Trust Me Part Nine

[thebratqueen]

PART NINE

On New Year's Eve the diner was closed to customers, for all the good that that did at thinning out the crowd. By the time the party began the space was packed with what surely had to be everyone that Angel knew and cared for - other than his son, of course, who had pronounced the entire party to be "lame" and had left earlier in the evening to be with his friends.

"Don't worry about it," Angel had said at the time. "He hasn't done one of these since he was twelve. This is adults-only. Except for the princess, of course."

The princess was currently fast asleep upstairs in her crib. Wesley worried that the sound of the party might wake her, but the portable half of the baby monitor he had clipped to his belt gave no more noise than the usual static and occasional snore, though admittedly he had to press his ear close to the speaker in order to hear it.

The diner was festooned with balloons and streamers, the result of a siege of party supplies Angel had thrust upon them all earlier in the day and demanded they take care of. Glittering hats and cheap tiaras had been handed out (With Harmony managing to shove one of the latter onto Angel's head long enough for Gunn to take a picture and then vanish into the crowd before Angel could demand the negatives) and noisemakers occasionally interrupted the sound of music that came from the speakers.

"I didn't know Lorne could sing," Wesley said at one point, when the man who was his boss took the stage - or rather, stood up on top of one of the tables bolted to the wall - and began to croon various tunes from the disco era.

"Oh yeah," Fred said, having to lean across the counter so Wesley could hear her. "He had an album and everything."

"Whatever happened to it?" Wesley asked.

Fred shrugged, the strap of her dress falling off her shoulder in the process. "It didn't go very far on the charts. But a producer heard it and gave him a job doing a commercials. You know Tropicana?"

"You're joking," Wesley said.

Fred shook her head. "Nope. He did their jingles for the new cran-orange line. He only recorded once but they play it a *lot*."

"I thought he sounded familiar," Wesley said, looking towards the stage with new admiration. Then something occurred to him. "How much does that pay, usually?"

Fred quickly swallowed the handful of popcorn she was eating. "I don't know but it's enough to keep the agency open."

"Is it then?" Wesley said. He spied Angel into the kitchen. "Pardon me for a moment?"

Fred nodded, already heading back onto the erstwhile dance floor.

Wesley pushed open the swinging doors, managing to catch up to Angel in just a few steps. "Lorne doesn't need to keep that travel agency, does he?"

"Grab some oven mitts, I need help with the appetizers," Angel told him.

Wesley looked around then took a pair off of a hook on the wall. "You didn't answer my question."

"What do any of us really *need*, Wes?" Angel asked. He pulled one cookie sheet out of the oven, poking the crust of one item with a finger before handing the entire sheet to Wesley to deal with.

Wesley put it down onto the counter. "*Financially*. He doesn't need to keep that agency open in order to pay his bills, does he?"

Angel snorted as he reached into the oven for what looked to be a berry tart. "Nope. Good thing too. You seen how little he makes over there?"

"Angel!"

"What?" Angel asked, standing up again. "Yeah, he made his money doing the commercial gig. He gets his checks, it's enough to make sure he doesn't *have* to work again if he plays his investments right, he got bored, so he figured he'd open the agency and use it to give himself cheap travel discounts. Plus I hear he picks up a lot of good gossip that way. Hell if I know how."

"He never had to hire me," Wesley accused.

"He wanted help," Angel said, putting the tart down.

"Did he really?" Wesley asked. "Or did you force this on him? Because I won't be someone's charity case, Angel. I have skills. I can make my own way. I won't be some kind of *parasite* which - "

Angel cupped Wesley's cheeks in both hands, silencing him with a kiss. "Okay, first off I really like that I get to do that now. Second, I didn't force anything on anybody. I knew a few people who had jobs to offer. Lorne was one. I figured you'd be a good match for him. Third, you're not a charity anything. Yeah, sure, Lorne was a little weird on hiring you at first - "

Wesley pulled back a little. "He what?"

"Can we maybe pretend that we live in a more tactful place where I didn't say that?" Angel asked. When Wesley refused to back down he sighed and continued. "He said he had a bad feeling about you when he met you. But it's nothing. Lorne's a little flakey. Last week he said he felt I shouldn't be playing in the football game tomorrow. The week before it was don't wear that blue shirt that I like. Nobody pays any attention to it, it's just what he does. What's the big deal?"

