Not For Public Consumption
by James Walkwithwind and Mad Poetess



"How long has it been since anyone used this?" Wesley managed to sound
fastidiously squicked, and eager all at the same time.

"For its intended purpose? Probably a couple of decades. It's just been
sort of lying here... fallow. Useless. It had a reason for being, once."
Angel intoned it as if giving a funeral oration.

Wesley gave him a flat look, then turned a brighter, more cheery one on
Gunn. "Do you think it has a reason for being, now, Charles? Or shall we
leave it...'fallow'?"

"I think if somebody doesn't get his undead ass outta my way, I'm gonna
pick him up and use him as an air mattress. Watcha think-- do vampires
float?"

"No. They don't." Angel spoke quickly, backing up a step as Wesley and
Gunn gave him considering looks. Luckily, by backing up, he moved out of
Gunn's way.

As he stepped into the room, Wesley looked him over. "You were right.
Green is a much better color for you."

"Yeah, brings out my inner leprechaun," Gunn answered with a straight
face. Angel gave him an 'Excuse me?' look. "What, haven't you ever heard of
the black Irish?"

Angel just opened his mouth -- but said nothing. Ahead of them, Wesley
turned and continued towards the pool. A company had been in earlier in the
week, repairing everything and getting it usable again. Gunn and Angel
stood there and watched him.

"You're right," Angel said casually. "The stripes add an...effect."

"Kind of givin' me vertigo, though. I mean, if you follow one all the way
around..." Gunn's eyes sort of spun in circles, and he swayed a little in
place as he watched Wesley walk over to the diving board.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be staring," Wesley said sternly.

"Isn't that what they're *for*?" Gunn folded his arms. "I mean, please,
like that whole ensemble doesn't just scream 'look at me, look at me now' "
He blinked, then buried his face in his hands. "Oh, god, help me, man. I'm
channeling Cordelia."

Angel reached over and patted his arm. "It's all right. It is, though.
Why else would anyone put a stripe...there?" Wesley was still glaring at
them, though now his hands were on his hips -- meaning he'd dropped his
towel and was facing them, square-on. In nothing but a Speedo.

"As though either of you were wearing *more*," Wesley began.

"Yes, but unlike us, you picked out your *own* swimwear," Angel pointed
out.

They watched in fascination as Wesley slowly blushed. Both their jaws
dropped as Wesley said, "Actually, I didn't...."

Angel looked at Gunn. "Did you?"

Gunn shook his head, with a suspicious glance at Wesley. "Not unless I've
been sleep-shopping. Who's been measurin' you for Speedos, Wes?"

Wesley just wandered back towards the diving board. "Did they say the
board was safe to use?"

Gunn stalked forward and grabbed him by the most grabbable spot
available-- the back of those Speedos. "You got yourself a personal
shopper, Wesley?"

"Do you *mind*?" Wesley protested, as though baring his bum at Gunn and
Angel wasn't a regular activity. He pulled himself free of Gunn's grasp and
managed to look offended.

"I don't mind," Angel replied, changing the meaning of the phrase with his
tone. "Do you mind?" he asked Gunn.

"Only when my mom slapped me upside the head," Gunn answered sincerely.
"Seems like I remember somebody saying he *didn't* want to be thrown in the
pool, for instance, but, y'know, I don't really mind, do I?"

Wesley backed up a step. "And I *meant* it."

Angel held up a hand as Gunn advanced on him. "Glasses."

After a final panicked plea for mercy met with none, Wesley shrugged and
tossed his glasses to Angel. Felt himself lifted in strong arms, which was
nice, but only for about two or three seconds, before he was suddenly
splashing into over-chlorinated water that was *far* too cold. Wesley
shrieked, then was completely immersed in the water. He sank to the
bottom...where he waited.

Angel and Gunn looked at each other with amused glances. Then 'ha-ha,
isn't Wesley funny' glances. Then 'um, he *is* trying to be funny, right?'
glances. And then about three *more* seconds passed, and there were two
much bigger splashes.

They got down to the bottom of the pool and found Wesley lying there,
motionless. They each grabbed and arm and hauled him upwards. Reaching the
surface, they pulled him out onto the slick tile floor with a mighty effort,
and Gunn started CPR. Well, he put his lips over Wesley's and blew into his
mouth, anyway, which made it awfully hard for Wesley to continue pretending
not to breathe. Especially when he sort of accidentally stuck his tongue
into Gunn's mouth.

Gunn jerked back, staring wildly at Wesley. "What? What's--" Angel
demanded, then stopped and glared as Wesley grinned.

"My heroes," he simpered, and batted his eyelashes.

"That wasn't very fucking funny!" Gunn yelled.

Wesley stared at them without blinking. "Neither was throwing me into the
water in the first place."

Angel looked at Gunn. "I thought it was funny. What about you?"

Gunn was still glaring, still pissed off. "Yeah, I thought that part was
funny. Throwing a guy in the pool ranks right up there with 'let's make
them think I'm dead!"

Wesley sat up calmly. "As if I would go anywhere near a pool with you two,
without an underwater breathing spell." He tugged on the red braided cord
around his neck. And pointed...pointedly...towards the one around Gunn's.

"Is that what that is?" Angel asked, sounding only a little befuddled.

Gunn looked embarrassed. "Forgot about that." Then his expression
changed. "Hey, when you gave me this, you said...."

Wesley grinned. "Like this pool, it does have...certain uses other than
its original intent. Why should Angel get to have all the fun?"

"I've been having fun?" Angel asked, sounding a little more befuddled.

"As soon as we get you into the pool, yes, I believe you shall be," Wesley
explained patiently.

