"Hey now, none of that." Wesley's eyes snapped open to see Angel looking at him again. As if Wesley were the one about to get his toenails painted pink for brooding, instead of the usual victim. But the edge of the smile twitched, and it was the demon who spoke. "Whole point of this exercise is for you to *look*."

"What if I don't want to?" Wesley asked, his tone made sharp by the frustration simmering through his body.

"Oh, you want to. You want to look. You want to hear, you want to touch...." Angel was grinning at him, the demon still looking at him through Angel's eyes.

Wesley struggled, again, and Angel chuckled softly as he couldn't move. Behind him, Gunn began speaking softly, giving litany to the pleasures of fucking Angel's ass. "You wanna be *here*, Wes. Where I am. Puttin' this thing inside him. Watching him take it in. Second prettiest ass in the world, Wes."

Wesley felt his eyes narrow, and the hands that Angel held fast by the wrist began to tighten into claws of their own accord. "Yours being number one, I take it, Charles?" Not that he didn't agree with the assessment, but it irked him, in ways he couldn't quite explain. The feeling that they were both perfect specimens of-- Well, of perfection. Sculpted muscle, tall and broad and light and dark, and here was Wesley. Who didn't quite measure up.

"Oh, you know it," Gunn said lightly, and Angel's grin just...remained. Wesley tugged at his wrists, knowing it was futile. Damn, it, all he'd wanted....

"Let me go," he said quietly.

Angel chuckled. "Not yet, Wes. You still have time...oh, yeah, like that...."

Time? Time for what? For a hundred indecisions and revisions before the taking of toast and tea? Time to consider yet again whether Spike had lied? Time to wonder if his bloody upper middle class education gave him anything more useful than a knack with the books and the ability to quote T.S. Eliot while not quite having sex?

"Let me go," he said again. Then more forcefully, "Be with me, or bloody well let me go!"

Angel looked at him with confusion, liberally mixed with astonishment. "Be with you?" he echoed. Angel made no move to release him, and Wesley tugged one more time. He felt a brush of cold hit him; he'd never had to try to say no, before. Never thought he'd have to say it twice. Much less thrice.

"What are you doing?" Gunn asked, and he sounded only curious, not concerned, but not teasing either.

Wesley didn't care. He just wanted out of this room, and let them do whatever they liked where he wouldn't have to watch. Listen. Not be allowed to partake. They hadn't wanted him *here*, at all. Never wanting him here. He no longer pretended to know what was wrong, but he was tired of pretending he didn't know that there was.

"Let me go," he said again.

Angel's hands released him. Angel's body still held him there, though. Angel's face still stared down into his. No longer wicked, just confused. Moving towards guilty. Don't know what I did wrong Wesley, but I'll angst over it if you'll let me. Wesley stared straight back at him. He didn't quite know what expressions were passing over his own face. Perhaps he was as confused as Angel.

Except this wasn't to be solved by Angel feeling sorry. Not everything in the bloody world could be solved by Angel feeling sorry. Not everything in the bloody world was about the dark knight and his faithful squire. Sometimes it was about the poor idiot scribe waiting at home to tally up their adventures. Take them into his bed and let them tell him how wonderful he was. As long as he was waiting at home.

"Please," he heard himself whisper.

"Please what?" Angel's voice was soft, now. No hint of the demon that tormented him, just softness and warmth and something that promised safety, and vengeance on behalf of any who could claim it.

"Don't leave me anymore."

Angel's eyes grew wide, and there was a clatter. Gunn came around to beside the bench, hands empty. Hands on Wesley's arm, and Gunn looked as confused as Angel. As Wesley. "We're right here, Wes." From Gunn, who knelt down, tilting his head a bit. Wondering if Wesley had lost it completely, no doubt.

Wesley shook his head. Clearing away confusion, or merely jumbling up the contents even further? "No. You're gone. The two of you. You'll take me along if there's a slime demon to fight, a Bugblatter Beast to coax out of the middle of the freeway, but someplace like this? You're gone. I'm left at home."

