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The Sixth Visit
folder
Angel the Series › Het - Male/Female › Faith/Wesley
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,108
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Angel the Series › Het - Male/Female › Faith/Wesley
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,108
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Sixth Visit
Title: the sixth visit
Author: michelle/shelly
Email: mwkpdp@prodigy.net
Pairing: faith/wes
Improv: 50: crisp, fall, return, ending
Disclaimer: not mine...just good no copy right infringement intended fun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The first time he came, she sat for five of the twenty minutes time allotted, just watching him, sort of afraid, but mostly dumbstruck. He just held the two-way phone to his ear, his expression unreadable. She sure as hell couldn't read anything from his expression, least ways. She knew she had to do this, though. Had to talk to him, at least. Fuck, talking to Wes was several steps in the many 12 step programs she had yet to complete.
But that first time she just watched him. For five silent minutes.
He seemed, to her, a whole different person from the one she had thought she knew. He didn't squirm, didn't fidget didn't even ask stupid questions. Just sat, tall and proud in the uncomfortable visitor's chair and watched her with a sort of smile on his face. A very slight smile. She wondered if Angel was dead.
When she picked up her phone she had no idea what to say. "So hey, Wes? How they hanging?"
* * * * * * * * * *
The second time he came she knew not to ask about Angel and the others. Wesley had made it clear to her that it was only generic things they could talk about. Or horrific things, like the end of the world, or like what she had done to him that week she'd been in Los Angeles, the one she'd spent torturing him and others, the one where'd she'd turned herself in. But when it came to her revelation of wrongs and *Angel*'s part in her revelations and ultimate quest for redemption, well, that was a closed subject. Must not speak of it or about it or even allude to it. She didn't ask why. Wes seemed to be fine talking about her past pent up rage and hatred against him in particular and Buffy and Buffy's band of goody goods, and of all things good, in general, but Buffy and Angel and their respective gangs in present time were very much *off* topic and off topic conversations only got her a blank smile and a dead phone line. Talk of Cordelia in particular got, not only a dead phone line, but also a turned back. She wondered if Angel was very, very busy or had just forgotten about her.
* * * * * * * * * *
The third time he returned she got the whole story. She sat there, her mouth open, the phone to her ear, and said nothing. When she spoke she had no idea what to say. "Yer lying, right, Wes?" And then she giggled. And then laughed out loud. When Wes put the phone down and turned away she banged on the Plexiglas until the guards came, horribly afraid this was an ending she wouldn't be able to tolerate. Wes turned back to face her, and she did her best to screw her expression to one of contrition. It wasn't easy for her, but Wesley seemed to forgive her and sat back down. The guards let it slide and she spoke into the phone, after he'd picked his up once again. "I'm sorry. It just seems so un-Angel like. So unforgiving for Mr. Forgive Me My Trespasses. But, at least I know where the sexy scar comes from. I was afraid to ask."
Wesley smiled, and Faith wondered if she'd ever hear from Angel again.
Wesley left her an address.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The fourth time Wesley came, he'd been cleared for touch visits. They met in a cafeteria like room with plastic chairs and round, chipped Formica topped tables. Kids ran screaming and tumbling around the place, while mothers and husbands sat, hugged their loved ones and cried. Wesley held out his hand, and Faith, her hand trembling slightly shook it with a firm grasp. Wesley smelled crisp and clean, like the out doors and she savored it. They talked. He didn't mention Angel or the others and she didn't ask. She did, however ask about his family and he snidely asked about hers in return. So she pulled up a chair, sat down, and told him. He listened without comment. She reached out to touch his scar and he pulled back and said he was sorry the scars she'd placed on him were gone; that they had been much better. She felt a pang of true regret and didn't even think about Angel. She told him she was glad they hadn't lasted. Usually, she was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The fifth time he came, he brought an approved lunch basket and told her about his family. Faith did her best to reply with more than "No shit?" and patted his hand, leg, or cheek. He smiled and she told him the secret to toilet wine. It wasn't so much the sugar or potatoes or whatever else you could get, as it was the holding your need to piss and shit until yard time. Nothing spoiled a good batch of toilet wine like piss or shit. Wes told her about fucking Lilah. Faith patted his hand and told him not to worry too much about. The evil bitch was hot and she'd have fucked her too if he hadn't been too preoccupied with hunting down a certain souled vampire. Wes smiled, mostly because Faith hadn't mentioned Angel by name. Faith didn't even think about Angel beyond not saying his name out loud.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sixth time Wes came, he was smiling before she'd even said anything; before she even reached him. She knew her last letter had been funny but it was still a shock to see him waiting for her with a smile on his face. She didn't even mind the rugrat that grabbed her leg, slowing her progress to him. She just patted the kid's head, pulled him off, and made her way to Wes. "How they hanging?"
"Upstanding and British, of course."
"Does that mean you got more nasty British food in this basket or you have a hard on for me?"
"As you mentioned in your last letter, even nasty, English food is better than prison food."
"Yeah, sure, don't mean I want it *brought* to me."
"If you'll look in the basket, you'll notice only prison visitors approved sandwich makings."
Faith rummaged through the basket with a smile. She pulled out a loaf of bread and a clear plastic bag of ham. She looked up at Wesley with a smile. "Now see? *This* is why I like you!"
At the end of the sixth visit, Faith pulled Wesley close and kissed him; full on and tongue deep. When she pulled back, her lips were swollen and shinny and they tasted like Wes to her. Wesley leaned closer, brushed her lips with his and told her he'd be back next week with a kidney pie.