"Oh." Angel said it with almost no inflection, but his eyes told another
story. The story began with 'throw me in the pool'. It really was too good
an offer to refuse, so they did. Well, they tried, but a dead man built like
a linebacker isn't exactly easy to throw.

They settled for the swami trick: Wesley made vague mystical motions in
front of his eyes until they were pointing in opposite directions, and then
Gunn simply pushed him backwards into the water with one finger. Wesley
suspected Angel had been faking, but as it got him in the water, who cared?
He dove in after him, and Gunn made a huge splash as well. A moment later,
all three were trying to entangle themselves.

Angel was doing his best to follow one of those stripes all the way around
Wesley's Speedos, but he'd apparently gone blind, because he was doing it in
Braille. Gunn, meanwhile, was testing out the benefits of that little red
cord around his neck. Wesley had his fingers twined in Angel's hair, and
was doing terrible things to his now-soaked spikes. Surprisingly, Angel
wasn't complaining.

Someone, as well, had his hand on Wesley's back. He couldn't tell who,
and frankly, didn't care as long as the hand continued rubbing like that.
He would have moaned, had his mouth been free. And why was it, his brain
asked himself, they had waited so long to get the hotel pool repaired?

"GERONIMO!!!!"

"GENERAL CUSTER!!!"

SPLASH

SPLASH

A veritable tsunami made its way towards the three of them, and Wesley was
quite glad for the red cord around his own neck as the shock-wave broke him
away from his lovers. After a moment, two soon-to-be removed heads broke the
surface-- one dark, one light.

"Who-hoo! Water's a bit cold, but other than that, I give the pool a
'nine'." Xander hit the water with the side of his hand, sending a spray of
water across Spike's face.

Wesley tightened his hand on Angel's arm, to prevent him from killing the
two. "Not in the pool," he said calmly. "We don't want to be cleaning it
all over again."

"I'm thinking it might be worth it." Gunn started a purposeful Australian
crawl in their direction. Spike stuck out his tongue, gave a little wave,
and sank quickly to the floor of the pool.

Xander smiled nervously. "Um... itwashisidea...." Then he started
backstroking for all he was worth. Which was terribly unfair, Wesley
thought, since *his* backstroking had been so rudely interrupted.

"You always say that," Angel said, matter-of-factly, before starting out
after Xander. With Gunn submerging to follow Spike -- and wasn't the
vampire in for a surprise, there -- Wesley decided to stay where he was, and
watch. Xander sped up his strokes for the edge of the pool, and Wesley saw
a pale white blur speeding away from a dark one.

In a few seconds, Spike's head bobbed up. "Alright, who turned this one
and why didn't you warn me? No bloody fai... blub blub blub..." as Gunn
dragged him back down under the surface.

Xander had reached the ladder at the far end of the pool and was rapidly
scrambling out. At Spike's words, he turned around and looked accusingly at
Angel. "You turned Gunn? Oh, that is *so* not fair! Spike won't turn me
until I look old enough to buy booze, which I'm thinking... what,
thirty-five? And you're just suckin' em down right and left?"

Angel just sort of floated. Mouth open. Which probably had more to do with
Xander's swimsuit than his babbling. Xander looked at Angel, then grinned
evilly. Backed up the ladder one more rung, and twisted his hips back and
forth.

"Careful, someone might not appreciate your point of view," he taunted.
Before Angel could snap out of it, Xander turned and scrambled the rest of
the way out of the pool. Wesley tried to decide if he wanted to say
something about Angel's staring at the naked young man -- or if he just
wanted those two out of the way, so he could get back to his own
almost-naked pool games.

Spike saved him the trouble by popping up again, a somewhat mollified Gunn
right behind him. Somewhat mollified because Spike was wearing a major pout
(but nothing else) and holding the back of his head as if it had just been
whapped. Underwater. "S'not fair. Only Xander's allowed to do that!"

Xander came skidding around to the near edge of the pool, glaring at Gunn.
"You hit Spike?" His hands were slightly raised, balled into fists.

Gunn just returned the glare. "And the only reason you didn't get whapped
is because pretty-boy over there got distracted by your little wrinkled
things."

"Oi!" Spike splashed around to face him. "Those're *my* little wrinkled
things, mate!" Now Xander was glaring at Spike. "I mean... big wrinkled
things... ?"

"The water's cold," Xander said.

Gunn smirked. "It's not *that* cold." With a yell that sounded
something like 'cowabunga', Xander leapt towards Gunn. Spike started
laughing, then as Xander landed on Gunn and knocked him underwater, leapt
upon them, as well.

Angel started swimming towards them, looking put-upon. He shot Wesley a
look. "And you wondered why I didn't get the pool fixed before now?"

"I'm wondering why you didn't get Spike fixed a hundred odd years ago. You
have to admit, it would have solved a great many of our problems."

"I didn't have a soul back then. I was insane. I thought he was cute."

"You weren't insane, you were a sadistic sociopath, and you let him live
because you somehow knew he'd be around to torture us now."

Angel shrugged, pointlessly shook water out of his hair, and then dived
into the melee. Wesley sighed, climbed out of the pool, and shook his head.
He was tempted to put a freezing spell on the lot of them, and extracted
Spike and Xander, himself. Or extract Angel and Gunn, and float them
upstairs where they could try again for some privacy.

Or there was the 'turn them into bugs' spell which he kept asking Angel
why he couldn't use on those two. Angel hadn't actually ever given him a
reason, other than asking "Do you really wanna lose track of them?" Gunn
had offered a solution to that one. Wesley had to admit, he liked the idea
of a bug-circus. Xander and Spike could do little tricks and wear stupid
hats. Unlike now, he realized, when they were trying to get themselves
drowned.

