Angel / Pet / Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was mid-morning when Wesley ran into Angel again. Or, more accurately, Angel fell into step beside him as Wesley left his 10:30 status meeting with key members of his department and headed back to his office.

"Niente senza gioia," Angel said. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets and if one looked carefully one could almost see a bounce in his step. "Do you know what that means, Wes?"

Wesley dropped off a memo with Lorne's assistant then resumed walking again. "That depends. Is this a professional conversation or is it a personal one?"

"We're in the office area," Angel said, gesturing out at the hustle and bustle around them. He then jerked his hand back to avoid accidentally hitting one of the secretaries. "Sorry, Betty. Or Jill. It is Jill, right?"

"Actually Susan," the girl said. She clutched a binder to her chest and stared at Angel, ready to bolt at the slightest opportunity that presented itself.

"Susan," Angel said, as though he had somehow known that at one point in time. "Of course. How could I forget? Anyway, sorry about that."

"No problem, Mr. Angel," Susan said. She hesitated, then jerked her thumb in the direction she'd been walking in. "Can I - "

"Go, go," Angel said, waving her on. "And hey - keep up the good work!"

"Thank you, I - " Susan faltered, then vanished down the hall.

"Do you know what she does around here?" Wesley asked, placing a bet with himself as to the answer.

"No, but I'm sure she does a good job of it," Angel replied. He fell into step with Wesley again. "That's what I'm talking about, Wes. Niente senza gioia. Do you -"

"I was asking you the nature of the question," Wesley reminded him.

"Oh yeah," Angel said. "Right. Professional. It's office hours, you are my second in command, I want you to answer accordingly."

"I see," Wesley said. "Then *as* one who, in this professional setting, can speak to you with all necessary frankness then I would say: no. No I do not. For amazingly in all my years of university, Council training, traveling the globe and demon hunting - five years of which, I might add, were done at your side - it's rather remarkable that amongst the hundreds of languages that I know, dozens of which I am fluent in, and still more with which I have a working relationship, at *no* time did I ever study Italian."

"That was sarcasm," Angel said.

"We Brits," Wesley continued, "don't particularly care for anything from that country. I believe it's due to resentment over their food. Though of course we don't like to admit it."

"I ask you a perfectly fine question and you give me sarcasm," Angel said.

"Or," Wesley added, thoughtfully, "perhaps it's that nasty habit all you Catholics have of mucking about with our right to worship and our ability to, as for example, continue breathing."

"I'm Irish," Angel reminded him.

"But Catholic," Wesley pointed out.

"You're *really* going to try the Protestant versus Catholic thing on me?" Angel asked. "Because *speaking* as the Irish guy *and* as your boss I can't begin to tell you how much that's a fight you're going to lose."

"You actually asked me if I understood Italian?" Wesley replied.

"It was rhetorical."

"Am I allowed to point out I know the meaning of that word too?"

"I think I like these conversations better when we have them on a personal level," Angel said.

Wesley smiled. "Yes, Angel."

"See? Already I'm happier," Angel glanced down at Wesley's shirt. "We're buttoning up to the top again?"

Wesley automatically undid his top two buttons. "Sorry, Angel."

"Consider that a standing request," Angel told him. He moved aside to let a clot of secretaries pass. "I'm into your neck."

"That could be a literal statement, if you wished it to be," Wesley pointed out, lowering his voice for at least a semblance of privacy.

Angel met his eyes. "Don't think I don't know that."

Wesley forced himself to try to breathe normally. Softer still, at a volume only a vampire could hear, he said, "Please, Angel."

Angel's smile made him wish that they were alone. Or that Angel would stop caring about that and simply push him up against the wall and have at it. Instead they kept walking. "So, on a *personal* level - "

"Yes?"

"Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said.

"And?" Angel prompted.

"Niente senza gioia," Wesley repeated, giving Angel his best recitation voice. "Nothing without joy."

"Exactly," Angel said, pointing at him proudly. "Nothing without joy. It's a great phrase, don't you think?"

