Angel / Pet / Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The sun was starting to rise when Angel felt Wesley stir beside him.

"Morning," he told Wes, keeping his voice soft.

Wes moved, burrowing closer. He was curled up tight against him and had stayed that way most of the night. Angel watched as his breathing changed, and his heartbeat adjusted, and he slowly climbed towards wakefulness.

"Take your time," Angel said.

Wes made a noise in response, not even enough to be properly called a syllable, let alone a word. He rubbed his cheek against Angel's chest, then blinked as sleep abandoned him. He looked up, his lips parted as though he might talk, but then hesitated as though he wasn't sure.

Angel kissed him. He let it linger, chasing the last of the cobwebs from Wesley's mind. "Morning."

"Good morning, Angel," Wesley said. He watched Angel carefully. Angel knew he was looking for clues on how to react. He also knew Wes was about a half step away from getting on his knees again if Angel so much as hinted about asking for it.

Which was nice, but now was not the time.

"Sleep all right?" Angel asked. He brushed light fingers over Wes's face, feeling the scratch of stubble.

Wes leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. "Yes, Angel."

It was like a caress every time Wes said it. Not much for willpower, Angel bent down to press a kiss to Wesley's throat. "Good boy."

A shiver went through Wes. He started to speak, then stopped himself.

Angel traced Wesley's lips with his thumb. "You can talk. You're not being punished anymore."

"Thank you, Angel," Wes said. Then corrected himself. "I mean - what you said. Or for both. Or - actually I'm not sure I'm awake enough yet. Perhaps you should rescind the order?"

Angel chuckled. "If you can say rescind you're awake enough yet. But come on. We'll get you some coffee or tea."

Wes glanced over at the other side of him. Spike was there, still fast asleep - and hogging the covers to boot. "What about…?"

"He'll wake up," Angel said. He threaded his fingers through Wesley's and tugged on them. "Come on. I want alone time."

Wes got up and followed.

A blessedly low-wattage kitchen light flickered on as they entered the room. Angel steered Wes towards one of the chairs then set about heating up coffee.

Wes adjusted the belt on his robe. "This doesn't feel right."

"It looks great," Angel told him. The black silk one was one of his favorites. It clung to Wes in ways that invited Angel's hands to follow.

Wes smiled, ducking his head. "I meant what you're doing. Shouldn't it be my job to make the coffee?"

"Your job is whatever I tell you your job is," Angel reminded him. "And your job is never to make the coffee. You don't do domestic stuff. Not ever. Not if I can help it."

"But if I'm *yours* - "

"Then you obey me and don't question," Angel said. He realized that might come off rougher than it needed to after the previous night. He moved over to Wes and wrapped an arm around him. "I mean you don't worry about it. If I've told you this is what you do, then that's what you do. Period, full stop, no question, no stress, no - "

"Worries," Wes finished, the word a relaxed sigh. He closed his eyes, pressing back into Angel's touch. "Angel, last night - "

"Was amazing," Angel told him. He held Wes in both arms now, letting him feel the strength. "I could not be prouder of you. You were perfect. I couldn't ask for a better boy."

Wes's heart was speeding up again. "Angel, it was - I had no idea - Angel, there aren't *words* for what you did to me."

"Actually, there are," Angel said. He tried to make a light joke out of it. He knew this was not the time to zero a spotlight in on Wes's thoughts and lingering insecurities. Pride, protection, and reassurance that everything was all right were the order of the day. So to speak. "I could teach them to you sometime if you wanted. Of course then that could constitute workplace harassment."

Wes looked up at him. "I know words. Some which suggest themselves are 'please'. And 'again?'"

"We will," Angel promised him. He didn't look away. He wanted Wes to see the sincerity of the words. "Believe it. That won't be the last time you crawl like that, or beg like that, or act like that. And if you think that's the last time you're ever wearing a leash you are seriously mistaken."

Wes caught one of Angel's hands with his own. "Please? God, I'd do it again right now if you let me."