Figuratively, at least, in Spike's case. "Angel, you might want to be
careful--"

Angel must have caught on at the same time, because Xander came shooting
to the surface, inhaling great gasps of air. "That's it, he's evil again,
he's trying to drown me!"

"He can't be evil again," Wesley explained patiently, for about the
millionth time. "We fixed that little problem years ago." And if they'd only
known that all it took was a certain rare talisman, the burning of 'stinky
herbs', painting yourself blue, sitting naked in the middle of Rodeo Drive,
and chanting the theme to Lamb-Chop's Play-Along, they would have made Angel
do it much earlier. All right, technically only the talisman and the stinky
herbs were necessary, but what Angel didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

"So why's he trying to drown me?" Xander sputtered in between being
casually dunked again by said not-evil vampire.

Wesley rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine."

Spike finally wrestled himself somewhat free of Gunn, who was doing a good
job of dunking, himself. He started to go after Xander, when he stopped and
looked at Wesley. With a grin, he nudged Xander. "Oi! Look, he's wearing
them." Wesley felt himself blushing, as all four turned to look where Spike
was pointing.

Xander blinked, then said seriously, "He'd have to be. They're attached.
Well, at least mine are."

"Not for long," Gunn muttered.

Spike splashed water in Xander's face. "The briefs, dimwit." And he
pointed again. Xander followed his finger. And then he followed one of the
white stripes. And then his eyes crossed.

"Hey!" Angel growled. He advanced on Xander. "Keep your--" Then he
stopped, as if realizing what a stupid thing he was about to say.

Xander just stuck his tongue out. "Why'd you let Spike buy them, then, if
you were gonna get defensive about it?" Gunn's and Angel's eyes swung
around like the turret on a Sherman tank, and aimed directly at Spike.
Wesley, meanwhile, began searching his memory for a personal body-shield
spell.

Spike smirked silently, and the turret began to swing in Wesley's
direction.

"You let *Spike* buy this for you?" Angel said in a soft, gentle, utterly
terrifying tone, and Wesley wondered briefly if Xander wasn't right about
him being evil again, after all.

"You're going to deny that you appreciate its effect?" He gave Angel a
flat, stern look. As if Angel's eyes weren't even now straying down, and
around, and crossing slightly before being yanked back up to glare at Wes'
face again.

Truth was, he couldn't explain exactly how he'd come to let Spike buy them
for him. Or how he'd actually got around to mentioning it, in the younger
vampire's presence. He spared a glare for said vampire, and his cohort, who
were taking the opportunity to sneak out of range. Giggling. At least now
he knew why Spike had been willing to buy them at all.

"I appreciate the effect," Gunn said slowly. "It's the cause that I've got
a problem with. How come you're letting the bleached weenie fit you for
swimsuits?"

"Hey!" Xander said from the edge of the pool, where he was sitting,
kicking his feet, and watching in amusement. "He's not... wait, what am I
saying. Please continue."

Spike, who'd been bobbing in the water near him, pulled Xander in by one
foot, and wrestled him into the corner of the pool. "I am *not* a weenie.
Say it." Xander crossed his arms and shook his head. "Say it or I'll
tickle...."

"You're a weenie!" Xander yelled, and made a leap out of the pool --
getting only a few inches before Spike grabbed him and pulled him in. From
the shrieks and threats that followed, Wesley deduced Spike was giving good
on his threat. Wesley, however, was more concerned with his own well-being
than making sure they didn't injure themselves.

Angel and Gunn were climbing out of the pool, and still advancing on him.
He tried to make a stand, but he felt somewhat ridiculous doing so in only a
pair of tiny swim briefs.

"I didn't do any such thing as let him *fit* me for them," he said with as
much dignity as he could muster. "I merely let him *pay* for them. Because
*someone* borrowed my credit card to take to the edged-weapons show, and
never returned it." He raised an eyebrow at Gunn.

Wesley's lovers decided to divide their attentions, which was exactly what
Wesley had been afraid of. Angel spun around and dove back into the water,
cutting across toward Spike like a rather large, brown-haired shark. Gunn
continued to glare at Wesley. "Oh, and you couldn't call *someone* and ask
him to meet you there and pay for it?"

"That would have rather ruined the surprise, wouldn't it have?" Wesley
demanded. Backed up another step, and began rehearsing, mentally, the
'deflect all blows' shield spell he'd remembered.

They heard a high-pitched yelp, and a splash, then a loud, low growl.
That was followed by a "What the bloody *hell* is your problem? It wasn't
even my cash. When's the last time I had any of my own money?"

Which made Gunn stop. Wesley could see him thinking things through.
"*Harris* paid for those?"

"Well, technically Spike did, with Xander's--" He stopped as he realized
he wasn't helping himself.

"You let Spike buy you *those* briefs with *that* money?"

"Yelp! Hey, I bought your --eep!-- Christmas presents with *that*
money..." Xander shouted between tickles. "And what's so wrong
with---giggle-- my job?"

"Yeah!" Spike didn't stop tickling while he defended his lover. "What's
more upright and morally unblemished than providin' reasonably-priced pics
of naked demons to those desperate folks out there who don't 'ave a cuddly
one of their very own?"

Wesley, very wisely, didn't reply. Whenever Rupert called down to inquire
how 'his boy' was doing, Wesley stammered something vague and hoped to god
the other man didn't know that Xander's one week stint as a copy-boy had
turned into something more. Granted, it had been two years, now, but since
Rupert never referred to the magazine, Wesley wasn't *about* to be the one
to bring it up. In conversation. The topic, that was.

Wesley realized Gunn had gained another foot on his advance. He crossed
his arms and frowned, slightly. "If you object to my attempting to acquire a
set of swim shorts on my own, to surprise you both, then I do apologize."
He sniffed, just a little, and turned his back. Allowing Gunn to be
transfixed by the white stripe that ran around the *back*, of course.

