Fic: Call It Aftermath (1/1), AtS
Feb. 17th, 2004 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mimesereTITLE: Call It Aftermath
AUTHOR: Sheila (mimesere@earthlink.net)
RATING: R
SPOILER: Very. For spec and spoilers through the end. (my show! my dead gay show!)
SUMMARY: In which Gunn has a crisis, an ending, and a couple beginnings.
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Timmeh, for the show and the boys, respectively.
NOTES: Dude. I just have no idea what the hell is up with this. Er. And there's like, less than no linearity. Also, Te? You might wanna give this one a pass.
On the 101 north out of L.A., Wesley makes Gunn pull the truck over at what used to be a town and is now just a fucking big hole in the ground. He doesn't say anything, just gets out and stands there and Gunn wonders what he's thinking, but the look on his face isn't an invitation to ask and so Gunn keeps his peace. Ten minutes later, they're back on the road north and hugging the coast. Gunn finds a cheap motel and pays for a room; money's no problem since Gunn may not be super lawyer guy anymore, but he's not now and never has been stupid. And he's the guy who can think quick when the really bad shit is going down, so he got his hands on a fuckload of weapons and even more cash.
He managed to get his hands on Wesley too.
"Wes," he says, shaking Wesley by the shoulder carefully. "Come on, man. You've gotta get up."
Wesley blinks at him from behind his glasses and Gunn has deja vu so hard it makes him dizzy. He reaches over and unbuckles the seat belt and this close up, he can smell blood on Wesley's skin. Blood and ashes and cologne, and Gunn freezes like that for a long, long second until Wesley just makes a sound like he's choking and he scrambles out of the truck.
"Fuck," says Gunn softly. He pulls back and slouches until his forehead is resting against the steering wheel. He's had a headache since they first got on the freeway and the four Advil he took during their pit stop in apocalypse country haven't kicked in.
Another long, long second and Gunn swings out, landing heavily on the cracked pavement. He grabs two duffle bags out of the back and makes sure the keycards are in his pocket before he joins Wesley. "Come on," he says, but Wesley doesn't move, just stares kind of south like there's anything to see. "Wesley," he says sharply, and he gives Wes a good solid nudge with one of the duffles.
Wesley jerks and stares at *him*, and Gunn tilts his head toward the doors. "Beds and baths await in yon fuckassed motel room." Wesley reaches out and grabs one of the bags, tugging until Gunn lets it go. They make their way to their room and Gunn fumbles the keycard into the lock and swears at it until the green light tells them to go right on in.
And *in* isn't so much of an improvement from out, since motel decor is depressing as *hell* only that isn't entirely true, 'cause hell is apparently white suburbia and really well decorated.
It's Gunn's turn to make the choking sound and his head hurts *worse*, like Gunn didn't even think was possible.
And there's one bed. Lord fuck a duck, 'cause Gunn absolutely does not give a damn. He drops his bag and Wesley does the same and when Wesley makes a straight line toward the bathroom, Gunn just lets him and flops onto the bed. His whole fucking *body* hurts now, throbbing in time with the pain in his head.
He's out before Wesley comes back, 'cause he wakes up to Wesley next to him, all hitching breaths and bone deep shaking. Gunn rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. There's probably something he should say, 'cause it would help. But Wesley's had an absolute shit of a week and what can he say other than, "Well, at least there's no one else for you to kill."
Somehow, Gunn doesn't think that will be a comfort.
They just stay there on the bed, neither of them saying anything. There's not a whole lot left to talk about. They're alive. They're mostly whole. Gunn plans on keeping it that way. "I got you," he finally says, figuring that's as good as anything.
Wesley half laughs, this horrible raw sound that makes Gunn wish he wouldn't, but then he says, "Thank you," and Gunn feels better.
Neither of them can sleep and so they lie awake like kids in the dark, only there's no one gonna save them and nothing like a happy ending written out on a page somewhere, waiting for them.
*
Bad idea, he thinks, and then Wesley's mouth is on his and Gunn can't think anything at all.
*
Gunn wakes up in a panic, but he can't remember why. The bed's empty next to him, and Gunn looks around for a Wesley that's not anywhere in the room.
"Wes?" he says, but his voice dies before any sound gets out. He clears his throat and tries again.
Nothing.
This isn't what woke him up, but the worry from losing Wesley so quickly is blending in with whatever it was, and Gunn's heart starts beating faster. He checks the bathroom, and when there's no go there, he grabs his keys and heads out. He'll check Sunnydale first and hope that *asshole* didn't decide that jumping in a fucking crater was some kind--
*Shit*, he thinks when he pulls up short just outside the door. Wesley's bleeding from one arm and he's got the knife in his hand. He paces a circle around the truck while blood drips onto the ground in random little spatters.