"You will," Angel said. "Not now, but I wouldn't count on waiting long either. I want you. Having you like that was… *I* don't have words. I'd say you took my breath away but coming from me I know it's not really a compliment."

Wes shook his head. "How can you laugh about something like that?"

Angel caught his eye again. "Wes, I'm not laughing."

A look of hope shaped Wes's face. "It won't be the last time?"

"No," Angel said. "Neither will the next, or the next, or the one after that, or the one after that too. But you should know there is going to be one change."

Angel saw Wes tense up, prepared to be given bad news. "What?"

Angel leaned in to whisper in Wes's ear. "At some point you're getting a proper leash, and a proper collar, and that point is going to be when I take you out in the limo to the finest stores in town, kick everybody out except for you, me, Spike, and a salesclerk, and you get to try on piece after piece until we find out which one makes me the hardest."

"I could be free today," Wes said. His hand was a fist in Angel's shirt. "Clear my schedule, be yours for hours. Days, if necessary."

"You're mine for always," Angel reminded him. "But it's good to know."

"Will you tell me?" Wes asked. "When the time comes?"

"For the shopping trip?" Angel went back to the coffee pot as the buzzer went off to indicate it was ready. "Don't know. Might just kidnap you."

"You could do whatever you liked," Wesley said. "I wouldn't mind it."

"I'd do whatever I liked even if you did," Angel told him. He took out two cups then, thinking about it, added a third to get it ready for Spike. "Now take a look at the menu. Tell me what you want for breakfast. The three of us are having a meeting and I don't want you so hungry you can't keep up."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said. He picked up the leather bound menu from the office's on-site restaurant and began to skim its pages. "Is there anything in particular you would like me to eat?"

Angel skipped the obvious vulgar comment. "Whatever makes you smile. I'm addicted to you smiling."

Again Wes gave him a hopeful look. "Could there be salmon?"

Angel handed him his mug of coffee, then sat down on the other side of the island. "Sure. Why not?"

"It's not listed here," Wes admitted.

"Order it anyway," Angel told him. "What you want, you get. House rules."

Wes seemed to think about it. "I'd rather like to be fucked by you again. Is it possible to request that as well?"

"You can consider that to always be on the menu," Angel said. "But don't let that stop you from begging for it."

"Please?"

"Eat first."

Wes turned back to the menu. "Yes, Angel."

Angel sipped his coffee. "Good lad."

"I live to serve you," Wesley said, the comment more casual than doting. He seemed to think about it. "Angel, I'd like to speak with you."

"No," Angel told him.

"About something serious," Wes continued. "Something important. Something I feel I *should* tell you about."

"No," Angel repeated.

Wes faltered. "But, Angel - "

"I said no," Angel reminded him.

He saw Wes's desire to speak war with his desire to obey. Conversation won out. "You don't even know what I'm referring to."

"Yes, I do," Angel said.

"No," Wes insisted, "you *don't*. Angel, with all due respect - "

Angel reached across the countertop to touch Wes's hand. "Wesley, I'm not saying this as your owner. I'm saying this as your friend. Though my job as your owner is pretty much the same task. I take care of you. I *want* to take care of you. And that means making sure that you never *ever* do anything during our time together that you're going to regret."

"Angel - "

"Wes, you need to *trust* me," Angel said. "And again that's not an order. That's me telling you a basic fact of how this works. If you can't trust me with your life, with your body, with your soul then none of this can happen. Because you won't *like* it. I won't be your owner, I'll be your captor. Our time together won't be about both of us doing what we want to do. It'll be about you resenting me, and hating me for taking advantage of you."

"No," Wesley said. He squeezed Angel's hand. "Angel, *no*. I'm trying to tell you that. I'm trying to tell you - "

"I know what you're trying to tell me," Angel said. "Or I can at least guess. I know what you went through last night. I know the kind of headspace that puts you in. I know what kind of aftereffects that gives you in the morning. You're feeling things right now, Wes, and I don't doubt that they're true. But you don't want to say them to me. Because later today or even tomorrow your head's going to clear, you're going to feel more like yourself, and you're going to wish you could turn back the clock and make the words you're about to speak never happen. So I'm doing it for you. I take care of you, and I'm taking care of you right now. I appreciate what you want to say, but I don't think you should say it. Not because I'm ordering you to be quiet, but because as your friend I know this would be a bad idea."