"There's a football game tomorrow?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah, you're on my team," Angel told him.

"I won't be charity, Angel," Wesley said.

Angel made a face. "Fine, be on Gunn's team then."

"You know damned well what I meant!" Wesley snapped.

"I'm sorry," Angel said. He squeezed Wes's arms, continuing to hold him. "I know you don't like being dependant on people. And I know what that's like. I promise, you're not anybody's charity case. That's why I brought it up in the first place. If Lorne really didn't think he could use your help he would have fired you. Yeah, maybe he would've told me first so I could break the news or something, but he wouldn't keep you on just to do me a favor. If you're there it's because you've earned it."

"If you're sure?" Wesley asked, regarding him suspiciously.

"I swear on my son," Angel promised.

Wesley relaxed. "I'm sorry. It's just - it's been a long year."

Angel folded Wesley into his arms. "Yeah, I can imagine."

Wesley allowed himself to rest against the other man's chest. He closed his eyes, marveling that he had a place of safety now.

"You know, this is my favorite holiday," Angel said, apropos of nothing.

"I thought that was Christmas," Wesley replied.

"Nah," Angel said. His hand moved up to rub the back of Wesley's neck. "This one."

"Why?" Wesley asked.

"Because this is the first New Year's Eve in a while where I wasn't the big loser without a date," Angel told him.

Wesley gave a bark of laughter at that, then allowed Angel to drag him back into the party.

***

"So British guys can actually dance?" Cordelia asked him.

Wesley pulled her hand towards him, guiding her through the steps of their modified tango. He kept counting the beat in the back of his head, trying not to lose it in spite of the slightly inappropriate music they were dancing to. "Some of us can, yes."

"Neat," she said. She improvised a twisting turn, smiling up at him when she finished. "I used to take jazz and ballet."

"Ballroom dance," Wesley said. "My mother's idea. She said it would be useful at parties."

"Can't say she was wrong," Cordelia pointed out. She did another twist, then moved closer to let other dancers pass by. "So. You and Angel, huh?"

Wesley recognized that tone. Not from Cordelia, but from others he'd known in his past. Those who looked upon people he spent time with and questioned his suitability for them. Of course in the days of working for his father his suitability was never in question. *Now*, however…. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Cordy assured him. She gave him a large, almost blinding smile. "I think it's great. Angel could use somebody. He gets too crabby when he goes without."

"Well I… certainly hope to… discourage crabbiness," Wesley said, not really knowing what Cordelia wanted to hear from him.

"Good, good," Cordy said. She moved her feet in a few intricate steps, then allowed Wesley to lead again. "We don't like crabby."

"I can't imagine that anyone would, as a rule," Wesley said.

"Crabby would be bad," Cordy continued.

"Certainly," Wesley agreed.

Cordy stopped and met his eyes. "Angel's my family and if you so much as make him *frown* I will kill you dead and shove your body so far into a snow drift they won't find you until *next* New Year's, got it?"

Wesley decided it would be unwise to point out the meteorological fallacies of the threat. "Understood."

"Your *head* I'll shove somewhere else," she added.

"That's certainly creative," Wesley said.

Cordy narrowed her eyes at him.

"I promise I won't - I don't intend to hurt him, Cordelia," Wesley said. Then said the words to her because it was actually easier than saying them to Angel. "I'm in love with him."

"Like love has anything to do with it," Cordelia scoffed. She stabbed a manicured finger at his chest. "You. Don't. Hurt. Him."

"I won't hurt him," Wesley repeated.

Cordelia nodded, satisfied. "Good." Her bright smile returned once more. "Now let's keep dancing."

***

When midnight drew near Angel found him once more. He threaded his fingers through Wesley's and guided him to the door marked Private.

"I was thinking," Angel said, having to shout into Wesley's ear so he could be heard over the rise in noise level, "that we should go upstairs for midnight."

Wesley smiled at him. "What did you have in mind?"

