__What Up Wesley?__
By Hope Hentzau
"`Demon Mating Rituals'"? Buffy read the title of the book she was about to shelve, with an obvious question in her voice.
"Third shelf on the right." Rupert Giles answered absently, preoccupied with trying to sort the mixed stack of volumes he'd taken from the box in front of him. "What on earth got into Wyndham-Price when he packed these, I wonder?!" He asked rhetorically.
"Wind, maybe?" Buffy suggested, with a lilt in her voice and a twinkle in her eye. She was bored enough with the task of unpacking and shelving their arcane book collection that even Giles' rhetorical questions were fair game.
"You mean, more than usual?" Giles responded in kind, returning the twinkle, as he made wobbly stacks on the book truck he had trundled over. "He has put `daemonic symbology' in with `astrophysical xerography,' in with `pre-mesozoic neurophysics'!"
"Whatever did they teach him in Watcher kindergarten?" she said, with a `tsk-tsk' shake to her head.
"Gad! And here's a Christopher Pike! And a Mary Higgins Clark? Why not the latest John Grisham thriller, I wonder?" Giles was nearly muttering to himself.
"Why not ask him yourself?" Buffy remarked, as her slayer senses gave her a two-second warning of her erstwhile Watcher's approach. She and Giles were in the `Special Collections' section of the Conan-Doyle Library, on the campus of UC Sunnydale. Giles had applied for and received a grant from the same foundation the library was named for, and he had enlisted her help in moving into his new offices. Wesley Wyndham-Price had just rounded a corner of the stacks, and he smiled when he saw them.
"Hey, Wes! What up?" Buffy greeted him. "Come to say, `So long, it's been bad to know ya'?" she queried, only half-kidding.
"Not at all! Not at all!" Wesley responded, with enthusiasm. "I value my experiences here enormously. So much so, that I've arranged to continue my stay!" Buffy looked at Giles, to see if anything the younger man had just said had made any sense to him. Giles looked at her, his expression a mirror of her own, and mutual confusion thus established, they turned back to Wesley.
"You're staying?" Giles said, in disbelief.
"Why?" Buffy demanded. "If it's because of me, I told you, I'm done with the Watcher's Council. You are no longer my Watcher, and they don't get to send another of you, either! Unless they want to send an evil one," she added, "so's I could slay `em."
Wesley's happy face had now turned upside down, but Buffy continued, unheeding, "You know, you should all be labeled, like the `Nutrition Guidelines' on food." Giles had started to look restless, as he wondered when Buffy would stop babbling. But after her experiences with Gwen Post and Quentin Travers, he supposed she was entitled to a *little* babbling.
"Labeled?" Wesley managed to say, lifting both eyebrows in puzzlement.
"Yeah, you know," Buffy said earnestly, " `Mrs. Post, Contents: Good... 13%, Evil ... 87%, Personality = Bitch.'" She looked at both of the men, but they were both gazing suddenly and intently in the direction of the floor, apparently trying to decide if their shoes needed polishing. "And `Mr. Travers, Contents: Good ... 2%, Evil ... 49%, Stupidity ... also 49% -- equal parts, that is -- and Personality = Psychopath." She smiled, but not pleasantly. " `Mr. Wyndham-Price -- '"
Giles knew it was time to step in. "Buffy," he said smoothly, "If you give Wesley the chance, I'm sure he'll explain himself, and tell us why he means to stay." Buffy accepted the interruption from Giles, almost graciously.
"Okay, Wes," she told him, "this is where you do the exposition thing." They both looked at Wesley, who began to stammer a bit, from the nervousness that Buffy's little speeches had engendered.
"W- w- well, you know," he began, "I really was p- p- put here on a `sink or swim' basis ...."
"And you drowned." Buffy said, with her best schoolgirl straightforwardness.
"Y- y- yes, I uh- did," Wesley concurred, "d- d- drown, as you say." He looked so mortified, that Buffy instantly regretted the harshness of her words.
"Wes," she began, but Giles had begun speaking at the same moment, and she let him take it.
"Wesley," Giles said, not unkindly, "You entered a situation that would have floored even the most experienced Watcher." Wesley looked as if he were about to say something, but Giles continued, not giving him the chance. "As Buffy just reminded us, our recent experiences with members of the Watchers' Council had been, uh - well, rather -- unfortunate. She and Faith were bound to mistrust you because of it, without your needing to do anything to encourage them. It's my belief that it was Mrs. Post's betrayal that caused us to lose Faith, no one else's."
Giles saw that Buffy's eyes had suddenly become as big and round as Wesley's, as they both stood staring at him. He had to shake off the notion that he was gently scolding a pair of cocker spaniels, that had somehow knocked over a lamp.
"Buffy and Faith were your first field assignment of any kind, weren't they?" Giles asked, and Wesley nodded, eyes downcast. "And you had never been in battle before?"
"Only at the retreats -- the mock battles." Wesley said, and then admitted, "I was never very good at them."
"But you've been in fights? Real ones? Physically, that is?" Giles pursued.
"Well, no. Mum didn't believe in fighting," Wesley said. "Said fightin' was th' same's admittin' you'd already lost." His BBC-announcer's accent had slipped, and he sounded very much like the little boy he'd been, not so very long ago. Buffy shifted books off a couple of wooden library chairs, and made him sit down, before sitting down beside him.
"So," Giles continued, "while you had a sound grasp of the theories, you'd had none of the practice, and the Council sent you to the Hellmouth, to usurp my place." Giles couldn't help letting a little of his annoyance show in his words, but it was clear to both his listeners that it was the Council that annoyed him, not Wesley. "And then, they did everything they could to sabotage you," he added, "by ordering you to make Buffy toe the line and not follow my `bad example,' then by ordering you to kidnap Faith. And they counted on your being a good little boy, so you'd follow their orders.
"The Council knew that you would fail," he concluded sadly, "as they knew I would fail --" Buffy and Wesley both opened their mouths to voice their protests, but Giles stopped them by raising his hand, palm pressing outwards toward them. "They knew I would fail, even before Travers bullied me into that bloody test." Buffy closed her mouth abruptly, and her lips pressed hard together.
