Let's see... I don't like this fic. Blah. It just didn't turn out how I wanted but there you go. It was for the 'Choose Your Author' ficathon. I had a deadline, I met it, even though the fic turned out 'okay' at best. Sigh.
Hold On
ThunderNari
Nothing expected ever happens in their lives. It's always twists and turns, and heart wrenching drops. So when someone comes along that offers a hand to help you– as unexpected as it might be in itself – you have no choice but to cling to it.
The question after that becomes, can the both of you hang on? Or, when it comes down to it, do you really want to?
Wesley's fallen asleep in his office again. Stubborn bastard doesn't know when to give in and admit defeat. A good trait, one that Spike could appreciate, in most cases. In this one, it's just annoying as hell.
It's well past midnight and Spike had expected Wesley home hours ago. Not that this surprises him. Especially lately. If Wesley kept staying late at work then Spike was going to end up with a complex and start thinking that Wes was avoiding him. But Wesley looks as near to adorable as he ever has, slumped over the desk and with a pen still clutched in hand.
Spike kicks at the leg of the chair until he wakes up.
"You avoidin' me, pet?"
Wesley has jerked upright, halfway ready for battle. He stares at Spike before giving a shake of his head to clear it. "What?"
Spike rolls his eyes and gets his hands under Wesley's elbows to lift him. It attests to the fact that Wesley has just woken up that he doesn't try to bat the hands away.
"Past time you got home to bed."
Wesley sighs and Spike rolls his eyes again in anticipation of the words. "I'd really rather just sleep."
"That's what I meant. Now get moving. Before I toss you over my shoulder and carry you out."
"I'm not a child, Spike." Wesley shoots him a low voltage glare but he's moving, grabbing his jacket from the hook as he steps out the door. He's still bitching as he heads down the corridors of Wolfram and Hart, heading for the elevators with Spike on his heels. "I was sleeping, you know. And quite comfortably, I might add. Having a good dream too, until some irritating thing had to come wake me. And quit making faces at me, Spike, it just makes you look like an idiot."
Spike sticks his tongue back in his mouth and looks indignant. Wesley hadn't even had to turn around and look at him to know. "Dreamin' 'bout me?"
They step into the elevator and Wesley finally turns to Spike as he hits the button. He's smirking a little and Spike perks up a bit at the once over that Wesley gives him. The feeling fades quickly as Wesley goes back to looking irritated and turns away again.
"No."
"Hey! You snarky little watcher, I think you woke up on the wrong side of the desk."
"If you'd wanted me in a good mood, Spike, you probably shouldn't have kicked my chair unt- Hey!"
Spike's had about enough of this. He loops his arms around Wesley's waist, ignoring the surprised yelp as Wesley is pulled back against Spike's chest.
"What the hell are you..." Wesley trails off when Spike's lips descend onto his neck, letting out a soft laugh instead at Spike's actions.
Spike smiles against the skin. "You about done being mouthy now?"
Wesley snorts. "Hardly." But he is relaxing back against Spike, letting Spike's arms wrap him in close.
The elevator doors slide open with a ping and reveal Buffy standing on the other side, Angel standing just behind her looking awkwardly apologetic. Buffy just looks pissed. Spike doesn't have a chance to think about what he might look like. The next moment finds him with a face full of Buffy's fist, and then he's an unconscious heap on the ground.
He's going to kill Wesley later for ducking.
Now he's just coming around again, sound of voices buzzing annoyingly around him and he wants nothing more than to swat them all to shut up. When he opens his eyes, he finds that he's still sprawled on the floor of the elevator. They hadn't even bothered to prop him up or something?
He groans and sulkily – slowly – gets to his feet. His eyes catch on Wesley who's looking over at him skeptically, the conversation disrupted by Spike's waking. Spike glares at him, ignoring the others, not quite ready to deal with it yet. 'Course what he wants never really has held much weight, had it?
Angel and Wesley – cowards – are falling back as Buffy crosses her arms and faces him. The weight of her anger settles squarely on Spike and he finds himself having to resist the urge to back up as well. Preferably right back into the elevator where he can hit the button and watch the doors close just as Buffy is running into them...
"You don't call?"
"Well, I...uh..." Spike is at a loss. Because she looks angry. And her fist had sure as hell felt angry. She doesn't sound all that angry though. But then she pounces and Spike stumbles back with a cry, hands raising to ward her off. She wraps her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Chokingly tight hug if he had been alive, and he wonders if that was the anger vying with the relief he can feel from her now. She socks him hard in the arm as she draws back.
"Everyone thought - I thought – that you were... And then we had to hear it from Andrew? God, you are such an-"
"Idiot?" Wesley pipes up happily. He and Angel exchange an amused glance. Which doesn't last long as Buffy is shooting a glare at them next.
"You could have called as well. How could you-?" The whole thing becomes a lot less amusing when Spike sees the tears in Buffy's eyes. She shakes her head, turns and walks away from all of them.
"Buffy..." Spike is quick on her heels, leaving behind the other two to watch after them. He lays his hand over her shoulder as he catches up with her, matching her brisk stride with his own. "Wait."
"For you? I didn't even know you were alive so that I could."
She tries to jerk out of his grip but it's no use. She feels like the small girl she is in his arms when he wraps them around her, mumbling 'sorry' against her hair as she gives in and lets him hold her.
"I was starting to wonder if you were going to come back." Wesley's voice coming out of the dark makes Spike jump and turn to him. He's sitting on the sofa, waiting up...for Spike? That shouldn't really be so stupidly warming. Of course, Spike has waited up for Wesley on more than one occasion as well. Making sure he comes home safe because in their line of work it's a very real danger that they won't.
But none of that can be met seriously. "Well, all my stuff's here. Not to mention blood." He wanders through into the kitchen now to grab some, listening as the pad of Wesley's bare feet follow him.
"How was Buffy?"
Spike only glances at Wesley over his shoulder. "Angry and hurt mostly. We worked things out friendly like after she hit me a few more times." He drinks down the blood after he speaks, dismissing the conversation. They don't need to talk about this.
There's a long pause while Spike finishes drinking. "Lets go to bed. I'm tired. I'd have been sleeping still if you hadn't woken me before."
Spike rolls his eyes. "Bite me, Percy."
"Maybe in the morning. Sleep first."
"I think it is morning actually. Sun's coming up."
"Then it's a good thing it's Sunday."
They continue the banter through to the bedroom, where clothes are stripped off and Spike makes Wesley squeak with cold feet once they're under the covers and curled up in the bed. It doesn't take long before they're both sleeping.
When Spike wakes it's to the slide of lips over skin, teasing fingers and a warm body. It's a good way to start the day, not something Spike gets too often and he doesn't say a word in the face of Wesley's sudden and obvious need for him. They never did do too well with the deep talks and Spike can see it all in Wesley's eyes anyway. He does what he can to show that Buffy...doesn't do a thing to change what they have.
It doesn't matter what comes their way because Spike isn't letting go of this hand that he's found.