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Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Drifting
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: R

Summary: Wes and Angel re-evaluate things. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Rogue Demon Hunter")

Thanks to: Wolfling for the beta read.

"This is a jackass fight," Angel said.

"I agree," Wes replied. "So stop arguing with me."

"Excuse me but I think I have a point of view here," Angel said.

"I think you've a block of cement where your brain should be," Wesley shot back. "And if you wanted to beg me for favors you should have given greater thought to your little scheme of running away. As it is I can assure you that you will owe me for this charade well into the course of our relationship."

This wasn't the time, or the place, but Angel couldn't help but be glad at the idea that he and Wes still had a relationship to course. "Yeah?"

"Oh yes," Wesley said. "Ten years from now you will still be taking me to five star restaurants where I shall force you to have a large house salad and eat every crunchy morsel whilst I dine upon the most expensive items on the menu. Twenty years from now we shall take a year-long holiday around the world in a yacht which you will buy me and staff with a manservant to take care of my every need."

"Thought that was me," Angel said.

Wes kept talking. "When I am seventy years old and writing my memoirs I will dedicate an entire volume to the fact that your continued existence proves the theory that fortune favors the stupid and the brave."

"I would be both, right?" Angel asked.

"And when the time comes that I am no longer on this earth," Wes continued, "I will have a gravestone which declares 'Here Lies Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, His Lover Was An Ass'."

"I'm just saying I don't wanna leave my car," Angel said, feeling like they needed to get back to the point before the conversation took an even more morbid turn.

Wes leaned back against his bike. He waited for the streetcar to pass before he tried speaking. "No."

"Wes - "

"What's to guarantee that you won't drive off again?"

"Large burning thing in the sky?" Angel suggested, gesturing in the direction of the lightening dawn.

"Your car could protect you," Wes replied.

"Not by much," Angel said. "Look, if you're that freaked about it then ride with me."

"I'm not leaving my motorbike in a neighborhood where gun shots are fired and we've yet to be questioned by a single police officer," Wesley said. He then looked around, a frown shaping his lips. "Or see one, for that matter."

Angel fingered the healed spots on his chest. The bullets had gone right through him, which meant he needed a new shirt. "Look - no cops is a good thing because me bailing you out during the day isn't gonna happen. The sun rises and I'm a sitting duck. So unless you want your - whatever - gravestone to read 'Here Lies Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, His Lover Fit Into An Ashtray' I'm thinking we need a hotel."

"You picked this bloody town," Wesley said, swatting at a mosquito. "What on earth for?"

"It was on the way," Angel said.

"To what?"

"Anywhere that wasn't LA," Angel replied. He gestured towards his car. "Now can we please get a room?"

Wesley gave a sigh, then a tight nod. "All right. I'll follow you. And be aware that any attempts to leave me again will result in you joining me for a game of William Tell, am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," Angel said. He opened his car door and got ready to drive.

They found a hotel on St. Charles which was some Antebellum/Reconstruction/whatever the Hell kind of thing. Angel was too busy running inside to care much about the architecture. It was big, it was white, it had two parking spots available on the nearby side street, and hopefully it had a vacant room.

Wes came in a moment after him and started towards the front desk. Angel put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Maybe I've been shot," Angel said, keeping his voice low, "But you look like you've been attacked."

Wesley blinked - Angel could see exhaustion starting to catch up with the younger man - and looked around until he found a mirror. He walked over and examined himself. From behind he looked fine, but straight ahead revealed the dried streaks and smears of blood along his arm and his neck. Wesley put his coat back on, flipped the collar up to hide some of the damage, and came back to Angel's side.

"I'll stand behind you," he said.

"Kay," Angel replied. He went to the front desk and booked a room. Behind him and off to the side, Wes murmured "One room, one bed." loud enough for the woman at the desk to hear him. Angel was surprised Wes would be so bold, but figured maybe Wes was too tired to care. "You heard him," Angel said. "One room. One bed. And some breakfast and coffee?"

Angel saw Wes shoot him a grateful look as Angel's credit card - really the office card - was charged and a pair of keys were fetched.

The hotel was old - probably somebody's converted mansion. It was dark, which was surprising from an interior decorating standpoint but just fine for a vampire trying to avoid the daylight.

The room was comfortable. Better than the one they'd stayed at in London. Actually better than some of the rooms at the Hyperion when it came right down to it. Angel looked at his charge slip and figured maybe the place was expensive, but really he couldn't tell. Anything that cost more than single digits to stay in was expensive by his way of figuring it.