"I can't take that advice from my friend, Angel," Wesley said. "Because you are more than my friend. You *are* my - God, Angel, *please*. Please let me - "

"No," Angel said. "Wes, don't make me make this an order. It's going to leave a bad aftertaste if it has to be an order. *Trust* me, okay? Trust that I know what's best right now. I lean on you for the stuff you know about - I'll be doing it during this meeting, in fact - but you need to lean on me for the stuff *I* know about. I know what I'm doing, I know what needs to be done. I'm trying to take care of you. Let me do my job."

"If this isn't an order," Wesley asked, "can I then state for the record that I think you're making the wrong choice? That if *my* job is to take care of *you* - "

"It isn't," Angel reminded him. "Your job is to do what I tell you. Your job is to be my boy and to make me happy. Right now you can make me happy by removing this nagging worry that I have that you're going to say something that you're going to end up hating me for. Is that so unreasonable to ask? Wes, be logical for a second. If what you feel is real then can't it wait? Is it really going to go away tomorrow or the day after? Because if it's that fragile then maybe it's not something you want to bother telling me about."

He saw Wes trying to puzzle that out. "That's a rather diabolical trap to put me in. Now I must either agree with you or admit the emotions are fleeting."

"What can I say?" Angel asked. He gave Wes a half-smile, hoping they were in a place where they could still smile at each other. "I'm good with the torture."

Wes thought about it. "Will you at least take the words as true for now, even if you won't let me say them? You keep claiming to want to make me happy. Well it would make me happy if you accepted the sentiment, even for a little bit."

"See?" Angel said. "Again with the loopholes."

"Angel, I'm speaking sincerely," Wes told him.

"I know," Angel said. He squeezed Wes's hand again. "And yeah. If it makes you happy, then I'll take it as true for now. Later you can let me know about. We got a deal?"

"We've got a deal," Wes said.

"Good," Angel said. He stood up. "Now let's throw a bucket of water on Spike and get breakfast up here. I need the two of you at your best."

"Yes, Angel," Wes said, the perfect combination of obedient and professional. "But one more thing?"

Angel stopped, looking at him. "Yeah, Wes?"

Wes met his eyes dead-on. "I'm not going to regret feeling what I feel for you. Even if you won't allow me to say it."

It was an odd moment. One in which Angel actually felt that he was looking at his friend, Wes, and not his property. It made him a little more honest than he might normally have been. "I wish I had your confidence," Angel admitted.

"You will someday," Wesley promised.

They had breakfast upstairs by the pool. A spread was laid out of blood, fruit, tea, extra coffee, toast, spreads, and, yes, Wes's salmon, and then the staff member who'd brought it had wisely gone away.

Spike drank his blood down in big, messy gulps. Angel found himself torn between wanting to nag him for the horrible table manners and wanting to hold him down and lick every stray drop that fell towards his chin. He compromised by drinking out of his own mug and giving Spike ambiguous looks.

Wes ate politely, but like a starving man. Small surprise considering the exercise from the night before. Not many crumbs fell out of place, but then again Wes didn't leave many crumbs behind to begin with. Angel let them eat, and talk, and looked out over the pool to the view of the city that stretched out before him, once again wondering if he should send an extra bonus to whoever came up with the idea of necrotempered glass.

Finally, he spoke.

"I need you two to tell me if I'm being an idiot," Angel said. He gave Spike the obligatory glare. "About this idea I have."

"You're no fun in your old age," Spike complained, but otherwise didn't pursue any attempts to needle him.

Wes wiped his fingers on his napkin. "What's your idea?"

"It's about this place," Angel said. "Wolfram & Hart. What we're doing with it. Wes - what do I do on the average day?"

