by Kay (kaysfic at hotmail.com / website: Kay's Asylum Journal (love for Sandy))
Spoilers: Er. The first season of Angel, and the very end of the third season and the beginning of the fourth season of Buffy. Takes place during the summer after graduation.
Notes: This fic is completely and utterly Karen and Sandy's fault. If they weren't so cute, I'd stop talking to them. They just lob bunnies in my direction with no regard for my lack of willpower. Sandy went one step further and held my hand through most of the fic, then sketched the ending for me when I started to stumble. Sandy, you so rock. This fic-baby has your eyes <g>
Summary: A new Rogue Demon Hunter encounters a new act at the Fabulous Ladies' Night Club.
Wesley cut the engine to his motorcycle and the full parking lot was engulfed in silence once more. He wasn't sure that he was really in the mood for a crowded bar, but night had long since fallen and he was tired of driving. He got off the bike and stretched, working out the kinks in his tired muscles that threatened to become truly painful if not dealt with swiftly.
He hadn't realized becoming a rogue demon hunter would involve this much driving. He wasn't used to spending hours on the road as he searched for demons...and for people to pay him for hunting them down. He really hadn't thought his new career all the way through before embarking on it. True, he liked the wardrobe; there was something just a little bit dangerous about wearing leather that Wesley rather enjoyed. He also liked the weapons and the motorcycle. His image had undergone quite a change since the Watcher's Council had fired him and he fancied that he cut quite a figure in his new clothing with his new equipment.
The image upgrade was proving to be the only easy part of being a rogue demon hunter, however. He'd managed to find a few demons. Thanks to his weapons and his lack of an audience, he'd managed to kill a few of them. He flushed a little. It was most irritating and embarrassing, but it was true: he was quite competent, but only when there was no one around to appreciate his prowess. As soon as he knew someone was watching him, his fingers lost all of their hard won skill and he was fumbling like a fool. Now that he was on his own, he was doing quite well.
Too bad he was having so much trouble finding people to reward him for his good works. He could track and kill demons, but at the end of the day, all he had to show for his effort was a dead demon and last time he checked, very few places accepted demon corpses in lieu of regular currency. There had to be a way to make money at this, but he hadn't found it yet.
He looked at the club hopefully. It was late, but he might find a few people inside willing to engage him in a game of darts. He was good enough that he could probably win the price of a meal and a couple of drinks and after traveling all day, that sounded near heavenly.
The sign advertising the bar was out; burned out or broken, he couldn't tell and in the darkness he couldn't read what it said. He'd only found the place through luck and spotting all the cars in the parking lot. He made his way to the door. Hunger won out over his distaste for overly loud music and crowds and after only a few seconds of hesitation, he pushed his way inside.
The interior was dark, the low lights shrouded with smoke that hazed through the air. Wes felt immediately at home in the dim light; it was the one constant in drinking establishments the world over. He walked over toward the back of the bar, looking for a dartboard and scanning the crowd.
He frowned. There were an awful lot of women in the bar. They outnumbered men by quite a large ratio. Wesley was confused until he reminded himself of the American custom of naming one night a week 'ladies night' and offering special prices to them. No doubt that was what had happened here. He tried to hide his disappointment. It was unlikely that he'd be able to challenge a woman to a game of darts and walk away with any money. Rogue demon hunters didn't hustle women, even if they were hungry enough to consider it.
Glancing over at the women who surrounded a stage in the center of the club, Wes decided this really wasn't the sort of place a demon hunter should be patronizing. It was a little too...pink, although really it was tastefully decorated for a bar. He turned and headed for the door, resolved to drive on a little further before stopping for the night.
A loud voice boomed over the sound system. "Now, ladies, we've got a special show for you. For one night only, we're giving you a tasty young treat. He's never been on stage before and he never will be again. It's....Xander!" Pulsing dance music filled the club, louder even than the cheers of the women who surrounded the stage.
The unusual name lingered in Wesley's ears and he turned to look at the stage. It couldn't be the Xander he knew. A special show? What kind of bar was this? His steps slowed without him realizing what he was doing.
The curtains at the far end of the stage rippled and then a young man stepped out into the stage lights. His head was bowed a bit, dark hair obscuring his eyes and he danced haltingly forward. His dark shirt and pants didn't fit him very well.
A few cheers greeted his arrival. One woman shouted, "It's all right, sweetie. Let us see your face!"
