As it was, it took them half an hour, what with Gunn's disappearance into a back room to 'discuss' something with Angel-- presumably the 'give us popcorn money, Dad' conversation, and Cordelia's fussing over both of them.

"Do you have enough money? Do you know not to let go of Gunn's hand in the museum, because somebody could come along and snatch you, I'm not kidding, it's happened, and I don't care if you're actually thirty-two years old, there's not a damn thing you could do about it, are you listening to me, Wesley Wyndham Pryce?" Et cetera.

And another half an hour in the truck, on the way to the museum. With the expected 'you wanna stop at Mickey D's?' and the obvious 'I'll eat that slop when I'm dead and in hell, not before.' Which was actually a bit more comforting than Cordelia's well-meaning big city horror stories, since he and Gunn had the fast food conversation almost every day, as normal adults. 'Normal' being a relative term, of course.

Finally, though, they pulled into the parking garage. Wesley tried to remember how long ago he'd last been here -- the first time had been after he'd lived here almost a year, and had finally got actual, disposable income. He'd managed a visit once or twice that year, then only once the year after. Recently he'd spent most of his free time with Gunn...and he hadn't ever thought to invite him here.

He was, however, mortified to discover he was bouncing ever-so-slightly in his seat as Gunn found a parking spot. He held himself still, until the engine was off. Then he undid his seatbelt and climbed out with as much decorum as he could muster. He was looking about for the stairs, when Gunn came around the truck and held out his hand again. "I don't actually--"

"How many drivers in this garage are gonna see you to not drive over you?" Gunn demanded.

Wesley blinked. He heard the reply in his head, felt it worm its way into his mouth.... To hell with it. "Then perhaps I shouldn't be walking, at all." He raised his hands, ready to stammer an explanation that he'd only been kidding. Gunn grinned, and scooped him up. "Remember where we're parked," Wesley said, craning his neck to see any signs nearby.

"Yes, dad," Gunn replied.

They made it through the admission counter without anyone staring at them, which made Wesley breathe a sigh of relief as they walked into the main lobby. Then he had to pause, and wonder why he'd been expecting that.

It wasn't as if he and Gunn didn't draw the odd look, every now and then, when they walked into a restaurant on the wrong side of some invisible line, and one of them was obviously out of place. Or in one of those neutral sorts of places, like the shopping mall, or the grocery store, when they did something that broadcast 'yes, we're together' without saying it aloud. All of which was fine. They were past worrying about that sort of thing, as far as he knew.

He realized as they walked --or rather, Gunn walked, for Wesley was still being carried-- towards the dinosaur exhibit, that he was expecting people to be staring at *him*. Expecting them to *know*, as Gunn had teased him earlier, that Wesley wasn't what he appeared to be. He also realized that by trying to watch for anyone staring at them, he was giving the impression of a young child on his first visit, who wanted to see *everything*. Now.

He pointed towards the mathematics hall. "There's an exhibit there that talks about the history of math, and how different cultures arrived at the same conclusions about the nature of numbers independently of each other."

"Oo, that sounds like *fun*," Gunn replied. "You sure I can't just put bamboo under my fingernails?"

Wesley thumped him on the head. "You do know you can put me down now," he said, as they drew nearer the Stegosaurus. There was only one child at the controls, which meant he could take a turn, sooner than later.

"Nuh-uh," was the unexpected response. "If I put you down, you'll get to the controls ahead of me."

Wesley gaped at him, despite the fact that Gunn was staring ahead, at the dinosaur. They'd reached the control panel, and Gunn was standing behind the seven year old boy who was making the Stegosaurus try to eat its own foot.

"You must be joking," Wesley finally said.

Gunn glanced at him. "I ain't joking. You've been here before, I haven't. It's only polite to let me go first."

"Yes, but..." Wesley could see where this was going-- he could get to go first, without any arguing, if he said the five magic words: 'But I'm smaller than you.' Or possibly 'younger.' Which would win him the battle, but lose the war. If indeed it was a war. There had to be another alternative... He frowned at Gunn. "Yes, but I have to show you how to do it. Otherwise you might end up...er...breaking something."

Gunn grinned and raised an eyebrow. "I think I got the hang of it. Jonny Quest here seems to know what *he's* doing." He nodded his head at the boy in front of them, who was now trying to make the Stegosaurus re-enact Riverdance, it appeared.

"He's probably been here before, too," Wesley said, unruffled. "He's got that jaded look in his eye."

"Don't *make* me tickle you to get the first turn at this thing. 'Cause you *know* I will..."

"You wouldn't."

"Just because we're someplace public? Oh, believe me, I will. I might not get to when you're taller'n me, but now, nobody will even look twice."

"I'll--" Well, 'I'll scream' wouldn't be an effective threat. "How do you propose to operate the controls with only one hand, if you don't set me down?" He saw the reply on Gunn's face, and felt himself go bright red. "You shouldn't think such things around children," he chastised, quietly.

