Author:
For: lostgirlslair
Pairing: Giles/Wesley, Gunn/Gwen, and Gunn/Wesley.
Setting: Post-"Not Fade Away."
Rating: PG13.
Words: 939.
Request: Giles/Gunn/Wesley.
Summary: For fanfic100 010 Years. Gunn spends every Christmas Eve in Wesley and Rupert's home.
Over the years, Charles started spending Christmas Eve with Wesley and Rupert. He'd travel to England once a year, buy a couple of wine bottles on the way, and knock on their door. Charles wrapped his wool coat tighter around him as it began to snow.
"Charles," Wesley greeted him with a hug. Wesley looked older than he had the year before, and Charles tried not to think about how salt and pepper his own hair had become.
Like always, Rupert and Wesley's home had been decorated to fit the season. Even a homey fire roared in the corner of the room. Chestnuts already roasted and sitting on the coffee table.
The trio talked about their lives, about Slayers and apocalypses, and the world and the better kinds of liquor. Years ago, Charles had gotten used to the fact that Rupert and Wesley were together and that Rupert was a permanent part of their lives.
"Are the Slayers keeping you busy, Charles?" Rupert asked as he entered the living room wearing a ridiculous red apron that said, "The Best Watcher Ever." It was a present from Buffy, he explained.
Charles nodded. "You know them. They're always breaking something or someone thinks they're killing a human." They didn't talk about how sometimes Slayers do kill humans, both accidentally and on purpose.
"Ah." Rupert took one of the wine bottles from him and poured them all a glass of what he thought was the choice one before heading back to the kitchen.
Wesley collected the unopened bottle from Charles. His fingers brushing against Charles', and Charles shivered. They'd spent one night together, a long time ago. One night that Charles doubted Wesley had ever mentioned to Rupert.
Charles crashed on Wesley's couch. His own building condemned. Okay, it had been condemned before he even moved there, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he and Wesley were having a kung fu movie marathon and they drank a few beers before challenging each other at Grand Theft Auto.
Somehow Wesley ended up with his jeans around his ankles and Charles' mouth around his cock. Okay, maybe it wasn't somehow or an accident. But when he woke up the next morning, naked and wrapped around Wesley, Charles quickly showered and then left.
Neither of them said a word and things were tense. But then Wesley was shot and a one night stand between best friends when one's girlfriend was out-of-town seemed tiny on the scale of their problems.
And now Charles sat on Rupert and Wesley's couch. The one they'd probably picked out together at one of those Swedish furniture stores. Not that Charles lived alone all those years, but he hadn't dated much since Gwen divorced him five years ago. Thankfully, it wasn't over his lone holiday trips to England as Gwen was Jewish.
Christmas Eve dinner always went by smoothly. Rupert had become something of an excellent cook, and Wesley no longer joked about ordering lamb curry from the place down the street. Charles leaned back in his chair, the warm feeling of alcohol flushing his body.
The alcohol might have made Charles hug Wesley a little longer than two friends normally did before they went to bed that night. Or maybe the soft smell of sandalwood that Wesley had taken to wearing made Charles hang on for a moment more.
Charles' hug with Rupert was shorter. But Rupert was taking Wesley's hand and going to bed.
The guest room was a pale yellow and sparse, Charles' navy blue suitcase alone against the dresser. Charles climbed in the bed after changing into pajama bottoms and baggy Kings t-shirt. When he was child, his mother used to say that if he and Alonna didn't fall asleep then Santa wouldn't come. Instead of motivating a young Charles, it gave him a complex about sleeping on Christmas Eve. Plus, he was used to the sounds of the city coming through his walls.
Finally, Charles gave up. He figured that he'd try the kitchen for tea. Two Englishmen were bound to have a cupboard busting with tea.
"Cuppa, Charles?" Rupert said from where he stood, near the oven and waiting for the water to heat.
Charles nodded. "Couldn’t sleep either?" He pulled out one of the barstools and sat down.
"No. Wesley seems to have chosen tonight to saw logs." Rupert picked the teapot off the stove as soon as it began to whistle.
"You two doing okay?" Charles asked. The first sign that Gwen was leaving him had been her staying up all night and sleeping through the day, claiming that it was her job.
Rupert handed Charles a mug full of steaming tea. "Seems like you should be asking Wesley this, not me."
Charles shrugged. "In my experience, it's the one staying up all night and not sleeping with the problem." He enjoyed the warmth on his hands more than the very bitter taste of the tea.
"Ah, Gwen." Rupert took a long sip of his tea and swallowed. "Do you still love him?"
"Love who?"
"Wesley," Rupert said.
Charles frowned and sat the mug on the table. Apparently, tonight was one of confessions. "Shit. He told you, didn't he? Rupert, that was a million years ago. I had my chance. Wes is with you, and I completely respect that. I mean, how long have you two been together?"
"Almost 10 years." Rupert shook his head. "You're right." He grabbed a brandy bottle from the shelf and dumped a bit in his tea before holding it out to put some in Charles' mug. "To chase away the demons we allow in the house."
"Cheers." Charles clanked his mug against Rupert's.