Angel / Protocol / Part Twenty-Three

PART TWENTY-THREE

Wes vanished when the food arrived - bathroom break, he claimed, but Angel knew he was hiding - and didn't come out again until Angel was alone again and had everything settled with the plates.

Wes stood at the side of the blanket and stared at the impromptu feast.

"Like it?" Angel asked.

"Are any of these *food*?" Wesley replied.

"It's *food*," Angel said. He pointed. "Candy, French fries, ice cream - "

"I'm sorry," Wesley said. "I'll rephrase. Are any of these *real* food? With vitamins and such?"

"We're doing a day off," Angel said. "No vitamins. Look, I'm not even having any blood."

"Yes, that's not actually a *comfort*, you realize."

"Shut up and sit down," Angel told him.

Wes edged closer to a chair.

"On the blanket," Angel said.

"It will get dirty," Wesley said.

"I know," Angel said. "That's the *point*."

"You have *very* strange ideas of fun."

"Sit down on the blanket or I'm dumping this fudge right on it," Angel said. He held the bowl up in as menacing a fashion as he could manage.

Wes sat, tucking his feet underneath his legs. "There. Happy?"

"I'm in raptures," Angel said. He thrust a fork at Wes. "Here. Eat."

Wes turned the fork over and over in his fingers. "Anything that's actual food? Anything at all?"

"It's a day off, Wes," Angel said. "We're supposed to eat stuff that we *like*."

"I *like* real food," Wesley said. He lifted up the remaining covers, frowning when he saw the contents of each dish. "Not even a simple oatmeal?"

"Not even a complicated one," Angel said. "This is *fun* food."

"Oatmeal is fun."

"Oatmeal is *grey*," Angel said. "That is the exact opposite of fun."

"I *like* oatmeal," Wesley told him.

"You also think I'm the nicest guy you've ever met," Angel said. "I'm trying to expand your horizons on a lot of stuff."

Wes quieted. "You *are* the nicest man I've ever met." Angel wanted to kick himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun."

Wes shook his head. "It's all right. You can say whatever you like to me."

"I don't like making fun of you," Angel said. "I don't like hurting your feelings."

Wes took this in. "Do other vampires make fun of you?"

"Besides Spike?"

"I only thought that perhaps hearing a vampire say things like what you just said must not be the norm for your kind," Wesley said.

"I'm not the norm for my kind on a lot of things," Angel said. He sat back, propping himself up against the couch. "I'm used to it."

"Is it lonely?" Wesley asked.

Angel nodded. "Sometimes."

Wes looked at the space between them, but did not move.

"Come sit by me if you like," Angel said.

"I didn't want to presume," Wesley said.

"I told you, no protocol today," Angel said.

"It's still arrogant to assume that you might like having me near," Wesley said.

"Wes," Angel said, "not to put too vulgar a line on it but I've been *inside* you and liked it. Consider it safe to assume that anything on the scale from not touching to actually inside is okay."

"Sex isn't the same as sitting beside someone," Wes pointed out.

"I knew that and I didn't even have to take your fancy classes," Angel said. He held a hand out. "Now come *here*."

Wes shifted over, then settled against Angel's side. "Thank you."

"Told you we'd do both kinds of touching," Angel said. He rubbed Wes's back. "Feeling okay?"

Wes gave a tight shake of his head. "I - if I truly can express an opinion, then I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's okay," Angel said.

"You can ask me if you like," Wes said, looking up at him. "You could order me if you wanted."

"I don't want," Angel said. "I just wanted to do a picnic with you."

"A picnic with no real food," Wesley said.

"That's right," Angel said. "Because real food would ruin it."

"Is it - " he could see Wes trying to puzzle it out " - is it because it's not a real picnic? The food isn't real because the entire thing is pretend?"

Angel wondered what the Hell kind of home life Wes had that this was such a foreign concept to him. "No, it's because it's fun. When Connor would get sick we'd take a day off and camp out by the fire and eat whatever he wanted until he got better. He liked it, I thought maybe you'd like it too."

Wes got thoughtful. "This is the only kind of picnic you *can* have, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"You're a vampire," Wesley said. "You can't go out in sunlight. Nighttime is too dangerous, so this is the only way you can enjoy such things."

Angel hadn't expected Wes to hone in on that. "Actually… yeah."

Wes patted him on the leg. "We shall make the most of it then. You shouldn't have to do without."

"*I* shouldn't have to do without?" Angel repeated, then decided to go with it if that was the only way Wes could allow himself to get into the spirit of things. "I mean - yeah. Kinda. If that's okay."