"Ummm...." Gunn replied intelligently.

Angel reached Spike, and ducked him neatly, dragging Xander, still
giggling, with him. A few seconds later, a sputtering human and two growling
vampires resurfaced. Angel turned to stare at Wesley. "Surprise?" He sounded
a little guilty. "You.. wanted to surprise us? Oh."

"Yes," Wesley admitted, sounding a touch hurt. A touch dejected. "I
didn't think you'd mind who *paid* for the stupid thing." He took a step
away from them all, as if heading for the changing rooms. He knew that if
anyone were *not* staring at that white stripe, they would be seeing the
very picture of masked-wounded pride and rejection.

He didn't hear anyone coming after him, so he continued on to the far
door. Maybe they'd catch him while he was naked.... Then his foot was
flying out from under him, and he felt a sharp crack in his elbow, then on
the back of his head.

Lying flat on the tile gave him an excellent view of the fresco on the
ceiling at least. It really had turned out rather well-- the three of them
against the splendor of Mount Olympus, Angel feeding him grapes while he
reclined on a chaise, Gunn pouring him a cup of nectar, strategically-placed
fig leaves for all concerned. Which were, of course, removable via a dial on
the far wall. The final stroke of genius had been the addition of a tiny
Xandercupid at one end of the scene, and a Spikecupid at the other, each
aiming an arrow in the direction of the central trio. But why did the
Spikecupid's wings appear to be fluttering?

"Wes? Wes, are you okay?" Angel sounded far too concerned about
something, Wesley realized. Perhaps he knew about the fluttering wings in
the mural. Then he realized his eyes weren't *open*. So he opened them.
Four heads were gathered in the air, above him. Spike was the only one who
didn't look worried.

Spike looked bored. And hungry. "Is he dead? Can I eat him?"

Xander whapped him hard on the arm, not at all playfully. "No, he isn't,
and no, you may not. You don't eat family, even after they're dead. Which
he's not." Wide brown eyes looked back to Wesley. "You're not, are you?"

"No," he said slowly. He could see Angel and Gunn looking reassured. At
least, he thought that was how they looked. "Why are there two of
everybody?"

"Man," Gunn swore. "Cordelia is *never* going to leave us home without a
babysitter *ever* again. First time all week she leaves us alone and we
break Wesley."

"He's not broken," Angel snapped, and he moved forward to feel Wes' head.

"OW!"

Angel stopped. "OK, so he's broken...."

"I an brot noken," Wesley answered with great dignity. Something about
that didn't sound right, so he decided to try it again. "I am *not* broken."

"Just a little bent," Spike sniggered.

"Oh, like you can talk," Angel muttered, and touched Wesley's head again,
more gently. "Wes, can you remember that anti-concussion spell you said you
looked up for Spike?"

Xander gave his lover an incredulous stare. "You think you need an
anti-concussion spell? There's nothing in there to concuss!"

Spike was about to answer, and Angel put a hand over his mouth. "Wes? Can
you remember it?"

Wes opened his mouth to say that yes, he did recall looking it up. Then
he stopped and asked, instead, "Mind if I throw up, first?"

***************************

Afterwards, spell applied and taken upstairs to bed, Wesley found himself
being waited on by two very large, adorable, and contrite lovers. They'd
managed to leave Spike and Xander down below, though Wes could still hear
Spike yelling about someone's very rude behavior. Truthfully, Wes thought
Gunn was the one who'd leaned Wes sideways enough to aim for Spike.

And it wasn't as though the vampire hadn't leapt into the pool to clean
off, thereby requiring a call to the pool company before anyone could use it
again. Right now, all Wesley cared about was the two men before him, who
were taking turns reading to him from out of one of his favorite books.

"Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington on a railway platform. In fact,
that was how he came to have such an unusual name for a bear, for Paddington
was the name of the station." Angel read aloud with a pained expression.
"Wes, are you sure you don't want to hear something out of _Leatherlust 3_
?" he asked.

"No. Now tell about the sign that says 'Please look after this bear.'
Wesley stuck out his chin determinedly. He'd spent a most entertaining hour
taking lessons from Spike on how to do this, and he had to admit it worked
like a charm.

"Okay, okay... um, that's not on this page. Do you want me to skip to
where it is?" Wesley just trembled his lower lip a bit, and Angel quickly
turned the pages. "Mrs. Brown caught a glimpse of the writing on the label.
It said, simply, Please Look After This Bear. Thank You."

Wesley sniffed for the poor abandoned bear, causing Angel and Gunn to look
over at him, alarmed. "Poor Paddington," Wesley said. "All alone in a
strange country. How terribly frightened he must have been." He caught the
concerned, confused look Gunn and Angel exchanged. Obviously wondering if
the anti-concussion spell had worked completely.

"Maybe you should read for a bit," Angel said to Gunn, handing the book
over.

"Nah, man, he doesn't wanna hear me read. You read." Gunn pushed the
book back.

Angel shook his head. "No, it's your turn. I read *all* of _The Velveteen
Rabbit_, *and* _The Pokey Little Puppy_."

"Yeah, but those were short. This one's a novel. Besides, I can't do the
accents."

"Trust me, Angel can't either." Wesley gave them both a glare. "And if one
of you doesn't start reading soon, I'm going to throw a tantrum." Which
foretold many dangers, chief among them being the danger of getting hit in
the head by levitating throw-pillows, and the danger of no sex.

Angel gave Wesley a frantic -- for Angel -- look, threw the book at Gunn
and dove for the mattress beside Wesley. He ignored both of their surprised
looks, though Wes' turned into a triumphant grin when Angel wriggled under
the duvet and snuggled him. "I'll cuddle. You read."