"Your breakfast will be up shortly," the bell hop told them. Angel tipped him, because he knew you were supposed to. Plus he figured it would keep the guy from talking about how he and Wes were pretty strange in the way of luggage - Angel didn't have any, and Wes's was a duffel bag that made familiar, weapons-like clanking sounds.

"Leave the food by the door," Wesley said. He kept standing at odd angles to them, to make sure his wounds didn't show.

"Whatever you say," the bell hop said, and closed the door behind him.

"So I'm thinking - " Angel started, but he suddenly found his arms filled with a hungry Englishman, and Wes's mouth silenced his with a kiss.

"Shut up," Wesley said, the words not unkind. He tangled a hand in Angel's hair and drew him closer. "Don't talk. Not right now."

Two weeks. It had been over two weeks since he'd touched Wesley. Angel's cock was already hard and aching for more - no surprise considering the dreams he'd had about being with Wes again.

But even still, this was too soon.

"Wes, wait," Angel said, trying to pull back.

"No," Wesley said. His lips continued to tease Angel's. "Why? Angel, what will change if we do this? I don't deny all that's wrong but - God, love, please."

Words like that were enough to melt Angel's willpower. He shoved his own objections aside and began kissing Wesley properly.

Slow was not a word he wanted to use. Want and need suggested themselves. Wes was hot, sweaty, sporting an attractive dusting of stubble and was rock-hard himself under his black leather. Angel worked at Wes's clothes, quickly getting rid of the shirt and coat and then undoing the pants.

"God," Wes whispered when Angel's hand touched his cock. "Please."

Too much. They were both dying for each other. Angel started to stroke Wes - wanting to see him gasp and moan and get closer. Wes started to touch him back but lost his rhythm as Angel's hand made it harder for him to concentrate. The air became thick and sweet with need. Angel drank in the scent of it.

The wounds on Wesley's neck danced in front of his eyes.

Wes's throat was bare. "Angel..."

This was bad.

He didn't stop.

Game face came on more easily than blinking. Fangs caressed his lips, then sank into Wesley's neck. Blood filled his mouth as Wesley's hand figured itself out once more and resumed stroking him. Somehow they fell back against a wall - Wes trapped between him and it - and stayed like that, tangled together, bodies rubbing and thrusting until Wes cried out, and the wonderful chemical kick of orgasm joined Wes's tickling fingers to send Angel over the edge soon after.

It was a moment before they could speak. Angel started to, but Wes stopped him with a hand - a come-slick hand - to his mouth.

"Shh," Wesley said. "We can speak of it later."

Angel lapped Wesley's skin clean.

Wesley called first dibs on the shower. Angel thought about joining him but instead muttered something about waiting for the food. Wes looked at him, nodded, and let it pass.

Angel didn't doubt Wes knew what was on his mind. Or at least that something was on his mind.

The sound of water and the humidity of steam seeped out from the bathroom door as Angel sat on an antique chair and brooded.

Breakfast came. Angel brought it into the room, tipped the room service man, helped himself to a cup of coffee and brooded some more.

He ran a hand up and down his chest, pushing fingers into the spots where Wesley had shot him, finding them mostly by memory and the holes in his shirt.

It could've been a crossbow.

It probably should've been.

Angel looked over at Wes's duffle bag. There had to be stakes inside of it or Angel was going to be seriously surprised. Lover's quarrels aside, Wes knew better than to go out at night unarmed.

And even if there weren't, chairs broke easily enough.

If he dusted himself - no, wait, Wes would notice the dust.

The hall. Or another room. Wes would never know. He'd think Angel had left again.

Which wouldn't be a lie, exactly.

And yet...

Shit.

Angel looked to the bathroom door.

He couldn't. He wanted to - fuck, not like the urge to die had ever entirely left him - but... not to Wes. He couldn't do that to Wes. He knew Wes. Wes would blame himself, and think he'd fucked up, and that he hadn't been good enough to be what Angel needed.

Angel couldn't stand for Wes to believe those lies. Wes was perfect. It was everything else which was fucked up.

Angel sat back and played with his coffee cup.

Wes emerged from the shower not long after, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Angel found himself staring at the line between abdomen and hip - a place where Wes gasped and clutched at him when Angel ran his tongue over it.

"Thank God," Wesley said, taking up his coffee cup and drinking from it like doing so would fix all of their problems.

"More where that came from," Angel said, gesturing to a carafe.

Wesley made a face, putting the half-finished cup down. "What's wrong with it?"

Angel blinked, stared into his cup, and looked back up again. "Wrong with it?"

