Title: Warmth
Author: Lostgirl
Paring: Giles/Wesley
Rating: PG16
Feedback: lostgirlslairyahoo.com
Spoilers: I doubt there are any, but it's set late season 3
Summary: Wesley is injured and found by Giles.
Disclaimer: All things BTVS (and ATS) belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities.
Big thanks to Jane Davitt and Kyrieane for the beta readings.
The library floor was cold. It seeped into Wes, making even his insides shiver. He'd only woken a moment ago, but couldn't bring himself to move. He'd tried, but the dizziness sent him crashing to the floor again. He'd been there researching when he'd heard a sound behind the stacks. It was too late for anyone else to still be in the building. He was alone then just as he was now. Alone...and cold.
He might have dozed. There were footsteps now. Warm hands on his face, someone lifting him to a sitting position. The nausea swam up and his eyes snapped open.
Mr. Giles was studying his face, expression soft and calm. He never looked at Wes like that. That look was reserved for the children, for when they needed comfort. The silence suddenly seemed to fill the library and Wesley couldn't meet that gaze, didn't deserve it.
"Someone hit me," he whispered, eyes slanting away, shamed by the way his voice broke.
"So I see." The man's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it before, washing over his aching head like a salve. "Do you think you can stand? If I help you?"
"Of-of course," he responded at once, realizing how odd it must look for him to just lay there, letting the older man hold him. He made to move and his stomach jumped into his throat, choking him.
"Shh, shh," Giles soothed, helping Wes to turn to the side as his lunch met the library floor. A warm hand rubbed circles over his back, replacing the cold with a heat that wanted to rush to Wesley's face and...other regions. "Don't try to move so quickly. I'm not going anywhere."
Wesley nodded, immediately regretting the action when his head spun.
"Let's try to get you sitting on your own before we go for standing."
With Giles' help, Wesley struggled semi-upright, propping himself against the bookcase.
"I'll be right back. Is that okay?"
Wes remembered not to nod this time. In truth, he didn't want Giles to leave. Even though he knew it was stupid, some voice in his head whispered that the ex-Watcher might not come back to help him. Taking in huge gasps of air in an attempt to keep his stomach in place, Wes waited. The library doors opened, and then closed.
He's gone! Panic tried to overwhelm him. Wes fought it, all the while forcing himself to move, to not be left there, alone. It was an effort to climb to his feet and an accomplishment just to keep his stomach from jumping once again. Sweating with the effort--which really was bizarre because it was so cold in the library--Wes leaned against the bookcase.
"Wes?" He hadn't heard Giles return, but the man was standing right there, watching him with worried eyes. "I told you I'd be right back. You shouldn't have tried to stand without me." There was no reproach in the gentle voice and Wesley sighed his relief.
"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes against the dizziness, then opening them again at the feel of something warm and wet against his lips.
Giles dabbed at his face with wet paper towels and Wesley nearly groaned.
"Just let me clean this up and we'll be on our way," Giles assured him, wrapping Wes' hand around the paper towels to keep it held to his face.
This was horrible. First attacked, now all but helpless if front of...and Mr. Giles left to clean up...I hate Sunnydale.
"Yes, it can be a trial," the other man replied and it took Wes a moment to realize he'd spoken aloud. "Still. There are...perks to being here."
"I haven't seen any yet," Wesley said, closing his eyes and letting Giles tend to him. It...it felt good to have someone fussing, even if part of him was deeply embarrassed to need it.
"Let's see if we can't remedy that...after you've rested." Giles' voice was right in his ear, his breath on Wesley's neck, sending little shivers down his spine.
Wes swallowed against the lump in his throat. Too surprised to resist, he allowed the older man to take his weight. It was easier to move now, with the dizziness lessening.
"Where, uh, where are we going?"
"To my car of course," Giles answered, a small smile playing over his lips. "Someone will have to stay with you tonight, to wake you every little while. I know the routine."
"Uh," Wes shivered once again, this time because of what his imagination was making of the friendly words. "I...I don't want to intrude, don't want to be a bother."
"You're shivering. Don't worry. We'll get you warmed up soon."