Was he making sense? He didn't appear to be, from the look on Gunn's face. Angel was no help, just as confused and happy-to-be-sorry-but-I-don't-know-what-for as he had been before. Wesley was supposed to be the one with all the words. All the languages he spoke, he should be able to say this. "Just take me with you." Still not enough, he knew, but he couldn't figure out how to say it.

Gunn rubbed the side of Wes' face, as though trying to remove a smudge of dirt, or trying to see if anyone were at home inside his skull. Perhaps he should just let it go. Let them do as they desired and just...watch. As he'd earned. As the thought formed, his hands grabbed onto Angel's wrists and held on. "Are you so ashamed of being with me, that you'd rather leave me?"

And Angel almost looked as if he knew. Almost. There was a flicker of something there. As if he understood. Which was why the touch of Gunn's hand on his chin surprised him so. Wesley didn't expect it of Gunn, somehow. Charles put up with him, where Angel coddled him. That was how it seemed, at any rate. So why was it his dark lover who was shifting, rising, sitting down on the edge of the bench next to him?

"What makes you think we're ashamed of you, Wesley?" It was an honest question. He truly didn't know the answer, but he wanted to. All there in his voice.

A flash of more absurdity -- Wes should have been self-conscious, explaining this as he was. Flat on his back, legs held out of the way by Angel's body pressed on him. The position which should have said 'fucking' but instead, right at the moment, said 'holding me in place'. "Why didn't you want to bring me here?"

He did feel faintly foolish for asking. He knew they'd answered him before. Angel's surprised response told him he was foolish. "We explained that already." There was a pause. "Didn't you believe us?"

"And every other time?"

Both his lovers stared at him with widening eyes. "What every other time?" Gunn asked.

He had to take a deep breath, and felt Angel shift. He tightened his grip, and Angel remained where he was. Absurd, yes. To be having this conversation in the back room of a sex shop. "Every other time it's about being out, together. Every time there's a chance people might look at me. Then you leave me home. Or you cover me in cotton wool and wrap me up like a mummy. Take me into a back room..." He looked around him, and his lovers followed his gaze, just after, so when he was able to watch them again, they were still seeing the ceiling. The floor. The closed door.

Gunn shook his head. "I was telling you the truth, Wes. We don't... Well, *I* don't, want to share you with anybody. Except Angel."

Wesley gritted his teeth. "It's not about you sharing me, you bloody fool. Do you think I'll go off with someone else? Do you think I'd *want* to? Are you that afraid to lose your own private little Wesley-doll?"

They both blinked at him. They glanced at each other, then Gunn said, carefully, "We *don't* want to lose our own private Wesley. The rest of it...ok. You ain't goin'. So what makes you think we're leaving you behind?"

Wesley sighed. "Because every time I try to go along, I end up pushed to the rear. And I don't mean you leaping out in front of me when I'm about to be ripped in half by something taller than a semi. I just--" He stopped, and now Angel was caressing the other side of his face. It was hard to remember what had angered him so, when they were touching him this way. Making him feel cherished. "I don't ask you to be proud of me. But can't you behave as though you didn't mind someone knowing you--" and he stopped before he could say 'loved me'.

Gunn's hands were on either side of his face, knocking Angel's away. One disappeared for a moment, as if to apologize for its rudeness, and then was back. Turning him to look directly into eyes even darker than Angel's. "Proud of you? Wes, you're the best damn thing in our lives! When it was just the two of us..." Gunn glanced over at Angel for a moment, questioning, and he must have received his answer, for his eyes were back in line with Wesley's. "Somethin' was missing. Never told you this, but I almost left."

"You...what?" Wesley glanced from Gunn to Angel, and found nothing but what looked like concerned regard.

"You balance us," Angel said quietly. "In ways we can't do by ourselves."

