Wesley-Come-Lately

Title: Wesley-come-lately
Author's Name: Scarlet
Author's Email and URL: scarletsfiction@yahoo www.geocities.com/karenmnick
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and UPN own Buffy the Vampire Slayer in totality. Joss Whedon and the WB own Angel: the Series. No profit is made from this piece of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
Distribution: Sprinkle like dust on the wind; just let me know where it lands so I can visit from time to time.
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Feedback: Yes! (What? You thought I was going to say “no”?)
Author's Notes: Only the second time I’ve ever done Wesley/Giles and I realized both were for the maleslashminis. Funny. Written for lostgirlslair. She wanted to make sure that while it wasn’t heavy angst, it also didn’t show them as bumbling buffoons. I’m not real sure I’m on the mark here, but I hope she likes it anyway. Oh, and a Johnny-come-lately means an inexperienced newcomer. Hence the title.
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“In which box shall I put Magrite's Treatises on the Dantalion? ‘Demons of Ireland’ or ‘Organ Eaters’?”

“Neither. Here, give it to me.” Giles was fussing with a stack of Watcher diaries. He snatched the book impatiently from Wesley’s hands. “Dantalion are worshipers of Diana. It goes here.” He thrust the book into a cardboard box marked “Diana” and resumed his packing of diaries, years 1884-1889.

“Well you needn’t snap at me. I’m only trying to help,” Wesley said quietly, if not a bit petulantly, and Giles felt the tiniest happy twinge of satisfaction. Packing his beloved books before the library’s utter demolition was not his idea of a grand way to spend the days prior to graduation. Everyone had to do things that they didn’t want to do, though. He doubted that Wesley had begged Buffy for the job of packing hundreds of books in her grand graduation plan. No, not likely at all.

“…Chase brought up a fascinating point.”

“What’s that?” Giles began a fruitless search for packing tape as Wesley spoke. “I was just saying that Ms. Chase feels that any system of organization one comes up with is likely to change as dictated by the needs of the moment.”

“Actually, I believe her exact words were, ‘Why do we need to organize this crap when Sunnydale is just going to be an all-you-can-eat loser buffet anyway?’ ”

Wesley stiffened but remained silent and Giles began to feel a bit guilty for taunting the younger Watcher.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Tell the truth? Giles didn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“It’s quite alright.” Wesley adjusted his tie. “Perhaps I’m not the most unbiased source regarding Ms. Chase.”

Giles snorted before he could stop himself, but Wesley didn’t seem to notice. “And how is Ms. Chase?”

“Um…fine. You know, she is quite a lovely thing, but we’ve decided to…er, allow our passions to wilt on order to allow our friendship to blossom.”

“That’s how you’re putting it, is it?” Giles began securing the boxes in front of him.

“Of course. It’s the absolute truth.”

“Right. Well, that’s…It sounds remarkably mature and level-headed.”

“It is, thank you. No need to go rushing into anything, is there?”

“Not at all.”

“Slow and steady and all that.”

“Right.”

Wesley suddenly slammed down the volume on demonic weapons he’d been holding and wailed, “Oh, Rupert! It’s a lie! It’s all a lie.”

“Sorry? What’s a—“

“Everything! Ms. Chase—Cordelia—finds me utterly unsuitable and I must confess that our brief coupling was anything but idyllic.”

“I don’t want to hear this—“

“Certainly it was fine at first. She’s a very attractive girl—have I mentioned that? And her lips are of the sweetest, most soft—“

“Dear lord, I have no interest—“

“But our fleeting kiss, though well-executed I must say, was lacking a fundamental—”

“Propriety?”

“—ardor. It’s utterly inexplicable.”

Giles snorted again, then set himself firmly to packing Watcher diaries, 1889-1894.

“Is there something you’re not sharing with me?” Wesley looked so genuinely flummoxed that Giles had no choice but to set down his book, remove his glasses, and begin polishing them in order to avoid having to meet Wesley’s gaze directly.

“Well…Well. I suppose I found your…coupling, did you call it? I found your coupling odd to say the least.”

“I admit she was quite young.”

“Yes. And, well…”

“What?”

“Female.”

An enormous pause followed Giles’ admission in which he was able to replace his glasses and locate the missing diary of Watcher Alfred Romanski, 1890.

“Are you implying that you thought I was some sort of…of homosexual?” Wesley said at last.

“Well in a word, yes.”

Wesley was again blessedly silent for several minutes and Giles was delighted with the fact that he’d found the one subject that would silence the loquacious Watcher.

“You may be correct,” Wesley said at last. It was Giles’ turn to be speechless as Wesley continued. “I don’t, of course, have empirical support and I dare say my father wouldn’t agree with your findings but…My goodness, the evidence does seem to point that way, doesn’t it?”

“Well there you are,” Giles said uncomfortably. “Now, if you’ll just pass me that book.” He indicated a small green book just under Wesley’s elbow.

