by Olwen (olwen_b at yahoo.com)
Summary: Love unlooked for.
No one believed in us. Believed in him, I should say. I could see it in their eyes. Soon as I mentioned his name, people would smirk, raise one eyebrow as if to say: 'You and *Wesley*? Yeah, right.' Not one person encouraged our relationship.
They couldn't see what I did, couldn't peer past the layers of bookdust and proper mannered speech. They snagged on the outside, the facade, and never caught a glimpse of his passioned soul within.
Perhaps it was all the late nights we spent together, stalking monsters through ancient tomes and papyrus scrolls; hunting them through sewers and back alleys. Perhaps it was those breakfast of vampire champion mornings, the two of us comparing bruises over scrambled eggs and toast, demonstrating our battle honed skills in mock combat with the butter knives.
At some point, I don't remember *just* when, our eyes met, and it was like every silly cliche since the beginning of time. It was love. Unlikely? Hell yes, and unlooked for as well. But I had been lonely for so long, and the touch of his hand was so warm. How could I turn away such a gift?
Wesley was the one for me, and I didn't care what anyone else said, no matter how hurtful. I don't think he knew, I tried to keep their remarks from his ears. Always the protector, that's me.
We didn't wait for long, kisses and hugs escalated swiftly to intimate embraces, hands roaming into new and exciting places, clothing pulled to disarray. I couldn't resist those deft scholarly fingers on my spine, the enticing smile in his eyes.
When we finally came together, it was all that I'd hoped for, and more. Desire had been banked like coals within me; at his touch, his kiss, it flared up, wrapped us both in a conflagration of desire and need. And Wes matched me, flame for flame, blazing with a light all his own.
Afterwards? That was unexpected, I'll admit, probably came as a shock, but I made it up to him. Gave him a present; something he's always secretly wanted, but would never have had the courage to ask for. I'll never forget the look on his face, that's for sure.
He's sleeping now, and I can't take my eyes off him. He's even more beautiful now, in the aftermath, limbs in a tangled sprawl, still and pale against my sheets. The crimson color almost precisely matches the trickle of blood from the twin holes in his neck.
When he wakes, rises up, we'll go out. Look up all the nay-sayers, our so called friends who had no faith in us. In him.
They said Wesley could never make me happy. We'll show them how wrong they were.