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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.

The Smallest Detail
by The Brat Queen

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

Rated: R

Summary: Angel adjusts to the pros and cons of living with Wesley. (Part of the Epiphany series, comes after "Starting Over")

Dedicated to: DaMoyre and James Walkswithwind, for encouraging me to submit to my bunnies.

"It's quitting time," Angel announced happily. He leaned against the lobby countertop and smiled at the other three. "Time for everybody to go home. Except - hey - doesn't Wesley live here?"

Cordelia raised tired eyes to Wes. "Is he going to make that joke every night?"

"I don't know," Wesley said. He was hovering over Cordy's shoulder, frowning at something on her monitor. "I tuned him out after the fifth day."

"You guys are cold," Gunn said. He flashed Angel a grin. "Me? I think it's nice."

Angel drew himself up proudly. "Thanks. You know - just trying to make things a little - "

"- I mean what isn't nice about a really old dead guy trying to be all romantic?" Gunn continued. He patted his chest. "Gets me right here."

Angel gave him a look. "I'm not that old."

"No," Wesley agreed. "Merely 8 times my age. Hardly a noticeable difference."

"You know, speaking of jokes that get old -"

Wes smirked and made a shooing motion at the other two. "Hmm - better go. He's getting cranky. You know how he is when he skips his bedtime."

"When's that?" Cordy asked. "Noon?"

"Just so funny," Angel said, not really angry but knowing it was his turn to play the fall guy. "What's next? Comments about my hair?"

"Too easy," Cordy dismissed it.

"Yeah - that's like pointing out gravity," Gunn said. He held up the keys to his truck, dangling them where Cordy could see. "Need a ride?"

"Always," she replied. She turned off her computer and gathered up her things. "See you guys tomorrow?"

"Monday," Wesley corrected her.

Cordy mimed hitting herself on the forehead. "Oh - right. Our day off. Do we get those?"

"We will if you keep your mouth shut," Gunn said. "Last thing we need is for somebody to remind the Powers that we got nothing to do. Me? I got a game, so let's all pretend that we're really busy."

"Not like I'm arguing," Cordy replied. She held the door open for Gunn then followed him outside. "Night, Wes! Night, Angel!"

"Good night," they both chorused back, and Angel was pleased to see that they did it in unison.

Wesley came over to the counter, an open file in his hands. "Angel, I've been wondering - "

"You look so good," Angel said, talking over him and not really caring. "Purple's a good color for you."

Wesley flushed a little - which actually complimented the button-down shirt in question - but kept going. "About this case."

"Forget it."

"But - "

"Nobody's dying, nobody's dead, we're officially off and I wanna fuck you," Angel said. He took the file out of Wes's hands and put it down on the countertop. "Ignore it."

Wesley blinked at him, his eyes dancing with barely hidden humor. "Yes. Well. That's - certainly direct."

"I do that," Angel said. He grabbed Wes by his tie and pulled him closer. "C'mere."

Wes folded into his arms, and Angel felt himself melting into that perfect, tender heat. And the sound - that soft, high-pitched sound Wes always made when Angel kissed him. That wonderful sound that meant yes.

"Want you," Angel said. He tugged at the tie again, this time loosening it, pulling it free from Wes's neck.

"The door," Wesley protested.

"Locked, promise," Angel said. Next came the shirt buttons, and of course Wes was wearing a T-shirt underneath. Angel yanked it up, exposing Wes's chest to his fingers and lips and tongue.

Wes's heart was beating faster. His hands moved over Angel's shoulders, touching him and encouraging him in spite of his words. "We - we should go upstairs."

Angel stood up, pressing the length of his body against Wesley's, placing his thigh firmly against Wes's hardening cock. He met his lover's eyes. "I want to take you here."

Wes licked his lips, his gaze unwavering. "I - "

"Say yes," Angel responded, simply. He let his expression speak the rest - trust me.

There wasn't even a moment of uncertainty. "Yes," Wesley said. He cupped the back of Angel's neck with his right hand, drawing him in for a kiss. "Yes."

"Love you," Angel said. He let himself be pulled in, let Wesley kiss him as his own hand skirted between them, finding Wes's erection and stroking it through his dark grey slacks. Fuck he could stay like this for hours. There was just something about touching Wesley like this - Wes, all done up in his professional best, squirming against him, kissing him pleadingly, quietly begging for Angel to rub him just a little harder.

