__It's a Guy Thing__
By Kath
Wesley sank down into the deep, soft leather cushions of the couch,
running his fingers through his short, dark hair, before looking
impatiently at his watch. Tipping his head back and rolling it to one
side, the Watcher called back over his shoulder, into the other room.
"I've got the pretzels. Are you bringing the beer? If you don't hurry, it's
going to start."
Angel's head popped into the kitchen doorway. "Just a sec. I'm looking
for something."
"Look in the cupboard. I rinsed it out and put it away for once."
"Oh." It never even occurred to the vampire to wonder how Wesley
knew exactly what he was talking about, without him even having to say
it. Wes was just like that....he always knew. "Thanks." The voice was
muffled, as Angel most likely now had his head in the refrigerator.
There was a *beep beep beep*, followed by the whir of the microwave,
and the demon hunter's suspicions were confirmed.
"I take it you found your *favorite* mug then, Angel," he called back
again, his tone teasing. He smiled as he listened, without turning
around, to the soft padding of stocking feet on the wood floorboards,
waiting until his companion was directly behind him, before he spoke
again.
"You forgot the beer."
"Shit!"
Stomping feet returned to the kitchen, to return moments later, along
with a few choice words being muttered. The unexpected weight and
coolness of a six pack of beer dropping into his lap, caused the tall, thin
man to grunt. He shot a look up at his undead boss, before removing a
can and setting the rest nearby, on the floor.
Angel flopped down close to Wesley, careful not to spill the warm blood
in the 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' mug. A gag gift from Wesley last St. Patrick's
Day, it had now become part of his daily routine.
"Do be careful, Angel. You nearly knocked the entire bowl of pretzels on
the floor again." Wesley's tone was stressed and scolding.
The vampire reached out and soothingly caressed Wes' neck, just
behind the ear, where he knew the younger man liked it, then gave him
a playful peck on the lips. "If you're gonna be so grouchy, I'm not gonna
let you stay and watch with me. Maybe I'll ask Gunn next week, instead."
Wesley's eyes fastened on him coldly, with 'you wouldn't dare' written
all over his face, before Angel's laughing expression sank in, and he
finally began to relax.
"Well, you weren't the one forced to spend the entire morning listening
to Cordelia prattle on about her date last night, and how it wasn't fair
that she be forced to come in so early the next day, when you never
made it down at all."
Angel turned even paler than normal. "She *did* leave, didn't she?
Because, I don't think I can stand another lecture about how this is such
a waste of time, and how we shouldn't be spending every Sunday
afternoon in front of the tv."
"She should be gone by now." Wesley sighed, in agreement. "She just
doesn't understand...it's a 'guy' thing."
"Yeah, we're definitely misunderstood."
"Shhhh, it's starting."
Wes snuggled in close to his mate, and took a swig of his beer, as they
settled in to watch. No sooner had the two immersed themselves in the
action, when there was a sharp knocking on Angel's door.
"Angel? Wesley? I know you're in there."
The guilty parties looked at each other in alarm. "Shit, it's Cordelia.
Turn the channel."
Momentarily amused, as he always was on the rare occasions he heard
Wesley swear, Angel suddenly felt a sharp poke in his ribs. "Where's
the remote?"
"I don't know. You had it last. Did you lock the door when you came in?"
"I...uh...I think..." They were both scrambling now.
"You damn well better open this door, or I'm going to break it down. I
had a vision, and I am *so* not going to go fight evil by myself."
"Angel, you're sitting on it...."
"No I'm not!"
Having discovered the door was indeed unlocked, Cordelia came
storming into the room, halting next to the couch, hands planted firmly
on hips. Both men froze, looking up at her, with innocent faces. She
wasn't buying any of it.
"Please, do *not* tell me you're up here watching 'Sailor Moon'* again."
"Cordelia, I..."
"Don't 'Cordelia, I' me, Watcher Boy. And *you*, Mr. Normally I'm Too
Broody To Bother With Television....you're over two hundred years old.
You're supposed to know better." Ignoring their sheepish faces, the girl
finished. "When you two think you can start acting like adults, and are
ready to go fight some *real* evil, I'll be waiting downstairs in the car."
With a 'humph' she twirled around and huffed off.
Wesley grimaced, sucked down the rest of his beer, and reached for his
shoes. Angel, shifted uncomfortably, felt beneath him, and pulled out
the missing tv remote, shrugging his shoulders in an 'oops' gesture.
Their eyes met, and a shared thought passed between them. They
looked at the tv, then back at each other, and exclaimed, in
unison, "VCR!"
* * *