Wesley had the grace to look embarrassed, but asked anyway, "They knew you would fail?"
"Otherwise, Travers, as the Head of the Council, would never have come to oversee my administration of it, personally." Giles stated.
"It's true, it's never been done that way before," Wesley agreed. "In fact, the--." He stopped abruptly.
"What?" Buffy demanded.
"What aren't you telling us?" Giles insisted, when Wesley stayed silent and grew red in the cheeks.
"Well, the fact is," Wesley reluctantly resumed, "the test is often waived. If the Council is happy with the Slayer and her Watcher."
"What?" Buffy repeated, this time grabbing Wesley by the arm, causing him to wince at her grip.
"Waived?" Giles said, his voice now dangerously tight. "If the Council is happy ...."
"Y- y- yes," Wesley again stuttered. "And if it is administered," he continued bravely, as Buffy's hand gripped him harder, and her eyes narrowed, "it is usually with a much gentler vampire -- if any of them could be called gentle, of course, but I understand yours was especially nasty." Both Giles and Buffy nodded. "And the muscle relaxant given the slayer is less, uh -- disabling, than the formula I saw for yours. It usually reduces her powers, but doesn't leave her weak as a -- uh, weak as a -- hmm. As weak as I am." He concluded with a sigh. Buffy released him, as she sat back in her chair, and Wesley began rubbing his arm, to restore circulation.
"Why in the name of the first Slayer didn't you tell us this sooner?!" Giles demanded, suddenly swooping down on Wesley, as he bent to look him in the eyes, their noses less than a foot apart.
"I th- th- thought you knew!" Wesley managed to say. "I th- th- thought that you'd found out, and that was why you'd invalidated the test.
After all, anyone with any sense could see that the test, as it was given, was little short of an execution!" He stopped at the glare Giles gave him, and waited, while his predecessor stood silently, before gaining sufficient self-control to speak.
"Yes, I did see that," Giles said after a moment, with forced calm, "when it was nearly too late." Buffy reached out and gave his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, apparently using a more gentle clasp than she had on Wesley. Giles gave her a small, grateful smile.
"I'd convinced myself you could do it, Buffy." Giles told her. "That's how Travers got to me. I thought, since you're the best slayer they've ever --" Giles stopped, feeling the wash of sentiment to be rather thick here, and not wanting to get too sticky. He decided to rephrase. "That is, I thought, since all the previous slayers had faced it, and virtually all had succeeded, and been better-prepared slayers because of it, that I had no choice. At least, that's what Travers led me to believe. I didn't know that he'd stacked the deck."
"So, when can I kill him?" Buffy asked, springing to her feet to make her impatience clear.
"Uh, not just yet, I think," Giles told her. "After all, he still signs the checks that pay for all of these." He indicated the books they had been shelving.
"Let me know when the collection's complete," Buffy said with a shrug, and sat down.
"That's what I was getting to, back when I came in." Wesley said, "But as to the test, when I found out you didn't know, I wanted to tell you." He looked embarrassed, and straightened the knot in his tie, before continuing. "But by then, well, it wouldn't have changed anything, the test had been voided, you had been, ah -- sacked, and I -- ah, well, you already thought little enough of me, that I didn't dare to risk making things worse."
"So why are you staying now?" Buffy asked, deciding it was time to return to more immediate concerns.
"I've been made curator of this collection. All these books still belong to the Council, you know." Wesley explained. "If you look at the fine print of your contract, Mr. Giles, you'll note that the `Sunnydale Antiquities Memorial Collection,' for which you were the acquiring and supervising librarian, still remains the property of the `Supreme Council for Investigation of the Paranormal and Perpetuation of Illumination.'
"That's the name of the Watcher's Council?" Buffy asked Giles, who was looking thoughtful.
"Uh, yes, one of them," Giles acknowledged. "I used to refer to them as `Skippy', in my younger days."
"And they still own the books?" Buffy tried to verify.
"Apparently," Giles said, looking at Wesley appraisingly. "They do?" he asked him.
"Yes, they do." Wesley stated. "You can confirm it, easily enough. And, they've said that where the books are, there I will be."
"Do we really need all these dusty old books, anyway?" Buffy asked Giles.
"Yes. Yes, we do." Giles responded. "We are still on the Hellmouth, after all." He looked at Wesley. "You said you want to stay?"
"Yes, I do. I know my contributions have not always been very valuable, but I want the chance to improve. I've learned so much already!" he allowed a bit of enthusiasm to color his voice, but tried to otherwise keep a lid on his exuberance, lest he alienate Buffy again.
"And who'll pay your salary?" Giles asked.
"The Council, as before. They've made the same arrangement with the Conan-Doyle Foundation and the University of California, that they had with the Sunnydale School District," Wesley told him. "It's still under a special endowment for the study of Antiquities." He added, with a flush of embarrassment, "I think the Council has given them the impression that you and I, are uh - a bit like `Indiana Jones.' "
"You're both cute enough," Buffy told them, after a moment of thoughtful consideration. "But you definitely need to work on the wardrobe."
"Yes, well, as to that," Giles said, "Wesley, why don't you roll up your sleeves and help us with the unpacking? Since they are *your* books?" he added, with half a smile.
"Of course! Certainly!" Wesley readily agreed, relieved to see they had accepted his presence.
"You can start with this bunch," Giles told him, and pushed the truck he'd been sorting toward his new `curator'. Although I do think it'd be best if you set aside the popular fiction," and he pointed to Christopher Pike's `The Babysitter 3' and Mary Higgins Clark's `Silent Night 2', that were mixed in with the more esoteric titles. "The District will be setting up the new high school in portable buildings, once the foundation's been cleared of debris. We can send back the regular collection, when they're ready."
Wesley nodded, and looked at the odd mix of books in front of him, as if he'd never seen them before. But, eager to please, he followed orders. He removed his jacket, draped it over the back of the chair he'd been sitting in, undid his cuff buttons, and rolled up his sleeves.
