Protocol, Part Forty-Three
Aug. 18th, 2005 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenIn honor of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flaming_muse's birthday, I give you Protocol, part Forty-Three. Happy birthday, FM!!
Previous parts can be found here.
PART FORTY-THREE
Wesley normally did not mind parties. To him they were refreshing. They made him feel like a thoroughbred being allowed to hit top speed and finally do all that he was capable of - not that he was ever allowed to compare himself to a thoroughbred, of course.
Mingling, talking, making introductions, walking the fine line of protocol, serving someone - these were all his domain. It was like music. Like a fine language. It required skills, and delicacy, and quick wittedness.
During his days as a student this pleasure was often squashed beneath the heel of his father's demands. But now, married, Wesley could be himself. He could be what he was destined to be.
Or he could, until Zhanna's inadvertent admission had thrown cold water over everything.
He had to get to Angel. Not that he could ask for help, but being near his husband would be a comfort all the same. If nothing else it would be a distraction. He could attend to Angel and serve his every need and, even if just for a moment, forget what he'd learned.
Randolph was with Angel. Angel looked spectacularly unhappy about that, which Wesley took as unspoken permission to interrupt the conversation.
"My Lord."
"Hey," Angel barely looked at him. Then something caught his eye and he gave Wesley his full attention. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Discipline kept Wesley from clenching his fists in frustration. Spouses were never meant to be asked such things, though of course Angel kept forgetting the rules. That Wesley longed to throw himself on Angel's mercy only made it worse. "Nothing, my Lord. I'm sorry if I've interrupted your conversation - "
"The company of his highness is never an interruption," Randolph said.
Wesley cheerfully ignored him. "I only wished to see if you had need of me, my Lord."
"Yes," Angel pointed his index finger at Wesley, then jabbed it about aimlessly as he took a moment to think. "Yes. You and I need to - "
"Check on the party's progress, my Lord?" Wesley suggested, recognizing a desperate need for an excuse when he saw one.
"That," Angel agreed. He stood up. "Yes. You, me, that. Over there. You - " he aimed his finger at Randolph, looking for all the world like a man who wished he was using another one to point with " - stay here."
Randolph gave an elaborate bow. "Of course, your grace. With fondness I look forward to - "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Angel took Wesley by the arm and steered the both of them away from Randolph and into a quiet corner of the party. "I don't like him. Am I allowed to not like him?"
"You may feel whatever emotion you please, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Would you think it smart of me not to like him?" Angel asked.
"I've often found my Lord to be very observant," Wesley replied.
A group of Branther demons passed by. Angel made a polite face at them, then pulled Wesley over to some abandoned tables. "What's upsetting you?"
"Nothing, my Lord," Wesley very carefully kept his eyes on Angel, and not on the view of Zhanna that could be spied over Angel's shoulder.
"That is such - " Angel grimaced, swallowing a word " - diplomacy I'm really tempted to call you on it."
"Nothing could ever upset me while I am with you, my Lord," Wesley brushed a piece of lint off of Angel's lapel. He let his hand linger there. "On the other hand, with due respect, my Lord does not look entirely happy."
"Did he just pimp his wife to me?" Angel asked.
Wesley felt a strange lack of surprise at this development. "Very likely, my Lord."
"Likely," Angel repeated. "Not shocking or disgusting."
"It could be all three," Wesley motioned towards a chair. "Would my Lord care to take a seat?"
"I'd care for a lot of things right now," Angel said. "None of them involve using furniture the way anybody intended."
"That's as may be, my Lord," Wesley retrained himself from grabbing Angel's coat and forcing him to sit, "but I respectfully remind you about certain obstacles to your pleasure this evening which are in our control to - "
"Oh all *right*," Angel sat down. "There. Weight's off the leg. Happy?"
"Very," Wesley sat in the chair next to him, turning it so that they could face one another. He kept his hands carefully folded in his lap. Massaging Angel's thigh in public, while acceptable under the general rules of protocol, would draw undue attention to a weakness Angel had preferred to keep private. "Lord Randolph made you an offer?"
"He may have made me a recipe for butterscotch cupcakes," Angel said. "I don't exactly understand what he says half - okay, any of the time. But innuendo I'm pretty good at."
"It wouldn't be unheard of," Wesley said.
"Why? No - " Angel held up his hand. "Stick a pin in that. How?"
Wesley frowned. "My Lord?"
"Aren't spouses supposed to be utterly devoted to their wives or husbands?" Angel asked.
Wesley swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yes, my Lord."
"So how does that go hand in hand with what Randy's putting on the table?" Angel rolled his eyes. "Literally."
"We belong to our wives and husbands," Wesley said. "Our job is to serve you in every possible capacity. If it was your wish to make a gift of our talents to someone, then it is our pleasure to do so."
"Okay," Angel steepled his hands together. "Okay, that makes a sick kind of logic. But let me ask you this: if that's the case, why can't I make a 'gift' of you to somebody you care about?"
"I - " Wesley shook his head. Angel's words were meaningless to him. "My Lord?"
