The smell of marjoram assailed Angel's nose first, followed by the realization that he *had* a nose. A not-newt nose. His not-newt nose noticed a new note -- nutmeg. That must be the difference between the spell Wesley had put on him in the first place, and the spell to...take it off?"

He stood up straight, and said, "I envy Harmony's intellect." Angel looked around at the hotel room, and saw that it hadn't grown any smaller. "Yes! I can lie again!" He danced, just a few steps, but enough to make everyone in the room look at him like he needed to be shot, to put him out of their misery. Angel didn't care -- he was *free*. "I think Spike is the most mature person in this room."

"I am *not*!" Spike protested. "Er, wait, yes I am. Long as you don't join in the chorus of 'Aww, Spike saved his Sire 'cos he lurrrrves him. Then I'll have to thump you."

"You did," Xander insisted.

"Did not. Just thought if anybody gets to squish Angel, it'll be me. And he doesn't deserve to be stepped on. Sat on, yes."

Angel had been hearing them go back and forth like this, for the past half hour -- he could just hear it *better* now, with vampire ears instead of tiny newt ones. He went over to Spike and loomed over him. "Spike...I know why you did it," he said in an annoyed tone.

The tone made Spike perk up, even though he couldn't have a clue what Angel meant. "Er, yeah?"

"And I'm touched," Angel finished. Then he laid a huge, sloppy kiss on the other vampire's cheek. Xander and Cordelia started laughing hysterically, and Angel grinned and backed away, fast.

Spike was rubbing his cheek and glowering. "That was uncalled for," he muttered.

But it most definitely was called for. This was going to make Angel feel good for days. Then he caught sight of Wesley, who was watching with a slight smile on his face. Angel went to him and grabbed him into an embrace.

"God, Wes -- I love you."

Wes started, then wrapped his arms around Angel and leaned into the hug, a bit. "I...I love you, too, Angel," he said, sounding perplexed.

Angel tightened his hug, then turned his head and kissed Wesley. He'd meant it to be a short, brief, welcome back kiss. But as soon as he felt Wes' lips on his, it was all he could do not to ravish him, right there.

Wesley was breathing hard, and flushed, by the time Angel let him go. He felt a tap on his shoulder, but didn't have to look over to know it was Gunn. "Can I take a turn?"

Angel handed Wesley over to Gunn, and stepped back half a step, to give them room. A little room. As Gunn gave Wesley a kiss, Angel thought about throwing everyone else out, and taking his lovers to bed.

Then there was a tap on Gunn's shoulder. Angel looked in surprise at Spike, who said when Gunn looked over at him. "My turn." Gunn let out a growl that was *almost* as loud as Angel's. Spike stepped back, hands in the air, and a smirk on his face that did nothing to make him look like he didn't need to be thumped. "Hey, was worth a try."

Gunn took a step towards Spike. "Yeah? Wanna try this?" Angel could tell he wasn't *really* going to hit Spike -- and Spike knew it too -- but that didn't stop his childe from stepping back into the protective arms of his husband and sticking out his tongue.

"You know, if he stakes you someday, it'll be your own fault," Xander said.

"Nah. It'll be yours, for not defending me. I'm valuable, and should be cherished."

"You're incorrigible, and should be spanked."

"That's what I said."

Gunn made a disgusted sound. "Why don't you two go back to your own room and do that glooble thing where the rest of us don't have to watch?"

Spike stuck his tongue out again, and this time he got whapped on the head for it. Angel realized that he had *no* idea how Xander decided when to whap Spike, and when not to. Maybe it was purely random? Not like it ever had the proper effect. Spike was grinning, even now, like he'd been invited to a party. Xander *was* taking him by the hand, though, and pulling him towards the door.

Excellent. Angel looked at Cordelia, who just looked back. "What?"

"Do you mind?" Angel gestured towards Gunn and Wesley, asking to be left alone with them.

"No -- if I can take Spike and Xander making out in front of me, I can handle Gunn and Wesley hugging."

Angel sighed. "Cordy--"

She giggled. "Relax. I'm going -- down to the hotel restaurant, again by myself I might add. Don't blame me if I order two desserts."