"Me? I didn't think a word. You're the one with the evil mind." Gunn leaned down to the control panel, and grabbed one joystick. Wesley sighed. He wasn't going to demand a turn -- it wasn't as if Gunn weren't perfectly justified. He *had* been here before, and Gunn hadn't -- and he *wasn't* really four years old and unable to share. And he wasn't remotely pouting, or thinking that it wasn't fair, and he should get to go first because he was the one who'd enjoy it more. Because, why would he? They were both grown men. In spirit, anyway.

Wesley was making that extra effort to suck in his bottom lip, and try to look interested-but-not-jealous, when Gunn tapped him on the arm. "Hey, you want this, or what?"

He blinked, to see a joystick in front of his face. Gunn had knelt down, and placed Wesley on his knee, while Wesley was contemplating not pouting. He blinked again at the control, then shook his head. "No, of course not. I wasn't trying to get my own way, you know."

Gunn snorted. "Of course not." His mock-English accent hadn't improved with age. "Like I'd let you. There's *two* controls, or didn't you notice? We can make him bop himself in the head."

"What fun. And after that, we can stop at Toys R' Us and pick up a pair of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots."

"See, I knew you'd get into the swing of things." Gunn twitched his control, and the Stegosaurus skeleton attempted to flip Wesley the bird. It failed badly, since it didn't have any fingers, but Wesley got the message.

He narrowed his eyes at Gunn, and reached out to grasp the other control -- which was a bit further away than it usually was when he was six feet tall. "Er, could you..."

Gunn leaned closer to the counter, and Wesley grabbed the joystick. Executing a move he'd once practiced for half an hour, since the museum had been closing and most of the children were gone, he twirled the control-stick around so that the skeleton whapped itself in the head with its own tail.

There was a pause. Then, "You did that on accident."

"I most certainly did not!" Wesley straightened up, feeling righteously indignant, and tried to spin around to glare at Gunn -- and nearly toppled himself off Gunn's leg. He was saved from falling by Gunn's quick grab of Wesley's shirt.

"You break something and Cordelia won't let me take you anywhere, ever again," Gunn warned him.

"What if I break *your* arm?" Wesley asked, torn between sounding perfectly innocent and grumbling about the injustice of the world in general, and snarky lovers in specific.

"Then she *really* won't let me take you anywhere -- because *your* pansy ass will be grounded for a month."

Once again settled on Gunn's knee -- though not because he hadn't *tried* to climb down, and been held captive -- Wesley glanced over his shoulder. "Why exactly would that be a bad thing?"

There was another pause, before Gunn said, "Because then I'd have to pout at you." Then he did so.

Wesley was about to tease him, when he caught a woman watching them, with a huge 'aren't they adorable' smile on her face.

Which they were, of course, but why did it take him being the size of a pre-schooler to elicit looks like that? They never got 'aren't they adorable' when they teased each other like this in public as adults. At best they had been politely ignored. At worst-- well, things could have been worse. They'd never been threatened. They had been the target of a few not-so-veiled insults, which *they* had chosen to politely ignore. The most common reaction was a curious stare in their direction before civility reared its helpful head and the gawker turned away. Which Wesley really was past caring about. Mostly.

But the smiling woman, who apparently wasn't bound by the same sort of politeness conventions as prevailed with adults, was still staring at them. At him. What was it about being three and a half feet tall that made it polite for people to gawp at you? He was frowning at her, which a real four-year-old probably wouldn't do. Would one? He wouldn't have dared, when he was four, of course. Then again, when he was four, he'd have been in England, and she wouldn't have stared.

He felt Gunn nudge him, and he turned halfway towards him, not quite letting his eyes leave the woman... Which meant, he realized, that he was gawking back at her, which was equally as rude. He sighed inwardly, and turned his attention fully to Gunn.

"You gonna play or you gonna worry about women thinking we're cute?" Gunn asked in a low voice.

"How long has she been standing there?" Wesley reached for the joystick again, and half-heartedly raised the Stegosaurus' tail and waggled it.

"Dunno. Come on, Wes, don't worry about her. Worry about the fact that the T-Rex is about to chomp us."

Wesley immediately looked over towards the Tyrannosaurus Rex robot, where another child was trying his best to reach their Stegosaurus...and chomp it. He'd seen kids doing this to each other, of course, but they'd never bothered *him* when he was playing. When he'd been an adult.

He tried to wallop the T-Rex in the face with the Stego's tail. It wouldn't quite reach high enough, so he changed his strategy, and went for the back legs. Didn't quite knock the thing over, but the King of the Carnivores wobbled quite a bit. The other boy grinned, and made his T-Rex roar. Or at least open its jaws as if it were roaring, and scrabble its little front arm/legs. Then the toothy skull dove for the Stego again.