"Mine," Angel murmured, as he'd gotten in the habit of doing. He'd lost track if he was reassuring Wesley or himself. He let his fingers vibrate along Wes's zipper, knowing that it frustrated Wes like nothing else. "Want you like this."

Wes bit down on Angel's lower lip as a moan gripped him. "Want - want what?"

"You," Angel answered. He finally undid Wes's pants, sliding his hand inside and cupping Wes's balls with his comparatively cooler flesh. "Like this."

"I daresay you have me," Wes replied, moving even closer into Angel's embrace. He nibbled along Angel's neck. "I can't imagine how you could have me anymore than this."

Angel chuckled. "You're cute when you're verbal."

"Most sentient beings are."

Angel frowned at him.

"Verbal," Wesley explained. "I make no claims to their attractiveness."

"You're adorable."

"So you've said."

"Seriously."

"Angel - please."

The last was gasped into his ear as Angel's hand tightened around Wesley. All thought of talk vanished. Angel briefly entertained the idea of falling to his knees and tasting Wesley's come, but the thought of getting lost in Wes's blue eyes was enough to persuade him otherwise. He continued to stroke Wes's cock, moving his hand up and down the shaft as though he had all the time in the world. He let his thumb caress the tip, wetting it with the fluid that leaked out, and testing to see how many ways he could touch Wes and make him shiver. Wesley clung to him, his hands tight on the muscles of Angel's back, and twitching as Angel brought him closer to the edge.

"Love fucking you right here in the office, Wes," Angel told him. "Dreamt about doing that for so long."

Wes's body was tense, his breath sweet with arousal. "I - I love you."

"Love you too," Angel replied, and with a final jerk he gave Wes what he needed, and let him cry out and convulse happily in his arms.

Wesley padded over to their tiny kitchen, wearing only his sweats. "Damn."

Angel sat up, not caring when the sheets pulled away from him and exposed everything that was underneath. "What's wrong?"

Wes flicked on the kitchen light. "We're out of food. Well - that is presuming you don't consider a tea bag and a packet of crisps to be a proper meal."

"Which I don't," Angel said, getting up to join him. "For me or you. Hungry?"

"Just a little," Wes replied, with enough of a smile on his face to let Angel know that he could consider himself responsible for it. As though reminded, Wes got a bottle of water from the fridge and drank it down.

"So let's go shopping," Angel said.

"At one in the morning?"

"You'd prefer I go out at one in the afternoon?" Angel shot back. "C'mon. There's a 24 hour place not far from here. I wanna go shopping with you."

Wes thought it over. "We are running low on supplies," he admitted.

"See?" Angel said, as though that proved his point. "I'll get dressed."

Wesley ran his eyes down Angel's body. "Probably wise."

They arrived at the grocery store about a half hour later. It was nearly empty. Angel grabbed a cart and walked beside Wesley.

"Just the essentials, I think," Wes said as he scanned the aisles.

Angel rolled his eyes. "Which for you is what? A loaf of bread? We're here for food, Wes. See? It's the stuff they sell here in all these little packages."

"Were you always this much of a mother hen?" Wesley asked. He grabbed a package of carrots and put them into the basket. Angel took one look at the quality of them and put them back on the shelves, immediately searching for a better bunch. "Or is this a redundant question?"

"Those were going bad!" Angel said defensively. He held up his own find. "See? They're supposed to be orange."

"They're supposed to be eaten," Wesley said. "It hardly matters what color they are."

"Tell me again why you've never had food poisoning?" Angel asked.

"Certainly," Wes said, taking the cart, "once you tell me how this falls under the heading of being a big, scary vampire. I wonder - before you got the soul did you run around the countryside making sure everyone flossed?"

"I was more of a wash behind your ears kinda guy," Angel said. He added something to the cart. Wes took it out again. "What?"

"Those were snail shells," Wesley said.

"Yeah? So?"

"Snail shells."

"Yeah," Angel said. He pointed to the can that came with them. "For escargot."

"I categorically refuse to eat anything which looks like a practical joke," Wesley said. "Put them back, or I'm never speaking to you again."

"Fine," Angel sighed. He replaced them with a few cans of tuna fish. "But you've got no sense of adventure."

"I've got plenty of sense," Wesley replied. "We like to call it 'common'."

"Hey," Angel said, throwing some pasta into the mix, "if it wasn't for me you'd be eating nothing but - well, nothing. I've seen how you stock your pantry."

"And if it wasn't for me you'd have me eat something that most people prefer to only encounter by accident on a rainy day," Wes retorted. "What's next? Worms?"