"Here's the sketch I've made, showing where the different classifications should go." Giles said, handing Wesley his tentative mapping for the stacks. "I'll just unpack my desk things, then. I'll be in the office if you need anything." With that, he turned and walked down the row, disappearing to the left when he got to the end, presumably in the direction of his new office.
"So," Buffy said, holding up another book, "where does `Transdimensional Rhinomorphosis' go?"
"Let's see," Wesley said, looking at the map Giles had made. "Two shelves over, top right." He said.
Curious, Buffy glanced at the paper Wesley held. "How do you know?" she asked.
"See," he explained, indicating the shelf he'd given directions to, "he's got it marked in here." In tiny print, she could just read the label `Trans--Physiog' beside that part of the diagram.
"Oh." Buffy said.
Wesley pulled a kick stool over to sit on, as he quickly sorted more books from boxes onto the truck in front of him, now avidly and expertly focused on the task at hand.
"Does this mean I'll be fighting rhinos from another dimension?" Buffy asked, after a few moments had passed.
"Ah, no," Wesley told her, allowing himself a brief, delighted smile, as he pictured the `rhinos' her misinterpretation had conjured.
"`Rhinomorphosis' refers to the changing form of the nose. In this case, this book describes the various transformations noses may undergo, when creatures or demons from another realm invade ours through the assumption of an existing body."
"Oh." Buffy said again, but her face was troubled. She'd seen a few too many transformations, Wesley realized.
"You may not find any rhinos pictured in here," Wesley told her, as he took the book from her to flip through the pages, "but you will find a few demons that could use a nose job." He stopped flipping and pointed at one that had a nose like a banana. "And you're just the girl to give him one." He pointed at another that had a bifurcated nose, with slitted flaps that curled outwards like the handlebars of a bicycle.
"You could charge by the hour, or by the meter. Either way, you'd be sure to make a fortune."
Buffy just stared at him for a moment, in shock, unable to believe that Wesley was kidding her -- and about something as `serious' as fighting demons, no less! Then she smiled, and he smiled back at her.
"Definitely cute," she thought to herself, "to hell with the wardrobe!" Still smiling, she took back the book and put it on the shelf where it now belonged.
She opened another box, and realized it should have been labeled `Genl -Fic'. Those had been sent to a storage garage, when the `Skippy' ones were sent here. This box had a bunch of Sunnydale's regular library books in it, but after picking up the ones on top, Buffy saw a few tooled leather bindings tucked in amongst the cellophane-wrapped, dust-jacketed fiction. She now understood Giles' consternation, just before Wesley had arrived.
"Wesley," she asked him, "what's with the creative filing techniques?"
Her former Watcher looked at her questioningly, but showed his understanding when he saw the books in front of her. She dug into the box and simultaneously held up 'Necronomicon Lovecraftis' and 'Are You in the House Alone? Book 5'.
"Miss Chase and I thought it would be easier," Wesley began, "if she helped box the regular books, while I took care of the, uh – rarer items."
"Okay," Buffy said, when he stopped in midstream. "How did this book," and she held up `Le Fanu's Guide to Female Vampiric Manifestations,' "get in with these rare jewels?" and she tipped the box to reveal what appeared to be a complete set of `Sweet Valley High.'
"W- w- we may have been distracted," Wesley said, and Buffy wondered what had upset him again now. "I su-suppose we could have, uh- m- mixed up the b- b- books, or b- b- boxes, or s- s- something, that is ...."
He trailed off, as the color rose in his face. His ears were so red, Buffy thought she could almost see the heat radiating from them.
Remembering how he'd smiled and joked with her just moments before, Buffy felt for him.
"It's no big, Wes," she said with a shrug. "Just a few books mixed up."
"Y- yes. Ah - ah -- thank you." Wesley said, still doing his beet impersonation.
"And it just goes to show, that even perfect book guys like you," Buffy said, and smiled at him so he'd know she was teasing, "aren't quite so perfect after all."
Wesley had returned her smile, but at her last words, his face fell and his color turned pale. "If he keeps this up," Buffy thought, "he's going to stroke-out on me."
"Wes," she said softly, "it's okay. You don't have to be perfect for us to like you, or want to have you around. In fact," she added, "we like you better if you're a mass of flaws and contradictions - just like the rest of us." Her face was serious, but he could hear the humor – and affection -- in her voice. It was the same tone of voice she often used with Giles, and it almost gave him the courage to tell her what was causing his sudden apoplexy. Almost.
"So, Wes," Buffy continued, feeling suddenly intuitive, but realizing she had simply connected the dots. "Tell me what's up with you and Cordelia?"
Wesley got that `deer in the headlights' look, just for a moment, then sighed. He took off his glasses and started wiping them on the fat end of his tie, and Buffy found herself admiring his eyes.
"Miss Chase, that is, uh - Cordelia and I -- I guess, you'd say, we broke up," he told her at last.
Buffy wanted to ask when they had joined, in order to then be able to break up, but instead just looked at Wesley encouragingly.
"Cordelia is a very attractive young woman," Wesley continued, "and I'm sure she has had many admirers."
"Uh huh," Buffy said, but then simply nodded for Wesley to continue.
"Well, that is -- I've greatly admired her for some time, and I was beginning to think that she might have some feelings for me," Wesley went on, glancing at Buffy to check on the effect his words were having. She tried to look sympathetic, and was surprised to realize it wasn't too difficult, considering how shy and sweet he was acting.
"She and I, that is - , we - , she let me kiss her." He finally got it out in a rush, pain evident in his voice and in his all-too-transparent face. "And I made a botch of it, as usual," he admitted glumly.
Somehow, the idea of Wesley and Cordelia having smoochies wasn't as unsettling to Buffy as she thought it might be. "He's so cute," she thought, "especially when he's embarrassed."
"What happened?" Buffy prodded gently.