She gave them all a smile, though, that said she didn't really mind. As she headed for the door, Wesley called out, "Cordelia." When she turned back, Wesley said, "Thank you."

She smiled wider, looking like a girl of sixteen, for a moment. Luckily Angel knew better than to say so out loud unless he left off the 'moment' part. "You're welcome, Wes. I'm just sorry we couldn't...do more, you know?" Her smile faded, slightly.

Wesley took a deep breath, then nodded.

She left, then, and the mood, Angel discovered, had been broken. Instead of taking his lovers into the next room to get naked, he felt like hitting something. Possibly Wesley's father.

"She means besides slashing your dad's tires," Gunn told Wesley, who blinked.

"You slashed his tires?"

"No, she did. While you were trying to start the rental car, and Spike was putting the distributor cap back on and pretending he didn't know why we woulda been stranded there if you hadn't decided to come with us."

"That was...nice, I think. Of someone."

Angel walked back over to them. "I think she was trying to make sure he didn't change his mind, and come after you."

Wesley's lips tightened into a narrow line. "No danger of that."

Angel saw Gunn's hand tighten on Wesley's arm. "Yeah, 'cause I'd have finished what Spike started, if he tried."

Wes shook his head. "We all know it wasn't going to be an issue." He breathed deeply again. Not quite a sigh -- like he wouldn't allow himself that much emotion about this thing. "It's for the best. Now I know."

"Wesley...." Angel began, but he didn't quite know how to say 'your dad's a bastard, who cares what he does?' Because Wesley did care. Maybe not about Richard Wyndham-Pryce, but about that image he had in his mind -- the one they all had, of a father that loved you for what you were.

"It's all right, Angel," Wesley repeated, and Angel could see he'd tucked it all away, set it aside like a text he needn't bother reading.

It wasn't all right, but if Wesley wanted to pretend otherwise, Angel would let him. For now. "What do you want to do? About the estate, I mean? I think Xander called Gavin already...."

He watched his lover sigh, and look away. "Yes. I should..." His voice broke slightly, and Angel wanted to gather Wesley in his arms. "I should take care of things, shouldn't I?"

Gunn was still holding him, and Angel saw the way Gunn's arms tensed, then he was pulling Wesley closer, nudging him with his chin until Wesley conceded, and let his head drop, and accept the cuddle. "You don't have to do it tonight," Gunn said.

"No, but... I'd rather it were over as soon as possible. I don't want my mother to worry about losing her home."

Angel shook his head. "I don't think she will. After all, she knows I was telling the truth about Xander and David being able to buy it."

Wesley looked up at him, his expression pained. "I don't want to do that -- to take that much money from either of them. I realize it's the best option. I just don't like it."

Gunn stepped back, a little. "So, you were pretty much gonna give up the rest of your life to take care of your blood family, but you can't take money from your real family?"

"I--" Wesley started to answer, then shook his head. "All right, so I'm neurotic. Which I believe you've known for several years now."

Grinning, Gunn gave him a kiss. "We like you neurotic. This way, neither of us has to be."

"Thank you," Wesley said, dryly.

"Wes." Angel stepped forward, again, feeling awkward. He felt like Wesley was going to see him and Gunn on one side, again, teamed up to take care of Wesley. But right now, Wes *did* need taking care of...so why couldn't they both do it?

He wanted to explain the things they could do, to make sure the estate was dealt with, which would require as little contact on Wesley's part as possible. But looking at Wesley, seeing how his lover was beginning to let Gunn hold more of his weight, and how his eyes were losing focus, his eyelids dropping ever so slightly -- he decided he didn't care. They would just take care of things, now, and tomorrow they would make sure none of this had affected their chances to make Wes satisfied with whatever arrangement they'd come to.

"Wes, what do you want? When all is said and done -- what d'you want done? Not done?"

For a moment, he thought he'd managed to utterly confuse his lover. Well, Gunn looked a little confused. But Wesley finally said, "I don't want my parents to be forced to leave their home. I...I realize they don't want my assistance, and I don't owe them anything...." Again his voice started to break. Gunn ran his hand up Wesley's arm. Wesley seemed to pull himself together once again, and said in a steadier voice, "I don't care what happens to it, after. I needn't inherit, and I don't...want anything from it. If it's sold, or whatever. I've very few fond memories of that place and I don't think--" His tone faltered again, and Angel heard himself whispering that everything would be okay as he cupped Wesley's head in his hand, and kissed him.

