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bookishwenchAuthor: Meltha
Rating: PG-13 for some innuendo
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Not for anything, really
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Cordelia was always good at getting information, but Angel never learned not to listen at doors.
Author’s Note: Written for
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abnormalone2008 for the Maleslashminis Wesley round (round 29). She requested a mention of Spike, banter with Cordelia, and Gunn, without too much angst or mpreg.Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Occasionally, Angel wished that his hearing wasn’t quite so good. Most of the time, it was an asset, especially in battle, but it often seemed that his co-workers conveniently forgot that their boss’s ears were capable of picking up the sound of a heartbeat through concrete, let alone a conversation at normal volume through only a closed office door made of flimsy fake wood.
“Look, Wes, I’m sure the Watchers and all their stacks of incredibly dusty, boring books are doing their part in saving the world or something, though really, not as much as we are on way less salary—I mean, could Angel be more of a Scrooge with the wages?—but I’m telling you, I know something went on between him and Spike,” Cordelia said firmly.
Angel could actually hear her filing her nails, which was really rather ironic since the remark about Scrooge had produced exactly the same effect as nails on a chalkboard. He wondered for a moment if she actually knew that story or was just going off of Scrooge McDuck.
“There was never any mention of a-a-a romantic entanglement between Angelus and William the Bloody in the Watcher’s Diaries,” Wesley said, and Angel could just picture the blush that was creeping up Wesley’s face.
“Romance, sh-momance, who said anything about hearts and flowers?” Cordelia said dismissively. “Okay, well, maybe hearts, but generally the kind pulled out of a chest cavity.”
Even Angel grimaced at that particular imagery, though, granted, it had been fairly accurate. One Valentine’s Day Spike had gotten rather creative with a wood burning kit and a heart. He’d never really been able to look at Browning’s work again in quite the same way.
“I suppose it’s possible that there could have been some sort of a relationship that bespoke mutual…,” Wesley’s voice stopped for a moment, and Angel was actually quite sure he heard a nervous swallow, “…pleasure of some nefarious kind, but there is absolutely no evidence to support such a claim.”
“Did you ever see Spike?” Cordelia asked, and Angel heard the grin in her voice.
“Not in person, no,” Wesley said, “though the Council did have some tintype images of him.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen the goods in the flesh, and let me tell you, the straightest man on the planet would do a lot more than question his sexuality if he was travelling with Spike for twenty years, and Angel? Not really striking me as particularly narrow in his experiences… well, except for the whole thing where he’s pretty much a eunuch now,” Cordelia said.
Angel forcibly bit his tongue to keep himself from yelling, “Hey! Not a eunuch!” through the door.
“Regardless of your theory,” Wesley said, “Angel’s private business from his past should be precisely that: private.”
Angel gave an appreciative nod that he knew no one could see.
“Private, huh?” Cordelia said, and Angel was sure her trademark Cheshire cat grin had returned. “Not, by any chance, just trying to stop the conversation before it switches to the way you watch him every time he walks past?”
“Cordelia!” Wesley said, his voice a shade higher than usual.
“Oh, please,” she said. “It’s not like you’re alone in that club. I’ve snuck a few looks at the rear view myself. Granted, I didn’t actually drool like I caught you doing yesterday.”
“I do not drool!” Wesley said, very loudly.
Angel was in shock. Really? Wesley had been checking him out?
“Hey, not one-sided, either,” Cordelia said. “I’ve caught him staring at you more than once like you were a hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream.”
“Considering he’s a vampire, he may simply have been hungry,” Wesley said in a rather prim voice, though Angel couldn’t help feeling rather bad that there was a note of self-deprecation under it. “I’m quite certain he hasn’t any interest in me in that regard.”
Then, smart or not, you’re an idiot, Angel thought silently.
“But come on, tell the truth, Wes,” Cordelia said in what Angel was sure she thought was a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m right, aren’t I. I mean, hey, after that massively horrible kiss the two of us had last year, I kind of put two and two together because, really, there is no way that was my fault.”
Angel heard Wesley sigh, then, yes, straining his ears, he could just make out the sound of him cleaning his glasses.
“Alright, yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I admit I find him attractive. Obviously, however, this is a situation that is fraught with blatant difficulties, so I would it appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning it again. I find it…”
There was a pause during which Angel found himself leaning forward.
“…rather painful,” Wesley said.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Cordy said firmly. “I can keep a lid on gossip. If I couldn’t, wouldn’t everyone know Harmony had lipo junior year?”
“Actually, I did know that,” Wesley said, and Angel could imagine the slightly mocking grin on his face. “I believe you told me that bit of information within the first two hours of when I met you.”
“Oh,” Cordy said. “Well, old history anyway. I promise not to say a word, scout’s honor.”
“About what?” asked Gunn’s voice said as Angel heard him enter the office.
