of seducing Lindsey over to the gay side, that meant that Fred was available, and would soon be needed a shoulder to cry on. He thought for a moment that it might be time to up that game a bit, but then came back to his senses.



He sighed and shook his head, denying what Wesley was so convinced of. He had to be misunderstanding something. “Wes, no. You’re getting carried away with this crazy obsession of yours, and I’m worried that you’re going to get hurt. I care more about you than anyone else in this world, you stupid little shit,” he said, and emphasised the insult with a swat to Wesley’s calf. “I just... I can’t stand to see you getting so worked up over something that’s probably all in your head. You’re gonna get your heart broken, and then I’m gonna have to feel bad for you, and it’ll be a huge pain in my ass.”



Wesley said nothing, just continued smiling as if he hadn’t heard anything Spike had just said.



“Not that you don’t deserve to feel like shit and be made a fool of after the way you’ve been treating Connor,” Spike mumbled, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back against the couch.



“Oh, that’s right,” Wesley said, sounding as if he’d just remembered something that he’d been planning on telling Spike. “I talked with him.”



“Yeah, so I heard,” Spike said, moving his head so that he could look at Wesley. Connor had told him that he and Wesley had decided to be ‘just friends’, and the kid seemed to be taking it pretty well, but it was always hard to tell with him. He tended to feel things pretty deeply and keep the feelings hidden even deeper. “How did it go?”



“Remarkably well,” Wesley answered, dozy from the beer, and the comfort of relaxing with his friend. “I fucked him again.”



“You wot?!” Spike screamed, and shoved Wesley so hard that he fell off the couch into an undignified heap onto the floor. “As if letting him blow you in the washroom and jerk you off in the bleachers at paintball wasn’t enough! You’ve got to stick your willy in him? Again? When you’re supposed to be ending things? Or have you had a change or heart? You planning on making him your sweetie now, or what?”



“There’s no need to get sarcastic,” Wesley admonished, getting up from the ground and rubbing his ass, which had taken the brunt of the landing. “Or violent,” he added, taking his place again on the couch. “I did end things. I told him how I felt, and he told me that it was okay, but that he still wanted to have sex.”



“And you didn’t see anything wrong with that?”



“You know, for someone who goes through as many girls as you do, you’re sure coming down on me pretty hard for one... a few... indiscretions.” Wesley tried to sound suitably outraged, but it just came across pouty. So he pouted.



Alright, so Wes kind of had a point. “But...”



Wesley sighed. “Yes I know. But you care about Connor, unlike all of your conquests, and you don’t want to see him get hurt.”



That, and he didn’t want Wesley to be the one doing the hurting. Wesley was better than that, he thought.



“And yes, I did see something wrong with it,” Wesley went on, feeling more sober now, and sort of... icky on the inside. “In fact, I told him no, but he was persistent, and I was far too weak to deny him. It has been rather a while since I’ve, er, gotten any,” Wesley finished, with a small lip quirk.



A small bark of laughter escaped through Spike’s nose and he shoved Wesley’s legs out of the way so he could stand. He grabbed the blanket down on the back of the couch and balled it up, throwing it at Wesley’s head. “Get some sleep, idiot. School in the morning.” He couldn’t help thinking that Wesley was only compounding a previous, horrible, mistake by letting this thing with Connor fester, and he could only hope that the two of them would see sanity, soon, because no matter what Connor told Wesley, Spike knew the kid well enough to know that he’d been lying. There was no way in hell he was okay with letting Wesley fuck him whenever he needed to scratch an itch, and nothing more.



Wesley mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, doing his best to spread the blanket out over top of him before he took Spike’s advice, and dozed off.



TBC