Whether it would be or not, tomorrow or the next day, at least for right now they had Wesley back. Angel had lips that parted against his, and breath that sighed into his mouth, and a pair of blue eyes that were searching his own for comfort. Just that, now. Not answers, or assurances that things would be perfect. Just comfort, and that, he could give.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow, okay?" he whispered, and Wes nodded. Lifted his head slightly as Gunn stroked the backs of his fingers over Wesley's throat, and over Angel's hand, as well. There was something there, though. In his eyes -- something that looked almost like what Angel had seen when Wes had told his mother he would stay that mythical, pivotal extra month. The fear that he was giving in to something, giving up his own free will.

Angel's fingers closed over Gunn's for a moment, and both of his lovers looked at him. "Angel?" Wesley asked.

"This isn't me, or us, trying to fix everything with sex. We're not *trying* to fix anything, right now."

Over Wesley's shoulder, he saw the understanding bloom in Gunn's eyes. There were moments when he wished just as hard as Wesley, that they didn't share something that Wesley didn't feel a part of, but he didn't want to give up that wordless communication, either. Maybe they didn't need to -- because on Wesley's face, he saw understanding, as well, and relief. And for once, Angel was sure of what he was seeing: not relief at his words, but that he had known they needed to be said.

"So," Gunn began, hesitantly. "It's okay if we *have* sex now, as long as we all know it isn't to fix stuff. Right?"

Angel grinned, and contained his laugh until he saw Wesley smiling, as well. But Angel shrugged. "We could put it to a vote."

Wesley laughed. Angel found himself staring, transfixed for just the moment. Gunn appeared to have been hit the same way. It was good to hear Wesley laugh. It was even better to be holding him. Angel dove in to kiss that laughing mouth, and he felt a flick of a tongue inside his own mouth. Hot, and teasing, and when Wesley pulled back, his eyes were dancing.

"Well, I believe Angel votes 'yes'. Charles?"

Gunn looked thoughtful. "Did we put down a cleaning deposit for the room?"

Angel was torn between grinning, and scowling. Wesley just looked patient. Angel was reminded that Wesley could out-wait them *all* when it came to this sort of thing. Until they actually got naked and started doing things to him, of course.

Gunn waited a few more moments, before nodding. "Okay, I'm in."

"You make it sound as though we were going to pillage the countryside," Wesley remarked, pretending to be unamused.

"Oo, can we do that, too?"

"No pillaging around here, man." Gunn wrinkled his nose at Angel. "Not when the sheep are related to you. I'm down with the whole vampire incest thing, but I draw the line at livestock."

"Sheep in the family?" Wesley raised an eyebrow as Angel gently nudged both of his lovers in the direction of the bedroom. "What *have* you been up to while I was gone, Angel?"

"Nah, that was a hundred and some years ago. Man gets desperate, with only Spike for company."

Wesley paused them inside the doorframe to the bedroom. "Do I want to know what you did? Should I be having sex with a man who did these things?"

"Nope. Have sex with me, instead," Gunn said quickly.

"Oh, for god's sake. All I did was get Spike drunk and make him dress up like a lamb."

Wesley looked at him, then at Gunn, then back at Angel. "With a bell and collar?"

"Of course. I had a crook, too. Put it to good use."

"If you promise never to mention it again, I'll think about having sex with you."

"Mention what?" Angel responded, innocently. He was more than happy to never talk about Spike, when he wanted to be having sex with Wesley. It was almost too easy.

"So, are we having sex in the doorway, or can we use the nice, comfy bed?" Gunn asked.

Wesley took another step into the bedroom, then he hesitated, again. His expression grew slightly doubtful, and Angel braced himself for another round of ought we, ought we not.

"I...don't know if I've said this enough, or clearly enough," Wesley said, seriously. "But -- thank you. For coming after me. For...forgiving me." He looked away from them, one hand fiddling with a wrinkle in his sweater.

Angel picked that hand up, and brought it to his mouth. Kissed the back of Wes' hand, and caught his eyes. "I love you."