"We talked about this," Angel said. "About you having somebody of your own, somebody that you liked."
"I do," Wesley said.
"I'm just saying that if the option is *there*," Angel shrugged. "Why not take advantage of it?"
"I don't want it!" Wesley clenched his hands into fists. He took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. My Lord, it is my honor and pleasure to do whatever gives you happiness. If you have the desire to see me with another person for whatever gain that might bring to you, I shall do as I am told."
"Yeah, and you look real thrilled about it," Angel said.
"I want *you*," Wesley met his eyes. "No one else, my Lord. Only you."
Angel reached out and took Wesley's hand. He gently nudged his thumb inside the curl of Wesley's fingers, making him relax and stop digging his nails into his palm. "I want you to be happy."
"I am," Wesley said. He wished he could make a gesture out of touching their rings together, or any number of ways he could comfort himself while trying to show Angel the truth. "My Lord, I swear it."
"That didn't stink of quite so much diplomacy," Angel said.
"Ask me about Lord Randolph, if my Lord misses the smell," Wesley replied.
"Why's he offering me his wife?" Angel asked.
"He wants to form an alliance with you," Wesley said.
"At least he's smart enough to know he's not going to get that deal using his own personality and charm," Angel smirked.
"He is low-ranking," Wesley said. "He has very little by way of land or power. However he knows that he has something you currently lack."
"What's that?" Angel asked.
Wesley allowed himself to glance over at Zhanna. "A spouse with breasts and a uterus."
"I didn't ask for one," Angel said. He instantly amended it. "Okay, I didn't *not* ask for one either. But it doesn't matter. I don't care."
"A woman could give you things I can't," Wesley said.
"I could have breasts if I wanted them." There was a pause, then Angel looked down at himself sheepishly. "You knew what I meant by that, right?"
Wesley smiled, too charmed to care about the stab of jealousy that shot through him at Angel's declaration. "Yes, my Lord."
"And there's no guarantee I could have more kids," Angel said. "Connor was a miracle."
"You have access to the ability to have more children," Wesley said.
"What? In a lab?" Realization crossed Angel's face. "Oh. You."
Wesley nodded. "You could order me to be with Zhanna. Any child which resulted from that would be a powerful tool to bond your interests with Lord Randolph's."
"Call me old fashioned," Angel said, "but I like it when kids exist because you love them, not because you want to use them as tools."
"It's your decision," Wesley said.
"Do you think that's what Randy's going for here?" Angel asked. "He offered the missus to *me*. Sure, he might not know that the odds of me firing blanks are pretty high, but still - "
"He may have wanted something in return," Wesley said.
"Like what?"
"There are many things that you can offer," Wesley said.
Angel's eyes were penetrating. "Care to name them?"
"Anything you have is something he might want," Wesley said. He breathed a sigh of relief when Angel didn't press for more information.
***
Wesley couldn't sleep. He wanted to sleep. He was in bed with Angel which, having lived for months without him, he now knew was the only way he could feel properly comfortable at night. They'd even had sex, which usually made Wesley feel deliciously drowsy and content.
But his mind would not stop working.
Over in his own bed, Hieronymus stuck his head up and gave a questioning mew.
Wesley shushed him. Though in truth he wouldn't have minded someone to talk to.
Ironically the very cause of his problem was the only person around that he could confess it to.
***
"He is remarkable," Zhanna was brushing out her long blond hair. Wesley noted the faint hints of an English accent that still snuck in to her Russian. She'd been born in Russia, but not raised. And language, like so many of her other classes, had not been her strongest suit. "Amazing. Kind. Generous - "
"You love him," Wesley said. He knew the answer, but needed to hear it.
"Oh yes," Zhanna looked at him from the angle of her makeup mirror. "Very much."
Wesley looked at her eyes. He wondered if he'd been too blind or unwilling to notice the unnatural sheen to them. Dozens of questions danced around in his head, but he allowed himself one. "What does it feel like?"
"Amazing," Zhanna said, unaware or perhaps uncaring that she was repeating herself.
"I'm sure," Wesley said, hiding his expression of distaste. "But I meant - " he paused. What *did* he mean? The question was so obvious to him, yet no one seemed to understand him when he spoke it. "Being in love. What does it feel like?"
Zhanna turned around. She placed her hands in her lap. Wesley recognized his own stance in the gesture. Good posture, at least, had been something she'd been good at. Her face, however, registered concern. "Do you not know? Don't you love your Lord?"
"For you," Wesley hastily said. "I wondered what love felt like for *you*."
"Happiness," Zhanna said. "Joy whenever he's in the room. Joy whenever he is with me. Just thinking of him makes me want to give thanks for who I belong to."
"It is our greatest honor to love and obey our husbands," Wesley recited. He could remember being made to say that over and over as a child. At the time he'd been so certain he knew what he was talking about.
"That's why I came to you," Zhanna moved out of her chair to kneel by Wesley's feet. He had a sudden sense memory of their classes together. He moved back, keeping a respectful distance between them. "You were always so good in school, so dedicated to the one who would claim you."
