Wesley/Boot to the Head
Mar. 10th, 2007 10:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishwenchThere was a rather heavy dose of Wes-hatred for a while circa the Connor incident, and old ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
venus_blue mentioned that her only Wes ship was Wes/Boot to the Head. Hence, I wrote it.
Hmm. That would be an interesting fic...
Wesley came home after another depressing day out in the field, fighting evil demons, alone. Wearily, he climbed the stairs to his appartment, but his eyes narrowed to slits when he saw a thin beam of light coming from under his front door. He cautiously unlocked the door, then stepped inside, sinking to a defensive crouch in his lowrise jeans.
Suddenly...
"OOOOF!" Wesley cried out as he was thrown violently to the floor by what appeared to be a boot to the head. "What, but there's no one here!"
"I'm here, Wes," said the boot, its tongue flapping as it spoke. "I've been waiting up all night for you, baby."
Welsely looked with undisguised longing at the boot. It was, after all, one of his favorite pair. The dusky sheen of its black leather glowed enticingly in the evening light, its well-polished vamp so throughly pristine that it reflected his drab, empty living room.
"You have?" he asked with a tremble in his voice. "Truly? But... but no one wants me anymore. I've no friends, my family has disowned me, the Council has sacked me, and yet, you, you perfect creation of cobblerism, you've been waiting for me?"
The boot threw its laces over its heel coquettishly and winked its eyelets at him. "Yup."
Without warning, the boot threw itself once more at Wesley's head, clomping him across the forehead, leaving a large, sole-shaped print on his temple.
"Oh, boot!" cried Wesley in ecstacy. "You're everything I've ever dreamed of! Will you wear glasses for me?"
"Sure," the boot huskily replied.
"Goody goody!" Wesley yelled. Gently, with a touch as light as silk, he picked up his favored foot, carressed its voluptous heel, and carried it off in his arms to his room.
Somewhere in Sunnydale, Willows closed her new spellbook and wonderd if she could have done the spell to help someone find his sole-mate wrong.
::looks at this creation::
Um, yeah. It's been a weird day.
venus_blue mentioned that her only Wes ship was Wes/Boot to the Head. Hence, I wrote it.Hmm. That would be an interesting fic...
Wesley came home after another depressing day out in the field, fighting evil demons, alone. Wearily, he climbed the stairs to his appartment, but his eyes narrowed to slits when he saw a thin beam of light coming from under his front door. He cautiously unlocked the door, then stepped inside, sinking to a defensive crouch in his lowrise jeans.
Suddenly...
"OOOOF!" Wesley cried out as he was thrown violently to the floor by what appeared to be a boot to the head. "What, but there's no one here!"
"I'm here, Wes," said the boot, its tongue flapping as it spoke. "I've been waiting up all night for you, baby."
Welsely looked with undisguised longing at the boot. It was, after all, one of his favorite pair. The dusky sheen of its black leather glowed enticingly in the evening light, its well-polished vamp so throughly pristine that it reflected his drab, empty living room.
"You have?" he asked with a tremble in his voice. "Truly? But... but no one wants me anymore. I've no friends, my family has disowned me, the Council has sacked me, and yet, you, you perfect creation of cobblerism, you've been waiting for me?"
The boot threw its laces over its heel coquettishly and winked its eyelets at him. "Yup."
Without warning, the boot threw itself once more at Wesley's head, clomping him across the forehead, leaving a large, sole-shaped print on his temple.
"Oh, boot!" cried Wesley in ecstacy. "You're everything I've ever dreamed of! Will you wear glasses for me?"
"Sure," the boot huskily replied.
"Goody goody!" Wesley yelled. Gently, with a touch as light as silk, he picked up his favored foot, carressed its voluptous heel, and carried it off in his arms to his room.
Somewhere in Sunnydale, Willows closed her new spellbook and wonderd if she could have done the spell to help someone find his sole-mate wrong.
::looks at this creation::
Um, yeah. It's been a weird day.
