Author:
For: zortified and lostgirlslair.
Pairing: Giles/Wesley.
Setting: Post-"Lineage."
Rating: G.
Request: Wesley, Giles, one of them says the exact wrong thing, and the last season of AtS.
Throwing on his overcoat, Wesley stalked out of his family's townhouse. He'd been soften by Los Angeles, forgotten how cold England was. How it froze his emotions. How nice it felt. Everything in L.A. sweltered with feelings and changes. Here everything remained solid, his father still alive and his mother still attending pointless tea parties, making it as if Wesley never shot his father.
He walked around the city. London parks crammed with frosty grass and pigeons fighting for spare breadcrumbs. He stayed away from the shopping centers, those with labels from the States – the Gap, Planet Hollywood, Victoria Secrets. No one walked for fun in the ice of London, only with their heads down and aimed at the nearest tub station or shop.
Finding himself near the British Museum, he realized that he was walking the old path he used to take to work. The Museum was one of the largest covers for the Watcher's Council. The days he'd wear stuffy suits and comb his hair perfectly; then he'd slightly flirt with the woman at the information center. Blushing and fumbling.
Going further down the street, he passed the tube station and entered a bookstore he used to frequent. The help behind the counter seemed to be the only thing that changed. Climbing the creaking stairs to the second floor, his fingers scanned the occult section out of habit. Wolfram & Hart had more books, more important occult texts, than he could ever hope to find in any dusty bookstore. His finger ran across the edge of the shelf.
"And here I thought Wolfram & Hart had every book a former Watcher could want."
Wesley turned around. "Rupert."
"Wesley." Giles gave him a polite smile. "I almost didn't recognize you."
Wesley cleared his throat. "Glad you did," he lied. Maybe it wasn't lying, as much as he thought. "One never knows what he'll find in a used bookstore."
"Very true." Giles took his gloves out of his coat pocket. "Would you like to join me for tea? I have to say that I'm rather curious about Angel's takeover and am full of questions."
"Of course." Lifting up his arm, Wesley ushered Giles down the stairs and out the door.
The café was quiet and kitsch. It reminded him of one down the street from the Hyperion that Cordelia once loved. As they sipped tea, Giles asked him all the predictable questions and accusations. Wesley didn't blame Giles for his distrust of Angel, akin to his own of Faith.
Despite his better instincts, Wesley wanted to ask Giles about the ninja robots, to see if the Council had heard anything about them. "There was a recent incident with robot ninjas. They were a biomechanical…" He explained the rest, leaving out the part where he thought it was actually his father he shot.
"We haven't come across anything like that." Giles took a sip of his tea. "You said that they were after Angel's free will?"
"Yes." Wesley nodded. "We assume that it was someone or something trying to gain control of Wolfram & Hart by using Angel."
"Lucky that Angel had you to stop them." Placing his hand to his mouth, Giles cleared his throat. "Interesting that they would chose your father to impersonate."
"They must have considered me the weak link. Which I don't suppose is an unfair judgment."
Giles shook his head. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. From what I hear, you've done a fine job working for Angel. And as for Sunnydale… That would have been a collapse for anyone. No one could've saved Faith."
"Except apparently Angel," Wesley muttered and bit into his scone.
Sipping his tea, Giles scoffed, "Yes, well he does like playing hero."
"You don't like him very much."
"And you like him a little too well."
Wesley finished his scone, not meeting Giles' eyes. "I should leave. Thank you for the tea." Without another look, he turned out the door and walked down the street, closing his eyes for a moment. He let the chill flow to his heart, freezing him again.