The man raised his face and Wesley stopped moving altogether. It *was* Xander.
Xander smiled nervously.
"Now let us see your ass!" another woman hollered.
A flush rose on Xander's cheeks, but his grin stayed in place. He tilted his chin upwards and shimmied his hips tauntingly toward the audience. Pleased shrieks greeted the move and Xander seemed to gain confidence from them, his movements becoming more fluid as he moved to the music.
Wes knew that he should turn and leave, but he couldn't quite remember how to move. He was caught standing utterly still and staring. He had to look a fool, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from the stage.
Xander performed an elaborate bump and grind as he raised his hands to unbutton his shirt. He worked his way down its length slowly, then eased the material off his shoulders and let it pool on the floor.
He shouldn't be here. Wesley knew he should leave and be on the road, not staying and watching as gleaming young flesh was revealed under hot stage lights but he can't quite find the will to move.
This wasn't the way rogue demon hunters acted.
Cheered on by his enthusiastic audience, Xander pulled his pants off with a single quick jerk. His grin enormous, he swung the tear-away garment around his head a few times before tossing it out into the crowed. Women fought over it and the one who emerged victorious shrieked and waved them in the air.
Wes couldn't even get his eyes to close. In desperation, he told himself that he was watching so he could get some of his own back. Xander had mocked and teased him mercilessly in Sunnydale. This was his chance to turn the tables on him. When this little show was over, Wes would tell Xander that he had seen him and watch him tremble with embarrassment.
That helped. He relaxed as he watched Xander drop to his knees, clad in nothing but a thong. It was the thrill of victory moving through him and making his heart race, not want. He was staring at Xander as he crawled across the floor because he wanted to be able to mortify him later, not because he was going to collapse into anonymous hotel beds for weeks after this and replay the scene on his closed eyelids while he stroked himself.
The sound of his own heartbeat drowned out the music pulsing over the speakers and the women who shouted encouragement and suggestions to Xander. It didn't matter; all his attention was focused on the dark haired young man who was now making his way around the stage, hips thrust forward as he mutely begged for tips. The audience obliged him, fingers sliding down his flanks before tucking money into his waistband, then flickering over his thighs and withdrawing.
Wes clenched his hands into fists. They were damp with sweat and he slid his fingertips together, wondering how it would feel to be touching Xander, gliding his fingertips over his sweaty skin. Would he be able to tell the difference between his sweat and Xander's? Would the heat rising off the other man's body burn? Or would Wes...no. He focused on the flush that remained on Xander's cheeks. He was going to embarrass him and make that blush permanent.
Xander bolted off the stage with a huge grin after a florid bow. The women in the bar cheered and clapped. A few hollered for him to come back, but the stage lights dimmed and the music faded back down to a more normal roar. The act was over. Xander wasn't coming back.
Wesley slipped out the door. He paused outside in the night air, wishing that it wasn't summer. He could have used a nice bracing cold breeze. It had been awfully warm inside the bar. An effect of the large crowd, he told himself, nothing more.
He looked around the parking lot. Xander wouldn't exit the club through the front; in order to do that he'd have to walk through his new fans and judging by their reaction he might not make it to the door. That meant that there had to be a separate exit that performers could use.
Before he began searching for one, though, Wesley walked back over to his bike and retrieved a small crossbow from his weapons stash. He wasn't going to start poking around dark corners without being armed. Finally ready, he began his search by circling the building from the right.
He crept down a side alley, stepping carefully around discarded bits of trash and broken bottles as he made his way to the back of the building. He got there in time to see a door open, spilling light into the darkness. Xander followed that light, stepping out into the night air. He turned around and looked through the doorway at someone Wesley couldn't see.
"You're sure you have to go?" asked a woman's voice from inside. "Looked like you could be popular around here. I might even be able to give you a regular spot after you get some practice."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Xander said with a smile. "I think that's as much popularity as I can handle. It's time for me to head back home."
"If you're sure..."
"I am. Thanks for everything."
"Hey, thanks for filling in tonight. You saved my ass."
Xander laughed. "I saved your ass by shaking mine!" He started to walk away.
"I will," he promised. Humming a little to himself, he walked straight towards Wesley.
Perfect. Wes ducked back into the alley. He leaned against the wall, posing a bit, then waited for Xander to turn the corner and see him.
Xander turned the corner, smiling a little to himself as he hefted the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced up as he entered the alley. His eyes widened dramatically as he staggered to a stop. "Wha? Wesley?"