"We were boxing up books, and talking about the mayor's imminent Ascension, and suddenly, it seemed like she and I were the only two people in the world," Wesley said, barely above a whisper. "In a flash, we were in each other's arms, and then - well, and then, I didn't know what to do with my arms, or my hands, or -- and ah - I didn't want to be too forward, and uh - well! We kissed. And I felt like an idiot, which is not unusual. And she looked so, ah - disappointed, that I felt truly awful. I knew I was letting her down badly, but I kissed her again. Somehow, that was even worse." His eyes looked at Buffy now, instead of into the distance and the painful memories of these humiliating events. "And," he added, "she wiped her face with her hand, same as I used to do when I was a child, after my Great Aunt Mabel had kissed me!"
His voice had gone wistful again, and almost unbearably sad. But at least his blood pressure seemed to have stabilized, judging by his color.
"I'm really sorry, Wes," Buffy said softly. "I'm sure it's not your fault - at least, not all of it. Cordy can make any guy feel like he's two feet tall. It's one of her specialties."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do," Wesley said, "but I'm afraid I'm just not good at any kind of -- physical activity. Probably a holdover from p.t. -- I was always rotten at it."
"Pee tee?" Buffy asked.
"Physical training," Wesley explained. "It was mandatory that we take it every semester. All the masters at school seemed really hot for it. They simply adored all the boys who excelled at the games - cricket, rowing, rugby. I , ah - did not excel. To put it mildly."
"So," Buffy said with resolve, "you weren't a teacher's pet. Just means you had to try harder, that's all."
"I do try harder, Buffy," Wesley said, with an agonizing smile. "Haven't you noticed?"
She looked at his sweet, sad face, which at this moment was completely unguarded. "I guess I was just too busy to notice, Wesley," she said apologetically, "with the Ascension, and the mayor, and Faith, and Angel, and finals, and colleges to decide on." Her tone had become wistful, as well. "But I know now," she added, and reached out to pat his hand, where it rested on his knee.
"Thank you, Buffy," he told her from his heart. "I may not be your Watcher anymore, but I would like to be your friend."
"You got it!" she responded quickly, smiling and looking a little like she was about to cry.
"And you'll still let me contribute advice?" he asked hopefully. "I am a fair hand with the books, even if I'm not perfect," he added.
"Deal," she said, "if you let *me* give *you* some advice."
"What kind of advice?" he asked, a bit uneasy at the thought of what she might have in mind.
"Wardrobe, for one. Stop overdressing so often. You'll be much more comfortable -- and others will be more comfortable around you -- if you dress down to fit the occasion."
"Point taken," he said, relieved that it was this easy.
"So to start, take off the tie, and unbutton your collar," she told him.
"Yes, ma'am," he said laughingly, but did as she said.
"Now," she added, "stop thinking of yourself as just a Watcher, or even a curator, and remember that firstly, you're a person."
He nodded, feeling the warmth of her intentions wash over him, even if the words hadn't made much of a dent, yet.
"You need to remember that as a person, you're not supposed to know all the answers. And you're not perfect! You'll make mistakes. But if you remember to *listen* to people, and to take an interest in what they're saying, and to be there for them when they need you -- . Well, then you'll have friends to help you when you do screw up." Buffy gave him one of her five-hundred-watt smiles, and he felt the glow of it clear through him. He nodded, and smiled back, albeit a bit woozily.
"All right, then," she concluded. "When a p.t. like Cordy - and in America, p.t. doesn't stand for physical training," she added meaningfully, "-- kisses you and doesn't ask for more, don't let it worry you so much. There's plenty more fish in the sea." The last part made her feel like she'd briefly turned into her mother, but she tried to ignore it. Wesley was nodding at her, still sitting perched on the kick-stool, while she was standing in front of him. It put her face at a level just above his. He hadn't put his glasses back on, after removing them earlier, and she saw that they were still in his hand.
Suddenly, she had several simultaneous and completely incompatible urges. She wanted to pat him on the head maternally, or put his glasses back on him defensively -- to hide those increasingly soulful eyes and keep her stomach from doing flip-flops -- or, even more, she wanted to take his face in her hands and show him what kissing a *real* girl, such as herself, could really be like. She knew she could curl his toes, if she put her heart into it.
But, as she had when similar feelings gripped her when she was with Giles, she simply stood there, not daring to do anything.
"Buffy," Wesley asked after several moments of silence, "may I kiss you?"
"What?" was Buffy's reply, and she mentally kicked herself. "Am I verbally challenged, or what?" she scolded herself, in her thoughts.
"May I kiss you?" he asked again, looking into her eyes to find an answer, in case the answer was "no" and she was being too nice to say it.
"W- w- why?" she asked, suddenly paralyzed by the unlikely notion that he had indeed read her thoughts.
"Because you are a brave and beautiful woman," Wesley told her, "and I would very much like to kiss you."
"You're not in love with me, then?" Buffy asked, relief apparent in her voice.
"I'd be a cad to say such a thing to you," Wesley answered, leaving Buffy more puzzled than before. "You are so beautiful, and wise, and kind," Wesley continued, "perhaps you could let me know where I'm doing it wrong? The kissing, I mean," he added, when she raised her eyebrows at him.
"All right," she said, and reached for him before she could change her mind.
Wesley stayed seated on the stool, which squeaked as he pushed back to adjust his balance. He reached for her, and found his hands touching her waist. She bent down to match her lips to his, as she took his head between her hands. Their lips met, and she felt his hands spasm, then jerk away. His lips stayed firm under hers, and she applied a bit of pressure, first on top, then the bottom. He puckered his lips more at this, and they became even harder. She opened her mouth a bit, to let her tongue slide gently across the top of his lower lip, and he took the cue to open his mouth to her.
His hands returned to her body, and slid lower, to rest atop the gentle swelling of her behind. She slipped her tongue along the edges of his mouth, still trying to get him to use his lips, without success. He mistook her actions, instead, and opened his mouth wider. His tongue came forward to meet hers, and she felt him flinch all through his body when their tongues touched. His hands spasmed again, as if they only just realized where they were, and jerked away, before they came back to lightly grip the top of her arms. She thought he might pull away from her, but he kept his mouth open against hers. His lips stayed hard, and now his tongue was hard, and pressing forward into her mouth. She broke off the kiss, and started to wipe the drool from her lips, when she caught herself. "Aunt Mabel," she remembered.