"How come you get all the good jobs?" Gunn demanded.

"Because I thought of it first," Angel replied easily. Wesley just
settled himself into Angel's arms, and waited. And waited.

At a mild throat clearing from Wesley, Gunn jumped. "I uh... lost the
page."

"Page ten," Wesley prompted him patiently.

"Oh." More silence, because Gunn was obviously already *on* page ten. The
illustration on page eleven was plainly visible even from the bed. "She...
ah... she turned appealingly to her husband. 'Oh, Henry, what *shall* we do?
We can't just leave him here...' " Gunn shook his head and closed the book,
holding his place with his finger. "Yes, they can! I mean, who goes around
pickin' up strange bears in subway stations? It's a damn good way to get
chomped on."

Wesley frowned. "You're worse at this than Angel. I realize that you
think if you bollocks up doing it, I'll let you stop. And you're correct--"

He was interrupted by Gunn yelling "yes!" and tossing the book down. Gunn
froze when he saw Wesley frowning slightly at him.

"*However*," Wesley continued. "I shall be read to, and if I have to ask
Spike to do so -- again -- I shall. He does a very good job of it, does all
the different voices, and Xander knows how to stay quiet and be an
appreciative audience." Which meant bang went any chance at sex, and from
the looks on their faces, Angel and Gunn realized this at the same time,
because they both dove for the book.

"Be careful, you two-- that's a first edition!"

Gunn managed to get his hands on it first, and quickly located the correct
page. "We can't just leave him here. There's no knowing what will happen to
him..." He glanced up at Wesley. "Um, can I read and cuddle at the same
time?"

Wesley considered. "Possibly. As long as you can still do the different
voices." From the look on Gunn's face, he was clearly debating the choice.
He looked from Wesley, to the book, and back. Wesley wriggled a bit,
enticingly, and Gunn finally scooted over.

It took a moment to get everyone situated so everyone could snuggle, and
Gunn could still hold the book. Wesley waited until Gunn was half a
sentence into the next paragraph before asking, "Could you let me up? I have
to use the loo."

Gunn and Angel looked across Wesley at each other. "Really?' Angel asked.
"Or are we still being punished?"

Wesley made a quick mental note-- when taking headgame lessons from Spike,
keep in mind that Angel has known him for over a hundred years. "Really.
Unless you'd like a waterbed in addition to an indoor pool." His lovers
reluctantly untangled their arms from around him and let him rise.

He did so, gracefully, and headed to the bathroom. He made use of the
facilities, then noticed something. He wandered back out to the bedroom and
stood there. Angel and Gunn looked up at him, confused expressions on their
faces appearing when they saw the one on his.

"Where are my swim briefs?" Wesley asked.

Angel and Gunn gave each other surprised, confused looks. "Did you see
his briefs?" Angel asked.

"Nah, man. I thought you had 'em."

"I don't have them," Angel replied with a slow shake of his head.

"Hope we didn't *lose* them," Gunn muttered, and made a show of looking
around.

Wesley's eyes narrowed. "I think you lot made off with them, just because
I let someone whose name will not be mentioned pay for them." They both
looked innocently at him, and he shook his head sternly. "I suppose you'll
just have to buy me a new pair, then, won't you."

"I kinda like the pair you have now," Gunn said with a sly smile.

Wesley crossed his arms in front of his chest and returned the smile with
a scolding frown. Not that he minded being leered at while naked, but the
briefs had cost a bit of money which he'd had to pay *back*. For a few
square inches of cloth, they'd been rather expensive. Then he smiled,
slowly. "Then you don't mind if I use the pool in this outfit?"

"Uh-" Gunn stopped, and turned to Angel. "Is this a trick question?"

Angel sighed. "I don't know. He's worse than a girlfriend sometimes."

"I shall mention that to your last one, the next time I speak with her,"
Wesley promised, adding the evil quirk of his eyebrow that someone whose
name would not be mentioned had assured him would knock his lovers
senseless.

"Ubbadubba..." Angel replied with great coherence.

"*I* don't mind if you use the pool in that outfit, as long as the poster
boys for drowning-at-birth ain't in it," Gunn finally ventured.

"Good one," Angel told him.

"Thanks."

"So if I suggested I might be in the pool tomorrow afternoon, wearing this
outfit, that would be all right with you?" Wesley asked.

Angel furrowed his brow. "This all seems too easy, somehow."

Gunn picked up the book from his lap. Studied it meticulously, as if it
might offer him the correct answer. And it might, if he knew how to read
it-- Paddington was very wise, for a marmalade-eating bear from darkest
Peru. At last he raised his head. "Are they gonna be cleaning the pool
tomorrow afternoon?"

Angel shook his head. "No, it should be clean before brunch."

"Brunch?" Gunn gave him a questioning look, and Angel shrugged.

"If Cordelia says thou shalt eat brunch, then thou shalt eat brunch."

"Why does Cordelia want us to eat brunch tomorrow?"

Wesley rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why it was so difficult for
anyone to remember such simple details. He was, on the other hand,
beginning to understand why every female on the planet thought men were
dolts. They *were*.

Angel and Gunn were looking at him, now, obviously hoping for a clue. He
cleared his throat. "Brunch. A late, large, catered breakfast. Serving
twelve."

Angel started to count on his fingers. "Me, Gunn, Wesley, Cordy, my idiot
child, my idiot child's boyfriend..." He looked up. "That's six..."

Gunn took over. "Um.. Detective Kate? She likes you this week, right?"