The blue in Wesley's eyes seemed to grow darker, and warmer. Angel wanted to pull Wesley close and never look at anything else. But he felt Gunn taking Wesley's other hand, and Angel held back, to let his other lover into the circle.

"I love you," Gunn said. He placed a kiss on the palm of Wesley's hand, and Angel saw and smelled the sharp spike of Wesley's arousal. Time for talking was over. He nudged Wesley backwards, into the room and over to the bed.

Gunn followed, each of them still holding Wesley's hands. They used their free hands to begin stripping him; for once no one seemed interested in pointing out that it was two against one. They had to let go to remove his sweater and shirt, but by that time his hands were starting to do other things, and it really didn't matter.

Long practice allowed them to undress each other without getting too much in anyone's way. Angel ran his hand along Wesley's side, as two hands began undoing Angel's jeans. He ignored them, as he realized -- "Shit, Wesley. How much weight have you lost?"

"I haven't -- " Wesley looked down at Angel's hand, which splayed over ribs far too close to the surface for Angel's liking. He was always thin, but this bordered on famished. Angel would never have chosen this Wesley for a meal, in the old days. "I suppose I haven't been paying much attention to eating, recently. Now don't mother me, Angel. It puts me right off sex, thinking about you in an apron and housecoat."

Angel would lay odds that Wesley's mother had never worn an apron or housecoat in her life, but he wasn't about to say so. "What about *just* an apron?"

Someone was sliding Angel's jeans down his hips, and someone was undoing his shoelaces. If Wesley's tongue weren't suddenly in his mouth, Angel might have been able to summon the logic to figure out who was doing what.

"And cover up the most attractive part of you?" Wesley whispered, somewhat brokenly, as Gunn stood behind him and did things to his lower back that must have been pretty spectacular if what Wesley was doing to Angel was any comparison.

"I could wear it backwards."

"Nah -- then you'd cover up *my* favorite part." Gunn reached both hands around Wesley and pushed Angel firmly backwards, so that he landed on the bed, on Gunn's favorite part.

"I think I'm a little insulted that nobody likes my *face* best," Angel complained. "I mean, I even got my name because of it." But no one seemed to be listening. Angel was going to really be insulted...or just think about it. Then someone was licking him, and he decided they could discuss it later.

He realized he was almost fully naked, and he pulled himself away from his lovers long enough to stand up and get rid of the last bit of clothing. He noticed with approval that Gunn was taking advantage of the opportunity to divest Wesley of his pants, and underwear as well. That left only Gunn still wearing any clothing -- and Angel and Wesley didn't need words to agree that they should handle that, next.

When they were all three naked, Angel looked from Gunn, to Wesley, wondering which he was going to do first. Not who -- he knew that. Knew the moment they'd walked into the room who he wanted. As he ran a hand up Wesley's far too thin chest, he pushed, gently. Wesley moved backwards towards the bed, and Gunn reached out to ease him down, already touching, and leaning over to place kisses along Wesley's neck and collarbone.

It aroused Angel, just to watch. Seeing how Wesley arched under the touch of Gunn's fingers along his stomach, or groaned when Gunn sucked gently along his neck. Angel didn't feel like only watching, though; he crawled onto the bed between Wesley's legs, and pushed them apart.

He wasn't thinking, as such. He sometimes got the feeling Wesley thought they were ganging up on him, had these things planned out on advance, or at least communicated to each other -- you do this, I'll do that. Nothing could be further from the truth, at least not now. There was just this oh-so-warm, too fragile-looking body beneath him, and his own screaming at him to take it all, now, now, now. Suck it all in, the demon that still lived inside him letting its hunger for blood become another sort of hunger entirely.

He wasn't thinking about what to do, even though a part of him still had words. He was just reaching, his fingers almost burnt before they touched the skin of Wesley's thigh, traced in and up and then there was no question that they were burning. No question that hands weren't enough, that he couldn't fill hunger with his hands, that he had to lower his head and take that vessel of pure heat that he was holding, into his mouth.

Whimpering was good. Thrashing, and little noises that almost sounded like terror were good, because the right parts of him knew to take the sounds and movements for pleasure. The wrong parts were perfectly happy to pretend, as long as he let them run his tongue over the tip of Wesley's cock, let them taste and lick and pretend they were going to be allowed to devour.