"Rotten, wasn't it?" Wesley said, with a miserable half-smile.
Buffy had kissed a few boys before she'd met Angel, and even one or two afterwards. But she had to admit, this was the worst. And – whatever problems lay between her and her one-time vampire lover - Buffy knew, Angel really knew how to kiss. Her body responded even now, just to the thought of his kisses. And here was Wesley, sitting humbly and miserably in front of her. "I think you could learn to do better," she said after a long pause.
Wesley looked at her, and the crumb of hope she'd offered clearly seemed to him to be a feast, in the dark desperation of his self-vilification. "What can I do?" he asked, doubt and desire at war within him.
"Well," she said, "You've got to have more confidence in yourself, for starters."
"Righto," he said, "I'll order some from the corner deli. Two ham sandwiches, please, and a quart of confidence."
She smiled, and then actually laughed, at his humor in the face of despair. And *that* reaction of hers did more for him, she realized, than all of her `positive thinking' platitudes. He brightened perceptibly, and sat up straighter on the stool.
"Stand up," she ordered. Wesley did as instructed. When standing, she came to his breastbone. But she'd kissed tall guys before -- again the thought of Angel niggled at her consciousness -- and she rather liked the way their arms enfolded her into their chests.
"You need to touch a girl with confidence," she said, "or the nervousness you feel will make her feel nervous, too." "And your spazz-attacks will give her the wiggins," she mentally added, but didn't say it.
"I'm afraid that -- I'll touch some part of her that she doesn't want me to touch," Wesley explained.
"That's a point," Buffy said, "and a good one. And on a first contact, it's certainly something to keep in mind. You just have to stick to the `safe' areas."
"And those are?" Wesley asked, as if she were explaining her plan of attack, to rout out a nest of vampires.
She had to think. "Well," she said, "the head and neck are good, and the shoulders, and you were doing okay with the waist, - actually, anywhere from the waist and above, as long as you don't start feeling up her boobs."
"Ah, yes, of course," Wesley said, and turned lightly pink.
"The point is, you need to touch her gently, but firmly, and like you're enjoying the touch - but not too much," she added, remembering the octopus-guy from the swim team. "As long as you stay open to what she's feeling, and let her responses tell you what's cool, and what's hot," she added with a smile, "you'll do just great!"
"All right, we've mentioned attitude, and hands," Wesley noted, "but I think I already knew about those points. What I don't have a clue about," he confessed, "is the kissing itself!"
"That's a lot trickier," Buffy conceded. "And a lot seems to be up to personal tastes. Uh, but not the breath mint kind of tastes," she added, "if you know what I mean."
He thought she did. "You mean, that some people prefer one type of kissing, and other people might have difference preferences."
"Right," she said. "And it also depends on how excited you are, and how excited you wanna be. You have to fit the kiss to the context."
Wesley was looking discouraged again, and Buffy took the big plunge, in her desire to make herself clear to him.
"You kiss a girl -- or a guy -- differently, when you want to say, `I like you, had a great time, hope we can do this again soon' -- then your kiss has got to be a lot more reserved, and slower, and gentler – than your kissing would be when, oh, when you're about to screw each others brains out!" She looked at Wesley, imploring him to understand that it really wasn't that difficult a concept to master. Then she realized what she'd said, and hoped he wouldn't take her too literally. On the Hellmouth, after all, a literal interpretation of what she'd said was not impossible. Not even that unlikely.
"I, uh -- get your point," Wesley said, after a moment spent adjusting himself to it. "But, I'd hoped you could, at least, ah -- give me a shove in the right direction? With any suggestions you might have, with how to improve? Besides the hands, and the attitude, and the sensitivity to context?"
"Persistent, ain't he?," she thought to herself, realizing she'd been talking all around the subject, without quite getting right down to it. And that thought made her wonder, what would it be like, if she and Wesley ever did get right down to it? The answer she gave herself was, "Pretty disappointing," and she pushed herself to think of just what specific improvements she could suggest.
"Okay, Wesley, we'll go for round two," she finally told him.
"I beg your pardon," he said.
"Remember everything I just said, and kiss me again."
"Uh, if I may ask," he asked, hesitantly, "what kind of kiss?"
"Well, not the Great Aunt Mabel type," she said. "Try for the `let's kiss and get close for awhile' kind. More than the `goodnight-kiss' kind, but not the `let's jump each other's bones' kind, either. Got it?"
"Not really," he told her, "but as you pointed out, if I note your reactions and act accordingly, I should -- uh, `do just great!'" The self mocking was in his voice and soft smile, but he was clearly determined to do his best to follow her instructions to the letter.
They moved a little closer, with her chest just not brushing against his stomach. They both lifted their arms at the same time, and felt like they were doing bird imitations, as they flapped up and down trying to find a place to settle, that didn't collide with the other's moves in turn.
Buffy was the first to start laughing, and then he joined her, as they both realized how ridiculous it all seemed. She reached up, and her laughter stilled, as she slid her arms around his neck, gently gripping the back of his neck in her hands. His laughing stilled also, as he reached under her arms, to clasp her lightly, but firmly, under her shoulder blades. She tilted her head slightly as she pulled his face down to hers, and softly pressed her warm lips against his.
She felt a burst of laughter tighten her chest, as she kept it inside, but he must have felt it, because he pulled back from her, enough to smile and whisper, "You're beautiful," before he pressed his lips again to hers. He had the puckering part down, she decided, but she didn't know exactly what was going wrong from there. She moved her lips against his, licking them slightly so they would just slide, without slipping. His lips pushed back against hers, as he thought she wanted him to press harder.
"What in bloody hell?!" She heard Giles exclaim, and she jerked back from Wesley as if bitten. He simultaneously jumped back from her, and then fell backwards over the kickstool that was behind him.
"Giles!" Buffy said, and her voice cracked between the `i' and the `l'. It made her feel twelve years old again.