"Xander." He was rather proud of how coolly confidant he managed to sound.
"What are you doing here?"
"I drove by the bar and stopped in to use the phone." Xander wouldn't recognize the lie. "I was quite surprised by the quality of the entertainment offered here."
"You saw." Xander's shoulders slumped. "Shit."
"I saw," Wesley agreed. He smiled. "I dare say I saw just about everything."
Xander flushed and he lowered his face, glaring at Wes from beneath his lashes. "It was only one time. The regular guy got sick and they needed someone to fill in and it was my last night and I wanted to help."
"I'm certain everyone will be very impressed by your generosity."
"You can't tell anyone! I only did it because no one would ever find out!"
"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it?" Wesley straightened up, enjoying the feeling of power that coursed through him. Right now, Xander was completely at his mercy. He took in the dark hair still damp with sweat, the stain of color overlying tanned skin and gloated. This was all his and he wanted to savor it. He took a step closer to Xander without realizing he was moving.
Xander took a step backwards. "Hey! You're wearing leather. You're wearing leather and you're threatening me. You're a vampire, aren't you?" He unzipped his duffle bag and began to root around inside of it.
"I am not!" Wes dropped his arms to his sides, stiff with outrage and indignation.
"Yeah? Then why are you dressed like that?" Xander pulled a stake out of his bag and held it out in front of him.
"I would have you know that I am a rogue demon hunter!"
"Ha. You can't fool me. There isn't any kind of demon called 'Rogue'. She's a comic book character!"
Wesley sighed. He'd stopped having these sorts of conversations after he'd left Sunnydale and he was rediscovering just how maddening they were. He fished his cross necklace out from beneath his shirt and let it lay across his palm. "Does this convince you?"
Xander stared at his hand suspiciously for a moment, then relaxed. "So you hunt demons now?"
"Yes." Wesley let himself preen just a little bit. None of them in Sunnydale had ever thought him capable of it, but demon hunter he was. Now he just had to figure out a way to earn money while hunting, but he was certain that he would figure it out eventually. There was no need to mention that, though.
He decided that he'd taunted Xander enough. A final volley and he'd be on his way. "Have a safe drive back to Sunnydale. When I stop for the night, I will be certain to call Giles and tell him that you are on your way."
"No! Please. Can't we just pretend that tonight never happened?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" Wesley nodded pleasantly and turned to leave. A rustling sound further down the alley caught his attention and he paused. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, but that didn't mean there was nothing there. He tightened his grip on his crossbow, just in case.
"Hey! I wasn't finished." Xander's hand fell heavily on his shoulder.
Wesley couldn't help it: he flinched. His finger spasmed and he pulled the trigger. "No!"
"What? What happened?" Xander jumped away from him.
Wes fought down the trembles that threatened to overwhelm him and forced himself to look down. The arrow from the crossbow was lodged in the toe of his boot; sheer chance had saved him from seriously injuring himself.
A cat darted past them, a gray blur in the darkness before disappearing into the night.
"Oh, man. Some big bad demon hunter you are. You almost had a heart attack over a cat?"
Worse than a heart attack; Wes had almost shot himself. He wondered if there was any way to get the arrow out of his boot before Xander saw it.
Xander began to cackle. There was no other way to describe it. Laughing so hard he was shaking, the dark haired man pointed at Wesley's boot.
So, no, then. "Xander..."
"Do you shoot yourself often when you're busy hunting down comic book cats? Excuse me - I mean, rogue demon cats?"
This wasn't the way this scenario was supposed to play out. "Perhaps we could reach some kind of accommodation."
"What kind of accommodation?" Xander settled down. He was grinning, but a blush lingered on his cheeks.
"An agreement between the two of us that this night never happened."
Cocking his head to the side, Xander looked at him speculatively. "Never happened?"
"Nothing inside the club...and nothing outside of it."
Xander looked distinctly interested. "Never happened? So none of it will ever be mentioned?"
"Not between us, and certainly not to anyone else."
"I can agree to that."
Wesley sighed quietly. Good. If word of this debacle got out, he would never get anyone to take him seriously. He'd been fighting an uphill battle for months and he wasn't willing to give up because of one disastrous night. If Xander never spoke of it to anyone, then Wesley could pretend that nothing had happened and forget about this night. He glared down at the arrow sticking out of boot. Not wanting to see it silently accusing him of incompetence any longer, he bent at the waist and pulled it loose, then hurled it away. He stood up and looked back at Xander.