It took a moment for that to sink in. He spent the time staring at each of his lovers. He'd known...back when Spike had fairly flung him into Angel's room where Angel and Gunn had been waiting to prove to him that yes, he had indeed been invited, that things were not all rosy between the two. He'd never, ever imagined that he had been the solution. "Then why...."

"Too easy to lose you, man. At least you don't *mind* when one of us steps between you and something that wants to tear your head off. But those're easy to fight. How do you fight the next guy or girl who comes along and sees what we were finally smart enough to see? Who's got more to give you than a lifetime of tryin' to get demon slime outta your clothes?"

Wesley shook his head, or tried to. With Gunn's fingers on both sides of his face, all he managed was a slight tremor. "I was always going to be getting demon slime out of my clothes. I was trained for it. And Whisk works wonders." It wasn't an answer, but then he really didn't understand the question.

"But that doesn't mean you want to come home to it every night," Angel replied. There was a pause, then, "Whisk? Do you have to spot-treat it first?"

Wesley didn't respond. Did his lovers really think he would ever want to leave them? Had Angel forgotten how desperately he'd hung onto him, that first year, and how much he'd clung to Gunn, then, the second? Did they think that, somehow, his devotion to them then meant nothing now? "But I don't want to. Not come home to it. To you," he stammered. Still feeling a bit confused, as if they hadn't quite figured out what each one meant.

Angel suddenly stood. Wesley blinked, feeling exposed and a little lost without the weight holding him in. Angel fixed his jeans, then held his hand out to Wesley. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?" He slowly sat up, and let Angel take his hand.

"Come on," Angel repeated. When Wesley stood, Angel took him away from the bench -- to the door, and out. Bewildered, Wesley looked back to find Gunn grabbing his clothes and throwing them on. "Are we leaving?"

But Angel took him out of the hallway, into the store proper. He headed for a small clearing between two aisles, and stopped. Turned around, and kissed him. In clear view of a good two thirds of the store.

He could see, just, over Angel's shoulder, that half of the customers and staff weren't even paying attention. They must have been used to far more exciting displays of affection, and more than affection, than this. The other half were looking... interested. Maybe even amused. Then Gunn came up behind him, and began to nibble on the back of his neck. Looks of interest became looks of... something else. Wesley wasn't sure what, and only had half his mind on it anyway.

He wanted to ask what they were doing - why, rather - and good luck to those two on figuring out what he meant, because he surely didn't have a clue. But they didn't bother saying anything. Not out loud, at any rate. Angel's tongue was saying something rather eloquent, there inside Wesley's mouth.

Gunn's hands were speaking loudly, as well. Sliding in between Wesley's and Angel's bodies, pressed flat against both their stomachs, palms out. Then they simply rested there, touching them both, as he continued nibbling easily along Wesley's neck. Angel moved away from Wesley's mouth and began laying kisses along his jaw, and neck

"I don't...." He'd forgotten what he was protesting. If he'd been protesting, and not thinking about whether anyone was going to walk off with their merchandise. And whether the security cameras were on, or whether Xander would be getting copies, somehow, for the next film. Then he was simply being held, tightly, between his lovers' bodies.

It might have gone further. It could have. So easily. Gunn's hands were pushing, just a little. Sliding downwards, and Wesley wasn't about to argue with him. Was more or less incapable of speech, between the feel of those bodies pressed against him, and the knowledge of what they were doing, and why.

He thought of saving them that, letting them know they had told him what he needed to hear, but he didn't have the control. If he had to feel guilty later, so be it. He would happily stick out his toes and let Gunn hold the bottle while Angel did the painting. In fact, it didn't sound all that bad, provided he could get them to use clear nail polish, instead of pink. Such are the thoughts that wander through the mind of one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce while standing in the middle of a sex-toy shop between two lovers who seem just about to ravish him in plain view of quite a few people.

"Love you," he managed to say. "Love you both."

Then Angel was facing him, looking deeply into what must have been unfocused eyes. Angel leaned closer, and placed a kiss on his lips. "I love you, Wesley."

A light kiss on the back of his neck, then, "I love you, too."

