Heat

He lost track of time. He'd reached a particularly difficult, but quite intriguing, passage on the demon horde's leader, when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Wesley?"

He looked up at the sound of Rupert's voice, smiling faintly at the groggy man, dressed only in pajama bottoms, his hair rumpled and wild.

"Yes?" He tried to hide his amusement, but couldn't when his smile widened of it's own accord.

"It's two in the morning."

Wesley blinked, shaking his head. It couldn't be that late. Glancing to the clock, he saw that Rupert was right. Damn. He'd probably never get any sleep now. He still had quite a bit to translate and it would probably take him until morning to finish the section.

"Put the book down and come to bed."

"But--"

"Wes? It's two in the morning. Come to bed." Rupert's voice was firm, his eyes insisting.

"All right." Ducking his head to hide a smile he couldn't have explained if he'd tried, Wes stacked his own books on the coffee table, beside Rupert's, and made his way up the stairs. He didn't have any clothing with him, hadn't known he'd be staying over again so soon. Heart fluttering at that thought, Wesley reached the top of the stairs to find Rupert already in bed, lying on his back with his hands stacked beneath his head. His eyes were open, watching.

Wesley gave him a shy smile, preparing to ask if Rupert had anything he could sleep in when he saw Rupert's own pajama bottoms folded and lying atop the dresser. Breath catching in his throat, Wesley told himself to calm down. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen . . . felt each other nude before. Swallowing, Wes turned around, beginning to take off his own clothing. He was conscious of the other man's eyes on him all the while and found it . . . nerve-wracking and yet, somehow, exhilarating as well.

To take his mind from the jangling of his nerves, Wesley planned. They'd have to get up early again tomorrow, so that Rupert could drop him at his flat again. Logistically it was a nightmare. Perhaps he should pack an overnight bag? Something he could run into his flat and grab should this happen again . . . or . . . maybe he could even . . . leave some things here? A few changes of clothing, an extra toothbrush . . .

No, he quickly told himself when he began to feel his hopes rise. It was far too soon in their . . . relationship for that kind of thing. He wasn't even sure that Rupert would want him around tomorrow. After all, the only reason he'd spent the night once, let alone twice, was due to injury. Rupert, like any good, kind, human being, didn't want to leave him alone while he was injured. Good lord, I've got to get a hold of myself. The next thing I'll be wondering will be when we're going to buy a house together. Really.

Shaking himself, swallowing against the lump in his throat, Wesley slid off his boxers. Unable to meet Rupert's gaze, he hurried to the bed and under the covers. Adjusting the pillows underneath him, he mimicked Giles' posture, laying on his back with his hands under his head, not knowing what else to do.

He'd thought about snuggling up to Rupert, but he wasn't sure that was . . . not 'allowed', so much as . . . 'proper etiquette'? No, that wasn't really what he meant, but Wesley didn't want to do the wrong thing. He wanted to do exactly the right thing so that, maybe, he'd get to do this again.

"Did you learn anything interesting?" came Rupert's sleep-husky voice and Wesley had to repress a shudder and a smile just at the sound of it.

"Uh, a few things, though I don't see how any of it relates to the incident."

"Attack. Wesley, you were attacked."

"Yes." Wesley could hear the shrug in his own voice. He sensed Rupert's movement next to him and looked over to find the man had turned on his side, toward Wesley, and propped his head on his elbow. Olive-colored eyes studied him and, absently it seemed, Rupert's free hand moved to rest casually on Wes' stomach, which fluttered a bit at the touch.

"You say that as if someone sprayed you with a water pistol instead of beating the hell out of you."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, considering, and was a bit disturbed to realize he would have been angrier if someone had sprayed him with water. Of course, he was upset, and . . . frightened, but . . . not actually angry.

"Well, that's got you thinking," Giles sighed and Wesley was surprised when the man leaned down and brushed their lips together. "Don't worry about it tonight. Sleep, but do think about it."

"Y-yes, of-of course." Were he being honest, he'd have said that Rupert's kiss, brief as it had been, had already thrown his train of thought off anyway. And once Rupert moved closer, pushing their bodies together and slinging his arm over Wesley's stomach, his chin rubbing against the top of Wes' head? Well, thought pretty much left then.

He lay there for a long time, feeling Rupert's body relax around him, concentrating on the way it felt as warmth seeped into his skin. He could feel the lack of tension, the way Rupert just seemed to melt around him. Wesley himself couldn't help but relax a little, but he fought sleep for some time, wanting to commit the details to memory before they flew away.

The way the bed and Rupert's skin smelled warm and deep and clean. The way the other man moved, even in his sleep, to accommodate his smallest adjustment. The way it felt to have someone else's skin so close to his own. How warm it was under the covers.

Sighing happily, Wes had to smile as he remembered what Rupert had told him when he'd brought him back from the library.

Don't worry. We'll get you warmed up soon.

The man certainly knew how to keep his word.