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applecameronAuthor: Apple Cameron
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Wes/Gunn
Rating: for general consumption
Spoilers: none
Description: AU-ish kind of thing some years in the future. Mostly conversation.
Notes: Don't ask where this came from, because I don't know.
"Terrible things, but great." Charles read to the girl with black pigtails.
Those black pigtails should have been of crinkly, kinky, beautiful african hair, tied in a multitude of cornrows. But they weren't. When the three of them were out together, Charles would get sadder and sadder, on the bad days, at people's looks. The assumption that they couldn't possibly be a family.
And when was the last time they'd had a good day? Wes tried to remember. "Good" had come to be defined by the orbits of their child, the only source of joy for two old, wasted men. Old and wasted before their time.
Much later, after the hour when little ones should be put to bed, Charles shuffled back out to the sofa and collapsed into it. He channel-surfed, depressing buttons with his thumb, then turned the TV off in favor of staring at the blank screen.
Wes abandoned his book and headed for the sofa himself, flopping down but not so close as to touch. He moved his fingers to each digit of Charles' hand, one at a time, fitting his hand over the brown skin, a living blanket.
"Which one of us is the Boy Who Lived?" He asked.
"You are." There was no hesitation. "Definitely."
"I don't know if I'm up for it." He answered truthfully as their hands knotted together. "Harry's destiny always seemed rather messianic."
"Yeah."
He ventured a small humor. "Once, I rather favored Arthur Weasley."
That got a smile. A small one, but a genuine one, and an honest question. "Why?"
"Oh, a man from one world obsessed with another." At no point did he use words like 'watcher' or 'vampire', but they both knew what he meant. "And the whole eagerness of him, I guess. Asking after the significance of a rubber duck." Shrugged. "I like that."
"Comic relief." He didn't go by Gunn anymore..it was Charles who wet his lips. "You want to be comic relief?"
"Arthur's more than that. He's the only adult who stands between worlds, like Hermione and Harry. The only one who takes both worlds seriously. Who takes the interface between them seriously." Then he sighed. "Besides, I could use some comic relief."
"I wasn't looking for heartbreak, myself, English."
But the old nickname was out of place, now. It had been too long. They had too many scars to be anyone other than who they were. The Partners of Wolfram & Hart. To anyone who didn't know better, the Senior Partners.
Angel had run off one too many times, shirking his destiny, and their little circle grew tighter and tighter until finally...no one cared if he came back. Losing caring was a slow thing.
A terrible thing.
It had taken years.
And they had pulled strings to adopt, two men, adopting, but Wolfram & Hart was a very long string, and if you were going to hell, anyway, why not pull strings if you have them?
"We're dying, you know."
"Everyone dies. Every day." Charles just looked at Wes' hand.
"But I don't want Dementors to take my soul, Charles." That was an admission neither had made in years. Years of being tainted by evil. Years of Wolfram & Hart.
"I think they have mine already."
Wes shook his head. "I see you when you read to our daughter, Charles."
"She's the only thing, Wes." The brown hands in his were still. "I don't even know if I love you anymore." Brutal honesty delivered casually, remotely, as if it didn't matter. "If I'm even capable of it." Then a subtle pressure against his fingertips. "It's like it all got sucked out of me."
"Dementors." Wolfram & Hart.
Shaky laugh. "Yeah, I guess."
A real live idea was growing in Wes' chest, making his heart speed up. Making him feel alive. He stood up, pulling Charles with him.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"Let's wake up our Patronus and go." He warmed to his topic. "Let's retire and let the young turks take over."
"We can't."
"Because we're the only line of defense against pure evil?"
"Something like that."
"How much more evil do you think they're really going to do?"
That stopped them both. How much evil had they really stopped, by virtue of their position? Of Angel's agreement? In the last 10 years? What about the last five? Or two?
And how much had they caused?
It was Gunn who looked back at him, for a brief, dangerous moment. His old Gunn.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, daring him to act, to love. To live.
"Yes." Gunn answered.