“Stuff,” Cordy said vaguely.
“Were you ever actually a Girl Scout?” Gunn said, and Angel swore he could hear the man’s eyebrows go up.
“God, no,” Cordelia said. “Have you seen how many calories are in those cookies? Plus, ugly green polyester uniforms? So not my thing.”
“I did the Boy Scout thing for a while when I was a kid,” Gunn said, and the creaking noise told Angel he’d sat on the edge of Cordy’s desk. “I learned how to make a good bonfire, roast hot dogs and that stuff, but the little badge things? Yeah, that was like an advertisement in big, bold type that said, ‘Yo, beat me up!’ I missed that popcorn mix stuff after I quit, though.”
“Okay, and now that I’m hungry and it’s your fault, you are taking me out for lunch,” Cordelia said, and the rolling sound of the drawer opening meant she had grabbed her purse.
“Girl, it’s three o’clock! You haven’t eaten lunch yet? What are you trying to do, get employee of the month?” Gunn said.
“Oh, I went around noon, but that was a pedi-mani lunch, no food,” she said.
“So this would be your second lunch?” Wesley asked.
“Only in the most technical sense,” Cordelia said. “I mean, I’m starving! Angel can’t have a problem with me going out to eat so I don’t pass out. That’d be a big black mark on his guilt-induced list of ‘Stuff I Shouldn’t Do.’”
Was it possible Angel actually heard her fingers making air quotes around the last four words?
“Fine, we’ll hit the hot dog joint on the corner,” Gunn said.
“Ugh! As if! I am not eating that junk!”
“That place has got the best damn chilidogs in the city,” Gunn said with utter conviction, “and I am not eating at Tofu Heaven again. I was picking sprouts out of my teeth for a week.”
“It’s Tofu Nirvana,” Cordy corrected him. “You want us to bring anything back for you, Wes?”
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’ll just have some tea here.”
“Try not to get too wild there, English,” Gunn said with a laugh.
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Cordelia said, “or, you know, around then.”
The door closed, and Angel heard Wesley sigh once, then walk to the sink and fill the coffee pot with water. A quiet clatter told him he had returned it to the hot plate and was warming it for tea, waiting quietly for it to be the right temperature.
Angel sat still as well, trying to decide what to do. He’d overheard the conversation uninvited, and it was none of his business what they had been saying to each other, even if he had been the main topic. It had been an invasion of privacy, and he really should have either made his presence known or done something to block out their voices.
“Rather painful,’” Angel repeated to himself quietly.
Angel stood up, opened the door, and walked into the other office, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing he had to say something.
“Making tea?” Angel asked. As opening lines went, it wasn’t brilliant, but at least he hadn’t stammered.
“Yes,” Wesley said without looking up. “Would you like a cup?”
Angel nodded, then realizing Wes wasn’t looking at him, said, “Yeah, that’d be good.”
Wesley took a pair of teabags out of his top drawer, still not looking at him, a flush coloring his cheeks. It wasn’t until then that Angel realized the truth.
Wesley had been a Watcher. Cordelia may not have known exactly how sensitive a vampire’s ears might be, but Wesley would have had that drilled into him by the time he was nine years old. He must have known he would overhear, but now, he was giving Angel a choice: he could either pretend not to have heard and go on as they had, or he could say something.
“You like watching me?” Angel said quietly.
Wesley bit his lip nervously, still not looking at him, but there was a nod, almost imperceptible to a human eye.
“I like watching you, too, Wes,” Angel said, coming around the side of his desk to stand next to him.
Angel heard the catch in his breath, but Wesley still didn’t look up at him. Gently, Angel rested a hand under Wesley’s chin and lifted it upwards, his fingertips deliciously prickled by a day’s worth of stubble. Wesley kept his eyes lowered for a moment, the delicate lines of his lashes sharply contrasted against his skin, still so light in spite of the California sun, but then he looked up at him, and Angel was nearly awe-struck by the heat he saw there.
Wesley turned his face into Angel’s palm, nuzzling, his skin warming his hand.
“Do you want to do more than watch?” Wesley said, and his lips grazed the smooth swell of skin at the base of Angel’s thumb.
Angel found himself breathing raggedly as he watched Wesley kiss his hand, the sandpaper roughness of his beard setting his skin tingling. Wesley looked into his eyes again, then slowly, deliberately drew Angel’s thumb into his mouth.
“You know, Cordelia never takes less than a two hour lunch break,” Angel said, surprised his voice was so steady.
“I’m aware of that,” Wesley said with a smile, releasing Angel’s thumb. “Could we, perhaps, take a break of our own, then?”
When Cordelia and Gunn returned from lunch, they found a closed sign hanging in the window of Angel Investigations and the doors firmly locked. Gunn looked confused, but Cordelia laughed loudly.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Cordelia said, grinning mischievously. “Nothing at all."
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