"Buffy?" Giles replied, surprise now changed to suspicion.
"It's all my fault, sir." Wesley was trying to clamber to his feet, but the stool was in the way. "It's really all my fault, Mr. Giles." Wesley reiterated, and the stool squeaked.
Giles looked at Buffy, who was standing there with her hands tucked behind her back. She definitely had the `deer in headlights' look. For all Giles could tell, it might be stuck there permanently.
"If - if - if you'll just let me explain," Wesley said from where he sat on the floor.
Giles took three steps and was in front of him. He pushed the stool out of the way, which squeaked in protest, and offered Wesley a hand up. Wesley stared at it for a moment, as if completely flummoxed as to its purpose, but then put out his hand in turn. Giles gripped it and pulled the younger Watcher to his feet.
"You're not wearing your tie," Giles observed.
"Neither are you," Wesley answered.
"I'm wearing a polo shirt, Wesley. I put it on this morning because I knew I'd be moving and unpacking all day. On the other hand," Giles had spoken matter-of-factly, and his tone became even drier, as he continued, "I leave you and Buffy in here for twenty minutes, allegedly to unpack and shelve books, and I come back to find you both with locked lips, and you missing your tie."
"That's it!" Buffy exclaimed.
"What?" it was now Wesley's turn to ask.
"His tie?" inquired Giles.
"No!" Buffy said. "Locked lips! That's why Wesley's such a lousy kisser."
"What?" Giles said, not to be left out.
Wesley said nothing, not sure how he should react to Giles knowing this dreadful thing about him. Not to mention his walking in on Buffy and himself - practically `en flagrante'. And in a library, no less!
"That's what we were doing," Buffy explained to Giles, quietly urging him to see how reasonable it all really was. "Yes. Reasonable. Really!" she told herself.
"Wesley was proving to you that he's a lousy kisser? I could've told you that," he added.
"Wh- wh- what?!" Buffy and Wesley both stammered, simultaneously.
"Common knowledge around the Council," Giles stated.
"So you haven't kissed him?" Buffy said.
Wesley was once again speechless, as he silently wondered how his kissing ability had become common gossip.
"Jocelyn," Giles told him. "And no, I haven't," he told Buffy. "Why, do you think I should?" he asked, as an afterthought.
"Somebody should," Buffy said. "I mean, he's a really sweet guy, but his confidence level is zilch. He needs kissing - by someone who knows how."
"And you were in charge of the matter, when I entered," Giles told her.
"Yeah, right. `Locked lips?' " she said, and nearly snorted.
"Well, it does seem a desperate case ...." Giles said, rubbing his chin with his hand, as if trying to make an accurate diagnosis. "Maybe I should watch you two again," he added, "I was startled before, and that interfered with my observation."
Buffy wasn't sure if he was teasing her, or Wesley, or both. But she knew she wasn't about to submit to it without a return assault. "I think you should kiss him. For the first-hand experience," she added, by way of explanation.
"All right," he shocked the hell out of her by agreeing, before she saw the amused twist that pulled at the left corner of his mouth, and the glint she caught in his right eye.
"Wh- wh- what?" Wesley once again stammered. He knew he was being tested, at the same time as he was being teased, and he was still fuming a bit inside at Jocelyn and her indiscreet chatter.
"I'm going to kiss you, Wesley," Giles told him. "And I want you to take all that you've learned from Buffy, and do your damnedest to kiss me back. In a way that I'll enjoy it," he added, remembering the stories he'd heard.
"Oh dear," Wesley sighed, and his hands started flapping even before Giles and he made contact.
"Now, now, enough of that," Giles told him. "I'm kissing you for your sake, and for Buffy's here, to show her how it should be done." He nodded his head in Buffy's direction, and winked at her. "Measure up to it, will you?"
"Trust me," Buffy told Wesley. "He's good at it."
"Wh- what?" Wesley exclaimed, and Giles looked a trifle caught out.
"He and my mom, they sucked face right in front of me," she said. "It was nearly the most disgusting thing I've ever seen, but he looked hotter-n-hell doing it." Giles had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "And my mom told me later -- much later -- that he was the best she's ever had." Giles started to look a bit smug, but then suddenly broke up laughing as he looked at Buffy and saw the expression on her face. It was her patented, `Oh-no! I've-done-it-again' look, as she realized what she'd said.
"Not that, uh -- my mom's had so many, that is. For him to be the best of," she tried to explain, but not with much feeling in it. Giles just kept laughing, and then Wesley joined him.
The men kept on laughing sporadically, while Buffy glared alternately at them, trying to decide if she should slug them or not. Finally, Wesley managed to straighten his face long enough to say, "That's quite a recommendation. Maybe I should wire the Council."
"Don't bother, they already know," Giles assured him.
"Jocelyn?" Wesley asked.
"Quite," Giles answered, and both of them started laughing again.
"Are you done?" Buffy asked, when they finally seemed to have settled.
"Hmm-hmm," Giles said noncommitally, and looked at Wesley, for his assessment.
"For now," Wesley said with a wide smile.
"You should try to do that more often," Giles told him, smiling back. "It's amazingly appealing. Really."
"And for you, too," Wesley responded.
"Ditto to both of you," Buffy informed them. "Now are you gonna or not?"
"Are we?" Giles asked his fellow Watcher.
"I'll do my best," Wesley answered, suddenly serious.
"Then just relax, and let me take the lead," Giles told him. He stood in front of Wesley, then reached one hand out to clasp Wesley's shoulder. He pulled Wesley gently to him, as he raised his other hand to smoothly caress and hold the side of his neck. He leaned his head forward, and Wesley's eyes closed, his lips unconsciously beginning to purse.
"Let your muscles relax," Giles told him. "Just keep your lips soft, and your mouth slightly open. I'll do the rest." Giles' lips reached out gently, and his mouth brushed against Wesley's. Wesley gasped, and then nearly choked, as he inhaled sharply.