Angel nodded. "I bought six tickets to the Policeman's Ball from her, and
that put her ahead in the office contest, apparently." He glanced sheepishly
at his lovers. "By the way, we're going to the Policeman's Ball next
Saturday..." Wesley ahem'd. Angel went back to his finger-counting.

"Okay, Kate, that's seven... Oh, God, Spike's not bringing the kids down
again, is he? The last time he brought the piranhas to the table, he ended
up feeding them all the cinnamon rolls."

Wesley ahem'ed again. When Angel and Gunn were facing him, quietly, he
said, "Try 'idiot child's boyfriend's best friend since pre-school.' Work
your way from there, if you like."

"Willow?" Angel asked. "Why-- brunch. Tomorrow." He scurried out of bed
as quickly as he could. "We're buying you a new suit."

Gunn looked from Angel to Wesley. "Would someone like to tell me what I'm
missing? How do you get from Willow, to brunch, to...oh shit. That's
tomorrow?" He followed Angel out of the bed and dug around for his clothes,
as Angel was doing. "I *knew* it was a trick question. Hey!" He stopped
as he found his jeans. "Why are we buying him a new pair? We've got the
other pair stashed--"

Angel looked at him. "Do you want everyone looking at his stripes?"

Gunn took a quick glance at where the stripes used to be, and shook his
head, with an accompanying gulp. "No. Uh-uh. G-Man would probably cross his
eyes and fall over dead of a heart attack, anyway."

"He'll turn you into a newt again if he hears you calling him that,"
Wesley pointed out.

Gunn shrugged. "Wasn't that bad. I got better."

Angel paused, one leg in his trousers, one leg out. An interesting
picture, and thank God they'd managed to convince him that leather wasn't
just for evil vampires anymore. "Where are we gonna find him a new suit at
this time of night?"

"Why don't we just cut off a pair of cargo pants. At the knee. You can
swim in that, right, Wes?" Gunn suggested.

Wesley looked at his two mind-boggling lovers. "Right, then." He crossed
over to the bed, grabbed his book, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked.

"To find someone to finish reading to me." Cut-off cargo pants. Really.
How was he supposed to show off his arse in cargo pants?

"Yo, you're still naked," Gunn pointed out.

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't suppose Spike and Xander will mind,
given their own swimming attire."

Angel pulled his leg back *out* of his leather trousers, and was across
the room before Wesley had even thought about taking another step towards
the door. Gunn wasn't far behind him. "We'll buy you a new suit in the
morning," Angel promised. "Well, Gunn'll buy you a new suit in the morning.
I'll just stay here and not turn to dust."

"Yeah, whatever kind you want. Micro-mini-whatever. Long as it covers the
important parts."

Wesley folded his arms, tucking the book between them. "I thought you
loved me for my mind?"

"What mind?" Gunn said, then when he realized what he'd just said,
stammered, "What if I stop at that funky bookstore on my way, and get
you..uh...something?"

"Randal's Manifesto on Komodo Demons," Angel suggested. "He's been after
that one for weeks."

Gunn nodded quickly. "I can do that."

Wesley was trying very hard not to smile. It was flattering to see how
quickly he'd managed to get these two so completely well-trained. To
control his smile, he asked, "If you're going to be at the book seller's,
can you stop in next door and get me some more tea?"

Gunn started to nod. Then his eyes narrowed. "Do I look like your
personal errand boy?"

If Gunn thought Wesley was going to fold, he would be sorely disappointed.
This just called for a slight change in tactics. "If you want to see me try
to survive on Cordelia's coffee, it is, of course, up to you. But I tend to
get very weak, and rather grumpy..."

"I think I'm being manipulated, here..." Gunn frowned.

Really? What clued him in, exactly--the fact that the naked man with the
children's book in his arms was directing the progress of his every step?
Wesley rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to go find someone to read to
me," he said simply, and took another step toward the door. He found
himself being lifted up and carried back to the bed. As he landed on the
bed with a gentle bounce, he looked up at Angel. "Was there something you
wanted?"

Angel glowered at him. "You are staying there. Tomorrow morning, Gunn
will go get you a new pair of briefs. Tomorrow night, all three of us will
go get you your book and tea -- Giles will want to go to the book shop, so
we can take them along. Sometime after everyone from Sunnydale goes *back*
to Sunnydale, the three of us are locking the doors and windows and sewer
escapes to the hotel and enjoying the pool in privacy."

Angel leaned over and plucked the book from Wes' arms. "And right now,
you are going to listen to *us* read to you." He glared at Gunn, as if
daring him to object.

"I ain't reading that stupid book," Gunn said.

"Excuse me," Angel said to Wesley, and hauled Gunn out the door and into
the hallway, by his ear.

"What?" Gunn asked grumpily when the door had shut behind them and they
were standing in the carpeted hall.

"You are *going* to read that stupid book, and you're going to *sound*
like you like it, and you're going to shut up about it," Angel said,
growling softly.

"Why the hell should I? It's a kid's book, and he's just doing it to prove
we'll do anything for him."

Angel nodded. "Yeah. Think about it. If you were a guy as smart as Wesley,
would you be asking your lovers to read you kid's books, unless you *needed*
to know they'd do anything for you?"

Gunn opened his mouth to retort, then he paused. "You don't think he's
just seeing how far he can push us?"

Angel nodded. "I think that's exactly what he's doing. See how far we'll
go for him. He knows what we'd do in life and death situations. But this
stuff? Embarrass ourselves? Gunn -- Spike and Xander had to talk him *into*
this thing in the first place, remember?"

"So if we do stupid shit like read him Paddington Bear, he'll know what?
That we like him?"