He heard himself growl, deep in his throat, and felt Wesley jerk before the sound of his cry even registered. There was no other movement, for the moment, other than Angel on Wesley, and Wesley's uncontrolled writhing. Then there was a hand tugging at Angel's arm, and Gunn was trying to move them over.

Angel moved, let Gunn scoot Wesley to one side without letting Wes' cock free. Sucking down on it, listening to every sound he elicited and finally closing his eyes to just hear, just taste, and just feel. Wesley's body beneath him, everything he wanted to consume.

Then the sounds were suddenly muffled -- the gasps and cries vanishing into subvocalized whimpers and moans. Angel glanced upwards, not removing his mouth from the cock he held. He smiled around it, knowing he must present an evil picture, were there anyone with presence of mind to look. Gunn had propped Wesley's head up on a pillow, and, kneeling above him, was thrusting himself into Wesley's mouth.

Slow, easy motions that Angel knew so well; he watched, and began matching his own long, slow sucks and teasing head licks to those he was watching. As Gunn slid himself into Wesley's mouth, Angel lowered his own mouth onto Wesley's full length. As Gunn pulled out and nudged at Wesley's tongue, Angel pulled back and licked the head of Wesley's cock.

Wesley was trembling, beneath them, the muffled sounds growing stronger and more desperate. Legs spreading farther on either side of Angel, as if begging for more. Angel ignored the request, eyes riveted instead on Gunn, on Gunn's thick, slickened cock, and the sound of Gunn's sharp panting. His hands were gripping the headboard tightly enough that Angel suspected anything less than solid wood, should be torn free and pulverized.

Angel looked up, for a second, and caught Gunn's eyes. At first, there was only the glazed look of complete immersion in pleasure, then the dark eyes seemed to focus on him. The mouth that had been used only for panting, managed to shape itself into a grin, and Gunn leaned forward, balancing his hands momentarily on Wesley's shoulders before he was stretching out, moving towards Angel.

Wesley's spread legs twitched more desperately, as Gunn lost any pretense at teasing him, as Angel grabbed at his left leg and held it steady while he slid over it, angling himself towards the head of the bed, and Gunn. The part of him that still had words had a brief, irrational fear that he was going to get kicked in the head somehow. The rest of him shushed it with the knowledge that they'd all done this before with no grievous bodily harm, and even if he did get brain damage, would anyone notice?

It also pointed out that if he kept sucking *quite* so hard at Wesley, one of his lovers would be gone before he himself even had... gah. No fear of that, then, when hot, moist lips were closing around him, and Angel's instinctive shudder carried through his whole body. He could feel the reverberations in the spasms of Wesley's leg, under his head, carrying in a circle as Wes gripped Gunn's ass, and Gunn tightened his fingers on Angel's hips.

Angel tried to concentrate on what he'd been doing -- sucking the life out of Wesley through his cock. He managed one good suck before Gunn did the same, and it was all Angel could do not to shout -- or the stuffed-mouth equivalent. But there was another pull on his cock, straight into the hot, wet depths of his lover's mouth, and Angel groaned. The vibrations from his chest and throat went straight into Wesley, who jerked, and moaned himself -- which went directly into Gunn, which.... Angel recalled that their record for holding out, while doing this, was a mere twenty three seconds.

But now it wasn't necessary to watch, to match his every move with Gunn's, or Wesley's. He could feel everything, and as he moved his tongue he felt a tongue move on his cock. After another dizzying moment he couldn't tell who was following whom. Angel dug his fingers into somebody's legs -- he'd find out tomorrow, when they saw the bruises -- and lowered his head again, pulling Wesley's cock all the way into his mouth. He heard strained cries, and sensed Gunn reacting to those cries, then felt himself being pulled into oblivion.

Someone shouted, and someone was holding onto Angel, and someone -- or all of them -- shuddered and jerked, and came.

Angel was the only one who swallowed, keeping Wesley's cock in his mouth until the motions had stilled. He licked the softening cock before letting it go, and heard the heart-felt sigh from his lover as he collapsed. Gunn crawled away, just long enough to turn himself around to properly grab onto Wes and cuddle. Angel gave a wet, still trembling thigh a kiss, before doing the same on the other side.

