Taking Risks
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG
Archive: If you already have my stuff, otherwise, just ask.
Disclaimer: All right, you all know by now that I don't own these characters. Obviously if I did, there would have been happy endings all around, and Wesley wouldn't have died. Thank goodness for fanfic.
Summary: Set during Ats S2.
A/N: Written for zanthinegirl, who asked for Wesley and Gunn friendship set sometime pre-Fred. Glad to oblige, my friend.
"Okay, so did you get the beer?"
"Of course. Did you order food?"
"Yeah, there are a couple of pizzas on the way." Gunn looked up from the game board. "You sure Cordelia didn't mind us bein' elsewhere tonight?"
Wesley shrugged. "She said that she'd be happy to have her apartment to herself for the evening, something about a hot bath and Dennis scrubbing her back."
Gunn raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't mind that job." At Wesley's reproving expression, he held up his hands in self-defense. "Come on, Wes. You have to admit that the woman is hot."
"She's a very attractive girl," Wesley said. "But I don't think of Cordelia in that way."
Gunn snorted. "Please. You can't tell me that you've never been attracted."
"We've grown past that," Wesley replied, rolling the die to begin the game. He made a face at the low number and handed the dice to Gunn with a sigh.
Gunn rolled, his grin broadening when he saw the six. "Looks like we're getting off to a real good start."
"Oh, yes, a very good start," Wesley replied sourly.
"So you've grown past that?" Gunn asked, continuing the earlier line of questioning, sensing a story there. "That means you were there at some point."
Wesley cleared his throat. "We went out a few times."
"And?" Gunn pressed.
"It didn't work out. We're simply good friends."
Gunn knew that there had to be more to it than that, but he also knew Wesley's tone of voice well enough to recognize that he wasn't going to get any more information. The Englishman was a weird guy—as easy to read as a book one moment, as inscrutable as a Zen master the next. It had been hard to know whether or not he could trust the other man for a long time for that very reason.
Wesley had made quite an impression when he hadn't run off after Angel left them, though. He'd stuck it out, even though Gunn assumed that Wesley could go home if he wanted.
Gunn rolled the die to make his first move, getting the game started; Risk had always been one of his favorites. He'd gotten the board game for Christmas one year from one of those charity programs that gave toys to kids with no families. He'd thought it was a lame deal until he'd found the box in his stocking.
The funny thing was that Wesley wasn't very good at it; he tended to play too conservatively, refusing to risk it all to take a territory. Gunn played recklessly, but with purpose. He knew exactly which territories he had to get his hands on, and which ones to hold at all costs.
It was as much about luck as anything else, which didn't seem to be something that Wes grasped; he played as though it was life and death.
Not that Gunn was going to point out the flaws in Wesley's strategy; he was a little too competitive for that.
He watched Wesley's face fall as he lost
Wesley grimaced. "It's not over yet."
Gunn shook his head over Wesley's stubbornness. "We can keep playing, but you have to know that it's not going to do you any good."
Wesley just shook his head obstinately, and they played until Gunn won, hours later, even though the outcome had been decided long before.
Weeks later, that was what Gunn thought about, when he saw Wesley lying in the hospital bed, pale and drawn, laughing about getting the good drugs for the pain. Wesley and his refusal to give up, which had seemed humorous while playing a board game, was now something else altogether.
It was probably the only reason he'd survived.
"Charles? You're still here?" Wesley asked, his eyes glassy from the medications they kept pumping into him.
"You know I am," Gunn replied. "Cordy went off to get some coffee or something."
"Did you talk to the doctors?" Wesley asked. "I keep asking them when I can go home, but they won't tell me."
Gunn didn't want to tell him that the doctors were still worried about internal bleeding, or that it was going to be a few days before they let him out of bed, let alone out of the hospital. "They just want to be sure you're not going to spring any new holes before they let you out of here," Gunn reassured him.
Wesley frowned. "You'll tell them I need to go soon? I know with Angel gone—"
"Hey, don't worry about it," Gunn said. "And you know how Cordy gets when we say that name. We've got your back, man."
His eyelids started to flutter. "You're sure?"
"Yeah. You get some rest." Gunn watched as Wesley drifted off to sleep, thinking how odd it was that Wesley refused to take risks where a game was concerned, but he had no trouble risking everything for a friend.
Whatever mistrust Gunn might have had for Wesley had dissipated the moment he saw the red spot blooming on his friend's abdomen, and the resultant shock on his face. He understood what that kind of debt meant.
They weren't just friends; they were brothers.
Gunn had to respect a man willing to risk it all.