Angel shook his head. "That's not what he needs to know." He paused,
tapping on the wall. "Gunn, that guy in there has saved our asses more times
than I can count, and he's fucked over his damn English pride any time we
needed him to. If he needs us to do the same thing, to read him Paddington
Bear or _The Little Engine That Could_, or _Politically Incorrect Bedtime
Stories_, in order to know that we love him, I don't think it's too much to
ask."

"I kinda like _The Little Engine That Could_," Gunn said. "Yeah, I hear
ya. Can't we just say 'hey, we love you, let's get sweaty'?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe after we finish reading to him."

They stood there silently, while Gunn thought it over. Finally he sighed.
"Hell, it's a short book."

"Don't try skipping pages or anything," Angel warned. "He's got it
memorized."

Gunn snorted. "Couldn't he have read anything *normal* when he was a kid?
Y'know, like _The Urban Survival Manual_, or _How To Kill A Vampire With
Things You Find In Your Own Kitchen_ "

"You frighten me sometimes." Angel took the book from him. "Actually, I
think Cordelia may have read that last one." Angel opened the door slowly,
half afraid that Wesley had escaped out the window to go buy his own
swimsuit at Wal-Mart while they were arguing.

Instead they saw him, lying on his side with the blankets pulled up to his
shoulder. Sound asleep.

"Think he's faking?" Gunn whispered.

Angel shook his head. "His heart's beating too slow for him to be awake."
Gunn blinked at that, but looked back at Wesley.

His head was sunk slightly into the middle pillow, still-wet hair fanned
out across it, and a tiny frown twisted his otherwise expressionless face.
He was still wearing his glasses.

"Damn," Gunn whispered. "Shoulda just read--" He cut himself off, and
went over to the bed. Easing himself onto the bed, slowly and carefully
enough that Wesley wouldn't wake, Gunn scooted closer -- close enough to
touch, though he didn't. "How can he not know?" he whispered, knowing Angel
could hear, whether or not the vampire had followed him to the bedside.

"Just stupid?" Angel whispered back. "I mean, he *is* with *us*."

Angel managed to cross the space between the door and the bed in the time
it took Gunn to realize he was trying to make a joke. "Angel, nobody who
can come up with a way to give blowjobs in a swimming pool without having to
breathe could be too stupid to realize we love him."

"I think that was more a matter of motivation," Angel said as he climbed
into the bed on the other side of Wesley. Then his face grew serious, as he
looked down at Wes' face. "He just doesn't expect it."

Gunn didn't say anything in response. He looked from Angel back to
Wesley, and thought things over. Finally he came to a decision. He reached
up, carefully removed Wesley's glasses, and snuggled in closer to hold the
sleeping man. "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"One of these days...."

"He's going to take it for granted?"

"If I have to read him everything up to _Paddington Goes To College_."

"_Paddington Gets Married_."

"Paddington buys a house and has two point five fuzzy damn bear kids who
grow up to raise piranhas."

Angel chuckled. He bit his lip, trying not to make any noise, but when
Gunn looked up at him, he laughed again.

Gunn smiled, and shook his head. "Yeah. Well, what can I say. The
*weirdest* ass people in your family."

Angel gave him a look. "That would include you, too, you know."

Gunn nodded. "Yeah. I know." He reached across Wesley with one arm, and
put his hand on Angel's shoulder. They lay like that for a minute, just
listening to Wes breathe. Then Gunn added, "But do I have to admit to being
related to Spike? Couldn't we just say you found him under a stinkweed bush
or something?"

Angel shook his head. "If we don't claim him, he'll pout." When Gunn
just gave him a 'yeah, so?' look, Angel added, "Have you noticed the way Wes
has been pouting, recently?"

"Yeah. He's getting damn good at it."

"Spike gave him some pointers."

Gunn just gaped at him. He turned his gaze back to Wesley, and stopped
whatever he'd been about to say when he saw the grin the not-so-asleep
Wesley was trying to hide. Tapping Angel on the shoulder, Gunn shifted his
eyes just a bit, and hid his own grin. "We can't let those two play together
anymore, man. Spike's a bad influence."

Angel didn't have to hide his smile, with Wesley's back turned to him. "I
think you're right. We'll have to lock Wes up in here and keep him to
ourselves."

"Whoever thought those two would hang together, anyway?" Gunn asked in
honest bewilderment. "Unless Wesley's just observing be-kind-to-morons
year."

"He's the only one who can carry on a decent conversation about politics,
football, and Fyarl economics." Wesley didn't open his eyes, though his
voice showed no signs of his having been asleep.

"Spike? Decent conversation?" Gunn looked at Angel. "Is he delirious,
man?"

"Concussion, remember?"

"Are you questioning my mystical skills?" Wesley asked, assuming a tone of
patently false petulance.

"No, just your taste in drinking buddies. And beer." Gunn nestled his chin
against Wesley's forehead, so he couldn't see the mortally-offended frown he
knew was appearing on Wesley's face.

"You, who drink *American* beer, cast aspersion on what I drink?" Wesley
shifted a little, cuddling himself in more tightly. Angel shifted as well,
moving forward into the inch of space Wes' motion left between them.

"That stuff you drink would kill a horse."

"Or someone weaned on grain-flavored water," Wesley countered.

"Hey, *I* was weaned on Irish whiskey," Angel pointed out. "And even I
think the stuff you drink could kill a horse and the sumo wrestler who rode
in on it."

Wesley started to protest, and Gunn lowered his face to cut him off with a
kiss. After a second: "Shut up, Wes. We're saying you drink manly beer. Go
with it."

He sighed. "It's only four point three percent alcohol, you know."

"Yeah, and you think it's safe because of that, until you wake up the next
morning after five mugs and find your battle-axe stuck in the dart board and
your underwear hangin' from the moose head," Gunn complained. "No more of
that stuff for me."