He made plans to kill his childe, when he heard from the other side of the wall, "Oi, that's thirty-two seconds, innit? They've set a new record!"

"Fuck off," he growled loudly. Wesley slapped a hand over his mouth a moment too late.

"Don't mind if I do," was the expected and received response.

"Is their bed against our wall?" Gunn hissed.

Angel shook his head -- though he wouldn't put it past Spike to move it, just so they'd have to hear the headboard banging all night.

There was muffled mumbling from the other side of the wall -- Angel could barely hear it, so he doubted Wes and Gunn could -- then Spike spoke up. "How about we just use the chair?"

More mumbling, and the clear word "Knees," in Xander's voice, before Spike let out a loud sigh.

"Well, I'll stand on my hands, of course. Bloody hell, do I have to think of everything?"

"Can I kill him? Please?" Angel whispered to anyone who was listening.

Wesley wrapped an arm around his neck. "Later."

"Promise?" Angel asked, but his lovers were both already drifting off to sleep. He decided to let them, settling himself down to rest the way he'd wanted to for the last two weeks. Wesley, sandwiched between himself and Gunn, all three of them with arms and legs entwined.

Of course, his human lovers didn't have to try to fall asleep to the sounds of Xander and Spike trying to re-create *their* sex scene, with one fewer people. Angel reminded himself that in the morning, he'd be able to strangle Spike. That thought alone would give him sweet dreams for the rest of the night.

*****
Part 11:

It had been, in Xander's opinion, a successful mission. He and Spike, between them, had enough duffel bags filled with English chocolate and Batham's beer to last a week -- two, if they actually tried rationing them.

Cordy had gotten her shopping trip in -- two of them, in fact. She'd woken up early the morning after they'd rescued Wesley, and left a note at the front desk, saying if they tried going anywhere before eight pm she would meet them in L.A. and someone named Xander or Angel would be paying for her ticket on the Concorde. Then, when they'd gotten to London in the evening, she'd glared them into staying until midnight, so she could hit the famous London boutiques.

Spike had been all for it, since it had allowed them to give Angel and his lovers a walking tour of where they'd been on their honeymoon. He'd sulked attractively when he couldn't find the lamppost they'd fucked against, but it hadn't stopped him from pointing to a random one and giving the trio enough details to make them get all growly and touchy-feely with each other, while they pretended to be disgusted. That it had also made Xander drag him into the bushes for something that was *almost* illegal, but not quite, Xander chalked up to honeymoon nostalgia.

The enormous amounts of bags and new luggage that they'd been drafted into carrying for her, made Xander sort of regret having given Cordelia his American Express on a two-day loan, though he didn't regret not having gone shopping with her. He had it back, now, though, and was trying not to check to see if it were warm to the touch or if any numbers had been rubbed off.

The tube ride back to Heathrow had been spent listening to Cordelia talk about London fashions, and listening to Spike talk about Victorian ones. After the first five times, Xander had stopped trying to convince anyone that Spike was telling the truth. Now, though, they were all safely back on the plane, and headed for the States.

Safely, because for the last day and a half Angel had been trying to strangle Xander's husband. Glurble.

Though it didn't actually *hurt* Spike to be strangled, since he didn't have any air supply to be cut off, he'd *whine* about it, and Xander had gotten tired of pointing out the obvious. Mostly because every time he got to the phrase "air supply," Spike would start singing "I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you..." and there'd be no reasoning with him. It was just easier to keep him mostly out of Angel's reach. Like, at least a seat away.

That meant, of course, that Spike had to find something else to do besides annoy Angel. At the moment, it involved his hands, and Xander's seatbelt. Or at least, that was what Xander planned to tell the stewardess if she asked.

"Spike, the Captain hasn't turned off the 'No Groping Your Husband' sign yet," he informed his groping husband.

"Like he can see me from up there in the cockpit," Spike responded. "'Sides, he's probably too busy having his little orgy with the air hostesses to pay any attention to what's going on back here." Spike had given Xander -- and everyone else -- a detailed explanation of where he suspected the phrase 'cockpit' came from, during takeoff. That had prompted Angel's hundred and fiftieth attempt to strangle him in the last 48 hours.