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Wes/Gunn
Rating: for general consumption
Spoilers: none
Description: AU-ish kind of thing some years in the future. Mostly conversation.
Notes: Don't ask where this came from, because I don't know.
"Terrible things, but great." Charles read to the girl with black pigtails.
Those black pigtails should have been of crinkly, kinky, beautiful african hair, tied in a multitude of cornrows. But they weren't. When the three of them were out together, Charles would get sadder and sadder, on the bad days, at people's looks. The assumption that they couldn't possibly be a family.
And when was the last time they'd had a good day? Wes tried to remember. "Good" had come to be defined by the orbits of their child, the only source of joy for two old, wasted men. Old and wasted before their time.
Much later, after the hour when little ones should be put to bed, Charles shuffled back out to the sofa and collapsed into it. He channel-surfed, depressing buttons with his thumb, then turned the TV off in favor of staring at the blank screen.
Wes abandoned his book and headed for the sofa himself, flopping down but not so close as to touch. He moved his fingers to each digit of Charles' hand, one at a time, fitting his hand over the brown skin, a living blanket.
"Which one of us is the Boy Who Lived?" He asked.
"You are." There was no hesitation. "Definitely."
"I don't know if I'm up for it." He answered truthfully as their hands knotted together. "Harry's destiny always seemed rather messianic."
"Yeah."
He ventured a small humor. "Once, I rather favored Arthur Weasley."
That got a smile. A small one, but a genuine one, and an honest question. "Why?"
"Oh, a man from one world obsessed with another." At no point did he use words like 'watcher' or 'vampire', but they both knew what he meant. "And the whole eagerness of him, I guess. Asking after the significance of a rubber duck." Shrugged. "I like that."
"Comic relief." He didn't go by Gunn anymore..it was Charles who wet his lips. "You want to be comic relief?"
"Arthur's more than that. He's the only adult who stands between worlds, like Hermione and Harry. The only one who takes both worlds seriously. Who takes the interface between them seriously." Then he sighed. "Besides, I could use some comic relief."
"I wasn't looking for heartbreak, myself, English."
But the old nickname was out of place, now. It had been too long. They had too many scars to be anyone other than who they were. The Partners of Wolfram & Hart. To anyone who didn't know better, the Senior Partners.
Angel had run off one too many times, shirking his destiny, and their little circle grew tighter and tighter until finally...no one cared if he came back. Losing caring was a slow thing.
A terrible thing.
It had taken years.
And they had pulled strings to adopt, two men, adopting, but Wolfram & Hart was a very long string, and if you were going to hell, anyway, why not pull strings if you have them?
"We're dying, you know."
"Everyone dies. Every day." Charles just looked at Wes' hand.
"But I don't want Dementors to take my soul, Charles." That was an admission neither had made in years. Years of being tainted by evil. Years of Wolfram & Hart.
"I think they have mine already."
Wes shook his head. "I see you when you read to our daughter, Charles."
"She's the only thing, Wes." The brown hands in his were still. "I don't even know if I love you anymore." Brutal honesty delivered casually, remotely, as if it didn't matter. "If I'm even capable of it." Then a subtle pressure against his fingertips. "It's like it all got sucked out of me."
"Dementors." Wolfram & Hart.
Shaky laugh. "Yeah, I guess."
A real live idea was growing in Wes' chest, making his heart speed up. Making him feel alive. He stood up, pulling Charles with him.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"Let's wake up our Patronus and go." He warmed to his topic. "Let's retire and let the young turks take over."
"We can't."
"Because we're the only line of defense against pure evil?"
"Something like that."
"How much more evil do you think they're really going to do?"
That stopped them both. How much evil had they really stopped, by virtue of their position? Of Angel's agreement? In the last 10 years? What about the last five? Or two?
And how much had they caused?
It was Gunn who looked back at him, for a brief, dangerous moment. His old Gunn.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, daring him to act, to love. To live.
"Yes." Gunn answered.
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no subject
on 2005-04-18 10:44 pm (UTC)