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slashthedrabble2005-11-10 01:34 am
hellespont.livejournal.com) wrote in slashthedrabble2005-11-10 01:34 am
Entry tags:
Return of the schmangst!
Title: Cupboard
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Angel/Wesley preslash.
Warnings: hurt/comfort and angst.
Word count: 500 words.
This is part nine in my A/W h/c series stored here.. It picks up right after Angel returns from his ill-fated mission.
Cupboard
Angel spent the night of his return by Wesley’s bedside, stroking gently at his hair and marking every breath. Sometimes he rested his head next to Wesley’s on the mattress, but he couldn’t bring himself to climb in with him. Not yet. Not until he knew if he’d been forgiven for leaving.
Perhaps an hour before dawn, Angel was watching Wesley’s eyes dart beneath his lids when they abruptly snapped open. “Hey, Wes” he breathed softly.
Blinking rapidly, Wesley opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He swiped distractedly at his eyes and Angel handed him his glasses. Wesley set them down again and apparently decided to talk after all. “You’re here early.”
Cordy said sometimes he thought I wasn’t coming back. Oh, Wes, I’m sorry. Angel wasn’t sure how to answer. “I came back as quickly as I could.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here at all. Not for another twenty years, at least.” Then, while Angel tried to process that: “I don’t even know how you got in here.”
Taking in Wesley’s wide, earnest eyes, his lowered voice, and his trembling, , Angel began to make sense of the situation. “Where are we, Wes?”
“In the cupboard. The one under the stairs – I’m actually surprised we can both fit it here. I don’t remember it being this roomy.”
Bingo. Dammit. Angel knew he had to play along. “You don’t have to remember it. We’re leaving, right now. Going home.”
“I am home. And it’s locked.” Wesley’s voice was horribly nonchalant, even as he stank of fear. “I don’t know how you got here, but I’m afraid you’re stuck until he decides to let us out.”
“Hey, vampire strength, remember? You do remember, right?” Wesley’s nod added another confusing bit of the present into the past. “I’ll just break down the door.”
Wes’ hand shot out from under the covers to grip Angel’s shoulder like a claw. “No! You mustn’t!” His eyes were wild but locked on Angel’s, breaths ragged and fast.
Startled by his vehemence, but remembering to move slowly, Angel reached up, enfolded the hand in his own, and brought it to rest back on the mattress. “Easy, Wes.”
Wesley calmed slightly and continued. “I’m sorry. It’s just – we can’t try and get out. He’s cross enough with me already. The only thing do for it is just wait quietly.” He ducked his head, but not before Angel saw his eyes growing wet. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to be here, you haven’t done anything wrong. This is my trial, not yours.” His voice broke a little towards the end.
Lowering his own head to catch Wesley’s eyes again, Angel managed a small smile. “It’s okay. I want to be here. I came – to keep you company. We can wait together.” Gingerly, giving Wesley time and space to object, he crept onto the bed and wrapped the man in his arms, a layer of protection against the prison of a memory.
May all the ducks in your ponds of life swim smoothly this week!
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Angel/Wesley preslash.
Warnings: hurt/comfort and angst.
Word count: 500 words.
This is part nine in my A/W h/c series stored here.. It picks up right after Angel returns from his ill-fated mission.
Cupboard
Angel spent the night of his return by Wesley’s bedside, stroking gently at his hair and marking every breath. Sometimes he rested his head next to Wesley’s on the mattress, but he couldn’t bring himself to climb in with him. Not yet. Not until he knew if he’d been forgiven for leaving.
Perhaps an hour before dawn, Angel was watching Wesley’s eyes dart beneath his lids when they abruptly snapped open. “Hey, Wes” he breathed softly.
Blinking rapidly, Wesley opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He swiped distractedly at his eyes and Angel handed him his glasses. Wesley set them down again and apparently decided to talk after all. “You’re here early.”
Cordy said sometimes he thought I wasn’t coming back. Oh, Wes, I’m sorry. Angel wasn’t sure how to answer. “I came back as quickly as I could.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here at all. Not for another twenty years, at least.” Then, while Angel tried to process that: “I don’t even know how you got in here.”
Taking in Wesley’s wide, earnest eyes, his lowered voice, and his trembling, , Angel began to make sense of the situation. “Where are we, Wes?”
“In the cupboard. The one under the stairs – I’m actually surprised we can both fit it here. I don’t remember it being this roomy.”
Bingo. Dammit. Angel knew he had to play along. “You don’t have to remember it. We’re leaving, right now. Going home.”
“I am home. And it’s locked.” Wesley’s voice was horribly nonchalant, even as he stank of fear. “I don’t know how you got here, but I’m afraid you’re stuck until he decides to let us out.”
“Hey, vampire strength, remember? You do remember, right?” Wesley’s nod added another confusing bit of the present into the past. “I’ll just break down the door.”
Wes’ hand shot out from under the covers to grip Angel’s shoulder like a claw. “No! You mustn’t!” His eyes were wild but locked on Angel’s, breaths ragged and fast.
Startled by his vehemence, but remembering to move slowly, Angel reached up, enfolded the hand in his own, and brought it to rest back on the mattress. “Easy, Wes.”
Wesley calmed slightly and continued. “I’m sorry. It’s just – we can’t try and get out. He’s cross enough with me already. The only thing do for it is just wait quietly.” He ducked his head, but not before Angel saw his eyes growing wet. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to be here, you haven’t done anything wrong. This is my trial, not yours.” His voice broke a little towards the end.
Lowering his own head to catch Wesley’s eyes again, Angel managed a small smile. “It’s okay. I want to be here. I came – to keep you company. We can wait together.” Gingerly, giving Wesley time and space to object, he crept onto the bed and wrapped the man in his arms, a layer of protection against the prison of a memory.
May all the ducks in your ponds of life swim smoothly this week!