"Try to breathe through your nose," Giles told him, and pressed his lips lightly against Wesley's in a quick kiss. "Don't think of anything except how your lips feel as they touch my lips," he followed this with another quick kiss, "and my lips touch yours." And Giles kissed him again, this time maintaining the contact. He pressed his lips outwards slightly, and then pulled them in slightly, only to press out again, always gently puckered, to extend out beyond his teeth, and to maximize the area of contact, but keeping the muscle tension in them soft, to make them pliantly mold to Wesley's mouth, as they brushed and slid against his lips. He wet his lips slightly, but not too much, to keep a gentle friction between the sensitized skin of his lips and that of the other man. The kiss continued on, with Giles shifting his hold on Wesley, to now hold his face in both hands. Giles' fingers curved snugly around the sides of Wesley's jaw, and the pads of his thumbs pushed more firmly now, into the hollows of Wesley's cheeks, just grazing the cheekbones.
Wesley had never felt so -- taken -- in his entire life. He willed his mouth to stay relaxed, but other parts of his body were definitely starting to tingle.
Buffy, after the first shock of seeing the two men kiss, had tried to appraise Giles' efforts objectively. She had realized, trying to explain to Wesley how to kiss, that she had never really given it much thought. She'd just done it. And with Angel's practiced lead to follow, she'd been able to give as good as she got. Seeing Giles slowly and thoroughly kiss Wesley, and watching Wesley struggle not to squirm -- and they weren't even using tongues, yet! -- Buffy had to admit that she still had a lot to learn, and then she felt her toes curl.
Giles pulled away from Wesley a mere few inches, and let his hands slide down the other man's neck, in a firm caress, never taking his eyes off the other's. His arms kept moving, and his hands slipped down Wesley's chest, till they gripped his `love handles'. That is, where they would have gripped them, if Wesley's slender frame had any. Wesley slowly opened his eyes, and looked steadily at Giles, waiting for instruction.
"Now," Giles whispered, before the heat faded, "you do the same for me."
Wesley merely nodded, and tried not to be nervous. He raised his hands, smoothing the palms across Giles' polo shirt where it covered his breast, on their path upwards, till they gently held Giles' neck, his fingers pressing lightly into the depression at the base of his skull. He had never let his eyes waver from Giles', from the moment he opened them, and Buffy suddenly realized she was holding her breath.
"Breathe," she told herself silently.
Giles kept his head still, but his lips were slightly parted, and then his eyes shut as Wesley leaned forward and pulled Giles toward him. Their lips met, and it was Buffy who felt herself gasp this time. Wesley pressed briefly into the kiss, and then pulled back, to lightly kiss the corners of Giles' mouth. Giles used his hold on Wesley's body to pull them together, till their chests and stomachs were pressing snugly against each other. Wesley took this as a hint, and tilted his head slightly, before he pressed his softly puckered lips firmly onto Giles', whose lips had also puckered, despite his previous resolve to remain passive. Wesley avoided the `locked lips' maneuver that had caused him so much trouble. Instead, he kept his lips pulsing out gently, and then pulling in, out and then in, all the while sliding them across Giles. He was afraid that he'd make the kiss too wet, and his first attempt to wet his lips had indeed been too generous. His lips slipped off Giles, as the friction disappeared.
Giles opened his eyes, and smiled a small, shy smile at Wesley. It would have seemed coy, except for the approval in the way Giles held Wesley's body pressed against his own, and the brightness of Giles' eyes that conveyed his appreciation.
The few seconds apart had allowed their lips to dry, and Giles bent his head slightly, till his lips met Wesley's, in their first fully-participatory kiss. The younger Watcher felt a fire begin in his lower belly, as Giles raised his arms to embrace him across his back, finally sliding his arms around Wesley until he was completely enfolded. Wesley followed Giles' lead, and let his hands slide downwards, until Giles was equally enfolded. Giles was moving his jaw and head, to improve the angle, and to vary the pressure his lips were applying to Wesley's. When the younger Watcher responded in kind, but still kept his lips soft and rhythmically pulsing, Giles pulled back a bit. Again, Wesley took the cue, and began to pull back as well, but craned his head forward for one last pulsing brush of his lips across Giles', before ending the kiss.
"Whew!" Buffy exclaimed, and sighed. Giles and Wesley drew back a bit more, but kept their hands resting lightly on the other's waist. They glanced at Buffy, their looks clearly echoing her expressed sentiment.
"Is this the time for me to tap you on the shoulder and say, `May I cut in?' " she asked, not at all sure if she was kidding. And not nearly as sure as she should have been, whose shoulder she wanted to tap.
"Not just yet," Giles told her, and turned his attention back to this young man, who was proving to be a remarkably fast learner. "The best part is still to come."
"Tongues?" Buffy asked, and Giles nodded.
"One should never move on to tongues, until one knows what to do with one's lips," Giles told Buffy and Wesley both. "But," and he stopped to smile encouragingly at Wesley, "I think we may be ready."
Wesley simply nodded, his eyes now captivated by Giles' mouth.
"The trick of using the tongue is variety," Giles explained, "but to start with, use it as an extension of your lips. Keep it soft, and let it slide across my lips, and just far enough into my mouth to brush across my tongue. I'll be doing the same."
Wesley again nodded, and looked into Giles' eyes. Then, his hands lifted to caress the outside of Giles' arms, in a light, brushing touch that echoed the touching of their lips moments ago. His hands moved up to caress Giles' face, and then turned to slip the fingers just under and behind Giles' ears, with the thumbs pressing firmly into the hollows of Giles' cheeks. He gently took charge of Giles' head, tilting it slightly to the right, and then, as he leaned in, tilting his own face to match. His lips were now red and a bit swollen, from so much kissing, and Giles' felt their heat, before they even touched his.
Giles had thought to take the lead, and was a bit surprised at Wesley's initiating this kiss for them, but realized quickly that Wesley had indeed learned what lips were for. He found himself pulling the other man more closely to him, his arms now wrapped around his back. He expected Wesley to open his mouth wider, and begin brushing his with his tongue. But no, he was waiting for Giles' cue.
