Words of War
by thedtree
Disclaimer: Not mine. Simple really.
Spoilers: Set somewhere in Season 5. Lets imagine Angel and Wes have been having a relationship neither has bothered to put a name to. Now lets also imagine Wes just found out about Connor. This is not the discussion after that. Instead, it a discussion that takes place a bit into the future of that... if that makes any sense. Ignore major plot lines, please. They have no place in this fic. :) (It's not post 'Origin'. It's not post anything, actually.)
Summary: Wesley and Angel at war.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and the like. No real smoochies, sorry.
Feedback: Yes please. Even flames are welcome. No... seriously, I'm dying for a good laugh.
A/N: The conversation might be a bit confusing, so here's something resembling a key:
Italics: the conversation they're in but what they've already said. The fic picks up in the middle/towards the end.
(Brackets): These are meant to be read with the conversation that have passed.
Umm.. nothing else. If it's still confusing... well, shoot me, I didn't mean to make sense! :P
"You never loved me. And I never loved you."
And there it was, the sentence, the statement the conversation had been waiting for. Starving for. "What do you want me to do? Leave you?" "I don't.. No. Maybe." "Because you're scared." "No, that's not... that's not the reason." "Then what is? Give me a fucking reason here!"
And as if the conversation had not been painful enough, it exploded, a climax of agony and possible truth. Angel had been expecting it, surely, but in different words. The first part he could deal with, had dealt with; "Goddammit, Wes, you know how I feel about you, you know this is..." "What? What exactly is this?" "I love you, dammit, don't you get that?"
But it was clear Wesley didn't believe a word he said. Or was dense and stupid enough not to hear them, somehow. He might've magically skipped them, or humanly ignored any other reason but his own. "This can't work, Angel." (The start)
Angel couldn't, wouldn't leave it at that. Stubborn men were at a war with words here, and neither one of them wanted to lose. Even though Angel had the argument Wesley longed for, but could not believe. It didn't matter, logic was Wesley's strongest defence and he clawed at its wisdom like a starving man with a loaf of bread. Hearts don't matter, mind does and the mission does as well and hearts can all but go to Hell, and on second thought, maybe that's exactly where they should go, Wesley thought, and inside he gave a bittersweet smile at knowing Angel had used different words to describe the same thing, a long time ago. But not now. Now his story had changed. "What do you mean this can't work? Wes, talk to me. What the hell do you mean?"
Wesley felt Angel's stare, knew it from the times it had varied and become a directory, mapping Wesley's body from his longest toe to his longest strand of hair. Knew so many variations of it it sickened him, the stare that willed him dead, the stare that willed him naked, the stare that willed him silent or speaking, the stare that willed him to take back the words he'd just said. "I mean we can't continue this. We have to..." "What?" "Separate." "What?"
Angel willed him to talk, willed himself to talk but silence was triumphant. Things Angel wished for rarely came true, anyway, so he wasn't all surprised. The hurt didn't seem to leave him though, pressing his shoulders down until they believed they were on the ground. "Maybe you don't understand me, but I seem to have asked you what the hell you meant by that." "I meant what I said, Angel. We can't go on. Unless you've missed it, it's not like we were doing much in the first place."
Angel bowed his head, not admitting defeat, but needing to look away. Wesley understood this gesture, understood it wasn't over. He himself had waged wars like this before. But it had never hurt so much. "Not doing... What do you mean we're not doing much? I seem to recall this being a... a..." "A what? If you can't bloody say it it must not mean much!" "A relationship, dammit! There, I fucking said it, happy?" "I really am sorry, am I supposed to believe that you're now defining our relationship," (a mocking laugh,) "just to make me happy? That doesn't really instill a great deal of sense to your argument, Angel."
"I take your silence as argeement, then?"
"No."
"Then how do you presume to know that I love you? Know my feelings for you more than myself?"
"The same way you assume mine, Wes."
"I'm not doing this... Fuck, Wes! Why now?" "Because we're ignoring our priorities." "Wolfram & Hart?" "That is one of our priorities, yes. Saving lives, saving the world- another." "And you think that by both of us being miserable, we'll do a better job? That what you think?"
"I'm not assuming."
"No? Well, I just told you I loved you. If you're not assuming, I don't know what to call it."
"Why would we be miserable? We have no real connection, Angel. It's just fucking."(And hearts stopped, or would if they were beating.)
"You can't love me, Angel." They've been past this before, but Angel knew they would and has prepared for a thousand statements just like it.
"Why not? Why not?"
"Because...,"
"You don't mean that."
"Because I'm the man who stole your son."
"It doesn't matter if I mean it. There's no connection." "There is." "What do you suppose that connection is, then?" (A twitch) "You know I..." (Hope, maybe, but it needs to be reassured, discussed, actually spoken; asked) "You what, Angel?"(A snap, can't take this anymore) "Goddammit, Wes, you know how I feel about you..."
"And I'm the man who tried to kill you. It evens out."
Wesley is stern now, his eyes flashing dangerously. They both knew it before, but it is reaffirmed. This is not a game.
"Angel."
"Wes, I don't care what we both did. It matters, hell it matters a lot, but I can't help... I can't stop this, Wes, I'm fucking in love with you."
The glare, the reaffirmation so strong just a second before, almost drops completely. Wesley doesn't want to lose, more on principal than anything right now, but a very big part of him is succombing, wondering maybe how sweet defeat would taste. "You can't. You can't love me." "Yes, yes I can, it's real simple. I just do." "Well, it has to stop." (And Wesley knows how childish he sounds)
"I love you. Wes, I love you."
Wesley stumbles, he can't help it. Angel is winning and the war is closing in on them both, scars not visible but deep and dripping of blood. It's slowed them both down.
"I love you."
And Angel can't help it either, he needs the words out there, entwined with the conversation as much as anything can possibly become entwined. Repeats it for both their sakes; Angel himself wants to say it a thousand times, scream it even more if he needs to and even if he doesn't; then perhaps Wesley will understand him, and if Angel is lucky, believe him.
"I love you."
"You're scared, Wes." "I'm not." "Yes, you are. You are. You're so fucking gung ho about us breaking up but I don't think that's what you want."(Angel sees a chink in Wesley's armour, finally) "It... It is." "Really, Wes? That what you want?" "Yes." (Not nearly as strong as his other words) "What do you want me to do? Leave you?"
"I love you." There are no other words to be said. Not really.
"Then what is it? Give me a fucking reason here!" "You never loved me. And I never loved you." (It's a lie, but they don't really know it yet) "I love you."
And then, the conversation ends, the war is won. Angel is the victor with a hiccup of a sob, a clear tear and finally surrender is given.
"God, I love you too."
Fin.