"Wes?" he says.
"Hm?"
"What in the *hell* are you doing?"
"Magic," says Wesley, like that's any kind of answer. Gunn takes a deep breath and he's pretty sure he's going to start yelling his damn fool head off if Wes doesn't start making *sense*, but Wesley just shrugs and keeps on with what he's doing. "I wanted to make sure there wasn't any way to track us."
"What, like LoJack?"
"Of the mystical variety, yes."
"We could do that?"
"It's really quite a simple spell," he starts and then trails off. "Yes. We were able to do a great many things."
There are a lot of people who would agree with that. There are more people who would agree with that, except that they're dead and can't agree with a hell of a lot.
"It's okay," says Gunn.
"Not really," says Wesley. He stares at the ground he's walking, taking careful steps and Gunn just watches him finish his circle. Gunn can feel it snap close like electricity on his skin. He rubs his arms and Wesley kind of smiles at him.
"We good?" says Gunn.
"As good as can be expected." Wesley reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls out a wad of cloth. He presses it against the cut on his arm and his face goes pale so suddenly that Gunn's moving before he ever thinks about. "Oh dear," says Wesley just before he falls.
Gunn doesn't make it in time and Wesley hits the ground hard. "Okay," he says as he pulls Wesley up and slides an arm around his waist. "Okay, you know how I said not to do anything stupid?"
"Yes?"
"That, just now? Was stupid."
"Ah."
"So don't do it."
"We need protection," Wesley says, so quiet that Gunn almost doesn't hear it.
"Yeah, well. We need a lot of things. Like me? I need a shower. Maybe some pizza."
"Hm," says Wesley. He's staring at his feet again, moving carefully, but way slowly. "You're right, you know."
"Yeah?"
"You do need a shower."
Gunn out and out laughs like he hasn't done in forever.
*
Wesley orders pizza while Gunn's in the shower, and the smell of it when he gets out is like heaven. There's a second when Gunn looks around and half-expects to see Angel and Fred and Cordelia sitting around talking and laughing, but then he remembers and anyway, that hasn't been true for a long time.
*
Gunn falls asleep again right after they're done eating and when he wakes up, he can just see Wesley sitting in a chair and looking out the window. "How long was I out?"
"An hour," says Wesley. "Is your head all right?"
Gunn takes a breath to say no, but that would be a lie. "Yeah," he says. Then, "You don't seem surprised."
"It's all coming undone," says Wesley. "Everything since last summer."
"No more brain mojo."
Wesley smiles; it's dark and Gunn can't even see, but he knows it. "No more brain mojo. Not, of course, that you ever needed it."
"You know I did."
Wesley gets up and stands next to the bed. He reaches out and his hand on Gunn's shoulder is solid and warm. "I don't know anything of the kind."
Gunn closes his eyes and it's totally fucked, everything is totally fucked so hard that he doesn't know if there's a word big enough to cover it, but for just a second he lets it all go and it's like the past year disappears into nothing.
He stares, because he can't think of anything else to do. A year, just a little bit over, and it might as well be nothing. A different room in a different hotel and a different Wesley, but Gunn's still the same guy he was then. And maybe Wesley's thinking the same thing, 'cause he lets his hand drop and he moves away, leaving Gunn alone in the dark.
"You should sleep," says Wesley.
"Yeah," says Gunn. "Wes--"
Wesley stops, waiting.
Gunn can't think of anything to say and he really, really wishes he could.
*
He keeps waking up in a panic, only he's not entirely sure that the adrenaline and heartbeat is from *panic* as much as it is from...well, from other things.
Wesley's asleep and there's a second when Gunn is tempted to wake him up, have it all out between them so that everything makes sense again. He slips into the bathroom instead, and it isn't until he's got hot water pounding down on him that he remembers Wesley's never made sense.
He shuts off the water and just stands there, trying to breathe in the thick air, and he *remembers*--
--axe on the floor of the lab--
--books on fire in Wesley's office and the door to the vault wide open and it's burning in there too
--running into Angel's office with all those windows open to the sun streaming in and he's too late, too fucking late because there's Wesley standing like he's lost and all around him is the shift and glint of light on dust--
--it's hotter than it should be for spring and it's not like the hotel has a working air conditioner and if Wesley would just stop *looking*, stop watching him, stop making it so hard to look away, Gunn would be okay, but he's not making it easy and Gunn *can't* look away and he's coming apart under Wesley's hands and fuck and fuck and *fuck* this isn't what he *wants*
except then Wesley's mouth is on his and shit, Gunn thinks, bad idea, and it's all one thing, terror and desperation and an ending and *that* is Wesley right there, the same as he ever was, but this is not Gunn, this can't be Gunn because Charles Gunn shouldn't have been able to take the invitation Wesley offered, shouldn't have wanted any part of it, but Christ, he does, he wants it as much as he can remember wanting anything ever
Wesley breaks his whole world.