"Get him, Wes. You can't let him eat us. Strike a blow for vegetarians everywhere," Gunn encouraged him.

"We're not vegetarians," Wesley said as he manipulated his control so the the Stegosaurus ducked its head to avoid the T-Rex, then readied another tail-assault.

"No, but the Stegosaurus is. Says so right here." Gunn pointed to the legend on the console.

"I'm glad one of us is having a learning experience," Wesley replied, landing a solid whap to the Tyrannosaurus' skull as it tried to chomp them again. The T-Rex wobbled, but didn't quite fall. It rallied, and headed for his tail...his Stegosaurus' tail, once more. Wesley gave it another hard wallop before it could draw too near.

"Excuse me," said a polite voice behind and above them. Wesley glanced up, and as he saw the bright yellow shirt of a docent, he heard a crash. He turned back in time to see his dinosaur lying on its side and a triumphant Tyrannosaurus stalking away.

"You made us lose!" he snapped, before realizing what he was saying.

"Is there a problem?" Gunn asked.

"We prefer you treat the exhibits with more care," she replied, pointing to a sign that said "Please Keep Robot Dinosaurs In Their Own Play Area." It meant, as Wesley well knew, 'Don't play fight with the robots.'

"Sorry, ma'am," Gunn was saying, standing up and picking Wesley up with him. Wesley frowned -- was he *ever* going to let him go? It wasn't like he was going to run off and get *lost*. "Didn't see the sign."

Well, that was half true. *Wesley* had seen the sign. On more than one occasion. He just hadn't felt the need to point it out to Gunn, on this *particular* occasion. As the docent raised an eyebrow at Gunn, Wesley replaced his petulant frown at having lost, with a wide-eyed, innocent, I'm-too-young-to-read-so-it-can't-possibly-be-my-fault expression.

She looked down at him, and smiled back. Right, so perhaps there was *something* to the whole cuteness-factor. Wesley wasn't above using whatever weapons he had in his arsenal, so he widened his eyes a bit, and said, "You're not mad at us, are you? We won't do it again." He could feel Gunn trying to hold back a chuckle. He didn't even have to be *looking*, to know it was happening.

The young woman shook her head, and said, "No, honey. I'm not mad. These guys are made tough, just in case they decide to get rowdy, you know. We just don't want them getting too excited before feeding time."

He looked back at the robots, wondering if four year olds were supposed to think robots ate real food. Before he could decide to say something, Gunn was telling her, "We'll be sure to read the signs from now on, thanks. It's my first time here," he added, as if *his* being cute was going to affect the docent in any way.

Wesley decided to assist him. "I've been here *seven* times, so I'm showing him around."

"Have you, now? My, I bet you know everything there is to know about the place." The docent was looking from him, to Gunn, and back. "You're going to show your...." Here she faltered, clearly at a loss to guess why they were here, together.

"He's my boyfriend," Wesley said, with a straight-face. Gunn burst out laughing.

The docent gave Wesley another 'isn't he cute' smile, though she was now getting ready to walk away. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit. Just be nice to the dinosaurs -- they were here first."

"What are *you* laughing at?" he asked Gunn, as the woman walked over to talk to the T-Rex operator, who, as a ten-or-so-year-old, had definitely seen and read the signs.

"I think I'm too young for you," Gunn replied through his chuckles. "Man, that was masterful."

Wesley lifted his chin. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.

"You sure you don't wanna go back to the admission desk and see if you can cute 'em into giving us our entry fee back?"

"I'm sure they see plenty of children who are as cute or cuter than me. At least... six or seven, per year. I doubt I'd have any luck." Gunn laughed, and started carrying him away from the exhibit. "Where exactly are we going?" Wesley asked, having given up on ever being put down.

"Feeding time, didn't you hear the nice lady?"

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I don't expect they're actually taking the fiberglass dinosaur skeletons round the back to feed them their daily meal of attic insulation."

"Not for them-- for us. Cafeteria's this way."

"It's barely ten thirty," Wesley pointed out.

"So? You turning down junk food?"

Wesley narrowed his eyes. "Of course I'm turning down junk food." Not that he was, precisely. It was just....

Gunn stopped walking, and craned his head around to look where Wesley had been glancing. "What's over there?"

"Nothing, really." He kept himself from looking over, again. Which was pointless, because Gunn started walking that direction, reading signs out loud.

"Electronics, lights...sound? There something in the sound exhibit you wanna see?"

"If you're hungry...." Wesley began. The sound wing was rather packed -- then he saw that the keyboard was *free* and he wriggled, urgently. "Let me down!"

Gunn did, though Wesley suspected it was from surprise, more than anything else. Wesley ran as fast as he dared, ducking around adults and other kids who obviously didn't know an excellent exhibit when they saw one. He leapt, and landed on the 'C' square. The speakers overhead sounded a loud, organ's tone. Wesley grinned, and jumped to the 'E'.