"Not get enough sleep," Wes answered. "Deal with the employees. Make decisions on which avenues to take in order to try turning this into a place of good works. Take in meetings. Fight with our clients. Fight with our *staff* for that matter. Try not to get yourself killed - "

"Okay, that," Angel said, pointing at him. "Those right there. What do I do? I fight a lot and try not to get killed. Then I get a couple hours of sleep, wake up, lather, rinse, repeat - Spike this is not the time to talk about the hair. We've been at this for months now and there's no change. In fact we're barely scraping by."

"Angel," Wes said, "I think we're doing a *bit* better than merely scraping by."

"Got any examples?" Angel asked.

Wes thought about it. "Spike's corporeal?"

"Yay for us," Angel said, then gave Spike an apologetic look. "No offense."

"Wouldn't have counted it either," Spike assured him.

"Okay then," Angel said, "What else?"

"Well if you're talking about a *grand* scale there's not much," Wes admitted. "But it's more than that. It's the day to day. We may not win every battle but we hold our ground."

"Is that what we do?" Angel asked. "Hold our ground? Keeping the status quo is our big contribution to the fight against evil?"

"Holding our ground is a remarkable feat for only a few months," Wesley said. "It's a damn sight better than *losing* ground. Now as to whether it is an *ideal* situation no, obviously not. But we have to begin somewhere."

"Then we've begun," Angel said. He gestured out towards the city. "Great. What's next? Did we have a step two or was this pretty much it?"

"Not one that we've ever spoken about," Wes said. "No."

"I want to speak about it," Angel said. "In fact I'm getting really tired of keeping my mouth shut."

"This have to do with your ten minutes yesterday?" Spike asked.

"Yesterday, the day before, every *other* day," Angel said. He stood up, needing to pace to get some of his extra energy out. "Guys, I'm sick of this. I'm sick of every damn day in this place being me having to spend half my time killing everybody I look at and the other half begging people to pay attention to me. It's pointless. It's not getting anything done."

"What do you propose?" Wesley asked.

"Step two," Angel said. He came back to the table. "We took over this place, right? Okay, let's *do* something with it. Wolfram & Hart used to be a force to be reckoned with in this town. Christ, Wes - if anybody knows that it's *us*. But what are we doing now that we're in charge? There's got to be more to it than this."

"You want to be a force," Spike said.

"I want to be *the* force," Angel said. "Or, yeah, *a* force. For God's sake - I'm doing the good thing here, right? Battling darkness, helping the helpless, making the world safe for all mankind - or all those who aren't battling on the sides of darkness, I guess. So why the Hell am *I* the one going around bowing and scraping to the evil in this town? They should be bowing and scraping to *me*."

"I don't dispute that," Wesley said. "But to inject a note of realism into this - Angel, they don't *want* to."

"So let's make them," Angel said. He put his hands on the back of his chair, feeling the sun-warmed metal against his palms. "Let's turn everything around. Make it so that *I* don't have to please *them*, *they* have to please *me*."

"Skip ahead a bit," Spike said. "You got them by the shorties, they're asking how high before you even ask 'em to play leapfrog. Then what?"

"Then we make them do good," Angel said. He held up a hand to forestall protest. "Which I know is a longshot. I'm not saying they all start fighting on our side. But we could get them to stop doing bad, right? Make it clear that I'm the law in this town? What I say goes and if anybody wants to argue with that they're going to be in a world of hurt?"

"Angel," Wes said. "If you are setting yourself up as *the* law in this town, doesn't this make you rather like -"

Angel looked over at Wes, studying him carefully. "Like what?"

For a moment, Wes studied him right back. Finally, he said, "Never mind. I thought I had a specific comparison."

"But you still have a concern," Angel said.

"My concern is that one single person being the be-all and end-all of what is good rarely leads to situations of fairness," Wesley said. "To be quite frank about it: who the Hell put you in charge?"