"I wanted nothing else but to make my husband happy," Wesley said.
"I envied you," Zhanna said. "The lessons came so easily to you. It was like you had a gift."
Wesley wondered if Zhanna would call it that if she knew the ways that Roger had reinforced Wesley's education. "I tried my best."
"I'm not the best," Zhanna's hair spilled over her shoulders, forming a veil around her face. "I can't serve my Lord as well as I would like."
"So you came to me," Wesley said. "Because you thought I could have Andrew make something for you."
"Something to ease the way," Zhanna said.
Wesley rubbed his eyes. He felt tired. "I thought you needed a love potion."
"I already adore my Lord," Zhanna said.
"Who helped with that?" Wesley asked.
"I - " Wesley recognized the dissonance that came whenever someone who had taken a love potion was made to remember that their emotions had not started out as real. "I did."
Wesley translated that to mean Zhanna had brewed it herself. The knowledge formed a heavy pit in his stomach. "How can I help you then?"
"Wesley," Zhanna put her hands on his knees. Her eyes were wide and pleading. "For the pleasure of my Lord, I need something to - "
Wesley suddenly got it. He stood up. The momentum of his emotions propelled him a few steps away. He stood there, feeling the heat of anger in his veins.
Zhanna remained where she was. "Wesley?"
"I have to go," Wesley saw the look of panic that crossed her face, and immediately felt the need to reassure her. "I'll - I'll take care of it. I promise."
Zhanna's smile made him feel sick. "Thank you."
***
Wesley told himself he was going to brew a potion. He wasn't as skilled as Andrew, but he knew what to do and he had the supplies that were needed. This was official spouse business and it was meant to be handled in an official spouse way: quietly, and without anyone being the wiser.
But something, perhaps his royal upbringing, perhaps all the time he'd spent around a certain vampire, steered his steps away from the greenhouse and towards where he knew Lord Randolph could be found.
***
"There's a way to do it properly, you know!"
Randolph looked up in surprise. He was in the great hall attempting, Wesley knew, to try to talk to anyone who could give him more information about Angel.
Though of course none of this was visible on Randy's face.
"Your highness," Randy bowed. "It is with great pleasure and honor that I - "
"She doesn't have potion skills," Wesley advanced on him, his very presence enough to part the crowd around them. "You *know* that. You *had* to know that. There's no way anyone with real talent would have been put into *your* service!"
Randy's eyes narrowed. "Your highness, I think that - "
"You don't think," Wesley said. "You never did. You were an officious little twerp from the start and I've yet to see anything to give me a contrary opinion."
"What could I have possibly done to offend you?" Randy asked.
"Bad enough that you don't care what it does to one of us to take a potion so weak that it only partially blinds us to the truth. Though," Wesley added, "I can see why in *your* case you were thrilled to discover that it gave her the mistaken impression that you're the biggest she's ever seen. Which, let's be honest, we *both* know is staggeringly inaccurate."
"You think it wrong for her to find such satisfaction in me?" Randy asked.
"I think it a *tragedy* that anyone might believe such a thing to be possible," Wesley replied. "But that's not even the half of it. It's no surprise to me that you wanted - no, *needed* the most mindless follower you could get your hands on. But to not allow her to take a potion strong enough *be* mindless -"
"What the Hell are you even talking about?" Randy demanded.
"You *hurt* her!" each word came out of Wesley like a knife. "Needlessly. Stupidly. Because you are too much of a *fool* to notice or care that she's in pain whenever she's in bed with you. Which is *your* fault! Even without a strong love potion she could do it! She has some ability! Lord knows *I* never had a problem with it when she and I - "
"Then why don't you?" Randy asked. "You've such a vested interest in it, why not take care of the matter right now? Let's go back to my suite and see the princely skills that I've heard so much about."
Wesley's jaw dropped in shock. "You would *dare* - "
"*You* would dare, your *highness*," Randy threw back at him. "You dare insult me, here, publicly, and think I would stand for such a thing?"
"I outrank you," Wesley said.
"You are a *spouse*," Randy said. "And you will *act* like one!"
"If you think for one second that I will do what you say - "
"I think that to make sure your husband has no reason to be displeased with you, you will *beg* to do what I say," Randy said. He reached out for Wesley's arm. "Starting with my earlier offer to - "
"Hand."
The word was the only warning before Angel grabbed Randy by the wrist, twisted until there was a snapping sound, then slapped him down onto the floor.
Wesley gasped. "My Lord."
"Standing right now would be a dumb idea," Angel told Randy. He then addressed the crowd as a whole. "Okay. Shiny gold star for anybody who tells me what I missed. He - " Angel jerked his thumb in the direction of George, who shot Wesley an apologetic look - or at least as apologetic as Gliks were capable of looking " - was only able to say I needed to get down here and do it fast."
"They were arguing," one of the women offered. "The prince and - " she shrugged helplessly, indicating Randy " - him."