“Of course.” Wesley passed over the book, lost in thought while Giles wished he were anywhere but the library at that exact moment. “It would explain a great many things.”

“Would it?”

“Indeed. Certainly I’ve found women attractive, but I must say that there’s no replacement for the companionship of a fellow man.”

Giles responded with a mumble of assent.

“Their musky scent, their strong physique, the brazen sexuality of the male gender is alluring—“

“Dear lord, Wesley! Why must we have this conversation NOW of all times? I regret even mentioning it at all!”

“No, Rupert! You’re right. I think you may be entirely correct. I am a homosexual.” He let the words linger for a moment. “I am a homosexual. Homo…sexual.”

“Will you stop saying homosexual?”

“Does homosexuality make you uncomfortable, Rupert?”

“Yes! I mean, no. Human sexuality in any form is a venerated—Damn! Will you let this issue lie? We’ve a great deal of work to do.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Certainly. I’m not one to overstep my bounds. I just thought that you, being the one who introduced this topic, would have certain insight.”

“Well I don’t.”

“As you have said.” Silence prevailed for several seconds, then, “It’s just—“

Giles dropped the half-filled box he had been holding. “What? ‘It’s just’ what?”

“I’d rather thought of you as…”

“Yes?” Giles’ acid tone did nothing to discourage the young Watcher.

“As a man of some repute in this area. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not as if your reputation is one of lothario of the gay community. However, before I arrived in the states, I was told that you were something of a reckless playboy in your youth. A rumor I find, admittedly, hard to believe.”

“I wouldn’t listen to—Wait, why is that hard to believe?”

Wesley sighed indulgently. “Listen to yourself. You’re hardly acting as the open minded, free spirited man the rumors claimed you to be, Rupert.”

“Stop calling me Rupert. It just…sounds ridiculous when you say it. And I’m just as open minded and free spirited as I’ve always been. Now, unfortunately, we have a great deal of work to do and little time to do it. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

It was Wesley’s turn to snort. “There are always pressing matters. Aren’t there, Mr. Giles? I think you’re avoiding areas that you find uncomfortable. It’s classic psychology, you know. Pass me the tape.”

“What?”

“Pass me the tape. This box is filled.”

Giles shook his head, confused, then passed the large roll to Wesley. “Here.” His head ached and he rubbed his temples.

“Forgive me. I’ve overstepped my bounds. I’ll say no more about it.” Wesley began to unbutton the cuffs of his immaculately pressed shirt and proceeded to roll up the sleeves.

They worked in silence for several hours. Giles sorted carefully, as was his habit, but his mind was elsewhere. However farcical Wesley’s sudden awareness was, the fellow had obviously been surprised and was dealing with the newfound understanding in his own way. Giles was rarely prone to long bouts of introspection but he indulged now. Was he being closed minded? Was he still as free spirited as he was in college? He knew what Ethan’s opinion would be, though it mattered little. The ironic things was that Wesley was the sort of man he would have found quite attractive in his youth. Dark hair, soft hands, sharp mind. Or relatively sharp, he thought, then chuckled at his own flippancy.

Giles soon found it necessary to roll up his own sleeves as the late afternoon air became stifling in the enclosed room. One by one the boxes began to build up and the two men began gathering them into a makeshift mountain, ready to be removed later with Oz’s van. Several of the larger boxes were quite heavy but Giles hesitated to ask Wesley for his assistance. He wasn’t sure why. It may have been because of the resemblance Wesley bore to past lovers, or it could have been something to do with not looking weak in front of the other man. Neither option set well with him.

“Are you sure you don’t need assistance?” Wesley asked, when Giles nearly dropped the crate he was carrying.

“No. I’m fine.” He repositioned his hands and hastily placed it on the growing stacks. “Just fine.”

“Because it looked as if that crate were quite heavy—“

“I’m FINE.”

“Of course. You would know better than I.”

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses rested. A weak headache had begun and was growing with each hour. “It’s just this blasted headache. I’ve taken medicine, but I’m afraid it’s here to stay.”

“Let me help.” Giles wasn’t prepared for warm hands on his neck, nor was he unpleased. Wesley began to rub his neck and shoulders while Giles stood stiffly in front of him.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it’s better now—“

“You’re so tense! It’s no wonder you don’t feel well.”

“The ascension of a demon bent on genocide does tend to cause some stress,” Giles said crossly.

“Of course. That must be it. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, I hope that it’s not our earlier chat causing you anxiety.”

“It’s not. And I can assure you that you were wrong. Are wrong. I have nothing against, em, homosexuality. Or sexuality in general. I’m as broad minded as I ever was.”

“Good. That’s…good.”

The fingers on his neck began working into his scalp, stroking the tender spot behind his ears that he found utterly glorious.