Wesley fought the urge to sniff. He was not turning into a pile of mush, just because his lovers loved him.. He was *not*. Perhaps slightly. He brought his hand up and rubbed at his nose. "I--" Another kiss interrupted him. To hell with whatever he'd been going to say. He kissed Angel back.

It got all soppy. Kissy-face. Hands that had been busy moving towards interesting places simply moved up and placed themselves flat on his chest, and Gunn laid his head against the back of Wesley's shoulder. Yes, because that was *guaranteed* not to turn Wesley into a pile of mush.

"Um..." Gunn said against his back. 'Tell the big guy I love him too, if you see him."

"Uh," Wesley replied. He was having trouble remembering which words flitting through his head were English. But he heard Angel chuckle, then Angel's mouth left his skin and he heard the familiar sound of Angel and Gunn sharing a kiss. For the first time all day, it warmed him. He let himself smile -- the only complicated thing he could do anymore.

He tried to watch, but their faces were so close, and Wesley's muscle too ignoring him, that all he got was a close-up view of Angel's hair. He blinked, and decided that was *not* a grey hair he saw. Perhaps best not to mention it. Until later, when there was a better chance Angel might be in an evil mood again, and be willing to punish him for it.

"Hey, that was beautiful, you guys," squeaked the large rubber duck standing just behind Angel. Wesley blinked repeatedly. The figure of the large rubber duck finally resolved itself into a large rubber duck. He wasn't losing his eyesight; he'd just had his prescription updated last month. Perhaps it was just his mind that he'd lost. That was certainly more likely. Angel loosened his hold enough to turn around, and Wesley saw him smile.

"Hey, Morrie."

The duck squeaked. "Angel! I thought that was you, but I couldn't be sure. Didn't really expect you to be the 'in a clinch with two humans' type. You were always so fastidious."

Wesley found himself blinking, more. The large rubber duck was the owner of the establishment in which he was being made love to, albeit with his clothing still on. It seemed perfectly appropriate.

"That's Morrie?" came from over Wesley's shoulder. "Buh...buh...buh..." Wesley obligingly reached back and whapped Gunn gently on the head. It wasn't only Angel who could learn lover-training techniques from Xander. "But he's a duck!"

"Don't stare, Gunn; it's not polite," Angel said, turning a half-grin on him.

"But-- he's a duck!"

"Hi, I'm Morrie," the duck said, holding out a wing politely. He - she? it? they? Wesley wasn't sure -- sounded as though he or whatever was used to people staring at him and saying "But you're a duck!"

"He's a duck!"

Angel sighed. "Yes, he is." Then he turned back to Morrie. "It's nice to see you again."

"Wonderful to see how you've done for yourself, Angel. Really. Wonderful. Amazing. Can I get you three to sign releases?"

Wesley seemed to be doing so much blinking today that his eyelids might very well wear out. "Er...releases?"

"Oh, yeah." From under the other wing, if wing it was, Morrie pulled a set of legal-sized papers. "For the security-cam footage."

Gunn finally remembered how to say something that didn't involve the word 'duck.' "ExCUSE me?"

The duck tilted its head. Wesley was having trouble keeping a straight face. An afternoon of watching Sesame Street with Spike, after about four too many beers, had forever changed his view of rubber ducks, and here was one tilting its head at him. Or rather, at Gunn.

"Well, it's not obligatory, of course. The security cams are for your own protection. But we do pay rather nicely for footage like that. Either the back room stuff or out here, or both."

Gunn was back to his 'Buh, buh buh' again.

Angel was looking sheepish, which got him a glare from Gunn. "Um, did I forget to mention the cameras?"

Gunn reached over and hit Angel. Hard. "Yes, you forgot to mention the cameras." Then he turned to Morrie. "Just *what* do you want the footage for?"

"Oh, we release the tapes, every week or so. The 'Morrie's Home Videos' line. Very popular. I can also offer gift certificates, instead of cash, at a slightly higher rate."