"About what? No," Angel shook his head. "Don't care. Skip to the ending. Was he making a pass at my husband? Please tell me yes, even if you have to lie."
"Yes," one of the vampires said.
Angel grinned. "Oh good. I know that rule. It means I get to kill him."
Wesley stepped forward. "My Lord - "
"Not mad at you, Wes," Angel said, gesturing for him to wait right where he was. He looked down at Randolph. "You upset my husband, then you tried to touch him. Do you have *any* idea how much just doing *one* of those would have been the dumbest thing you ever did?"
Randy struggled to get on his feet. He kept his wrist cradled against his chest. "He insulted me."
"Good, means he's not stupid," Angel's voice hit a new and interesting kind of quiet. "Don't remember telling you you could stand."
"I came here in the spirit of forward thinking!" Randy said. "I was willing to offer you an alliance, in spite of your animalistic tendencies."
"You thirsty?" Angel asked the vampire who had spoken. "Because my willingness to turn a blind eye is growing with every syllable out of his mouth."
"You think you can threaten me?" Randy asked. "I have the backing of the Council!"
"Wanna see if they'll get here before I cut your throat?" Angel finally turned his attention to Wesley. "You okay?"
"I - " Wesley couldn't begin to process everything that was happening. He answered on autopilot. "Yes, my Lord."
Angel studied him. "Is this what was making you unhappy?"
"I - I wasn't - " Wesley looked at Angel helplessly. "My Lord, I'm never - "
"He was upset about how that guy was treating his wife," the woman who had spoken earlier said. "He really didn't like it."
"Steak dinner for you," Angel pointed to her, then the vampire, "otter for you and - " Angel abandoned the gesture once it got in George's direction " - and a good version of whatever it is you eat."
"With fudge?" George asked.
"Sure," Angel said.
"You're making a big mistake," Randy said.
"You know, that sure didn't sound like 'Oh God, please forgive me for daring to upset your husband,'" Angel replied.
Randy scoffed. "You think I would - "
Angel grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He dragged him over to stand in front of Wesley. "Say you're sorry, or I paralyze you one vertebrae at a time."
"Want me to eat him?" George asked.
"I could get the fudge," Angel replied.
Randy glared up at Wesley. "This is what you are married to?"
Wesley folded his arms. "Insult my husband one more time and I shall kill you myself."
"Wes," Angel said, "tell me why we're not dumping his body into a ravine."
Wesley was sorely tempted. But the thought of what that would do to Zhanna stayed his hand. "He has a wife, my Lord."
"We like her?" Angel asked.
"She was a friend of mine," Wesley said.
"You're going to remember to be grateful for this with every breath you draw," Angel told Randy.
Randy tried to shake Angel off. "I'm going to tell the Council - "
"You're going to tell the Council to keep annoying little gnats like you the hell out of my hair," Angel said. He punctuated his words with increased pressure on Randy's neck. "You're going to tell them how quickly my protection is going to be withdrawn if they don't honor their deals. *And* you are going to tell them to send over Wesley's servants."
"Alive," Wesley murmured, having a sudden horrific vision of how badly a lack of specification could go.
"What he said," Angel agreed. He looked to Wesley. "Anything else?"
Wesley again thought of Zhanna, and what she was going through. In an ideal world, he would marry her off to someone else. But since that wasn't possible... "He'll also allow me to give Zhanna the potion she wanted."
"Do I want to know?" Angel asked.
"Probably not, my Lord."
"You get all that?" Angel asked Randy.
"I'll do no such thing," Randy said.
Angel gave a feral grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."
***
Later, much later, when a literally beaten Randy and newly potioned Zhanna were sent back to the Council, Wesley was sitting in his and Angel's suite, staring into the fire in their bedroom fireplace.
Angel sat down beside him. "You could have told me any of that."
"Protocol disagrees with you, my Lord," Wesley said.
"I disagree with protocol, but you knew that already," Angel leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about, my Lord," Wesley said, and it was a kind of truth. There was nothing he *could* talk about, ergo nothing *to* talk about. Except - "Thank you."
Angel looked surprised. "For what?"
"Stepping in when you did," Wesley said.
"The guy's all of ninety pounds soaking wet," Angel said. "I appreciate the compliment, but I think you could've taken him."
"That's not the point," Wesley said.
"What is?" Angel asked.
"That you wanted to."
Angel blinked. He looked as though he were about to make a joke, then saw the look of seriousness on Wesley's face. "Hey, I already told you that I'll protect you. Anybody wants to hurt you, I'll stop them. Even if they're a scrawny little weakling."
Wesley thought about Angel demanding that Lorne and Andrew be brought over, and how doing so meant that he was taking on the vast machine of the Council's inner politics and cruelties. "Or if they're not."
"Or if they're not," Angel confirmed. He shifted over, wrapping an arm around Wesley's waist. "I've decided that the only monster in your life is going to be me."
A smile began to touch Wesley's lips. "I'm prepared to live with that, my Lord."