*
When Gunn grabs Wesley by the arm and pulls, Wesley just comes along like there's no one driving behind his eyes, and maybe it's true. They're not even halfway down the hallway before pain hits Gunn right in the back of the head and drives him to his knees.
It's like touching a live wire and that's how Gunn knows it's magic; he loses himself in the rush of memories and he can remember that betraying little shit and he can remember peace and perfect, perfect love and it hurts like the knife in Wesley's hand to know he lost it. And he can remember other things: Fred and dying and the slide of Wesley's skin against his--
Wesley's suddenly a dead weight against him, and it's enough to bring Gunn back to himself.
Down the elevator because it doesn't even occur to Gunn that maybe this is an In Case of Emergency situation and into the parking garage where Gunn practically throws Wesley into the old truck and gets them the fuck out of Dodge. He's not thinking of anything except "away" and "Oh shit" and like an aftershock, he knows absolutely what Wesley looks like naked and wanting.
Gunn nearly hits the car in front of him while his mind is wandering and it shakes him up enough to get him to pull over. And he can't figure out why it's naked that's hitting his distraction buttons when there's dead and a goddess and betrayal like a shot in the gut, but it's there and when he looks at Wesley now, all he can see is *then*.
Fuck, he thinks. And oh Christ, he thinks they did.
*
They make it to Vegas before Gunn thinks to kiss Wesley, weeks later and hundreds of miles from where they started. He doesn't say anything beforehand; he can't even think of where to start talking, and anyway, it's not like words are his job anymore.
He kisses Wesley, pushes him up against the door of their hotel room, and there's just the two of them in this, Wesley the same as he ever was and Gunn's been built up and stripped down and he's pretty sure he's all himself.
It's like everything he remembers, like dying and love and a knife in the hand, it's all of that and it's still nothing Gunn's ever known before.
AUTHOR: Sheila (mimesere@earthlink.net)
RATING: R
SPOILER: Very. For spec and spoilers through the end. (my show! my dead gay show!)
SUMMARY: In which Gunn has a crisis, an ending, and a couple beginnings.
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Timmeh, for the show and the boys, respectively.
NOTES: Dude. I just have no idea what the hell is up with this. Er. And there's like, less than no linearity. Also, Te? You might wanna give this one a pass.
On the 101 north out of L.A., Wesley makes Gunn pull the truck over at what used to be a town and is now just a fucking big hole in the ground. He doesn't say anything, just gets out and stands there and Gunn wonders what he's thinking, but the look on his face isn't an invitation to ask and so Gunn keeps his peace. Ten minutes later, they're back on the road north and hugging the coast. Gunn finds a cheap motel and pays for a room; money's no problem since Gunn may not be super lawyer guy anymore, but he's not now and never has been stupid. And he's the guy who can think quick when the really bad shit is going down, so he got his hands on a fuckload of weapons and even more cash.
He managed to get his hands on Wesley too.
"Wes," he says, shaking Wesley by the shoulder carefully. "Come on, man. You've gotta get up."
Wesley blinks at him from behind his glasses and Gunn has deja vu so hard it makes him dizzy. He reaches over and unbuckles the seat belt and this close up, he can smell blood on Wesley's skin. Blood and ashes and cologne, and Gunn freezes like that for a long, long second until Wesley just makes a sound like he's choking and he scrambles out of the truck.
"Fuck," says Gunn softly. He pulls back and slouches until his forehead is resting against the steering wheel. He's had a headache since they first got on the freeway and the four Advil he took during their pit stop in apocalypse country haven't kicked in.
Another long, long second and Gunn swings out, landing heavily on the cracked pavement. He grabs two duffle bags out of the back and makes sure the keycards are in his pocket before he joins Wesley. "Come on," he says, but Wesley doesn't move, just stares kind of south like there's anything to see. "Wesley," he says sharply, and he gives Wes a good solid nudge with one of the duffles.