Angel grinned back. "Well, *that*. But also Alissa. It's gonna be loud. Plus it's her first New Year's. You should be there. Do it together. I can join you later if - "

"No," Wesley said, squeezing Angel's hand. "Come with me. Neither one of us would be here without you. I'd want you there even if you and I weren't - well even if we didn't have plans for after."

"You sure?" Angel asked.

"Positive," Wesley told him.

***

When midnight came Wesley held his daughter in his arms. She cried a little at the sounds from downstairs, but he rocked her, and sang to her, and soothed her back to sleep.

Angel watched all of this while standing in Alissa's doorway. Once Wesley put the baby down he came into the room, took Wesley into his arms, and together they did things which eventually soothed the both of them to sleep.

Wesley opened his eyes inside of a new year and realized that he was home.

***

"Two team match to the *death*," Gunn challenged. "This chili won't be done until noon which gives me one full hour in which to kick your *ass*."

New Year's Day had dawned bright and sunny, with hardly a cloud in the sky. The air was brisk but not freezing and Angel had apparently not been kidding in the slightest when he'd said there was a football game to be played.

"I know you only do this once a year," Angel replied, pulling the ball and various other pieces of equipment out of a bag he'd brought with him, "but did you *inhale* that hot sauce or put it in the food? Because you are out of your *mind* if you think you're going to beat me this time."

They were in a park not far from the diner. Wesley guessed that it must be used by one of the local schools, as it was laid out with baseball diamonds, football fields and the like. Of course all of this had been snowed over, but it didn't seem to bother any of the number of townspeople that had gathered there that morning. Apparently picnics in the dead of winter were something of a tradition. There had even been a daycare of sorts set up in the park's clubhouse, where Alissa currently was with some of the other children.

"Dad, I need cash," Connor said, coming to join them from the group of friends he'd been staying with.

"I need personal fulfillment," Angel replied. "What's your point?"

Connor gave a put-upon look. "We need to rent skates."

"You've another personality in there I need to worry about now?" Angel asked. "And come again? You own a thousand pairs."

"*Dad*," Connor sighed. "*Tracy* needs skates. Her mom threw hers out and we're all going skating and she really wants to go and since I spent all my money on your Christmas present - "

"And Tracy's," Angel added.

Connor ignored him. "I need extra money so she can have skates."

Angel fished out his wallet, handing over a twenty. "There. You get nothing else from me until they read my will. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Connor said, running off again.

"You're welcome," Angel called after him.

Connor pantomimed an exaggerated gesture of thanks, then kept running.

"My kid, the comedian," Angel muttered.

Gunn put the lid back on the pot of chili that he was somehow managing to cook over the fire of an outdoor grill. "Okay, who's playing?"

"Wes is on my team," Angel said.

"I've never played before," Wesley reminded him.

"It's like soccer but with less kicking," Angel said.

"I've never played soccer either," Wesley told him.

"Then it's like cricket but without the bat or the ball or whatever the Hell else you play cricket with," Angel grinned.

"Don't worry," Fred assured him. "The boys make up all the rules anyway. Last year they gave up halfway through and just started throwing snow balls."

"That's because Angel *cheats*," Gunn said.

"I do not!" Angel retorted. "*You* were the one who started it when you brought out the water pistols."

"Oh those I'd be good at," Wesley offered.

"Really?" Angel perked up. "Because I had this idea for revenge where I -"

"Can we just play the game you big babies?" Gwen asked. She adjusted the elastic of her ponytail. "I'd like for me and my man to win before I lose my girlish good looks."

"Is anyone else playing?" Wesley asked.

Lorne waved him off, practically invisible inside of his blanket and oversized coat. "Not for me. Way I see it someone with a clear head needs to sit and watch and play referee. Though not sure how clear my head will stay after I do another of these hot ciders."

"Cheerleading," Cordy said, hooking her arm through Harmony's. "Somebody's got to be the pep squad and me and Harm are it."

"You know you actually have to *cheer* this time," Gunn told her.

"We can't until we have a third to make the pyramid," Cordy reminded him, grinning smugly.

"Knox?" Wesley asked.