"Actually, I know a good recipe for snake - "

"No."

They grinned at each other.

"Irish oatmeal," Angel offered. "I can make you a really good Irish oatmeal. Actually I can make you a really good anything that takes all night to cook."

"A fine compromise," Wesley said. "Why don't you get that and I'll fetch a few things from the meat department?"

"Get a roast," Angel said. "I can make that for you tomorrow."

"All right," Wesley said, heading off in that direction. "Anything else?"

"Some potatoes," Angel said, then remembered Wes's skills at picking vegetables. "Nothing with eyes."

"A good rule of thumb for any meal," Wesley agreed as he wheeled the cart off.

Angel wandered down the aisles, heading for the breakfast foods. He snagged a red shopping basket to hold his purchases. Irish oatmeal wasn't too hard to find. Actually in a big grocery store like this - large enough that it had its own bakery and even a little bookstore - they had three different kinds. He recognized one of the brand names and picked that one.

Brown sugar and honey went into the basket as well, both for the oatmeal and because he knew Wes liked both of those in his tea. Why Wes was a tea purist but would put pink packets of who knew what into his coffee, Angel would never understand. But then again he had all the time in the world to do so.

Angel let the basket swing from his hand as he stopped by the soap aisle. Wes was low on shaving cream. Angel liked knowing Wes was low on shaving cream. He liked knowing Wes's favorite brand, and knowing that Wes preferred to shave first thing in the morning, because it helped him wake up.

He liked knowing what Wes's skin tasted like, once it was razor-smooth and washed clean.

The seasoning aisle was next. He had to shove aside crates of flour to pick up some spices for the roast, but fortunately that kind of thing wasn't too difficult for a vampire. That was one of the disadvantages of shopping at this hour - the store picked that time to restock. Then again it also meant everything was fresh, so as far as Angel could see it evened out in the end.

Another advantage was more or less having the place to yourself, aside from the clerk manning the check out and the employees refilling the empty shelves or operating floor waxers. Sometimes other customers walked in, but usually they were just like him - not really looking to make eye contact with anybody.

Othertimes they were just normal people. Like now, as Angel reached the back of the store and made his way down the refrigerated meat section. He was on one end. Wes was on the other. And beside Wes were two attractive young women.

Angel grinned, and slowed his pace.

They were dressed as though they'd come in from a night out - which made sense, given the hour. One was blond, the other brunette. Both of them were flirting like mad with Wesley.

Not that Angel could blame them. In a place like this, after what had to have been hours of being hit on by every loser at whatever bar or club they'd gone to, Wes must've seemed like a hidden treasure. A prize, available to the lucky person who'd had the foresight to run out of whatever it was young women needed to buy at 2 am.

Wes, of course, was just being himself. Smiling, chatting politely, probably having no idea how gorgeous he looked when he laughed like that, or ducked his head just so, or stammered something with his big, posh, British words. Angel saw the girls looking at Wes - Hell, the way he probably looked at Wes. Enraptured. Eager to hear more. Glad for anything that gave Wes a reason to keep talking to them.

And good for them. Good for them, for realizing how great he was. For showing Wes how great he was. For maybe giving Wes a nice little ego boost, to counteract whatever the fuck it was that made him wonder if Angel might not be happier with somebody else.

As far as Angel was concerned, there weren't enough people in the world telling Wes he was sexy.

"No, no," Wes was saying, leaning forward as he always did when he was trying to show interest. "I can't say I come here often, no. At least - not at this hour."

Angel chuckled. Trust Wes to give a serious response to such an old pick-up line.

"Us neither," the brunette said. "But you know how it is on a Saturday night."

The comment made no sense, but Wes pretended that it did. "Yes - well. I suppose I do. Being here, and all."

The blond, obviously used to talking with her breasts, did a little leaning forward of her own. The harsh store lights didn't do much for her cleavage. "So - going home after this?"

"Probably," Wes replied. He pointed towards his cart. "Otherwise the meat will spoil."

"Yeah," the brunette agreed, bobbing her head up and down as she nodded. "Then I guess your boyfriend's gonna get mad, huh?"

Angel smirked, quickening his step. After all, if they were going to give him an introduction -

"What? You mean - " Wesley made a vague gesture in the direction Angel had left in, and laughed. "Oh - no. He's not - we just work together, he and I. We're - we're just friends."

Angel stopped, totally unnoticed, and stared at him.

Fin.