"It's a lovely poetic sentiment," Wesley agreed.

"Darla and I back in 1805 - you know where I was in 1805?" Angel asked.

"Sicily," Wesley replied. "You arrived the year before and stayed for eight months. Then you moved on to Naples and from there on to Germany. Lüneburg, to be precise."

Angel stopped and looked at him. "You knew that off of the top of your head?"

"Yes," Wesley said.

"I've been alive for over two centuries," Angel said. "I've traveled one side of this globe to the other and back again and you're telling me you know where I was at any given time off the top of your head?"

"I don't claim flawless accuracy," Wesley admitted. "There are certain years where your location is up for debate. Your time after being cursed, for example, has blank spots and conflicting reports. But yes. I daresay that as much as anyone *can* know your history that I know it rather well."

Angel folded his arms. "1760."

"London," Wesley said.

"1928."

"Colorado."

"1838."

"Dublin."

Angel gave him a long look. "1726."

Wesley smirked. "The womb, one assumes."

"I'm a little torn on being impressed and finding this creepy," Angel admitted.

"Consider it flattering to your ego," Wesley told him. "You're quite the historical figure. Any Watcher who wished to be good at his or her job would be remiss not to be well-versed in you."

Angel resumed walking. "I guess that's kind of - 1767?"

"Marseilles."

"You have *got* to admit your memory is a little freaky," Angel said.

"My memory allows me to be fluent in multiple languages," Wesley said. He gave Angel a look of invitation. "Including Latin."

"Okay, that actually distracted me," Angel said.

"I hoped it would."

"Don't think that won't come up later."

"Sane quidem," Wesley replied.

"Not saying your accent couldn't use a little work."

"We were talking about Darla?" Wesley reminded him.

"So there we were," Angel said, as though he hadn't interrupted his own anecdote, "having killed this entire family - and when I say entire I mean it. Cousins, second cousins, distant relatives, the whole nine yards."

"I suppose one must give a kind of credit for the thoroughness," Wesley said.

"And Darla just went to *town*," Angel said. "I mean she was doing stuff even *I* was impressed by. Torture-wise, I mean."

"I am metaphorically dying to know how this relates back to your original point," Wesley said.

"Because she took such *glee* in it," Angel said. "Seriously. I'd never seen a blood bath *or* an attitude of happiness like it. And when I asked her about it she said - "

"Niente senza gioia," Wesley finished.

"Nothing without joy," Angel confirmed. They began to negotiate their way through the lobby area of their personal offices. "Don't you think that's a great philosophy? Don't you think it's words to live by?"

"Not that I've a reason to ask this," Wesley said, "but if I were to call a soul-reader up here would it be a *complete* waste of my time?"

"Three words," Angel continued. "But at their *core* they hold the meaning of life."

"Or should I skip the middle man and see if Willow can come for a visit?" Wesley asked.

"I haven't tripped the curse," Angel said. "I'm only saying I feel good. I feel *happy*. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Which, okay now that I'm saying it out loud does sound like the soul's gone but I swear it's still in place."

"I know," Wesley said. "But you have to admit you are a bit… not like yourself."

"I'm in a good mood."

"Which is rather unlike you."

Angel looked disappointed. "You don't like my words."

"They're perfectly lovely words," Wesley assured him.

"I was thinking it could be a mission statement," Angel said. He gestured at the Wolfram & Hart logo that decorated the wall. "It could be our new slogan, even."

"Not that I deny that a phrase coined in the aftermath of a massacre wouldn't be appropriate for our current setting," Wesley said, "but perhaps we should shy away from such things inasmuch as we're attempting to discourage that kind of behavior in others?"

"But we wouldn't be encouraging it," Angel said. "We'd be encouraging happiness. Pleasure. Joy - "

"Christ, he's not still on about that, is he?" Spike asked as he wandered by.

"If you mean the Italian, then yes," Wesley said.

"You created that monster, pet," Spike told him, "*you* deal with it. I'm getting a drink."

"Fifteen minutes, Spike," Wesley reminded him.