Wesley jerks and stares at *him*, and Gunn tilts his head toward the doors. "Beds and baths await in yon fuckassed motel room." Wesley reaches out and grabs one of the bags, tugging until Gunn lets it go. They make their way to their room and Gunn fumbles the keycard into the lock and swears at it until the green light tells them to go right on in.
And *in* isn't so much of an improvement from out, since motel decor is depressing as *hell* only that isn't entirely true, 'cause hell is apparently white suburbia and really well decorated.
It's Gunn's turn to make the choking sound and his head hurts *worse*, like Gunn didn't even think was possible.
And there's one bed. Lord fuck a duck, 'cause Gunn absolutely does not give a damn. He drops his bag and Wesley does the same and when Wesley makes a straight line toward the bathroom, Gunn just lets him and flops onto the bed. His whole fucking *body* hurts now, throbbing in time with the pain in his head.
He's out before Wesley comes back, 'cause he wakes up to Wesley next to him, all hitching breaths and bone deep shaking. Gunn rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. There's probably something he should say, 'cause it would help. But Wesley's had an absolute shit of a week and what can he say other than, "Well, at least there's no one else for you to kill."
Somehow, Gunn doesn't think that will be a comfort.
They just stay there on the bed, neither of them saying anything. There's not a whole lot left to talk about. They're alive. They're mostly whole. Gunn plans on keeping it that way. "I got you," he finally says, figuring that's as good as anything.
Wesley half laughs, this horrible raw sound that makes Gunn wish he wouldn't, but then he says, "Thank you," and Gunn feels better.
Neither of them can sleep and so they lie awake like kids in the dark, only there's no one gonna save them and nothing like a happy ending written out on a page somewhere, waiting for them.
*
Bad idea, he thinks, and then Wesley's mouth is on his and Gunn can't think anything at all.
*
Gunn wakes up in a panic, but he can't remember why. The bed's empty next to him, and Gunn looks around for a Wesley that's not anywhere in the room.
"Wes?" he says, but his voice dies before any sound gets out. He clears his throat and tries again.
Nothing.
This isn't what woke him up, but the worry from losing Wesley so quickly is blending in with whatever it was, and Gunn's heart starts beating faster. He checks the bathroom, and when there's no go there, he grabs his keys and heads out. He'll check Sunnydale first and hope that *asshole* didn't decide that jumping in a fucking crater was some kind--
*Shit*, he thinks when he pulls up short just outside the door. Wesley's bleeding from one arm and he's got the knife in his hand. He paces a circle around the truck while blood drips onto the ground in random little spatters.
"Wes?" he says.
"Hm?"
"What in the *hell* are you doing?"
"Magic," says Wesley, like that's any kind of answer. Gunn takes a deep breath and he's pretty sure he's going to start yelling his damn fool head off if Wes doesn't start making *sense*, but Wesley just shrugs and keeps on with what he's doing. "I wanted to make sure there wasn't any way to track us."
"What, like LoJack?"
"Of the mystical variety, yes."
"We could do that?"
"It's really quite a simple spell," he starts and then trails off. "Yes. We were able to do a great many things."
There are a lot of people who would agree with that. There are more people who would agree with that, except that they're dead and can't agree with a hell of a lot.
"It's okay," says Gunn.
"Not really," says Wesley. He stares at the ground he's walking, taking careful steps and Gunn just watches him finish his circle. Gunn can feel it snap close like electricity on his skin. He rubs his arms and Wesley kind of smiles at him.
"We good?" says Gunn.
"As good as can be expected." Wesley reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls out a wad of cloth. He presses it against the cut on his arm and his face goes pale so suddenly that Gunn's moving before he ever thinks about. "Oh dear," says Wesley just before he falls.
Gunn doesn't make it in time and Wesley hits the ground hard. "Okay," he says as he pulls Wesley up and slides an arm around his waist. "Okay, you know how I said not to do anything stupid?"
"Yes?"
"That, just now? Was stupid."
"Ah."
"So don't do it."
"We need protection," Wesley says, so quiet that Gunn almost doesn't hear it.
"Yeah, well. We need a lot of things. Like me? I need a shower. Maybe some pizza."
"Hm," says Wesley. He's staring at his feet again, moving carefully, but way slowly. "You're right, you know."
"Yeah?"
"You do need a shower."
Gunn out and out laughs like he hasn't done in forever.
*
Wesley orders pizza while Gunn's in the shower, and the smell of it when he gets out is like heaven. There's a second when Gunn looks around and half-expects to see Angel and Fred and Cordelia sitting around talking and laughing, but then he remembers and anyway, that hasn't been true for a long time.
*
Gunn falls asleep again right after they're done eating and when he wakes up, he can just see Wesley sitting in a chair and looking out the window. "How long was I out?"