Angel smiled back at him. "Good."
flaming_muse's birthday, I give you Protocol, part Forty-Three. Happy birthday, FM!!Previous parts can be found here.
PART FORTY-THREE
Wesley normally did not mind parties. To him they were refreshing. They made him feel like a thoroughbred being allowed to hit top speed and finally do all that he was capable of - not that he was ever allowed to compare himself to a thoroughbred, of course.
Mingling, talking, making introductions, walking the fine line of protocol, serving someone - these were all his domain. It was like music. Like a fine language. It required skills, and delicacy, and quick wittedness.
During his days as a student this pleasure was often squashed beneath the heel of his father's demands. But now, married, Wesley could be himself. He could be what he was destined to be.
Or he could, until Zhanna's inadvertent admission had thrown cold water over everything.
He had to get to Angel. Not that he could ask for help, but being near his husband would be a comfort all the same. If nothing else it would be a distraction. He could attend to Angel and serve his every need and, even if just for a moment, forget what he'd learned.
Randolph was with Angel. Angel looked spectacularly unhappy about that, which Wesley took as unspoken permission to interrupt the conversation.
"My Lord."
"Hey," Angel barely looked at him. Then something caught his eye and he gave Wesley his full attention. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Discipline kept Wesley from clenching his fists in frustration. Spouses were never meant to be asked such things, though of course Angel kept forgetting the rules. That Wesley longed to throw himself on Angel's mercy only made it worse. "Nothing, my Lord. I'm sorry if I've interrupted your conversation - "
"The company of his highness is never an interruption," Randolph said.
Wesley cheerfully ignored him. "I only wished to see if you had need of me, my Lord."
"Yes," Angel pointed his index finger at Wesley, then jabbed it about aimlessly as he took a moment to think. "Yes. You and I need to - "
"Check on the party's progress, my Lord?" Wesley suggested, recognizing a desperate need for an excuse when he saw one.
"That," Angel agreed. He stood up. "Yes. You, me, that. Over there. You - " he aimed his finger at Randolph, looking for all the world like a man who wished he was using another one to point with " - stay here."
Randolph gave an elaborate bow. "Of course, your grace. With fondness I look forward to - "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Angel took Wesley by the arm and steered the both of them away from Randolph and into a quiet corner of the party. "I don't like him. Am I allowed to not like him?"
"You may feel whatever emotion you please, my Lord," Wesley said.
"Would you think it smart of me not to like him?" Angel asked.
"I've often found my Lord to be very observant," Wesley replied.
A group of Branther demons passed by. Angel made a polite face at them, then pulled Wesley over to some abandoned tables. "What's upsetting you?"
"Nothing, my Lord," Wesley very carefully kept his eyes on Angel, and not on the view of Zhanna that could be spied over Angel's shoulder.
"That is such - " Angel grimaced, swallowing a word " - diplomacy I'm really tempted to call you on it."
"Nothing could ever upset me while I am with you, my Lord," Wesley brushed a piece of lint off of Angel's lapel. He let his hand linger there. "On the other hand, with due respect, my Lord does not look entirely happy."
"Did he just pimp his wife to me?" Angel asked.
Wesley felt a strange lack of surprise at this development. "Very likely, my Lord."
"Likely," Angel repeated. "Not shocking or disgusting."
"It could be all three," Wesley motioned towards a chair. "Would my Lord care to take a seat?"
"I'd care for a lot of things right now," Angel said. "None of them involve using furniture the way anybody intended."
"That's as may be, my Lord," Wesley retrained himself from grabbing Angel's coat and forcing him to sit, "but I respectfully remind you about certain obstacles to your pleasure this evening which are in our control to - "
"Oh all *right*," Angel sat down. "There. Weight's off the leg. Happy?"
"Very," Wesley sat in the chair next to him, turning it so that they could face one another. He kept his hands carefully folded in his lap. Massaging Angel's thigh in public, while acceptable under the general rules of protocol, would draw undue attention to a weakness Angel had preferred to keep private. "Lord Randolph made you an offer?"
"He may have made me a recipe for butterscotch cupcakes," Angel said. "I don't exactly understand what he says half - okay, any of the time. But innuendo I'm pretty good at."
"It wouldn't be unheard of," Wesley said.
"Why? No - " Angel held up his hand. "Stick a pin in that. How?"
Wesley frowned. "My Lord?"
"Aren't spouses supposed to be utterly devoted to their wives or husbands?" Angel asked.
Wesley swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yes, my Lord."
"So how does that go hand in hand with what Randy's putting on the table?" Angel rolled his eyes. "Literally."
"We belong to our wives and husbands," Wesley said. "Our job is to serve you in every possible capacity. If it was your wish to make a gift of our talents to someone, then it is our pleasure to do so."
"Okay," Angel steepled his hands together. "Okay, that makes a sick kind of logic. But let me ask you this: if that's the case, why can't I make a 'gift' of you to somebody you care about?"
"I - " Wesley shook his head. Angel's words were meaningless to him. "My Lord?"