"Right, right," Spike said, continuing on towards the break room.

"I don't see what's wrong with encouraging people to be happy," Angel said.

"In general, nothing," Wesley said. "In reality, it depends upon what causes their happiness."

"*I'm* happy," Angel said. "Shouldn't that mean that everyone who works for me should be happy?"

"We'll see if we can't arrange that without anyone being maimed or killed," Wesley said.

"This is all I'm asking," Angel replied. He came up to Harmony's desk. "Harmony, Harmony, Harmony."

"Oh God," Harmony said. She looked at Wes. "Is he still - " she made a lifting gesture to indicate "up".

"I'm afraid so," Wesley replied. He gave her a report and then scanned through his incoming messages.

"You having a good day, Harm?" Angel asked.

"Well I accidentally spilled coffee on your - " Harmony started, then corrected herself. "I mean yeah. Great day. Since you asked me a half hour ago, anyway."

"Life is wonderful?" Angel asked. "You're here at work with a song in your heart and joy in your soul?"

"I don't have a soul," Harmony reminded him.

"I was speaking metaphorically."

"I thought it was English."

"And yet you take *my* language skills for granted," Wesley said, sotto voice.

"I'm not letting either one of you ruin my good day," Angel said.

"In which case," Harmony said, "and this is *totally* unrelated to anything you've asked me so far, but your red shirt? The one that was supposed to come back from the cleaners today? Is going to be late. Like, as if I had to send it out again. Just to make up an example."

"That's fine," Angel said.

Harmony blinked. "It is?"

"Yes," Angel said.

"You're not going to yell at me?" Harmony asked.

"Harmony," Angel said, leaning against the front of her desk. "Why would I yell at you?"

"Because that's what you do," Harmony said. "You come out here or you make me go in there and you get all red-faced and wrinkly and you *yell* and - "

"Wrinkly?" Angel asked.

Harmony nodded. "Crow's feet. Right around your eyes. I think it's because you squint when you're shouting."

"I do *not* - " Angel turned to Wesley. "Do I squint when I - "

"Angel," Wesley said, not looking up from the memo he was reading, "I can assure you that I am not *that* obsessed with you."

"You can name where I was in 1816 - "

"Egypt."

" - but *not* a single detail about what I look like when shouting?"

"Amazingly I never had to keep that information in mind as a requirement for my job or my continued ability to live," Wesley said. He jotted a reply down on one of the memos and handed it back to Harmony. "Pass that along to Joanna when you get the chance."

Angel looked back and forth between the both of them. "I do *not* have wrinkles."

"Only when you're shouting," Harmony said. She tried to look hopeful. "So as long as you don't yell at people for making very simple and totally accidental mistakes you'll be okay, right?"

"This is not going to ruin my day," Angel said. "I am not going to let anything ruin my day. Harmony, I want you to join me in my good mood. Take one of my charge accounts and buy something nice for yourself. Maybe some of that lovely perfume that you're wearing. Dior, right?"

Harmony smiled. "Right. And - really?"

"Really," Angel said. "Because *you* are part of my good day. Anytime I feel down I know I can come to you and hear the most beautiful words in the world."

"This isn't the Italian again, is it?" Wesley asked.

"Harmony and I have been sticking with English," Angel said. He made a motion of invitation. "Harm, say what I love to hear."

Harmony sat up, clearly having done this before. "Angel, you have *no* meetings with any of our clients or vendors this week."

Angel put his hand to his heart as though lost in the moment. "Isn't that the greatest thing you've ever heard?"

"If I'd realized that you'd been under *that* much stress I would have proposed changing our method of handling things long ago," Wesley said. He couldn't help but give Angel a scolding look. "You should have told me."

"It wasn't your job to know," Angel said.

"As your friend you could have told me," Wesley reminded him. "Regardless of what my other jobs might be."

"Like the one where you - " Harmony started to say, then caught the both of them looking at her. "Never mind."

Wesley refused to admit he was coloring at the statement. "Er - yes. Regardless… what was I saying?"