"You *what*?" Gunn sounded like a duck, himself, the way he'd squeaked.

Welsey looked at Morrie. "Would we get a copy of the tape?"

"Oh, you can have a copy of the tape anyway. You'd normally have to pay for it, of course, but seeing as Angel's a former employee, I think an exception would be in order."

Gunn was meanwhile coming around to stand where he could stare incredulously at Wesley. "You *want* to release this stuff?"

Wesley was debating whether to play with his lovers, just a bit, but that would be a tad worse than just letting them continue kissing him when he had already gotten the message. Making Gunn release a videotape like that...was more on the guilt-level of purple toenail polish. With glitter. Still...

"Think of it, Charles. Gift certificates." Actually, Wesley *was* thinking of the gift certificates. If the smile on the duck's bill was in any way interpretable in human terms, those tapes would pay for Xander and Spike's wedding presents, whatever else they couldn't get out of here without buying today, and probably a few additional trips.

"Not the back room." Gunn had an expression on his face reminiscent of the one he wore right before he slew an evil demon. Wesley reached over and placed a finger under his chin, caressing his skin until the scowl faded. "Not the back room," he repeated.

"All right," Wesley agreed. "That will still leave us enough to make some purchases for Spike and Xander." And themselves, of course. He didn't think he needed to remind them of that. Although... where *was* their shopping basket?

"Excellent! Wonderful. If you'll let the cashier know you'll be signing the forms. Khe'll get you set up." Morrie gave them a smile, one which gave Wesley faintly disturbing feelings. Rubber ducks simply shouldn't *leer* that way.

From under the same wing that had produced the papers that Angel had finally taken from him, Morrie retrieved something yellow. Wesley really didn't want to think too deeply about how much a human-sized duck could carry under its wing. He merely put out both hands to receive three standard-sized rubber bath ducks. Wearing approximately the same leer that Morrie currently sported. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and Angel gave his best impression of a vampire not-blushing, so Wesley examined the ducks more carefully. They didn't look too strange. Pretty much the same as the one that sat in a place of prominence on the head of Spike and Xander's bathtub.

"Enjoy!" Morrie said with a cheery squeak, and waddled off towards the back of the store.

Gunn reached over and took one of the ducks, and began examining it as well. After a moment he shrugged, and tossed it down -- into the basket. Wesley absently let Angel take another, and continued inspecting the duck. There was *something*....

"Oh, dear." He *knew* he was blushing. He also knew, suddenly, that the rubber duck at Spike and Xander's bathtub was from Morrie's. "Oh. My." He wanted to put the duck down, but he couldn't quite bring himself to tear his gaze away.

"Um, sorry," Angel muttered, and it sounded as though he was blushing, himself.

"Am I missing something?"

Wesley held up the duck, showing its adorable little face to Gunn. Closing his eyes, because he really couldn't bear to see the look on Gunn's face when he twigged, Wesley squeezed it. There was silence.

He opened his eyes. Right, perhaps that look was worth seeing after all. In fact, it might buy them a few additional toys when Morrie looked at the security camera footage. Gunn's mouth was open just as widely, and just as roundly, as the duck's.

Wesley leaned forward and stuck his tongue in Gunn's mouth. Purely to jolt him out of his shock, of course. After the startled man broke the kiss, he shook his head, still staring at the duck. "No, no, no, no. That is just *wrong*."

"I always thought it was kinda cu--" Angel broke off as both Gunn and Wesley glared at him. He waited until they stopped glaring, to add, "It doesn't fit me, anyh--" Then he had to scurry down the aisle as they threw the ducks after him.

*****

"Tell me that does *not* say 'pus flavoured'." They were in the lubricant aisle, and Wesley was looking back and forth between Spike and Xander's list and the bottle Angel was holding.

"Oh, man, you say things like that just to see me cringe, don't you?" Gunn asked, peering over his shoulder at the list.

Angel moved his fingers on the bottle's label. "No, it says "Octopus flavored."