"Spike, *someone* has to be flying the plane." Wesley's voice came from the row in front of them.

"Nah, s'all computerized. Perfectly safe. He just has to punch a few buttons. The rest is just for emergencies." Spike was frighteningly well-informed on the subject -- probably because he'd spent the last few hours of the flight over, reading all about it so he could torment Angel by telling him the exact opposite.

"Just because there's an autopilot," Wesley countered, before being interrupted by Gunn.

"Man, why do you bother? You know whatever you say to him, he'll turn into some way of rationalizing *somebody* having sex."

Spike looked offended. "You say that like it's bad."

"Oh, gee," Gunn retorted. "You, evil? Nah."

Spike looked smug, and nodded. "Damn straight."

Xander noticed that neither Gunn, nor Wesley, seemed terribly invested in tormenting his glurbly husband. They were looking at each *other* too much to give Spike much attention. Xander tried not to grin too widely. From what Cordelia had said, Gunn and Angel had been positively grim, moping around the hotel without their Wes.

Now that they had him back -- for good, as far as Xander could tell -- they were all practically bouncing off the walls. Or maybe it was just pheromones. Spike swore that the Deadly Trio had spent more hours having sex, in the last two days, than Xander and Spike had. Xander had just asked Spike how he'd noticed, if he'd been busy having sex.

Xander glanced over at Spike now, knowing that his husband could probably tell by vampiric-telepathy, that Xander was thinking about him and sex, at the same time. Spike met his gaze, and after a split second, his eyes started to fleck gold. Yep. He knew.

Xander started thinking about the sex they'd talked about that morning, about having on the plane. In the bathroom, pressed up against the wall. Spike had said that Xander could finish his phone calls to Gavin, while Spike finished licking his way around Xander's body. Xander had pointed out that he'd told Gavin everything he needed to, to take care of Wesley's folks' estate. They wouldn't lose the place, though the name on the deed would end up being *Wesley* Wyndham-Pryce (Smith), and not Richard.

His folks could stay or not, as they saw fit. If they *didn't* stay, the place would go up for sale, and the proceeds would go to a charity of Wesley's choice.

Spike had pointed out that he could get very creative with his tongue, if Xander were willing to call Gavin from the plane and talk to him abut anything under the sun, while Spike got busy. Xander had pointed out that they could do that just as easily from the hotel bathroom in London. Spike had conceded that he might have a point. Xander had dialed the time and temperature service, and Spike had pretended he didn't know there was a recording on the other end of the line instead of Gavin Park.

Not that Xander hadn't been willing to have sex while on the phone -- he'd done so several times when he'd had to call into work to explain why he wasn't going to be there -- but talking to anybody from Wolfram and Hart made his skin crawl almost as much as Cordy's, and it might be one of the few things in the world that would put him off just-post-honeymoon sex with Spike.

It had been weird enough to be tongue-bathed while hearing a woman who sounded just like Giles' friend Olivia, reading the local time and temperature in Celsius and Fahrenheit to him, over and over. Xander reminded himself never to ask Giles what Olivia did for a living.

He blinked rapidly, as the thought blossomed in his head. Good lord. He'd forgotten, in all the drama. Giles. Giles! Xander grinned widely, and leaned forward. "Oh my god -- I didn't tell you guys what *Giles* got us for a wedding present, did I?"

"Muzzles?" Gunn suggested.

Spike tapped Xander on the shoulder. "Hey, don't spoil it -- make 'em wait for the video."

Wesley turned around to look at them. "Giles got you a video? That's not terribly creative, given the number you have already."

Xander grinned. "No, he's gonna help us make one."

Wesley looked confused for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "Xander, if this has anything to do with anyone having sex, I don't want to hear another *word*."

"Why? Still tuckered out?" Spike asked. His head was jolted forward by a hard whap from behind. Spike glared at Angel, who had just come up the aisle behind them. "Was that strictly necessary?"

"You rather I use hot pokers?" Angel asked mildly, sitting down across from Wesley and Gunn. "Leave my lover alone."

"What for?" Spike sounded honestly perplexed by the request.

"Because otherwise, you're going to discover the joys of plummeting. Without a parachute."

Xander gave Angel a look. "You're really getting into not being under a truth-spell, aren't you?"