"We talked about this," Angel said. "About you having somebody of your own, somebody that you liked."
"I do," Wesley said.
"I'm just saying that if the option is *there*," Angel shrugged. "Why not take advantage of it?"
"I don't want it!" Wesley clenched his hands into fists. He took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. My Lord, it is my honor and pleasure to do whatever gives you happiness. If you have the desire to see me with another person for whatever gain that might bring to you, I shall do as I am told."
"Yeah, and you look real thrilled about it," Angel said.
"I want *you*," Wesley met his eyes. "No one else, my Lord. Only you."
Angel reached out and took Wesley's hand. He gently nudged his thumb inside the curl of Wesley's fingers, making him relax and stop digging his nails into his palm. "I want you to be happy."
"I am," Wesley said. He wished he could make a gesture out of touching their rings together, or any number of ways he could comfort himself while trying to show Angel the truth. "My Lord, I swear it."
"That didn't stink of quite so much diplomacy," Angel said.
"Ask me about Lord Randolph, if my Lord misses the smell," Wesley replied.
"Why's he offering me his wife?" Angel asked.
"He wants to form an alliance with you," Wesley said.
"At least he's smart enough to know he's not going to get that deal using his own personality and charm," Angel smirked.
"He is low-ranking," Wesley said. "He has very little by way of land or power. However he knows that he has something you currently lack."
"What's that?" Angel asked.
Wesley allowed himself to glance over at Zhanna. "A spouse with breasts and a uterus."
"I didn't ask for one," Angel said. He instantly amended it. "Okay, I didn't *not* ask for one either. But it doesn't matter. I don't care."
"A woman could give you things I can't," Wesley said.
"I could have breasts if I wanted them." There was a pause, then Angel looked down at himself sheepishly. "You knew what I meant by that, right?"
Wesley smiled, too charmed to care about the stab of jealousy that shot through him at Angel's declaration. "Yes, my Lord."
"And there's no guarantee I could have more kids," Angel said. "Connor was a miracle."
"You have access to the ability to have more children," Wesley said.
"What? In a lab?" Realization crossed Angel's face. "Oh. You."
Wesley nodded. "You could order me to be with Zhanna. Any child which resulted from that would be a powerful tool to bond your interests with Lord Randolph's."
"Call me old fashioned," Angel said, "but I like it when kids exist because you love them, not because you want to use them as tools."
"It's your decision," Wesley said.
"Do you think that's what Randy's going for here?" Angel asked. "He offered the missus to *me*. Sure, he might not know that the odds of me firing blanks are pretty high, but still - "
"He may have wanted something in return," Wesley said.
"Like what?"
"There are many things that you can offer," Wesley said.
Angel's eyes were penetrating. "Care to name them?"
"Anything you have is something he might want," Wesley said. He breathed a sigh of relief when Angel didn't press for more information.
***
Wesley couldn't sleep. He wanted to sleep. He was in bed with Angel which, having lived for months without him, he now knew was the only way he could feel properly comfortable at night. They'd even had sex, which usually made Wesley feel deliciously drowsy and content.
But his mind would not stop working.
Over in his own bed, Hieronymus stuck his head up and gave a questioning mew.
Wesley shushed him. Though in truth he wouldn't have minded someone to talk to.
Ironically the very cause of his problem was the only person around that he could confess it to.
***
"He is remarkable," Zhanna was brushing out her long blond hair. Wesley noted the faint hints of an English accent that still snuck in to her Russian. She'd been born in Russia, but not raised. And language, like so many of her other classes, had not been her strongest suit. "Amazing. Kind. Generous - "
"You love him," Wesley said. He knew the answer, but needed to hear it.
"Oh yes," Zhanna looked at him from the angle of her makeup mirror. "Very much."
Wesley looked at her eyes. He wondered if he'd been too blind or unwilling to notice the unnatural sheen to them. Dozens of questions danced around in his head, but he allowed himself one. "What does it feel like?"
"Amazing," Zhanna said, unaware or perhaps uncaring that she was repeating herself.
"I'm sure," Wesley said, hiding his expression of distaste. "But I meant - " he paused. What *did* he mean? The question was so obvious to him, yet no one seemed to understand him when he spoke it. "Being in love. What does it feel like?"
Zhanna turned around. She placed her hands in her lap. Wesley recognized his own stance in the gesture. Good posture, at least, had been something she'd been good at. Her face, however, registered concern. "Do you not know? Don't you love your Lord?"
"For you," Wesley hastily said. "I wondered what love felt like for *you*."
"Happiness," Zhanna said. "Joy whenever he's in the room. Joy whenever he is with me. Just thinking of him makes me want to give thanks for who I belong to."
"It is our greatest honor to love and obey our husbands," Wesley recited. He could remember being made to say that over and over as a child. At the time he'd been so certain he knew what he was talking about.
"That's why I came to you," Zhanna moved out of her chair to kneel by Wesley's feet. He had a sudden sense memory of their classes together. He moved back, keeping a respectful distance between them. "You were always so good in school, so dedicated to the one who would claim you."