Wesley found the room service menu and read through it. "Smashing. They've spiked it with chicory. A local tradition."

Angel's mouth twitched in a grin. Wes said "tradition" in the same tone of voice that he used when saying "I heard from the Council again." "Doesn't bother me," Angel said.

"You have no taste," Wesley pointed out. He began to lift silver covers and exposed steaming plates of eggs, toast, and a few things Angel couldn't identify. "Ah good. More local food."

"You don't like?" Angel asked.

Wesley shrugged, shaking out a folded napkin and resting it in his lap. "I can manage. I've eaten stranger things than this, I assure you. I'm only tired."

"Eat, then sleep," Angel said, easily falling back into the routine of making sure Wes had enough meals during the day. Then, back on Wes's earlier comment, he added "I've got plenty of taste."

Wes looked up at him in expectant confusion.

"I picked you," Angel explained.

A smile touched Wesley's lips, and he began to eat.

They slept in the single bed Wes had asked for. Angel stripped out of his clothes to join Wes in his nakedness. Also because he missed the feel of Wes against his skin about as much as Wes had apparently done the same in reverse.

The bed was comfortable, and Wes spooned up against him aggressively. Angel wrapped his arms tightly around him, buried his nose in Wes's hair, and pretended that it was a year ago when they were just starting out and stupid enough to think that nothing could stop them.

"Don't brood," Wes whispered, stroking a hand down Angel's side to ease the tension. "Relax. Sleep with me. We'll figure it out."

"How?" Angel couldn't keep himself from asking.

"We'll find a way," Wesley slurred, and drifted off.

Angel slept. He dreamt about a lot of things he didn't want to think about.

He also dreamt about a lot of things that made him happier than they should.

He didn't know which was worse.

"Angel!"

Angel bolted awake. His hand reached out for a weapon and connected with an alarm clock instead.

Not their room. Right. Hotel. Wes.

"Wes?" Angel asked. He looked over at his lover. Wes had found a robe and had wrapped it around himself. Angel felt a moment of disorientation when he realized it was night. He didn't feel as though he'd slept for that long, but apparently he had.

Wes was standing by one of their windows, the curtain pulled aside. He was looking out with a mixture of worry and fear. "Angel, come here."

Angel stood up at once and joined him. The windowsill was high enough to hide his nakedness. Plus their lights were off. "What?"

Wes pointed a shaky but accusing finger. "What. Is that?"

Angel followed Wes's line of sight to some garbage cans by the street and an animal that was sniffing around them. He squinted. "A rat?"

"Just so I understand you," Wesley said, "that creature - a creature which, to all appearances, is the side of the average Maine Coon - is a rat?"

Angel looked at him. "How big is a Maine Coon?"

Wesley indicated size and shape with his fingers.

"Oh," Angel said. "Then yeah."

Wesley flicked the curtains shut. "I've decided that I hate this town."

"Sure?" Angel asked. For lack of anything else to do he put his pants on. "Because I was thinking of moving."

"Like Hell you were," Wesley said. "You'd hate it. There's no sewers and the humidity plays havoc with your hair."

Wishing he could figure out if he was being baited or not, Angel raised a tentative hand to his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Wesley smirked and Angel rolled his eyes. "Just for that I am moving here."

"And doing what?" Wesley asked. He put his bag on the bed, opened it, and retrieved a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

"I dunno," Angel said. "Open a bar. Make money off of the tourists. I could pretend to be that vampire. What's his name?"

Wesley looked him over then suggested "Louis?"

"No," Angel said, waving that off. He thought about it and the right name came to him. "Brad Pitt."

Wes laughed. "I find you handsomer."

"Good," Angel said. "Because I get jealous."

Wes blinked in surprise, buttoning up his fly. "You do?"

Angel thought back to the people he'd beaten up in LA just for looking at Wes funny. "Yeah. I do."

Wes nodded, taking that in. He pulled on his shirt. "Come on. You can take me to dinner. Protect me from the rats."

Angel put his own shirt on. "What about the vampires?"

Wes arched an eyebrow at him. "Those, I think, I'm capable of handling myself."

They walked uptown and found a place on Napoleon that Wes swore he could cope with. Angel sat back and let Wes do the eating while he poked at a steak and enjoyed a beer. Wes showed a surprising hunger, wolfing down some kind of shrimp appetizer, a bowl of gumbo, crawfish pasta and a dessert that had to be set on fire. Angel had to admit the latter was kind of fun, and reminded him of the old days.

Although the things he had set on fire before eating tended to be noisier.