"Oh no," the other man smiled from his position by Fred. "I'm not much of a player. I tend to bruise like a magnolia at the slightest sign of conflict."

"He's actually gay, right?" Wesley whispered to Angel, ducking his head so his lips couldn't be read.

"Jury's still out," Angel replied. He flashed Wesley a quick grin. "Okay people. It's two on two and looks like Gunn's team is playing skins this year."

"Just for that I am going to thoroughly humiliate you when it comes time to voting on who heads up the small business committee next year," Gwen told him.

"Have it," Angel said, generously. "I could do without the paperwork. Now come on, let's play!"

***

The rules of New Year's football seemed to boil down to getting the ball into the designated goals through whatever means were necessary. The game began with a mere courtesy use of rules that even Wesley could recognize, then quickly degenerated into whatever got them to the goal, up to and including running into the benches, faking injury, the earlier promised snowball fights and, at one point, Gwen even flashing them.

It wasn't long before everyone, even Lorne, was dragged out from the sidelines and brought into the fray. Water pistols and even snow shovels made an appearance and the only thing that stopped them was Gunn blowing a whistle to draw their attention back to the food.

"Lunchtime!" he announced, jerking his thumb back towards the grill.

Paper plates and cups were produced, hotdogs were quickly heated, and soon everyone was eating and drinking and chattering amongst themselves.

"Having fun?" Angel asked, sitting beside him on one of the snow-covered benches.

"Yes," Wesley admitted. He attempted another bite of his chili dog. "I wouldn't have thought so, but yes."

"We do this every year," Angel said, and it was clear the words held an unspoken invitation.

Wesley decided to answer with one of his own in kind. "I was thinking of taking Alissa for a walk now that it's not quite so cold. Would you care to join us?"

"Love to," Angel replied.

They finished their meals then went to collect her. She was awake, and smiled in delight as Wesley greeted her then dressed her for the outdoors. She then tried to grab on to the blanket Wesley used to tuck her into her stroller - the latter of which had been a collective gift from everyone that Wesley had come to think of as the friends from the diner.

"She's a smart kid," Angel observed. "You can tell she notices stuff."

Wesley puffed up with a father's pride. "Thank you. I've always thought so."

The sun continued to shine down on them as they left the day care and found their way towards a path. They walked away from the games and the crowds and followed a tree-lined trail that, though not part of a proper woods, at least gave the feeling of it.

"I used to take Connor here all the time when he was a kid," Angel said. He pointed in one direction. "There's a field down that way with a stream and some rocks. I'd make us some sandwiches and take him out there for a picnic. He was little enough that I guess it felt like camping."

"I've never gone camping," Wesley said. "Not properly, at any rate."

"There's *improper* camping?" Angel asked.

"When you do it indoors, yes," Wesley said. "Where I'm from one doesn't 'rough it' unless it involves spending the night in a cabin with some form of climate control."

Angel thought about it. "Which is 'roughing it' in the sense that…?"

"The rooms are smaller," Wesley answered.

Angel shook his head. "This whole thing must be like living in the slums for you."

Wesley thought back to his first impression of Angel's guest apartment. "It - I can't say it's not a culture shock. But that isn't what matters. Angel, what you've given me, what you've *provided* for me is so much more than money, or anything that I had before."

Angel stopped, nodding in Alissa's direction. "You had one thing that was worthwhile before."

"One thing, yes," Wesley said. He thought about it, feeling a nervous chill go down his spine. "Perhaps even two."

Angel looked at him curiously.

"My entire life has been made up of things which never mattered to me," Wesley said. "Everything I've done was done because someone else said so. At best I convinced myself that agreeing with that was actually my own point of view."

"But it wasn't," Angel said.

"No, it wasn't," Wesley said. "Nearly thirty years of my life in which I never even played a part. I merely filled out a role. Dutiful son, excellent scholar - even rebel, when it came right down to it."

"And now you're tired of acting?" Angel said.

Wesley nodded. "Exceedingly."

Angel put his hands into his coat pockets. "When I joined AA one of the things I had to do was learn who *I* was. Face myself head-on so I could defeat my demons and quit drinking."

"That must have been terrifying," Wesley said.