"Valid question," Angel said. Wes's phantom comparison worried at the back of his mind. He was tempted to pursue it but then abandoned it. It wasn't possible for Wes to be thinking about Jasmine right now. Not anymore. "And since I know the answer you're looking for here is more than 'the Senior Partners' I gotta say that's not exactly what I'm thinking of. I'm not saying make me judge, jury, and executioner. What I'm saying is that I'm not doing my job. My job is to be the Champion, right? Well I should be doing that now same as before. Except now I've got more firepower. Or at least I *should* have more firepower, but I've been too damn busy with this petty stuff to do anything about it."

"Ever consider that's why the SP hired you?" Spike asked.

"Every day," Angel acknowledged.

"Did you consider that thwarting their goals could rip this office right out from under us?" Wesley asked.

"Gotta say if that's the end outcome the worry's not keeping me up nights," Angel said. "What's more important, Wes? Keeping this place or doing some good?"

"I only mean to say this could be dangerous," Wesley said.

"It's already dangerous," Angel reminded him.

"It could be even moreso than before," Wesley said. "For all the death threats against you and the need for me to have Spike as my bodyguard we *do* still exist in a limbo of the Senior Partners' protection. For whatever reason they are happy with you the way you are. If you were to defy them you may lose that bubble of safety - as might the rest of us, and that includes Lorne, Fred, and Gunn. Are you prepared to willingly take that chance?"

Angel thought about it. He was tempted to flat-out say yes, but decided against it. "We can ask them. If this is what we do, we can give them a way out if they don't want in."

"If this is what we do," Spike pointed out, "we might want to double check that we *want* them in."

"If they're here, they're in," Angel said.

"If you're sure they're on your side," Spike said. He waved them both down to quiet. "Look, not saying let's stab them all in the back. Just saying ever since you lot agreed to take on this place nobody's been too keen on anybody being best friends. Wouldn't hurt to double check the foundation before putting the house on top of it, is all."

"He's not wrong," Wes admitted, even though he didn't look happy about it.

"Okay, so that's part of the plan," Angel said. "Figuring out who we trust, who we don't trust. What else?"

"It's not a *bad* idea," Spike said. "Not in theory, leastways. You're right - much as it pains me to admit it. You've been vulnerable since you took the place on and if you ask me every demon in town's been looking to take advantage of it. Half are probably figuring out how to take your place. Grab your job and all the goodie bags that go with it. So yeah, couldn't hurt for them to be told that somebody *is* in charge and he's not going to take shit about it."

"I'm sensing a 'but'," Angel said.

"*But*," Spike acknowledged, "Wesley's right too. Nobody follows you because nobody *wants* to. You're on the good side. You want to help. There isn't a demon in town's gonna give a crap about making *those* needs happy."

"There's got to be a way," Angel said. He appealed to the both of them. "Come on. I took care of an entire *continent*. Don't tell me I can't even handle a city."

"Sure," Spike said. "Dump the soul. Unlike you, Angelus has a reputation we can use. Could get enough flunkies to follow you to make the rest fall into place."

"I'm not losing the soul again," Angel said. "Not even temporarily."

"Good thing 'cause when you do I can't stand you," Spike said. "But you could fake it, right? Get the word out, see who comes bobbing along?"

"It wouldn't work," Wesley said. "More than enough species of demon could sense if Angel had his soul. And even if they couldn't his actions would take care of that. There isn't anyone who would believe that Angelus was inspired to good works unless he'd been cursed again. We couldn't get enough done while he was pretending and we'd lose everything we'd gained once he stopped."

"So give me an option here," Angel said. "There's got to be a way, right? Because if there's not so help me I think I'm going to pack it in right now."

"Is this what you really want?" Wesley asked. "Do you *truly* wish to take charge of this place and use it for good?"

"If I can actually use it," Angel said, "then yes. We have got an amazing resource at our hands here. If we can put it to our advantage I don't see how we can *not* try to do it."

"Fine," Wesley said. "If you want to do this, then that's your bargaining chip."

Angel sat down. "I'm listening."