They passed most of the meal in silence. Angel was fine with that. Wes was eating, he was thinking. It worked.

Wes swiped a piece of banana through a caramel-looking sauce, ate it, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then spoke. "I'm not leaving you."

Angel stared at him. There were times when he wondered if Wes wasn't just smart, but telepathic. "I'm not going back to LA."

"I know," Wesley said.

"I can't."

"I know."

"I mean Cordy and all - "

"I know."

"And the visions."

"I know."

"Plus I'm - " Angel ran a finger down his beer bottle, wetting it with the condensation. "I'm not ready."

Wes covered Angel's hand with his own. "I know."

Angel thought about that.

"Shall I go on?" Wesley asked.

Angel shrugged, giving his permission.

"We're in a dangerous area here. I don't deny that," Wesley said. "By allowing you to drink from me I have - "

"Woken the beast," Angel finished.

Wesley shook his head. "No."

Angel looked at him. "Wes, you know what human blood does to me."

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "Makes you stronger."

Angel shook his head. "Makes Angelus stronger."

Wes's eyes were steady. "Yes," he repeated, speaking each word distinctly. "Makes you stronger."

"Wesley - "

"I have one apple," Wesley said. "If I add an orange to the mix it does not make the apple disappear."

Angel gestured at Wesley's plate. "That thing had rum in it, right?"

"I'm not drunk, Angel, I'm making a point," Wesley said. He tightened his hand on Angel's. "I'm discussing a fundamental truth. The curse adds a soul. It does not take away a demon."

Had it been a few years back, and had it been Buffy on the other side of the table, Angel would have denied it. He would have believed the denial too.

But he couldn't do that anymore.

"No," Angel said. "It doesn't take away the demon."

"You're at a crossroads, my love," Wesley said. His thumb traced the edge of Angel's hand. "I don't deny that it's dangerous, but that's precisely the reason why I should stay. You're right, Los Angeles is, I think, a bit much for you now. And there's no way of telling if Cordelia won't hurt again once you return."

"She still having the headaches?" Angel asked.

Wes shook his head. "No. I rang the hotel earlier."

Angel nodded, glad that at least Cordy's side of this had been taken care of.

Wes leaned forward, lowering his voice for privacy. "I know it's terrifying. The chances of success are, I daresay, equal to the chances for failure. But I'm confident in you. You're strong. You can do anything."

"Feel like I've heard this speech before," Angel said.

Wes smiled at him. "Heard it or said it."

Angel gave him a small smile back. "One of those."

"And you see how I turned out?" Wesley said, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

"Snuggling up with a vampire," Angel replied. "Encouraging his dark side. That really where you wanted to be?"

Wes's eyes were a perfect blue. "I wanted to be with you."

"Curse makes no sense," Angel muttered, and he knew Wes would understand what he meant.

Sure enough, Wes threaded their fingers together. "I love you too."

Angel marveled at the sight of that, then took in their situation. "Now what?"

"I've no idea," Wesley admitted. "My only goal was to find you. What were your plans?"

"To keep running away," Angel said. "Not so much a plan as a direction."

"Well we can't go back to LA," Wes said. "We could stay here, except you're crippled in the daytime."

"And you hate it," Angel pointed out.

Wes nodded. "And I loathe it."

Angel thought about it. "We could keep going? Get a hitch for your bike? Use my car? Travel at night? I could show you the states."

Wes looked at him curiously. "Do you know much about America?"

"No," Angel said, "but I can point at stuff."

Wes chuckled.

Angel demonstrated, pointing out of the open window. "See that? It's a building. And that's a car. There's another car right next to it."

"You're a very strange vampire," Wesley said.

"Strange as they come," Angel agreed. A thought occurred to him. "Hey - we could go to Graceland."

Wes's eyebrows came together. "Do you want to?"

"Why not?" Angel said. "Only live once."

"And some of us not at all," Wesley said.

Angel found himself picturing this - this life with just him and Wesley. It was still running away. There were people who needed help. Visions that Cordy would get and he'd - they'd be doing nothing about them.

But, damn it, he couldn't picture doing anything else.

"You really want this?" he asked Wes.

Wes nodded. "I want you. No matter what."

"What if - " Angel almost didn't want to say it, as though speaking it would make it real. "What if I change you? What if the dark - the Angelus-me - comes out, and I corrupt you?"

Wes signaled for the check, then leaned across the table to press a long, obvious kiss to Angel's mouth. "My love," Wes said, moving back just enough to speak, "who says you're the one doing the corrupting?"

Angel blinked, and thought about it.

Fin.