"An hour," says Wesley. "Is your head all right?"
Gunn takes a breath to say no, but that would be a lie. "Yeah," he says. Then, "You don't seem surprised."
"It's all coming undone," says Wesley. "Everything since last summer."
"No more brain mojo."
Wesley smiles; it's dark and Gunn can't even see, but he knows it. "No more brain mojo. Not, of course, that you ever needed it."
"You know I did."
Wesley gets up and stands next to the bed. He reaches out and his hand on Gunn's shoulder is solid and warm. "I don't know anything of the kind."
Gunn closes his eyes and it's totally fucked, everything is totally fucked so hard that he doesn't know if there's a word big enough to cover it, but for just a second he lets it all go and it's like the past year disappears into nothing.
He stares, because he can't think of anything else to do. A year, just a little bit over, and it might as well be nothing. A different room in a different hotel and a different Wesley, but Gunn's still the same guy he was then. And maybe Wesley's thinking the same thing, 'cause he lets his hand drop and he moves away, leaving Gunn alone in the dark.
"You should sleep," says Wesley.
"Yeah," says Gunn. "Wes--"
Wesley stops, waiting.
Gunn can't think of anything to say and he really, really wishes he could.
*
He keeps waking up in a panic, only he's not entirely sure that the adrenaline and heartbeat is from *panic* as much as it is from...well, from other things.
Wesley's asleep and there's a second when Gunn is tempted to wake him up, have it all out between them so that everything makes sense again. He slips into the bathroom instead, and it isn't until he's got hot water pounding down on him that he remembers Wesley's never made sense.
He shuts off the water and just stands there, trying to breathe in the thick air, and he *remembers*--
--axe on the floor of the lab--
--books on fire in Wesley's office and the door to the vault wide open and it's burning in there too
--running into Angel's office with all those windows open to the sun streaming in and he's too late, too fucking late because there's Wesley standing like he's lost and all around him is the shift and glint of light on dust--
--it's hotter than it should be for spring and it's not like the hotel has a working air conditioner and if Wesley would just stop *looking*, stop watching him, stop making it so hard to look away, Gunn would be okay, but he's not making it easy and Gunn *can't* look away and he's coming apart under Wesley's hands and fuck and fuck and *fuck* this isn't what he *wants*
except then Wesley's mouth is on his and shit, Gunn thinks, bad idea, and it's all one thing, terror and desperation and an ending and *that* is Wesley right there, the same as he ever was, but this is not Gunn, this can't be Gunn because Charles Gunn shouldn't have been able to take the invitation Wesley offered, shouldn't have wanted any part of it, but Christ, he does, he wants it as much as he can remember wanting anything ever
Wesley breaks his whole world.
*
When Gunn grabs Wesley by the arm and pulls, Wesley just comes along like there's no one driving behind his eyes, and maybe it's true. They're not even halfway down the hallway before pain hits Gunn right in the back of the head and drives him to his knees.
It's like touching a live wire and that's how Gunn knows it's magic; he loses himself in the rush of memories and he can remember that betraying little shit and he can remember peace and perfect, perfect love and it hurts like the knife in Wesley's hand to know he lost it. And he can remember other things: Fred and dying and the slide of Wesley's skin against his--
Wesley's suddenly a dead weight against him, and it's enough to bring Gunn back to himself.
Down the elevator because it doesn't even occur to Gunn that maybe this is an In Case of Emergency situation and into the parking garage where Gunn practically throws Wesley into the old truck and gets them the fuck out of Dodge. He's not thinking of anything except "away" and "Oh shit" and like an aftershock, he knows absolutely what Wesley looks like naked and wanting.
Gunn nearly hits the car in front of him while his mind is wandering and it shakes him up enough to get him to pull over. And he can't figure out why it's naked that's hitting his distraction buttons when there's dead and a goddess and betrayal like a shot in the gut, but it's there and when he looks at Wesley now, all he can see is *then*.
Fuck, he thinks. And oh Christ, he thinks they did.
*
They make it to Vegas before Gunn thinks to kiss Wesley, weeks later and hundreds of miles from where they started. He doesn't say anything beforehand; he can't even think of where to start talking, and anyway, it's not like words are his job anymore.
He kisses Wesley, pushes him up against the door of their hotel room, and there's just the two of them in this, Wesley the same as he ever was and Gunn's been built up and stripped down and he's pretty sure he's all himself.
It's like everything he remembers, like dying and love and a knife in the hand, it's all of that and it's still nothing Gunn's ever known before.
