It had started out as a joke between the Warblers.
A passing comment David had made about how he could have sworn he woke up during the night to find Wes' gavel laying in the middle of the floor even though he himself had placed it on the bookshelf.
The group of boys had made jokes about how it must have fallen out of Wes' bed while he slept with it. But the gavel knew better.
It sat between Wes and Thad and prayed to God that Thad, or even David for that matter, wouldn't try to pick him up or bang him against the hard surface of the table like they had some many times before. It was painful and one grip was too slack while the other too firm, he felt like he was slipping or being suffocated. Wes' grip was perfect not to slack that he was afraid of slipping from his grip and hitting the hard surface of the table at an odd angle, but not to tight that he felt like the life was being squeezed out of him. He felt safe and secure but the grip was still filled with love.
He had only every dreamt of being able to move, of being able to touch Wes. Until one night when he could. When he could move from his sacrad space on the shelf beside Wes' beloved copy of Coping With Christmas by Peter Corey. He had heard this story recalled to David on more than one occasion. He had got it off his grandmother as a birthday present as a joke his birthday being on the 25 of June, but Wes quickly got absorbed in it pages, obsessed with its easy, light hearted words. It was a tradition that he read it every year at christmas. The gavel had been to plenty of boys before Wes, of course he had, he's been in this school since the beginning, since Dalton himself started the school back in the late 1800's when the only people who stepped foot in the school were privlegded boys who were future politicians, judges and doctors. Nobody had ever captured his attention like Wes has, he thinks maybe thats what gave him the power to move, to make his way to Wes as he sleeps and touch him. Not be touched but touch for himself. And it felt amazing.
Of course there was downfalls to this also, the main one being David. Unbeknownst to the Warblers Wes and David have been in a relationship since before he was passed to Wes. And that threatens him. David will be there long after he is gets to kiss him and love him and climb into bed with the gavel just lays there, lifelessy, an inatimate object something neither boy ever chances a glance at as the 'express their love' for eachother in the middle of the night. He just sits there waiting until their done, watching, and when their done and both asleep he'll get up and jump form his perch on the shelf until he hits the floor and makes his way to Wes' bed. Climbing over David he nesseltes himself beside Wes, held tightly to his side as Wed automatically reaches out to cup him. He can't help the spark of excitment that passes through his long handle when Wes' sleep slackened grip takes hold of him and pulls him close.
That night is no different and he waits until both boys have fallen asleep. Wes is the little spoon as per usual and David has his arms wrapped tightly around Wes' body possesivly he thinks angrily as he makes his way over. Wes doesn't belong to David, he belings to him.
Climbing over David, placing more weight on his face as he climbes then really necassary, he slides down the side of his face, moving down, he presses his face into Wes neck and if he could he would sigh happily.
He just lay there for hours, Wes' breaths comforting him. If he couldn't let Wes know he was there well then that didn't matter.
Except it did when David woke up...
