By:
Beta: ginnylovesspike
Rating: Hard R.
Setting: Angel Season 5 - no spoilers.
Notes: Wesley receives a visit from his parents.
Wesley stood inside his apartment anticipating their arrival. He fluffed up the pillows on his bed and checked the cooking food one last time. The closet door was securely locked. Five o'clock. His doorbell rang.
"Hello, mother." Wesley opened the door with a smile. His parents had flown from England to visit him. No doubt, the trip had something to do with the rebuilding of the Council. His father never liked purely social visits.
"Wesley." His mother wrapped her arms around him. She smelled of Chanel No. 5 and wore a purple sash around her neck. "You could use a shave." She rubbed her hand over the scruff on his face.
"Son." His father walked passed him to the couch, pausing only to hang his coat and hat on the rack.
"I can't believe his apartment's so clean," his mother said. "Remember how utterly cluttered his bedroom was?"
"Would you like some wine before dinner?" Wesley asked them. Both nodded their heads.
Taking a deep breath, he poured the wine and checked on the cooking chicken. Everything had to be perfect; everything was going to be perfect. He walked back holding three wine glasses. "I've been promoted, and we're now working out of a large law firm. There are many resources. Much more than I ever saw in the Council's main library."
"Hopefully, you'll keep the job." His father sipped from the glass. "You never really saw the restricted archives of the Council, but I'm sure it doesn't come close to this evil law firm. Didn't think that I kept track of you, did you?"
Wesley's face fell. "I'm sure that the Council could use what we have."
"The Council is no more." His father once again lifted the glass to his lips. "Rupert Giles is an impulsive and untraditional leader. There are many of us that are looking for a new Council head. It has been suggested that I take the position. Then you could have your job back - under certain conditions."
"I don't want it," he muttered. He had finally mustered enough nerve to tell his father that the Council was no longer his dream; it was no longer an option. "I have good friends and an excellent job."
"You were trained to be a Watcher. That is your destiny. The Council needs you more than ever with all these Slayers running around and with men like Giles letting them choose their path instead of forcing them to embrace their fate."
His mother stayed quiet as she often did when her husband and son talked business. The oven beeped. His parents settled at the table as Wesley brought the food out.
"Any women in your life?" his mother inquired.
"No." Wesley looked down at the chicken he was carving.
"Absolutely no woman since Virginia?" she continued.
"Honey, I wouldn't worry." His father chuckled. "I'm sure he won't go back to his schoolboy days. That was... What did the American psychologist say? A phase, I believe. Lots of little boys go through it and grow up to marry respectable women and have children."
"There was a woman." Wesley passed the vegetables to his mother. She smiled. He didn't want to bring her up, but anything to ease his mother's mind. "She was a lawyer. A few months ago, she was killed by a vampire." He didn't want to explain more of his failures to them, but they always come out anyway.
"I'm sorry." His mother placed her hand on his.
"Did you protect her?" His father shoved a piece of chicken between his thin lips.
"I was out when it took place. Plus Lilah was a very resourceful woman."
"Slayers are the only women who would be left alone in times of darkness. How did the vampire get inside the residence?"
"He lived there - Angel lost his soul, quite literally in fact." Wesley slowly swallowed his bit of chicken. It stung as it traveled past the scar that ran across his throat. Neither his mother nor his father had even inquired about the large blemish.
"I warned you against working for a vampire with or without a soul."
"Yes father." Wesley took a sip of the wine.
They sat in silence as they finished the rest of their meal.
"Well that was very good even if the vegetables came from a can." His mother placed her napkin on the largely empty plate.
As he picked up the plates from the table, Wesley paused for a moment. "Father, would you care for a cigar?"
"He is quitting. Aren't you, Roger?" his mother answered. "Plus I'm rather tired from the plane ride and need some sleep. The night is for you young people."
"Then I guess you'll be going?" Wesley confirmed from the kitchen.
His parents had made their way to the door and his father was helping his mother with her jacket. "Good to see you mother and father." He shook his father's hand and kissed his mother's cheek. Behind them, he shut the door and took a deep breath. He waited until he was sure they'd left and walked over to his hall closet, opening the door.
In the closet's cage, that he had originally designed for Justine, sat Spike. He was shirtless and wore a pair of Wesley's old jeans. They were too long for him and hung over the ends of his feet.
"You were a very good boy." Wesley undid the locks and let Spike out. "You deserve a treat." He removed the gag from Spike's mouth and then moved to the handcuffs. "...no, I think we'll leave those one."
"I can be very good." Spike smiled. Playing Wesley just as much as he was being played. "Not a pip when mum and da came around."
"Shush." Wesley led him to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He undid his trousers and laid them on the floor.
"No pants. Not even when mum was visiting. Naughty." Spike bent to run his cuffed hands over Wesley's erection.
"Did I not tell you to remain silent." Wesley reclined into the pillows.
Spike enjoyed Wesley's games. This felt better than chasing the damn Slayer all over Europe. Better than fighting demons. Better than taunting Angel. When Wesley had offered to take Spike in, Angel was glad to be rid of him. Spike felt that he owed Wesley something. And slowly, Wesley showed Spike what he needed. What they both needed to escape the past. Better than any spell or potion. Possibly better than forgiveness.
Wesley removed the handcuffs as his plans for Spike had changed, and Spike needed better access. Spike always knew what to do. What he wanted. Spike cupped Wesley's balls and gave a gentle tug. He moaned. Moving down to his knees, Spike took Wesley's cock into his mouth, teasing the head.
Wesley imagined that Spike had brown hair instead of bleached blond from a bottle. He imagined that the pain he put Spike through prevented Spike from loosing his soul. He imagined that Spike was a broad man instead of a twig. He imagined that he'd been in love with Spike for four years. He imagined that Spike was someone else as he came in Spike's mouth while touching the scar of a bite mark on his arm. "Exceptional," he sighed.