Giles reached up and grasped the back of Wesley's head with one hand, the other arm still holding them pressed tightly together. He increased the speed and pressure of their lips' contact, and then opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue reach out and slide across Wesley's lips. As if that were the moment Wesley had been waiting for, Wesley parted his lips a little further, and his tongue reached out to Giles, their tongues and lips brushing and caressing, now lighter, now firmer, and suddenly -- much, much hotter. Wesley slid one hand just behind and under Giles' head, both holding and cradling Giles' skull, and dropped his other arm to wrap it tightly about Giles' well-muscled, but almost equally slender body. Buffy found herself unconsciously licking her lips, to feel her tongue slide across them, trying to capture a little of what she saw before her. Her eyes dropped down, to take in the entire length of them, as they seemed to pulse and radiate before her. She suddenly realized that their bodies really were pressed tightly together, from the knees up, and felt herself flush, and the hot squishy sensation between her legs started her tingling from head to toe.
The two Watchers seemed oblivious to everything around them, as their hands began massaging, touching, clasping, and caressing, whatever part of the other's body they were able to reach. Their mouths were open wider, and their faces angled more sharply, as they sought to further increase the surface area they were focused on stimulating. Their hands were simply left on auto-pilot, and refused to waste the opportunity.
Buffy could now feel the heat coming off their bodies - or maybe it was off hers. She was now throbbing and very wet, and she became aware that her nipples were tightened, so hard they were becoming painful.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in," a voice asked quietly, and Buffy recognized the voice as Oz's. She turned quickly to see him standing there, a few feet to the side and back of her. He had a bemused-but-interested expression on his face. She could see that Giles and Wesley hadn't heard him speak.
"Oz!" Xander's voice, loudly protesting. And that, Giles and Wesley definitely heard. They sprang apart as if shocked by a jolt of electricity, and came to rest with their backsides just catching the edge of shelves.
"Xander, Oz, you both spoiled it," Willow complained. She and Xander came forward, to stand beside Oz.
"Blame wolf boy here," Xander said. "I'm used to taking my voyeuristic pleasures in silence."
"It was a good question," Oz stated.
"What were you guys doing, anyway?" Willow asked. "Has someone been casting love spells, or something?"
"Or maybe, a de-lusting spell that backfired? Cause I sure saw plenty of lust from where I was standing." Xander added.
"Was it a spell, Buffy?" Willow said, turning to her friend, when neither of the Watchers seemed ready to speak, just yet. "Is it a spell, I mean? They still kind of look like they're affected."
"Or was Giles just giving Wesley a goodbye kiss?" Xander again piped in.
"I'm going on tour in a week, be gone for three months," Oz said hopefully.
"Giles? Are you okay?" Willow asked, when still no information was forthcoming. She'd crossed to stand about four feet in front of him, and was reaching out a hand, tentatively.
"You're within pouncing distance, Will," Buffy thought, still trying to catch her breath and calm her heartbeat.
"Eh, Wesley, old man," Xander decided to contribute, "how's it shaken?"
Ignoring the three newcomers, Giles looked Buffy straight in her eyes, and she returned the look. They both looked at Wesley, and after a few moments, he seemed to feel their eye beams upon him, and looked up. They found an answering look in his eyes.
"You're right, Will," Buffy said. "It was a spell -- is a spell." She looked at the Watcher's, who both nodded, but still didn't speak.
"Oh, my gosh! Giles, Wesley, you'll be okay," Willow promised. "What can I do? Is there a counter-actant to the spell?"
"Damn," Xander said, but with a look of `I told you so.' "And we almost missed it!" he observed. "Looks like a doozy, too."
Oz was quiet, and just stood there, still looking like Oz, albeit a faintly disappointed one.
"That's a great idea, Will," Buffy told her, but Wesley was already ripping open boxes of books, apparently looking for something. Buffy looked for Giles, but he had disappeared. "They're sure they know the spell that did this, but they'll need you to go get the stuff, to do the counterspell." Just then, Giles reappeared, from the direction of his office. He handed her a list of outlandish ingredients, longer than any Buffy had ever seen before. Wesley saw him, and came over to look at it. He nodded his head vigorously, in confirmation.
"You appear to be the witch of the hour," Xander said to Willow, with a small bow in her direction. "Shall we escort the lady on her quest?" he asked Oz.
"Take the van," Oz said, tossing Xander the keys. "I'll stay here and help Buffy take care of Giles and Wesley."
Once again, Buffy and the Watchers exchanged looks. This time, it seemed that a smile was trying to force itself to their lips.
"Be back in a flash," Xander said, then glanced a little more closely at the list, as he took it from Buffy to hand to Willow. "Uh - maybe not," he corrected.
"Hang on tight, guys," Willow told them. "We'll be back as soon as we can."
"No rush," Buffy said, and then blurted out, to qualify, "I mean – I think the bad part of the spell is over with. We should be fine, I guess, and wouldn't want you two to get into an accident or anything."
Oz smiled, and nodded encouragingly at Willow. She smiled back, and gave them all a cheerful little wave of her hand. Then she and Xander left, to try to find the long list of obscure items.
"Whew!" Buffy said, with a sigh, after Willow and Xander were gone. "Okay," she said to Giles, "I'll check out what you've taught Wesley, while you show Oz how the grown-ups like to kiss?" she had made it a question, in case he had a better idea.
"Wesley?" Giles inquired.
"Uh, yes. I would rather like to do a better job of it, this time." Wesley responded with enthusiasm.
"Oz?" Giles asked, to make sure the young werewolf knew just what was in store. But Oz was way ahead of him.
"It sounds like a plan," he stated. "A half hour or so, and then switch?" he suggested, to be met with answering grins all around.
Giles winked at Buffy, then smiled proudly at Wesley, before moving to stand in front of Oz. "Let's try a sample run," Giles suggested. "Just to see where we stand." She took Wesley's hand and gently squeezed it, as they both watched Oz reach up, and pull Giles down into a long, slow, and sensual kiss.
Buffy's last thought, before she slid herself into Wesley's warm embrace, was the hope that the list Giles had come up with to keep Willow and Xander busy, really was long enough!
* * *