Gunn caught up with him in a moment, looking a little worried. "Hey, Wes, don't do that, okay? Not in a big crowd like this."

"You're as bad as Cordelia," Wesley replied, stepping over to the E-flat, then jumping to the 'C' again. "I'm perfectly all right."

Gunn frowned for a moment. "I just don't wanna lose you, okay?"

Wesley landed on two notes right next to each other, and covered his ears at the cacophonous sound. Then he turned to Gunn, who began to repeat himself. "I heard you," Wesley said quietly. "I'm not about to disappear, you know. Just because I can run faster than you..."

"You slip through crowds easier than me. You ain't faster."

"Am, too," Wesley replied, jumping over to hit a third, and not quite making it. "When I say 'now', would you step on those two keys?" He pointed them out, to Gunn. Gunn gave him a frown, which meant the lecture wasn't over, but he moved into position. Wesley bent his legs to jump, and said "Now!" A perfect chord. He grinned. Then he turned to Gunn to reiterate that he *wasn't* going to get snatched, and faltered. Stared, instead, at the look on Gunn's face. "What?" he demanded, after a moment.

In a quiet voice, Gunn said only, "Love you."

Eventually, Wesley was able to look back up at him, and faked a pout. "You don't play fair."

"Nope. Gotta use every advantage I have, in the Man's world," Gunn said, straightfaced. Wesley snorted.

"You do realize, don't you, that *I'm* 'The Man' ?"

Gunn was laughing at him again, damn it. "Uh, that's right, Wes. You da man."

"Not what I meant." Wesley shifted from one foot to the other, which happened to recreate the theme from 'Jaws' rather nicely.

"Yeah, so. You're The Squirt, then."

"You're asking for it."

"I am, huh? And you're gonna give it to me?"

"If I must." Wesley pushed his sleeves up, getting ready. He moved his feet into a fighting stance, which Gunn recognized. A confused look appeared on his face.

"What are you gonna do, kick me in the shins?"

Wesley shook his head, and stage-whispered, "I'm going to scream for my mother."

Gunn blinked. "Nah, you wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Thought you didn't want to be embarrassed?" he asked, but he didn't sound *completely convinced.

"Face embarrassment, rather than let you get one up one me?"

"Good point. How about I buy us ice cream sandwiches, and you pay -- because you're da Man?"

"How about you jump on the 'D' and the 'G' so I can play another chord?" Gunn rolled his eyes, but complied. The man had good timing, Wesley had to admit. The sound rang out nicely.

Gunn looked at him. "If you're thinking we're gonna do the Pachelbel Canon, I'm telling you right now, forget it."

"Are you saying you can't dance?"

"No, I'm saying I can't play the piano. If I try to break it down on this thing, they'll kick us out of here for disturbing the peace."

Wesley pictured it, and couldn't help giggling. "Then why don't you just step down two notes, and play harmony for me? The 'A' and the 'C'. Back and forth."

"You're a weird little kid, you know that, right?" Gunn said as Wesley began hop-playing the melody line. Gunn burst out laughing when he finally figured out what the song was. "I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing?" he chortled.

"Better than 'How Much Is That Doggie In The Window," Wesley replied, sticking out his tongue. "And when exactly did *you* listen to the Pet Shop Boys?"

Gunn never stopped shifting from one foot to the other, playing his limited harmony line. "Yesterday afternoon, while you were watching tv with Cordy. Looked 'em up on the net. Downloaded some mp3's."

"You're a strange, large man, you know that, right?"

"Thought you liked 'em large and strange."

Wesley faltered on the next note, and took the moment as a time-out to glare at Gunn. Again. With its usual lack of success.

"What?" Gunn looked at him, surprised.

Before Wesley could respond with a musical raspberry, two girls jumped onto the keyboard. They obviously had no musical talent, but Wesley surrendered the board, regardless. He was about to head for the listening tubes, when he found himself being lifted into the air. "Charles, *really*. This is getting quite absurd."

"What? Since when don't you like being taller than most of the crowd?"

"Since most of the crowd is under the age of twelve. I *can* walk, you know." He tried wriggling out of Gunn's grasp, again, but Gunn was holding him firmly.

"So can I. I can walk and carry you at the same time." He proceeded to prove it, by walking towards the microphone exhibit -- thereby proving he had no clue what passed for a cool exhibit.

"You *could* simply hold my hand, as I walked along beside you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't see anything."

Yes, and people wouldn't see *him*, which was the point of the exercise. Or at least, people wouldn't see him being hoisted above his boyfriend's head like a sack of potatoes. "I would so. I'd have a lovely view of... knees. Lots of knees."

"'Cause God knows, you need to do some more research on kneecaps, otherwise you might accidentally kick somebody where it *didn't* hurt," Gunn said, shifting him slightly, so that he could, in fact, see the exhibits better than before.