The younger man was flushing hard again, his eyes directed downward. His gaze stuttered up to meet Wesley's and he looked away quickly, coughing a little. He busied himself with putting his stake back in his bag.
Wesley narrowed his eyes. It almost looked as though Xander had been staring at his ass when he'd bent over. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? "Are we agreed?"
"Are we agreed that tonight never happened?"
"Oh. Yeah. Never happened. What tonight? I don't know anything about tonight."
"That's the spirit." Wes tried to figure out if there was a way he could salvage any dignity in leaving.
"Do we agree that none of tonight happened? Like, amnesty until dawn, no harm, no foul?"
That would take care of the problem of making a decent exit. If tonight never happened, then what did it matter? "I like the sound of that."
"Good." Xander stepped forward and grabbed Wesley's jacket.
Wes braced himself for a fight and was utterly surprised when Xander's mouth closed over his. He froze in shock as hot lips skated over his. He stared as Xander stepped backwards abruptly, his movements jerky with embarrassment.
"No harm, no foul," Xander said quietly. He stared at Wes for a moment, then stepped past him.
If tonight never happened, then nothing he did could affect his work as a rogue demon hunter. He could give in to the urges that didn't fit his new role without interfering with his transformation.
He reached out and grabbed Xander's arm, swinging him around.
"No harm, no foul!" Xander protested, trying to pull away.
"No harm," Wesley promised, before pulling him forward and kissing him deeply.
The duffle bag fell to the ground forgotten and Xander wrapped his arms around Wesley's waist, sliding his hands down to his ass to jerk him closer. Wesley mirrored him, needing to feel all of Xander's solid body along his own.
Their mouths worked clumsily against each other, finesse gone to desperation and need. It was hard and wet and they were both spiraling out of control, grappling in an alley but too far gone to care. Wesley was suddenly erect, hard and aching as though they'd been doing this for hours instead of minutes. He jerked Xander closer and felt Xander's cock hard, so close to his own except for the damn clothing separating them.
Xander crowded against him, humping up against him and pushing him until his back was to the wall and they were thrusting against each other. Xander bit and licked at Wesley's throat. "More..."
"Your mouth," Wesley hissed. "I want your mouth." He slid one hand upwards and clenched his fingers in Xander's hair, twisting his head around and up so he could taste his mouth again. Their teeth clacked and then they found a sloppy rhythm that worked, building the fire higher.
It was too good and too hot and not enough. Wesley worked his other hand between their bodies and fumbled his way down the front of Xander's pants. Damp hot flesh filled his hand and he pumped experimentally, instantly gratified by the way Xander clung to his shoulders and thrust up into his grip with a needy whine. Wesley did it again, and again, until there was nothing in his world but the slick heat in his hand and the wet of Xander's mouth and the delicious friction of his own cock within his leather pants.
Xander drove himself forward hard and stiffened, crying out high and wild as he came, spilling himself all over Wesley's hand. He bit down on Wesley's lip, hard and sharp and it pushed Wes over the edge himself.
They clung together for a few moments, lost in the pleasure that had run through them. Reality slowly began to set in, and Wesley didn't fight it when Xander slipped away. It took a little work to pull his hand free from Xander's pants. He looked down at the thick fluid still clinging to his skin. Without thinking about it, he raised his hand to his lips and lapped at his wrist, licking the skin clean.
Xander gasped and Wes looked up find him watching with huge eyes gone dark with satiated lust and shock.
Wes could feel the blush flaming on his cheeks as reality crashed in upon him completely. He jerked his hand back down to his side, holding it awkwardly. The haze of sex disappeared, leaving him feeling sticky and uncomfortable in his ruined pants, unsure of what to do with his wet hand.
Xander looked everywhere except at Wesley while he picked up his duffle bag. "Never happened, right?"
"Never," Wes echoed.
"Right." Xander took a few steps away, stiff-legged and obviously uncomfortable. He hesitated. "Some parts of it...it'll be a shame that some of it never happened. It's stuff that I'd like to remember." He didn't turn around.
"I agree," Wes said softly.
Xander nodded and began to walk again. He didn't turn around as he left the alley and disappeared.
Wesley leaned back against the wall, giving Xander time to leave before he'd make his own awkward way to his bike. He closed his eyes. He had a feeling that he'd be dreaming about a night that never happened for a long time to come.