"That was Angel's underwear, you know," Wesley said mildly. He ignored
Angel's surprised "It was what?" and continued, "Just because one mug is the
fluid ounce equivalent of a can and a half of American beer--"

"And I don't recall anyone *saying* that when I ordered my second one,"
Gunn countered.

"Well, I thought you knew how much alcohol you could tolerate. No one
forced you to drink it. Unless you considered Spike's taunts a form of
irresistible motivation."

"No whiny little punk-ass vampire is gonna tell me I can't hold my liquor,
even if he *is* family."

Wesley leaned his head back against Angel's chest. "Spike's not so bad,
really. We've got a lot in common, when you come down to it. We're both
English. Both not really wanted by our own families..." At Angel's indrawn
breath-just-for-speaking-purposes, Wesley shook his head. "Our original
families. And we've both been adopted into a better one."

"Man, you can't--" Gunn started to object, then he stopped, no doubt
realizing that Wesley wasn't saying anything even remotely untrue. "You
picked a lot better boyfriend, though."

Angel and Gunn found that they were both now holding Wesley tighter, so
tightly there was barely any room at all, between them.

"Wes," Angel began, but he faltered when Wesley and Gunn looked at him.

"It's all right," Wesley said, a moment later. But Angel shook his head.

"No, it's not."

"No, I suppose it isn't. Just sometimes. It's not that I miss home,
because this *is* home. Just... sometimes..." Just sometimes he missed what
home might've been. And that was why there were cases of Batham's Bitter and
a dart board in which to get one's helm-axe stuck.

"Yeah, we know. Sometimes you just gotta drink imported beer and watch
_Red Dwarf_ 'til two-thirty in the morning. But maybe we could get the G-Man
to move down here, so you have a better class of pansy-ass British guys to
chill with?"

Wesley poked Gunn in the ribs, right in the one ticklish spot they'd ever
found. As Gunn yelped, Wesley said, "You cannot drag Rupert down here just
to keep me company. He has a life, and work, in Sunnydale. Besides which,
he's entirely the wrong class. His family is low upper class. Mine is
upper middle class. We would never get along for more than an hour."

"Um..." Gunn sounded as though he was doing some figuring, in his head.

Meanwhile, Angel said, "We could invite him down sometime. I mean, more
often. I know Xander wants to see him again -- we don't have to tell him we
just want him here for his accent."

"Hang on," Gunn interrupted. "What's the difference between upper lower
and middle whatever?"

"Five pounds more in income per year and a stripe on your old school tie
that's about a millimeter wider," Wesley answered seriously. Semi-seriously.

"About that stripe..." Angel began, but Gunn cut him off.

"If we can't get G-m... I mean, Rupert, to move down here... does this
mean I have to be nice to Spike?"

"If you are nice to Spike, it will only make him wonder what you're up
to." Wesley paused, then added with a faint smile, "If you were nice to him
for a few days, it would drive him absolutely mad with paranoia."

"Oh, yeah?" Gunn raised an eyebrow. Then he slowly smiled. "Sounds like
fun. When can I start? Can I go be nice to him right now?"

Wesley shook his head and pressed himself closer to Gunn, if that was
possible. Angel obligingly filled in the sesquicentillimeter of space that
was left between them. "No. You have to stay here and be nice to me."

"Should I get up and get Paddington?"

Wes shook his head again. "No. I think not. I think you should be nice to
me in a manner that doesn't involve bears. Even ones from darkest Peru."

"About that stripe," Angel said again.

"Yes?"

"Which one is wider?"

Wesley kept his face straight as he looked over his shoulder. "If you
can't tell by looking, you obviously weren't properly educated."

"Oh." Angel nodded, then leaned down and placed his teeth carefully
around Wesley's shoulder.

"Um, I'm thinking you'd better not tease him, or the fangs come out," Gunn
explained.

"I'm quaking in terror," Wesley said, wriggling in something other than
terror. Angel pressed down with his teeth, just a little. "I...ah...mine."

"Your what?" (Or actually, "Youh wha?")

"My stripe."

"Yeah, and about *that* stripe..." Gunn looked him in the eye.

"Hmmm?"

"We love you, Wes." Angel bit down a little harder, and Wesley was torn
between looking back at Gunn and allowing his eyeballs to roll up in his
head. "But you are *never* seein' those briefs again."

Wesley blinked at him, astonished at the sincerity of the growl. Gunn had
sounded positively vampiric. "I don't understand. I thought you rather
liked them."

"I do. But they're getting burned."

"Burned?" Wesley had tried to keep the tone of hurt out of his voice, but
from his lovers' reactions, he knew he hadn't been entirely successful. Not
that he minded, given where their hands were.

"Yeah. In a ritual sacrifice in the middle of Rodeo Drive. While Angel
sings 'This is the song that doesn't end...' They just cause too much
trouble, Wes."

Angel took his teeth off Wesley's shoulder, to the tune of a disappointed
moan. "I'm not singing that again."

Both of his lovers looked back at him. "You're not *singing* again. We
promised the Powers That Be."

"Perhaps I could...just wear it for you?" Wesley suggested.

Gunn considered it. He looked over at Angel, and they held a silent
conference. Wesley wriggled a bit, trying to encourage Angel to return his
mouth to its former residence. "Maybe," Gunn finally allowed.

"Only in this room," Angel added.

"Or in the pool *if* the terrible twins, Cordelia, and everyone else
including David and the Sunnydale crew are at least two hundred miles away
and guaranteed not to return until the weekend."

Wesley pouted a bit. "Are you sure that will be safe enough?" He felt a
hand suddenly tracing the path where the stripe would have been.

"No. Three hundred miles."



the end