"That's right. I need to practice my aim," Wesley agreed. Gunn carried him toward the microphone exhibit, and Wesley tugged on his ear.

"What're you doing?" Gunn laughed.

"Steering. I've never driven one of these contraptions before, so it may take me a moment to get used to it." Wes tugged on Gunn's other ear.

"That's not tr---" Gunn started, then stopped. "Um, not gonna finish that thought."

"Charles! What did I tell you about thinking such things around children?" He sounded shocked -- and perhaps a bit too loud. He received a very peculiar look from a man who didn't appear to think that all was right with his world. Or Wesley's, or Gunn's, or something. But that was all right, Wesley was used to *those* sorts of disapproving looks. He grinned -- then stuck his tongue out at the man, who blinked then hurried away.

"Where are we going?" Gunn asked, trying to head in whatever direction Wesley was steering.

"Over there." He pointed, then thumped Gunn on the head. From up here he *could* see quite well, and he could see something he'd forgotten about. "No! There, this way!" He tugged on Gunn's ear, again.

"You know, you could use that fancy vocabulary of yours to *tell* me where to go." There was a pause. "Forget I said that, OK?"

"You *could* use those hands of yours to put me *down* and I could *show* you where I want to go," Wesley reminded him. There was silence for a moment. "Er, Charles?"

"Thinking not-around-kids thoughts again. Uh, this way?" He walked in the right direction, but Wesley pulled on his ear again. Just for the hell of it. "Wrong way?"

"No."

"Mean Little Kid."

Finally they reached the shadow box display, which Gunn was examining curiously. "You *have* to put me down, for this to be any fun," Wesley informed him. Gunn did so, after a dubious look, and Wesley pulled him into the box, which was actually the size of a rather small room. Several other people, adults and children, were standing about waiting. Gunn raised an eyebrow. Then the flash of light went off.

"Uh, so the point of this exhibit is to blind people?" Gunn asked, blinking. Wesley pointed at the wall, where there was a perfect shadow of a tall man, holding the hand of a small boy. "Dam-- uh, man, that's cool!"

Wesley laughed, and tugged on Gunn's hand. "When you hear the beeping, get ready."

"Ready for what?" Gunn was still watching the walls, which were adorned with shadows from all the occupants.

"For the light to flash! Honestly, Gunn, pay attention."

Gunn tore his gaze away from the wall, and began to give him one of the 'don't dis me, man, I know where you're ticklish' looks. Then the alarm sounded, and Wesley jumped into the air. Right before Gunn caught him, the light flashed. Wesley spun around to look at the shadow before the white light had even completely faded. There was a small shadow-him, in mid-air.

They managed to kill an hour, playing in the shadow box. Then Wesley dragged Gunn - by the ear - to the sound tubes, then the earth science wing, then the mathematics wing where Wesley demonstrated that it was much more fun than bamboo under the fingernails. Gunn agreed, especially when he happily sat for a half hour staring at the Marble Race, trying to predict which pathways the marbles would take as they tripped the various traps, switch-tracks, and gizmos.

*****
Part 11:

Then they finally made it to the snack area, and spent much of Angel's money on junk food. They walked around outside, looking at the agriculture displays and gardens, and Wesley amused himself by whispering to Gunn about historical, magical, significance of some of the plants they saw. Afterwards they debated the engineering wing versus the science store, and finally the science store won out.

"Hey, check this out," Gunn said, dragging him over to one of the logic-toy displays. Gunn had *finally* put him down, when his shoulder had obviously started to get tired, but he was still holding Wesley fast by the hand. "They got little mini-marble races."

"Yes, they've been around for years-- it's actually the large ones that are the novelty," Wesley explained.

Gunn was busy studying the back of one of the packages, a contemplative look on his face. Wesley spotted a robotic construction set, basically a miniature version of the dinosaur skeletons, across the aisle. He reached for it, but couldn't quite make it without getting Gunn to let go of him. "Charles?"

"Hmm?" Gunn was still rolling the marble around the box.

He strained against his lover's hand, but couldn't get free. "Charles, let me go."

"Why? Hey, you know you can buy a bunch of these sets, and hook 'em together! We could make a huge track, in the middle of the hotel lobby."

"I don't *care*; I want to look at the robotic models." He tugged again.

"Where are they?" Gunn set the marble race track down, and took a step towards the models.

Wesley sighed. "You *do* know you can let me go. I'm going two feet away -- surely even you can keep an eye on me."

Gunn looked down at him, raising an eyebrow, but only said, "You wanna get one of them? Stegosaurus?"

"I don't wish to buy it, I simply want to see how they're constructed." They were near enough to the models, now, that he could reach forward and grab a box. Only he didn't quite get his hand on it, and the front three boxes fell onto the floor. He sighed, and crouched down to pick them up.