~end.
Author: michelle/shelly
Email: mwkpdp@prodigy.net
Pairing: faith/wes
Improv: 50: crisp, fall, return, ending
Disclaimer: not mine...just good no copy right infringement intended fun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The first time he came, she sat for five of the twenty minutes time allotted, just watching him, sort of afraid, but mostly dumbstruck. He just held the two-way phone to his ear, his expression unreadable. She sure as hell couldn't read anything from his expression, least ways. She knew she had to do this, though. Had to talk to him, at least. Fuck, talking to Wes was several steps in the many 12 step programs she had yet to complete.
But that first time she just watched him. For five silent minutes.
He seemed, to her, a whole different person from the one she had thought she knew. He didn't squirm, didn't fidget didn't even ask stupid questions. Just sat, tall and proud in the uncomfortable visitor's chair and watched her with a sort of smile on his face. A very slight smile. She wondered if Angel was dead.
When she picked up her phone she had no idea what to say. "So hey, Wes? How they hanging?"
* * * * * * * * * *
The second time he came she knew not to ask about Angel and the others. Wesley had made it clear to her that it was only generic things they could talk about. Or horrific things, like the end of the world, or like what she had done to him that week she'd been in Los Angeles, the one she'd spent torturing him and others, the one where'd she'd turned herself in. But when it came to her revelation of wrongs and *Angel*'s part in her revelations and ultimate quest for redemption, well, that was a closed subject. Must not speak of it or about it or even allude to it. She didn't ask why. Wes seemed to be fine talking about her past pent up rage and hatred against him in particular and Buffy and Buffy's band of goody goods, and of all things good, in general, but Buffy and Angel and their respective gangs in present time were very much *off* topic and off topic conversations only got her a blank smile and a dead phone line. Talk of Cordelia in particular got, not only a dead phone line, but also a turned back. She wondered if Angel was very, very busy or had just forgotten about her.
* * * * * * * * * *
The third time he returned she got the whole story. She sat there, her mouth open, the phone to her ear, and said nothing. When she spoke she had no idea what to say. "Yer lying, right, Wes?" And then she giggled. And then laughed out loud. When Wes put the phone down and turned away she banged on the Plexiglas until the guards came, horribly afraid this was an ending she wouldn't be able to tolerate. Wes turned back to face her, and she did her best to screw her expression to one of contrition. It wasn't easy for her, but Wesley seemed to forgive her and sat back down. The guards let it slide and she spoke into the phone, after he'd picked his up once again. "I'm sorry. It just seems so un-Angel like. So unforgiving for Mr. Forgive Me My Trespasses. But, at least I know where the sexy scar comes from. I was afraid to ask."
Wesley smiled, and Faith wondered if she'd ever hear from Angel again.
Wesley left her an address.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The fourth time Wesley came, he'd been cleared for touch visits. They met in a cafeteria like room with plastic chairs and round, chipped Formica topped tables. Kids ran screaming and tumbling around the place, while mothers and husbands sat, hugged their loved ones and cried. Wesley held out his hand, and Faith, her hand trembling slightly shook it with a firm grasp. Wesley smelled crisp and clean, like the out doors and she savored it. They talked. He didn't mention Angel or the others and she didn't ask. She did, however ask about his family and he snidely asked about hers in return. So she pulled up a chair, sat down, and told him. He listened without comment. She reached out to touch his scar and he pulled back and said he was sorry the scars she'd placed on him were gone; that they had been much better. She felt a pang of true regret and didn't even think about Angel. She told him she was glad they hadn't lasted. Usually, she was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The fifth time he came, he brought an approved lunch basket and told her about his family. Faith did her best to reply with more than "No shit?" and patted his hand, leg, or cheek. He smiled and she told him the secret to toilet wine. It wasn't so much the sugar or potatoes or whatever else you could get, as it was the holding your need to piss and shit until yard time. Nothing spoiled a good batch of toilet wine like piss or shit. Wes told her about fucking Lilah. Faith patted his hand and told him not to worry too much about. The evil bitch was hot and she'd have fucked her too if he hadn't been too preoccupied with hunting down a certain souled vampire. Wes smiled, mostly because Faith hadn't mentioned Angel by name. Faith didn't even think about Angel beyond not saying his name out loud.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sixth time Wes came, he was smiling before she'd even said anything; before she even reached him. She knew her last letter had been funny but it was still a shock to see him waiting for her with a smile on his face. She didn't even mind the rugrat that grabbed her leg, slowing her progress to him. She just patted the kid's head, pulled him off, and made her way to Wes. "How they hanging?"
"Upstanding and British, of course."
"Does that mean you got more nasty British food in this basket or you have a hard on for me?"
"As you mentioned in your last letter, even nasty, English food is better than prison food."
"Yeah, sure, don't mean I want it *brought* to me."
"If you'll look in the basket, you'll notice only prison visitors approved sandwich makings."
Faith rummaged through the basket with a smile. She pulled out a loaf of bread and a clear plastic bag of ham. She looked up at Wesley with a smile. "Now see? *This* is why I like you!"
At the end of the sixth visit, Faith pulled Wesley close and kissed him; full on and tongue deep. When she pulled back, her lips were swollen and shinny and they tasted like Wes to her. Wesley leaned closer, brushed her lips with his and told her he'd be back next week with a kidney pie.
~end.