Author: Lostgirl
Paring: Giles/Wesley
Rating: PG16
Feedback: lostgirlslairyahoo.com
Spoilers: I doubt there are any, but it's set late season 3
Summary: Wesley is injured and found by Giles.
Disclaimer: All things BTVS (and ATS) belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities.
Big thanks to Jane Davitt and Kyrieane for the beta readings.
The library floor was cold. It seeped into Wes, making even his insides shiver. He'd only woken a moment ago, but couldn't bring himself to move. He'd tried, but the dizziness sent him crashing to the floor again. He'd been there researching when he'd heard a sound behind the stacks. It was too late for anyone else to still be in the building. He was alone then just as he was now. Alone...and cold.
He might have dozed. There were footsteps now. Warm hands on his face, someone lifting him to a sitting position. The nausea swam up and his eyes snapped open.
Mr. Giles was studying his face, expression soft and calm. He never looked at Wes like that. That look was reserved for the children, for when they needed comfort. The silence suddenly seemed to fill the library and Wesley couldn't meet that gaze, didn't deserve it.
"Someone hit me," he whispered, eyes slanting away, shamed by the way his voice broke.
"So I see." The man's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it before, washing over his aching head like a salve. "Do you think you can stand? If I help you?"
"Of-of course," he responded at once, realizing how odd it must look for him to just lay there, letting the older man hold him. He made to move and his stomach jumped into his throat, choking him.
"Shh, shh," Giles soothed, helping Wes to turn to the side as his lunch met the library floor. A warm hand rubbed circles over his back, replacing the cold with a heat that wanted to rush to Wesley's face and...other regions. "Don't try to move so quickly. I'm not going anywhere."
Wesley nodded, immediately regretting the action when his head spun.
"Let's try to get you sitting on your own before we go for standing."
With Giles' help, Wesley struggled semi-upright, propping himself against the bookcase.
"I'll be right back. Is that okay?"
Wes remembered not to nod this time. In truth, he didn't want Giles to leave. Even though he knew it was stupid, some voice in his head whispered that the ex-Watcher might not come back to help him. Taking in huge gasps of air in an attempt to keep his stomach in place, Wes waited. The library doors opened, and then closed.
He's gone! Panic tried to overwhelm him. Wes fought it, all the while forcing himself to move, to not be left there, alone. It was an effort to climb to his feet and an accomplishment just to keep his stomach from jumping once again. Sweating with the effort--which really was bizarre because it was so cold in the library--Wes leaned against the bookcase.
"Wes?" He hadn't heard Giles return, but the man was standing right there, watching him with worried eyes. "I told you I'd be right back. You shouldn't have tried to stand without me." There was no reproach in the gentle voice and Wesley sighed his relief.
"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes against the dizziness, then opening them again at the feel of something warm and wet against his lips.
Giles dabbed at his face with wet paper towels and Wesley nearly groaned.
"Just let me clean this up and we'll be on our way," Giles assured him, wrapping Wes' hand around the paper towels to keep it held to his face.
This was horrible. First attacked, now all but helpless if front of...and Mr. Giles left to clean up...I hate Sunnydale.
"Yes, it can be a trial," the other man replied and it took Wes a moment to realize he'd spoken aloud. "Still. There are...perks to being here."
"I haven't seen any yet," Wesley said, closing his eyes and letting Giles tend to him. It...it felt good to have someone fussing, even if part of him was deeply embarrassed to need it.
"Let's see if we can't remedy that...after you've rested." Giles' voice was right in his ear, his breath on Wesley's neck, sending little shivers down his spine.
Wes swallowed against the lump in his throat. Too surprised to resist, he allowed the older man to take his weight. It was easier to move now, with the dizziness lessening.
"Where, uh, where are we going?"
"To my car of course," Giles answered, a small smile playing over his lips. "Someone will have to stay with you tonight, to wake you every little while. I know the routine."
"Uh," Wes shivered once again, this time because of what his imagination was making of the friendly words. "I...I don't want to intrude, don't want to be a bother."
"You're shivering. Don't worry. We'll get you warmed up soon."