Gunn bent down to help, and said, "You know we can get one. Two, maybe, so we can have fights without docents scolding us."

"I don't want one," he repeated, patiently. "I only wanted to know how they were made. I know, now, after having read the box, so now I would like to go look at the bookracks."

Gunn shook his head, slowly. "Not unless they're picture books. You're not supposed to be able to read. Come here and help me pick out some marble sets."

Wesley didn't *want* to look at marble sets. Wesley had seen the marble sets at least seven check times already, and they remained marble sets, no matter how many times one stared at them. The bookracks, on the other hand, were periodically changed in order to reflect new exhibits and current events in science. He shook his head.

"No, I want to go look at the new books. I'll just be a minute." He darted over to the bookshelves, and began eyeing the new large-format coffee-table book on the differences and similarities between dinosaurs and fantasy-art dragons.

It was one shelf above his head, so he could read the cover well enough, but couldn't reach it to pull it down and open it. He stepped forward onto the bottom shelf, resting his foot on it just enough so he could raise himself up an inch or two, and reach for the book. And found his hand being grabbed by Gunn's. He twisted around, glaring at him. "What?" he snapped.

"You *know* you aren't supposed to be climbing on the bookshelves. This ain't the Magic Box."

It was on the tip of Wesley's tongue to respond that he *knew* what he was doing, and didn't weigh enough to bring the shelves down. He could tell by the set of Gunn's expression that it wouldn't faze the other man, so instead he simply said, "Fine. Hand me that one."

Which, for some reason, despite being what Gunn wanted -- that he not fetch the book, himself -- didn't work. "Let's go grab some marble sets. You can look at the books when you're old enough to read."

As if it *mattered* that suddenly he was supposed to act like the child he appeared? Wesley didn't understand, and didn't *care*. "No, I want to look at that book."

It was, as a matter of fact, a picture book, in its own way, and not one that a four-year-old would be completely out of place in looking at. He frowned up at Gunn. Who frowned back at him for a moment, then threw up his hands. "Fine. You wanna look at the books, look at the books. Let 'em think you're some kinda kid genius. *I'll" be over looking at the marbles, with the rest of the four year olds." He walked back over to the toys, though Wesley could see that Gunn was still keeping one eye on him.

Wesley rolled his own eyes, and stepped back up to grab the book. He got a good grip on the spine, and was lifting it over the lip of the shelf, when his smaller-than-usual fingers slipped on the slick jacket. He caught the paper covering, but the book itself slid straight through the unfastened jacket, and landed smack on Wesley's head, with what sounded like a rather loud bonk, to his biased ears. To add insult to injury, the paper cover ripped along the spine, as the book slid out.

Wesley rubbed his forehead, and blinked back tears that were *completely* justified by the smarting pain in his head, but might be misinterpreted by outside observers as childish pique. He carefully placed the book back in its jacket, examined the tear for a moment, then, with a sigh, carried it over to Gunn.

"If you say a *word*," he began. Gunn simply held out his hand for the book, putting down the marble set he'd been holding. Wesley frowned at the marble set. "Surely you have enough to get both?"

"Be a squeeze to get all of it. I didn't steal Angel's credit card, just his cash."

"Oh." Wesley looked at the book, which he didn't have any choice about buying now, then at the marble sets that had so captured Gunn's interest. Then he blinked at the dinosaur robots -- which Gunn had apparently gotten off the shelf *again*. He pointed at them. "Put those back, then, and get your marble sets."

"It's okay, Wes. We can come back, right? I'll get the marble tracks then." Gunn sounded like he really didn't care. Which, of course, made Wesley feel worse, because he knew better -- and while the robots were interesting, Wesley really *didn't* care about buying them. He'd *told* Gunn that, but Gunn had chosen to believe -- what, that Wesley was covering up his desire to play, so he wouldn't have to admit to being childish? Did everything have to revolve around that? Couldn't *something* just be about him having a preference, like wanting a book instead of a toy?

Even if he didn't necessarily want *this* book. Wesley sighed, not wanting to get into it. "No, we don't need to get the robots. You said you wanted to set the marble races up in the lobby." He took the dinosaurs, intending to carry them back to the display and set them back up. One slipped out of his arms, and he bit off a word not even thirty-two-year-olds were supposed to know.

He bent to pick it up, and the first box slid out of his arms. In a fit of pique, he kicked the box. Then he *did* mutter a word he shouldn't have known, but at least it wasn't in English. He crouched down, picked up one box, and carried it carefully over to the display. When he came back for the next one, Gunn was holding it. "How about we get two of the marble sets and one dino? And the book."

"And you'll put what in the fuel tank of the truck on the way back? Water? Come on, just give me the model. We can get *it* later, if you insist."