"Harm," Angel said. "We've talked about discretion."

"I haven't told anybody!" Harmony said. "Not that anyone around here listens to me anyway. But I swear I haven't said a word about - " she gave a rapid and entirely untranslatable series of gestures and eye movements " - you know."

"She doesn't know the full story," Angel promised Wesley. "All she knows is what the others know."

Wesley kept his eyes on his paperwork. "Yes. I - not that I was unaware that she knew *some* of - I mean considering the time she - " Wesley shut his eyes, then composed himself. He found an odd pleasure in reminding himself of his place in all this. "It wouldn't be up to me if she did."

"Yeah," Angel said. He caught Wesley's eye. "It's up to *me* if she does. And she doesn't."

"It's your decision," Wesley said.

"It's not one I'd keep you ignorant of," Angel told him. "Remember what we said about you being able to trust me?"

"I do trust you," Wesley said.

"Yeah," Angel said. "Because I don't randomly tell people things they don't need to know about.."

"You could if you wanted," Wesley said.

"Don't think it doesn't make me happy that you'd be willing to let me do that," Angel said. "But I won't. Not like that anyway."

"There's another way to - " Wesley glanced at Harmony, who was watching them with confusion " - disseminate that information?"

"Yeah," Angel said. His eyes looked deep into Wes's own. "By ordering public demonstrations."

Wesley's pulse jumped. His mind too flooded with emotion to offer up any substantive words, he fell back on what came easiest. "Yes, Angel."

"Don't think it won't happen," Angel told him.

"Per favore," Wesley murmured.

Angel smiled. "Niente senza gioia?"

"So far our time together has lived up to that phrase," Wesley said. "For me, at least."

"Me too," Angel told him. "Harm, clear off Wes's schedule, would you? He's going to be busy for the next few hours."

"Okay," Harmony said, looking relieved to finally have a part of the conversation that she understood. "Does that include your meeting?"

"He'll be in a meeting *with* me, yeah," Angel said.

Harmony's hand hesitated as it reached for the phone. "But - okay, am I *canceling* the meeting or - "

"You're not canceling the meeting," Wesley told her.

"You penciled in time for you and me to - " Angel mimicked Harmony's hand gestures. "That's smart thinking. I like it."

"We doing this thing or what?" Gunn asked, walking up to them.

Angel looked at Wesley. "Okay, *that* is the kind of initiative that we need to talk about in advance."

"We'll be in in a moment," Wesley told Gunn. "In the meanwhile if you could round up the others?"

"Sure," Gunn said, heading in the direction of Lorne's office.

"I've missed something," Angel said, watching all this.

"We're having a meeting," Wesley told him.

Angel gave him a look. "Didn't I just tell you to free up your schedule? If you want to get together with the others that's fine, but - "

"With all due respect," Wesley said, "this is *your* meeting."

"Okay, now I know one of us is wrong," Angel said. "Because Harm *just* told me - "

"No clients, no vendors," Wesley said. "That didn't include in-house. And while I certainly respect your desire for… personal time, we must also take advantage of the window we've created within your schedule to actually implement the plan we agreed upon. That means meeting with the others and that means doing it now."

"But I was having a good day," Angel protested.

"A Champion's work is never done," Wesley said.

Angel slumped against Harmony's desk. "I liked my slogan better."

Wesley placed a hand on Angel's shoulder. "We'll have personal time later. I promise."

Angel looked towards where the others were gathering. "Do I *have* to do this?"

"If you actually want to change things, yes," Wesley told him.

"Fine," Angel said, standing up again. "But don't expect me to like it."

"You wouldn't be you otherwise," Wesley assured him.

Harmony picked up her steno pad, following along. "Does this mean I have to give up the perfume?"

"Probably best not to ask him that now," Wesley told her.

"You know," Angel said, his hands stuffed back in his pockets again, "I never did like Lüneburg."

"Local population too salty?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah," Angel said. "How'd you know?"

Wesley smiled, pushing open the doors to Angel's office. "Lucky guess."