"Of course my - Angel," Wes fumbled it, but caught himself. He picked up his fork again then selected a piece of cake. He cut tiny pieces off of it, then speared them and brought them to his mouth in a gesture so refined it might have been a ballet movement.

Angel stared at this. "You and I are from two *entirely* different worlds."

"In the spirit of the day I'm compelled to ask what was your first hint," Wesley retorted.

Angel sat up. "You're a prince."

Wes seemed to wait for there to be more. "Yes?"

"I'm not," Angel clarified.

Wes put his plate down. "Angel, you are a *king*."

"It's not the same."

"No," Wesley agreed. "As for example, you outrank me."

"Not really," Angel said. "You - you're from a *history* of this. This is *you*. It's your bloodline. Me? I'm just some guy who told everybody to pretend like I had a crown stuck to my head."

Wes didn't seem perturbed by this. "In the grand scheme of history - which you of all people I would have thought would understand - *all* of royalty can be traced back to some chap who told everybody to act as though there was a crown stuck to his head. Some even went the extra mile and bought the appropriate headgear."

"I grew up with a father who couldn't even use a knife and fork properly," Angel said. "I'm guessing you can use *all* the knives and forks properly."

"I could name them all for you too, if you'd like to be spectacularly bored," Wesley said. He sipped at a cup of cocoa. "These are not remarkable skills, nor do they make me especially interesting."

"I think you're interesting," Angel said.

Wes gave a wan smile. "Yes, well, apparently I'm not the only one who needs his horizons expanded."

"I've lived over two centuries," Angel said. "I've hit plenty of horizons. I like the one that's got you on it."

"It's just table manners," Wesley said.

"So teach me," Angel said. "Consider it your revenge for me making you sit on the floor."

"I've sat on the floor before," Wesley said. "I've even eaten while sitting on the floor. There are plenty of cultures that find that to be good manners. It was entirely possible that I would be married to someone from one of them."

"So why are you giving me a hard time about it?" Angel asked.

"Because they provide proper food and proper linens," Wesley said. "I'm scared to breathe for fear I'll ruin our bedding."

Angel smiled. "You just called it 'our'."

"Yes, astonishingly I *have* noticed that we share a bed together," Wesley said.

"I really miss that snark when you hide it," Angel told him.

"Nobody likes a spouse who can't control his sarcasm," Wesley sighed.

Angel raised his hand. "You know for someone who says he's noticed that we share a *bed* - "

Wes didn't seem swayed by it. "If anyone found out - "

"The Council's got that close a tab on us?" Angel asked.

"The Council has ways of knowing things," Wesley said, and drew back into himself again.

Angel gave him a hard look. "Wes, do they have a spy in here?"

"Not yet," Wes said, quietly.

"Would you tell me if they did?"

Wes almost looked hurt at the question. "Angel, I am loyal to you. I belong to you."

"You knew them longer," Angel pointed out.

Wes folded his hands in his lap. "It doesn't mean I like them."

Angel pressed his small advantage. "Some of them are your family."

Wes swallowed. "Angel - "

"Come here," Angel said, deciding the look on Wes's face was answer enough. He tugged Wes closer, not stopping until he was curled up in Angel's lap. "It's okay. I've got you."

Wes was tense, his body too rigid to relax. "Angel - "

Angel was starting to be able to translate Wes's hesitations. "Go on. Whatever it is, ask it."

Wes's fingers curled against Angel's shirt. "Connor said you would protect him from monsters."

Angel wondered how much they were speaking metaphorically. Either way, he cut to the chase. "I'll protect you too. From anything that would hurt you. You don't even have to ask me."

"I wanted to," Wes said. "This morning. I woke up, and I knew it was coming, and I thought - "

"Wake me," Angel said. "If it happens again, wake me."

Wes shook his head. "It violates so many rules - "

"I'm your husband," Angel said. "I'm telling you that's what you do."

"Sometimes it happens too quickly for me to act," Wes warned him.

"Then wake me when you can," Angel said. He rubbed the back of Wes's neck. "I want to help."

Wes started to settle against him. "I'm not used to that."

"Me helping?"

"Any of it."

"We're from two different worlds," Angel reminded him. Then, inspired, added, "You live in my world now."

That actually brought about a hint of a smile. "It's a strange place, but it's rather nice."

"Think you could grow to like it here?" Angel asked.

Wes uncurled his fingers so his hand could rest over Angel's heart. "My Lord, I already do."