Gunn shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Wes. I've got enough." Which meant he was going to dig into his *own* pocket for it, instead of using the 'let's amuse ourselves with mini-Wesley' fund. Wes narrowed his eyes and reached for the dinosaur box. Gunn held it out of his reach.

"Charles, stop it."

"Look, it isn't like they're gonna sell out of these things by the weekend."

Wesley put his hands on his hips. "Which means we can very well get the robots later, and get the sets which you want, now. I don't *care* about the stupid robots and I'm sorry I ripped the fucking book and will you *please* just get the--"

He cut off, as Gunn was kneeling down in front of him, looking worried. "Wes? Come on, let's put them both back and buy the book and go home."

Fighting back the urge to tell Gunn to get the marble sets anyway, Wesley nodded. He reached for the dinosaur robot Gunn was holding, but Gunn placed it on the shelf, himself, then wrapped an arm around Wesley, and hugged him. Wesley felt himself sniffle, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Missed his nap, huh?" a woman's voice said.

Wesley frowned. He was saved from answering by Gunn standing up and facing the woman -- thereby facing Wesley *away* from her, as he was resting against Gunn's shoulder. "Um, yeah. We've had kind of a busy day, today," Gunn was saying, a little awkwardly.

"I don't need a nap," Wesley said quietly. Only to Gunn, since it wasn't any of *her* business.

"That's what they all say, kiddo," she said, not unkindly. Wesley stuck his tongue out at her anyway, though of course she couldn't see it. All he ended up doing was getting a tongueful of fuzz from Gunn's sweatshirt. He wiped it off quickly with his hand, making a face.

Gunn nodded, and carried Wesley up to the counter, where he let Wesley down for a moment, while he paid for the book. Wesley looked back at the woman, who was pushing her own child, a two or three year old, in a stroller. She waved at him, and he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her again. He did *not* need a nap. Even if, right now, the pillow that the little girl was leaning her head against looked awfully comfortable.

Instead he wrapped his arm around Gunn's leg, and leaned his head against *that*. Not exactly restful, but he wasn't tired. Just...well, he wouldn't say 'no' to them leaving, and maybe finding a quiet spot to sit for awhile. Maybe they could look at the book he'd forced them to buy.

Then Gunn was picking him up again. "I can walk," he reiterated, not sure it would do any good. Not sure he liked the fact that he sounded as if he were whining.

"I know." Gunn settled Wesley on his hip, and wrapped the handles of the bag around his other wrist. "Let's go home," he said again, and this time Wesley just nodded. He let his head fall onto Gunn's shoulder, again, not caring that the woman was still staring at him. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it.

And opened them, an entire nap later, to find himself being carried into the hotel lobby.

Cordelia was giving him a look he'd come to know all too well in the last few days. He scowled at her.

"Don't scowl, you'll ruin the shot," she told him.

"You're taking photographs *again*?" he snapped, suddenly feeling extremely irritated. He pushed against Gunn's chest, so he could be let down and be able to go over and... Well, he'd promised to stop kicking people, but he was about to make an exception. He'd start with a video-camera-wielding vampire who healed fast.

Except he wasn't being let down. He squirmed a bit, to no avail. Cordelia gave Gunn a quizzical look, which Wesley caught, thank you very much. He hadn't suddenly become blind, as well as short. Although he *was* still blinking at her, trying to make things come into focus. He felt rather as if he'd been woken up at three thirty in the morning, and he was still stumbling around the flat trying to find his socks.

Whatever expression Gunn sent her in return which Wesley couldn't see, it got the aww-isn't-he-cute look off Cordelia's face, and made Angel put down the camera. "So, did you guys have fun?" Cordelia asked. Which was a perfectly reasonable question, so Wesley bit off the reply he was about to snap at her, and blinked some more, allowing Gunn to answer.

"Oh yeah-- that place is a blast. They have this water clock in the lobby, that goes through all these different tubes and scale things, so you can see just when it's gonna hit the hour and go off. And the robot dinos are awesome."

"Which got us yelled at," Wesley added, still feeling as if he'd rather be still asleep. Except he wasn't tired, hadn't been tired, so how had he slept the entire drive home?

"Yelled at?" Angel asked.

"We got eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex," Wesley explained, knowing full well it wasn't an explanation. But it was better than yelling at them to leave him alone. He looked back over at Gunn.

"You wanna go upstairs and read?" Gunn held up the bag, but made his question sound like they'd actually chosen to buy it, rather than otherwise. Wesley nodded. Gunn said to the others, "Don't hold dinner for us -- we're gonna order pizza later."

"We are?" Wesley was feeling a bit more awake, now. As well as hungry.

"Maybe more 'sooner' than later," Gunn amended. "Didn't you say something about anchovies and green peppers?"

Wesley blinked. "I said they were the two most disgusting pizza toppings on the planet."