"Few things scarier," Angel agreed.

"I never - " Wesley started, then stopped himself, deciding to cut right to the heart of it. "Lilah always knew. In fact she knew me better than anyone. For all my bluster and claims of apathy she knew better. She mocked me for it sometimes but - I believe in the end she only wanted me to be honest about it. To myself or to her. I don't think it mattered."

"You think you can be honest now?" Angel asked.

"I think I'd like to try," Wesley said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and the folded dollar bill inside. He held it up, showing it to Angel. "My only gift from her. Besides Alissa, of course. We'd had a bet that whoever weakened first and actually called what we had a relationship owed the other a dollar. Or a pound, depending upon who won."

Angel looked at the bill itself. "You lost?"

"I lost," Wesley confirmed. A bittersweet smile shaped his lips. "Like a fool I was making all sorts of proclamations about my inability to care about anything but myself, but with a slip of the tongue I said I had no concerns about my father's feelings about our relationship. She laughed and I had to pay. She made me sign it as proof."

"Why didn't she keep it?" Angel asked.

"She did," Wesley said. He stalled for time by putting his wallet away. The memory was harder to talk about than he'd thought. "Until our last night together. We were arguing about everything - her possible death, the baby, the relationship we'd never had - and at one point she gave it back to me, saying she wanted me to give it to our daughter. But not until I could admit to myself what all of it had been."

"Until you could truly say it'd been a relationship," Angel said, "and not a slip of the tongue."

"That," Wesley said, "but everything. Her, our time together, my feelings about everything my life had become. I lived life by running away from my problems, either physically or mentally. I think Lilah wanted me to at least once take a stand for myself."

"Not easy, considering all you've been through," Angel said.

"I don't think that qualifies as an excuse," Wesley said. Alissa made a coughing sound. He bent down to check on her, smoothing out her blanket as he did. "Yes, I ran from Los Angeles but it's only part of a whole. It's been the only pattern I've ever known or followed. I - I think I'd like to change that."

"You would?" Angel asked.

Wesley stood up again. He found it hard to face him, but made himself meet the other man's eyes. "I would. If you would have me."

Angel took a moment to process that, then responded with a sly grin. "I think I could be forced to do that."

Wesley smiled back. "Truly?"

"If I had to," Angel teased. He came forward, bumping their noses together as he touched Wesley's mouth with a kiss. "If you want that, then I want it for you."

"I do," Wesley told him. His heart was pounding but he found he liked the feel of it. "I honestly do."

"Sounds like that's settled then," Angel said, adding a teasing touch of his tongue to Wesley's lips.

"Indeed," Wesley agreed. He was grinning like a fool but he didn't care in the slightest. "We could go home now, if you'd like?"

"I'd like," Angel said. "I'd very like."

Wesley stepped back before he shagged Angel right up against the frost-covered trees. "Perhaps we should go then?"

Angel held out his hand, making a bow of invitation. "After you. Wait - don't forget to give your daughter her present."

"Of course," Wesley said, kneeling to do just that. "Wouldn't want it to get lost."

"Plus I'm thinking she'd love to drool on it," Angel added.

Wesley laughed. He lightly tapped Alissa's hands with a finger until she reached out to touch him. Once she did, he presented her with the dollar. "Here you are, my darling. From your mother and I - " Alissa touched the bill, crumpling it as best she could in her mittened fist. Wesley felt dizzy, as though his heart and mind were suddenly trapped in that item, locked in the emotion of everything represented in its papery folds. " - to… to you."

The world tilted. Alissa took the bill fully, bringing it up to her mouth as Wesley's fingers became too numb to hold it. He fell backward, his spine jarring as he connected with the hard-packed snow and with a sick, almost never-ending *tilt* he realized not just what his own feelings had been but absolutely *everything*.

"Angel - " he said, his voice a half-moan and he was humiliated at the quaver in it but at the same time he knew he had no hope in any form of Hell of even attempting to hide it.

"Wes," Angel said, and *his* voice was strong, and without doubt, and completely filled with anger. "What did you *do*?"

Wesley looked up at the man who was not, but who *should* have been a vampire. "I - what I *had* to."