"I wanted nothing else but to make my husband happy," Wesley said.
"I envied you," Zhanna said. "The lessons came so easily to you. It was like you had a gift."
Wesley wondered if Zhanna would call it that if she knew the ways that Roger had reinforced Wesley's education. "I tried my best."
"I'm not the best," Zhanna's hair spilled over her shoulders, forming a veil around her face. "I can't serve my Lord as well as I would like."
"So you came to me," Wesley said. "Because you thought I could have Andrew make something for you."
"Something to ease the way," Zhanna said.
Wesley rubbed his eyes. He felt tired. "I thought you needed a love potion."
"I already adore my Lord," Zhanna said.
"Who helped with that?" Wesley asked.
"I - " Wesley recognized the dissonance that came whenever someone who had taken a love potion was made to remember that their emotions had not started out as real. "I did."
Wesley translated that to mean Zhanna had brewed it herself. The knowledge formed a heavy pit in his stomach. "How can I help you then?"
"Wesley," Zhanna put her hands on his knees. Her eyes were wide and pleading. "For the pleasure of my Lord, I need something to - "
Wesley suddenly got it. He stood up. The momentum of his emotions propelled him a few steps away. He stood there, feeling the heat of anger in his veins.
Zhanna remained where she was. "Wesley?"
"I have to go," Wesley saw the look of panic that crossed her face, and immediately felt the need to reassure her. "I'll - I'll take care of it. I promise."
Zhanna's smile made him feel sick. "Thank you."
***
Wesley told himself he was going to brew a potion. He wasn't as skilled as Andrew, but he knew what to do and he had the supplies that were needed. This was official spouse business and it was meant to be handled in an official spouse way: quietly, and without anyone being the wiser.
But something, perhaps his royal upbringing, perhaps all the time he'd spent around a certain vampire, steered his steps away from the greenhouse and towards where he knew Lord Randolph could be found.
***
"There's a way to do it properly, you know!"
Randolph looked up in surprise. He was in the great hall attempting, Wesley knew, to try to talk to anyone who could give him more information about Angel.
Though of course none of this was visible on Randy's face.
"Your highness," Randy bowed. "It is with great pleasure and honor that I - "
"She doesn't have potion skills," Wesley advanced on him, his very presence enough to part the crowd around them. "You *know* that. You *had* to know that. There's no way anyone with real talent would have been put into *your* service!"
Randy's eyes narrowed. "Your highness, I think that - "
"You don't think," Wesley said. "You never did. You were an officious little twerp from the start and I've yet to see anything to give me a contrary opinion."
"What could I have possibly done to offend you?" Randy asked.
"Bad enough that you don't care what it does to one of us to take a potion so weak that it only partially blinds us to the truth. Though," Wesley added, "I can see why in *your* case you were thrilled to discover that it gave her the mistaken impression that you're the biggest she's ever seen. Which, let's be honest, we *both* know is staggeringly inaccurate."
"You think it wrong for her to find such satisfaction in me?" Randy asked.
"I think it a *tragedy* that anyone might believe such a thing to be possible," Wesley replied. "But that's not even the half of it. It's no surprise to me that you wanted - no, *needed* the most mindless follower you could get your hands on. But to not allow her to take a potion strong enough *be* mindless -"
"What the Hell are you even talking about?" Randy demanded.
"You *hurt* her!" each word came out of Wesley like a knife. "Needlessly. Stupidly. Because you are too much of a *fool* to notice or care that she's in pain whenever she's in bed with you. Which is *your* fault! Even without a strong love potion she could do it! She has some ability! Lord knows *I* never had a problem with it when she and I - "
"Then why don't you?" Randy asked. "You've such a vested interest in it, why not take care of the matter right now? Let's go back to my suite and see the princely skills that I've heard so much about."
Wesley's jaw dropped in shock. "You would *dare* - "
"*You* would dare, your *highness*," Randy threw back at him. "You dare insult me, here, publicly, and think I would stand for such a thing?"
"I outrank you," Wesley said.
"You are a *spouse*," Randy said. "And you will *act* like one!"
"If you think for one second that I will do what you say - "
"I think that to make sure your husband has no reason to be displeased with you, you will *beg* to do what I say," Randy said. He reached out for Wesley's arm. "Starting with my earlier offer to - "
"Hand."
The word was the only warning before Angel grabbed Randy by the wrist, twisted until there was a snapping sound, then slapped him down onto the floor.
Wesley gasped. "My Lord."
"Standing right now would be a dumb idea," Angel told Randy. He then addressed the crowd as a whole. "Okay. Shiny gold star for anybody who tells me what I missed. He - " Angel jerked his thumb in the direction of George, who shot Wesley an apologetic look - or at least as apologetic as Gliks were capable of looking " - was only able to say I needed to get down here and do it fast."
"They were arguing," one of the women offered. "The prince and - " she shrugged helplessly, indicating Randy " - him."