"You've both said it," Wesley pointed out. "Wolfram & Hart is a powerful organization. Our enemies wouldn't be trying to take it over otherwise. However, they would also not be trying to take it over unless they truly believed it was possible. Therefore you must do two things. Assert your position as leader of this firm, then make it absolutely clear that as leader *you* control the power that they seek."

"Haven't I tried that?" Angel asked.

Wes shook his head. "Not as much as you could. You've gotten into shouting matches with individual clients, but you've yet to make this your mission statement. Neither have you used those battles to their full advantage of making them examples for the others. Right now all you have shown is that you are distracted, and that it would be more than easy for someone to take advantage of that."

"Undistract me then," Angel said.

Wes began to scribble something down on a notebook he'd brought with him. "Spike is right. As a rule, demons are not inclined to want to help you out nor are they inclined to want to be good. However, they are *also* not inclined to be possessed of good leadership. If you were to take charge and to show that you aren't going to be swayed by them, many would fall in line simply because they'd listen to anyone who told them to."

"Great," Spike said. "That gets us the stupid ones. How do we take care of the rest?"

"We make them want us," Wesley said.

"Pet," Spike said, "unless you're planning on opening up a kissing booth as part of it - "

"We have their money," Wesley said, looking up from his notes. "We have their records, their files, their personal information, and we have the resources with which to take shameless advantage of that. We need to hit them where it matters and show that we're not afraid to do so."

"But he's already *done* that," Spike pointed out.

"Not completely," Wes reminded him. "Not to the full extent of our capabilities. And not with a message which says that winning our favor is a rare and valuable thing."

"So how do I send that message?" Angel asked.

Wes tore the paper off his pad and handed it to Angel. "Those names are our most valuable clients. They bring the most money and prestige to the firm. I want you to pick half of the names from that list."

Angel studied the paper. "And then what? We suck up harder?"

Wes grinned. "No. We throw them out. Angel, the fastest way to make something desirable is to put up a sign saying the offer is limited. We're going to issue a press release. It will say words to the effect of Wolfram & Hart is now seeing very exclusive, very *important* clientele. Only the richest and the best need apply."

Angel sat back, watching Wes work. "I see where you're going with this."

"I also want another press release," Wesley said. "Where we officially deny that we shall ever work with at least three of the names from our list of companies and demons that we've been trying to woo. We'll likewise walk away from all negotiations and refuse to return their calls."

"Keep going," Angel said.

"Wolfram & Hart used to throw parties," Wesley said.

"Yeah," Angel said, "Lorne's been up my ass about doing one."

"We *are* going to do one," Wesley said. "Except we won't release a guest list."

Spike laughed. "Studio 54 all over again, right, pet?"

Wes nodded. "Precisely. We'll never let on that there was no one inside. After that by the next party they'll be banging down the doors."

"Not so thrilled about that 'next party' but okay," Angel said.

Wes smiled at him. "Then you're going to love this part. We're going to make you more mysterious. For the next week we're going to cancel all of your appointments. If the meetings *have* to be done then we'll find an acceptable underling to do it and then pick someone one level under *them* to actually go. Once we finally *do* allow you to take meetings again they will be brief and tightly monitored. I want actual armed guards to escort anyone out who takes up too much of your time."

"You're right, I *do* like it," Angel said.

"There's a little naked Emperor to all this," Spike pointed out.

"It's a gamble," Wes acknowledged, "but I believe it's one worth taking."

A thought occurred to Angel. He opened his mouth to ask Wesley if this was the exact same method he used to bulk up his client list after Angel forced him to work on his own, but he stopped himself at the last minute, remembering that Wes wouldn't know anything about that. "I think we should do it."

"Are you certain?" Wesley asked. "Angel, if we manage to succeed at all of this then you're going to be working harder than ever before and your life will be in even more danger. If you have doubts now is the time to act on them."

Angel shook his head. "No. Actually for the first time I *don't* have doubts. This place has been tearing me down for too long. Way I see it, the worst that can happen is that I get a few tears back before the final battle."

"And the best?" Wes asked.

Angel smiled, looking out over the city again. "The best is that we've got a whole new ball game. Okay, let's do it."