"Oh, so much better." Gunn groaned, and Wesley glanced back to see that if ever a black man could turn green, it was right now, and it was Charles Gunn.

Wesley smiled. "It's not actually on the list, however."

A nod from Angel. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."

"Thank you *so* much. Tell me again why I came here with you two?" Gunn demanded.

Wesley gave him an innocent smile. "You can wait in the car, if you like."

"Not unless you're out there waiting with me. Doing things that *ain't* gonna be on camera."

For a moment Wesley thought that perhaps he would. Leave Angel with the list and the credit card while they went to keep the car...warm. Then Angel cleared his throat. "If we're leaving, are we buying this stuff first?" Wesley arched an eyebrow at him. Angel said, "I wanna watch." Whined, really.

Wesley's smile became less innocent, but not particularly wicked. "Yes, I suppose that might be in order."

He glanced at the shelf in front of him. "Do you suppose Spike knows they named a lubricant after him?" he teased, purely to distract Angel while he reached across the aisle and grabbed three bottles of the strawberry kind that made Angel's tongue go numb. Angel followed his gaze, and then gave him a sad look. "Oh dear. It really *is* named after him?"

"It's a possibility."

"What brand is it?" Gunn asked. Wesley turned the tube over, and they all looked.

"Piranha Enterprises. Oh, dear."

"We should be making Xander pay for *all* the bills. This rate he's gotta be rich as David."

"Who do you think advised him?" Angel asked. Wesley pretended not to notice that Gunn was slipping a couple tubes into the basket, as well. The coloring indicated that it was probably the edible spice flavor that made *Wesley's* tongue go numb.

"Then why are we buying anything for those two? Shouldn't Xander just be getting free samples from his R&D department?" Gunn asked, then he added, "Shouldn't *we* be getting free samples?"

"Do you want to use anything they gave us on *purpose* ?" Wesley pointed out. "Aside from the opportunity for unpleasant pranks, there's just the fact that every time we looked at it, we'd think..." He glanced down at the silicone thing in the basket that matched the one at the end of his wrist, and tried desperately to stop *thinking*. It could only lead to trouble.

Gunn grabbed his wrist. "Don't say it. I get the point."

"Anyway, we're buying them presents because they're getting married. It's what you do."

"So tell me again why we aren't buying them a toaster."

"Actually...." Angel held the list up for them to read, his finger pointed at an entry near the bottom. 'Toaster.'

"They sell those here?"

"Why don't we just get them a month's supply of lube and fish food, and call it a night?" Gunn glanced towards the front door. Towards the car. Wesley had to admit it was more appealing than learning any more about what was on the list.

"We haven't explored the entire store, though," he protested, just to see how Gunn would react.

"We can come back." Gunn said it quickly, and then his face froze, as if just realizing what he'd said.

Now Wesley's smile *was* wicked. "Oh, good. I'd quite like to try out the items in Aisle Four."

Gunn scanned the signs hanging overhead, and then gave Wesley a growl. He blinked innocently. "I don't think anybody in this aisle needs anything from Aisle Four. Might be needing something from Aisle Seven, though."

It was Wesley's turn to scan the store directory, and not quite blush when he read 'Aisle Seven-- domestic discipline...'

"Does this mean I've been bad, again?" he asked, sounding much more casual that he knew he looked. Gunn's stern glare faltered, and he cast a beseeching look at Angel.

Who nodded. "We can go to Aisle Seven."

"And Aisle Four?" Wesley asked, trying for guileless, this time.

Angel gave him a Gunn-look. "You don't need anything enhanced. Gunn doesn't need anything enhanced. The only thing *I* need enhanced is my patience, when dealing with Spike and Xander before I've eaten."

Wesley tried to look concerned. Really he did. "But... I just thought perhaps, rather than asking for a smaller rubber duck, you might want to..." He was running before they could catch him.

Granted, he was running in the direction of Aisle Seven, so there wouldn't be a problem with them finding him.

The End