"I liked 'im better as a newt," Spike muttered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. He looked adorable, pouting like a schoolboy -- and somehow the fact that he was obviously aware of that didn't make it any less effective. Xander leaned over and gave him a big kiss.

"What if we put *Spike* under a truth spell?" Gunn asked.

"Hey, I'm *always* truthful!" Spike protested.

"He'd be a newt before he ever got near the hot tub," Xander told them.

"Oh and thank you for your support. I see how it is. The honeymoon's over, is it?"

"But you make a very sexy newt," Xander assured him.

Spike preened, and stuck out his tongue at Gunn. "Do it, then. Lay it on me. Not like I'm not used to bein' a newt, unlike *some* people, who don't know any better than to get stepped on."

Wesley leaned across the aisle towards Angel. "What *were* you trying to do? You ought to know by now that newts can't bite, after the number of times you've fished Spike out of the hot tub."

"I was going to do something nasty on his foot," Angel said matter-of-fact-ly.

Spike looked pleasantly surprised, and said, "I knew there was a reason I saved your life," at the same time as Wesley smiled, and said, "I'd wondered."

Angel looked smug -- like he'd actually done something heroic, and been rewarded for it. Xander supposed he couldn't blame him. He was still trying to think of things he could do to Wesley's father -- ex-father -- that wouldn't have unpleasant repercussions for Wesley. Maybe submit a report to the Watcher's Council, detailing the secret demon lovers Richard had taken over the years? Xander could even provide pictures. His job had to be good for *something* besides money, power, and free porn.

He knew Wesley didn't want anything done. He was the forget it and never mention it again, type. Xander was, sorta, too-- with his own father, at any rate. Xander was content to have nothing to do with his parents, as long as they behaved themselves. But he still had his grandparents, and now he had a trans-dimensional mother in law; Wesley, he realized, had no one. No parental figures at all, despite Xander's half-serious offer of Adelaide.

Xander looked at Angel, and Gunn. None of them had. He felt a little sorry for them.

As he watched them, though, looking at each other and talking about things unrelated to Spike or sex -- because Spike was happily humming to himself while he groped Xander -- he saw that maybe he didn't need to. They looked as happy with each other, as Xander was, with Spike.

He wasn't stupid. Whatever had kept Wes over here that long, had prompted him to send that letter in the first place, and been responsible for the announcement that all engagements were off until further notice -- hadn't been solved by a day and a half of marathon sex and cuddling. Any more than his and Spike's problems ever were.

Well, the cuddling part sometimes solved things. The only problem sex ever had ever permanently solved, though, was the problem of not having sex, Xander realized. And even that wasn't permanent -- it took frequent reapplications.

It hadn't solved the issue of Spike wanting proof that Xander wouldn't become someone else, after he was turned. *Talking*, of all things, seemed to have worked that out. His excited announcement on the way to Wesley's parents' house, that Adelaide was precisely the same woman Spike had known when he was William -- even if *he* might not be precisely her son -- had nudged a grudging, "S'pose you're right," out of Spike.

Later, in bed, there'd been more. He'd met Spike halfway; agreed to wait at least another year. Officially so Xander would look old enough that people wouldn't think Spike was a chickenhawk when they were seen together, though how this explained Spike not caring *now*, Xander didn't know. But he knew it was really so Spike could check around some more, himself. He couldn't argue; how could he? Tell his husband, "No, you can't have ample research time to prove to yourself that you won't be murdering me, when you kill me?"

To the others, though, Xander was sure they looked as if nothing had ever been wrong -- just like, right now, Angel, Wes, and Gunn did. Right now, he *felt* like nothing had ever been wrong -- and he supposed that was all he could ask for. He looked at Spike, and found his husband unabashedly making glurble eyes at him.

Xander loved him, loved him so much he didn't know how anyone could not see it, a mile away. Anyone except Angel, Wesley, and Gunn, who were too wrapped up in their own being in love, to notice anyone else. Xander reached over, and traced a line down Spike's face, along his cheekbone. He didn't mind waiting a year, or two, or ten, if Spike just kept looking at him this way.

There was a sniff from a few rows back. "Damn. Stewardess? I need more ice cream."

the end