Reprise Revised | By : Maren Category: Angel the Series > Het - Male/Female Views: 4248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Email: marenfic@yahoo.com
Website: www.consummatelove.com
Rating: NC-17
Spoiler Warning: Angel Season 5 up to You’re Welcome—I’ve died aed at YW.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I won’t be profiting off of
them.
Pairing: B/A and Wes/F
Author Note: italics
generally indicate thoughts, although if it’s only one word it indicates
emphasis.
Thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to review.
Feedback: Please!!
Pretty please??
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Faith stood against the wall in the dark lobby and watched
Wesley as he sat in the office, its single lamp illuminating the small space. She was worried about him-- worried about the
way he looked and worried about his state of mind after regaining his memories
of his betrayal.
Frankly, it kind of freaked her out that she was worried. It
was incredibly foreign feeling, and Faith struggled with the urge to say fuck
it to the entire situation and take off to parts unknown where she could hide
from these people and their demands and their needs. This was soooo
not her problem, but every time she made up her mind to split, she would hear
Buffy moan in pain or her eyes would inadvertently meet Wes’s and then she was
trapped, unable to leave.
After their . . . encounter . . . in his bathroom, they had
studiously avoided talking about it or touching each other. Still, Faith couldn’t stop thinking about his
hands and his lips and his cock, or the feelingbeinbeing gently bathed
afterward as though she were some kind of precious dark goddess instead of the
monster who had tortured him. For the
past two weeks they had been involved in some kind of elaborate dance of
approach and avoid—they weren’t really talking, they definitely weren’t
touching, but they couldn’t seem to stay away from one another. And the looks—well, Faith had been the giver
and receiver of tha than her fair share of “fuck me” eyes in her time, so she
could pretty confidently say that the gazes that she was exchanging with Wesley
were more along the “rip off my clothes and fuck me into whatever hard surface
is available until I’m screaming your name as I come” eyes.
She sighed. She was
screwed, and not in the good way either.
She cared about these people and she was kind of getting the feeling
they actually cared about her too, no matter her past crimes. So she stayed, tried to be strong for Buffy’s
sake, and really tried not to worry so damn much about Wesley.
Deciding that what she really needed was some fresh air,
Angelus on the loose or not, Faith pushed away from where she stood in the
shadows against the lobby wall and walked quietly toward the doors leading into
the courtyard. She took a deep breath of
the cool night air that was tinged with the smell of night-blooming jasmine and
glanced up at the dark blue sky. Taking
a seat on the ground with her back against the stone bench, she pulled her legs
up and wrapped her arms around her knees as she tried to clear her mind.
She sensed him approaching long before he entered her line
of vision and slid down to sit next to her.
“Out here alone?” he asked, the censure evident in his
voice.
She shrugged, keeping her gaze fixed on the flowering bushes
in front of her. They sat in silence,
side by side by so far apart, for some time.
When her thoughts and worries couldn’t be suppressed any longer, she
turned her head to face him.
“Are you o.k.?” she quietly asked, not sure she wanted to
ask but figuring it was better than obsessing about it while she pretended she
didn’t care.
It was several moments before he answered.
p>
“No,” he murmured, and then looked back at her. “It would appear that I haven’t been o.k. for
quite some time. I just didn’t
remember.”
She looked away from him, uncomfortable with the intensity
of his stare. “Do you wish you were
still living the lie?”
Wesley sighed, considering the question and his answer. It was so damn complicated. “No, I don’t believe so. I think I deserve to know what I did, how I
betrayed my friend, how I wounded his son.
It doesn’t seem right that I should be spared the pain of that
knowledge,” he finally answered.
“Sometimes I wish I could forget everything bad that I’ve
done. How many times do I have to
remember all the shitty things that I’ve done for it all to be o.k.?” Faith
blurted out, and then wondered what had possessed her to spill one of her
darkest secrets to the man sitting next to her.
“The bad things we’ve done will never be o.k., Faith. We may be forgiven by those we’ve harmed, but
forgiveness doesn’t make everything better.
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