"About what? No," Angel shook his head. "Don't care. Skip to the ending. Was he making a pass at my husband? Please tell me yes, even if you have to lie."
"Yes," one of the vampires said.
Angel grinned. "Oh good. I know that rule. It means I get to kill him."
Wesley stepped forward. "My Lord - "
"Not mad at you, Wes," Angel said, gesturing for him to wait right where he was. He looked down at Randolph. "You upset my husband, then you tried to touch him. Do you have *any* idea how much just doing *one* of those would have been the dumbest thing you ever did?"
Randy struggled to get on his feet. He kept his wrist cradled against his chest. "He insulted me."
"Good, means he's not stupid," Angel's voice hit a new and interesting kind of quiet. "Don't remember telling you you could stand."
"I came here in the spirit of forward thinking!" Randy said. "I was willing to offer you an alliance, in spite of your animalistic tendencies."
"You thirsty?" Angel asked the vampire who had spoken. "Because my willingness to turn a blind eye is growing with every syllable out of his mouth."
"You think you can threaten me?" Randy asked. "I have the backing of the Council!"
"Wanna see if they'll get here before I cut your throat?" Angel finally turned his attention to Wesley. "You okay?"
"I - " Wesley couldn't begin to process everything that was happening. He answered on autopilot. "Yes, my Lord."
Angel studied him. "Is this what was making you unhappy?"
"I - I wasn't - " Wesley looked at Angel helplessly. "My Lord, I'm never - "
"He was upset about how that guy was treating his wife," the woman who had spoken earlier said. "He really didn't like it."
"Steak dinner for you," Angel pointed to her, then the vampire, "otter for you and - " Angel abandoned the gesture once it got in George's direction " - and a good version of whatever it is you eat."
"With fudge?" George asked.
"Sure," Angel said.
"You're making a big mistake," Randy said.
"You know, that sure didn't sound like 'Oh God, please forgive me for daring to upset your husband,'" Angel replied.
Randy scoffed. "You think I would - "
Angel grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He dragged him over to stand in front of Wesley. "Say you're sorry, or I paralyze you one vertebrae at a time."
"Want me to eat him?" George asked.
"I could get the fudge," Angel replied.
Randy glared up at Wesley. "This is what you are married to?"
Wesley folded his arms. "Insult my husband one more time and I shall kill you myself."
"Wes," Angel said, "tell me why we're not dumping his body into a ravine."
Wesley was sorely tempted. But the thought of what that would do to Zhanna stayed his hand. "He has a wife, my Lord."
"We like her?" Angel asked.
"She was a friend of mine," Wesley said.
"You're going to remember to be grateful for this with every breath you draw," Angel told Randy.
Randy tried to shake Angel off. "I'm going to tell the Council - "
"You're going to tell the Council to keep annoying little gnats like you the hell out of my hair," Angel said. He punctuated his words with increased pressure on Randy's neck. "You're going to tell them how quickly my protection is going to be withdrawn if they don't honor their deals. *And* you are going to tell them to send over Wesley's servants."
"Alive," Wesley murmured, having a sudden horrific vision of how badly a lack of specification could go.
"What he said," Angel agreed. He looked to Wesley. "Anything else?"
Wesley again thought of Zhanna, and what she was going through. In an ideal world, he would marry her off to someone else. But since that wasn't possible... "He'll also allow me to give Zhanna the potion she wanted."
"Do I want to know?" Angel asked.
"Probably not, my Lord."
"You get all that?" Angel asked Randy.
"I'll do no such thing," Randy said.
Angel gave a feral grin. "I was hoping you'd say that."
***
Later, much later, when a literally beaten Randy and newly potioned Zhanna were sent back to the Council, Wesley was sitting in his and Angel's suite, staring into the fire in their bedroom fireplace.
Angel sat down beside him. "You could have told me any of that."
"Protocol disagrees with you, my Lord," Wesley said.
"I disagree with protocol, but you knew that already," Angel leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about, my Lord," Wesley said, and it was a kind of truth. There was nothing he *could* talk about, ergo nothing *to* talk about. Except - "Thank you."
Angel looked surprised. "For what?"
"Stepping in when you did," Wesley said.
"The guy's all of ninety pounds soaking wet," Angel said. "I appreciate the compliment, but I think you could've taken him."
"That's not the point," Wesley said.
"What is?" Angel asked.
"That you wanted to."
Angel blinked. He looked as though he were about to make a joke, then saw the look of seriousness on Wesley's face. "Hey, I already told you that I'll protect you. Anybody wants to hurt you, I'll stop them. Even if they're a scrawny little weakling."
Wesley thought about Angel demanding that Lorne and Andrew be brought over, and how doing so meant that he was taking on the vast machine of the Council's inner politics and cruelties. "Or if they're not."
"Or if they're not," Angel confirmed. He shifted over, wrapping an arm around Wesley's waist. "I've decided that the only monster in your life is going to be me."
A smile began to touch Wesley's lips. "I'm prepared to live with that, my Lord."
Angel smiled back at him. "Good."