“You should know that I’m quite sexually liberal—down a bit, yes that’s it—and allow others the same freedoms. Moral indignation is simply jealousy with a halo.”

“Well said.”

“It wasn’t me. I believe it was H. G. Wells—my you have marvelous hands. Where did you learn to do this?”

“Oh, a bit here a bit there. Better now?”

Wesley’s hands stopped and Giles was disappointed.

“Yes. Very good.”

“As I was saying, I picked up a bit in college. Nothing better to seduce the young ladies than a nice massage, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m sure.”

“But I suppose that’s all water under the bridge now.”

“Perhaps.”

Wesley went back to stacking and arranging boxes while Giles removed the last of the valuable texts from the lower shelves. While he stacked, he thought. The only word to describe Wesley was enigma. Wesley was simply an enigma. All of that knowledge combined with ridiculous naivete. It was a puzzle. A rather handsomely packaged puzzle.

An hour later they packed the last book. Wesley added it to the stack while Giles wiped the counter with a damp cloth. Then he stopped, staring at the cloth and reveling in the absurdity of cleaning a counter that would be demolished in less than a day’s time.

“That’s it then,” Wesley said. He began to switch off the lights one by one. Darkness fell across the library, but Giles remained rooted firmly in place. “Something wrong?” Wesley was suddenly rather close but Giles didn’t move.

“The library is the single most holy place on earth. Did you ever think about that? Churches rise and synagogues fall. But a library remains a place of learning throughout.”

“I don’t suppose I’ve ever thought about it.”

“I will hate to see it destroyed. Sacrilege, in a way. There’s just something about a library…The learning that takes place here. The treasures that are found with the pages of a book. Why the very smell of a book—“

Feverish lips suddenly found his own in the near dark. Giles was startled, but then the mouth on his opened up and the warm slip of Wesley’s tongue slid forward. Wesley’s hand found the back of his head and began that gentle rub behind the ears that had so pleased him earlier. It was an odd relief to find the knot of tension and impending doom that had lived in his stomach for weeks dissolve in the face of pure sexual pleasure. His trousers were hot and full and he moaned with pure pleasure.

Wesley broke the kiss to glance down to Giles’ chest. “Can I…?”

Giles nodded in a lusty haze and Wesley proceeded to unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. Then Wesley’s mouth fixated on Giles’ chest. Giles rested his elbows on the counter and leaned back, giving Wesley access to his chest and the trail of hair leading downward. The soft hands Giles admired earlier unbuttoned his trousers. Before he could offer even a weak protest, his pants were puddling at his ankles with his undergarments.

He felt strangely comfortable, naked in the library. Odd, that. But after so many hours spent in the library, it almost seemed like home. Maybe it was only fitting to give it one final goodbye of sorts. He let his head roll back, eyes tracking the patterns of fading sunlight on the ceiling while a smooth hand began stroking him.

He soon realized that Wesley had slid to his knees. Giles sat up and took the dark hair in his hands, twisting his fingers in and tugging him forward. Without provocation, Wesley slipped Giles’ cock into his mouth and began bobbing gently at first, then more urgently, on the rigid organ. Giles watched him work, pleasure mounting at once. Wesley was expertly kneading his testicles with one hand while opening the fly of his own trousers with the other. It made quite an erotic picture, he thought, as Wesley began to simultaneously stroke himself and pleasure Giles.

Wesley’s talented tongue left Giles cock long enough to lick at his testicles. Giles tensed with pleasure as first one, then the other, was taken into Wesley’s mouth and orally massaged. Giles groaned, then felt Wesley stiffen below him. Wesley pulled back and Giles watched as he came, ejaculating heavily against the doomed counter.

Wesley was back in a moment, sucking hard, a man with a mission. Without hesitation, he took Giles in entirely, nestling his nose against his belly, before withdrawing. Giles felt himself draw close, the tension building with each plunge of Wesley’s expertly trained, skilful…

“You…are…a…prat!” Giles exclaimed as he came.

Wesley chuckled around him as semen dripped from his lips. Weak-kneed now, Giles slumped down and joined Wesley on the ratty carpet. Wesley’s arm came around him almost affectionately while Giles caught his breath. They leaned against the counter, sweaty and relaxed.

“You called me a prat,” Wesley said at last.

“Yes. A lying prat.”

“Lying?”

“Just answer me this. When did you decide to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Seduce me?”

“Hum…hard to say. I suppose it was when you blushed at the word homosexual. Naiveté is such an aphrodisiac.”

“I suppose so,” Giles chuckled. “So then…you’re…I mean, when did you…”

“Come on, old man. You and I both know that sexuality isn’t static. It’s as malleable as, well, life. Nothing stays the same, Rupert.”

“I suppose not.”

“Not even libraries,” he said quietly.

Giles looked at the empty stacks. “Variety can be a good thing, I suppose,” he said at last. “Change is good for the soul.”

“That it is, friend. That it is.”

The End