"Oh, and here I thought you liked 'em." Gunn was heading for the stairs, still carrying Wesley - but he no longer minded so much. He did glance back over Gunn's shoulder at Angel and Cordelia, and saw that the camera was still safely aimed at the floor. He stuck his tongue out at Angel, quickly.

The moment they got in the door to their room, Gunn reached for the telephone. "You can put me down, you know," Wesley informed him.

"Well, yeah, I could, but why start now?" Gunn proceeded to order pizza, while still holding Wesley, who simply rolled his eyes, and corrected him loudly when he tried to order one with extra green peppers and anchovies. "You sure?" Gunn asked, with a patently false expression of confusion on his face. Wesley pinched his ear as he confirmed that yes, he was bloody well sure. "Okay, I guess he's sure." Wesley was close enough to the phone that he could hear the cashier's laughter.

Gunn was grinning, by the time they'd hung up, and Wesley looked sternly at him. "You know you probably confused the hell out of that poor woman," he said as Gunn carried him over to the chair. "We're likely to get three small pepper and anchovy pizzas with an order of calimari on the side."

"I don't think Pizza Hut has... what was that?"

"Deep fried squid. I was trying to think of something more disgusting than anchovies."

Gunn made a face. "Congratulations. You did." He settled Wesley on his lap, and slid the book out of the museum store bag. "Dinosaurs and Dragons, huh? You *sure* this book isn't too advanced for your reading group level?"

With an absolutely straight face, Wesley replied, "Hooked on Phonics worked for me. Would you care to open it?"

"Just a second. I'm looking at the cover."

Wesley was trying to *avoid* looking at the cover, and the large rip down the spine, but he sighed, and waited, while Gunn studied the colorful painting of a Pterodactyl swooping down on a large and anatomically incorrect Wyvvern. Finally, Wesley reached out a finger, and traced the rough edges of the tear.

"Didn't you want the book anyway?" Gunn asked quietly, still staring at the drawings.

"I didn't have a chance to find out." Wesley knew what Gunn was after - it was a book, how could he be too upset about owning it? Unless it was utter trash, but DK didn't tend to publish trash.

"It's just a rip in the dust cover, Wes. You woulda bought it if you'd been yourself, six feet tall and too big for his britches, and tore the cover."

Wesley shook his head, though not because Gunn was wrong.

"You wouldn't have left it on the shelf," Gunn began, with a hint of Cordelia-esque scolding in his voice.

"No, it isn't that. I just...don't like being reminded what a clumsy child I was. Am."

Gunn squeezed his shoulders for a second, then said, "You are *not* clumsy. Any more than any four-year-old kid is. You ever *looked* at a four year old?"

Wesley shrugged. "In passing. And the others, of course. Rupert didn't seem to have any trouble operating *his* body."

"In the what, two hours you actually spent with him? Mostly with him sittin' on your lap? Wes, kids fall and they pull things down on top of them, and they get bumped on the head, and it happens every day. Their heads are too big for their bodies, they all think they're taller than they really are, and they got more energy than something your size can hold. My sister..." His voice got quiet for a moment, then he gave a soft laugh, and continued in a normal tone. "She used to be climbing on things all the time, when she was little. No matter how often me or somebody else yelled at her to get down 'cause she'd fall on her head, you'd turn around and two minutes later there she was, halfway up a fence, or a fire escape. And sure enough, she fell, most of the time. On her butt, more than her head, lucky for her. And us."

In this case, Wesley wasn't about to make his habitual protest about him not being whichever child or adult-child he'd just been compared to, so he sat silently for a second or two. "I seemed to be breaking things all the time," he finally said. "Oh, not myself. But things. Expensive things. It wasn't as if I *meant* to be clumsy. Just the opposite; I remember trying to walk as slowly and carefully as I could. But I still broke things." He looked at the book cover again, and frowned.

Gunn closed the book and set it down on his lap, and reached forward to take Wesley's chin. After a token protest, Wesley let him turn his head so he was looking up at his lover. Gunn's expression was sad, and determined, and he said, "Wes, I don't care what you break 'cause I don't own nothing that's worth too much. Talk to Angel before you try breakin' the chandelier."

Wesley blinked. Stared at Gunn for a moment, waiting for him to smile or laugh or say 'gotcha!'. He didn't.

What he did do, after another moment passed, was say, "Breaking things is what kids *do*. It ain't your fault they didn't understand that."

"But I tried not to," he repeated, not sure Gunn understood what he was saying.

But perhaps he did. Gunn pulled him close, and held him, and said, "But you couldn't help it -- like you couldn't help being small, or couldn't help using five syllable words when you were eight, and like you can't help it now that you whistle in the mornings after you've been fucked through the mattress the night before."

Another blink. Then, "What did I tell you about saying such things in front of a four year old?"

"You said 'better jerk off in the shower, because I ain't growing up for another three weeks."

Wesley shook his head. "I don't think I said that. It wouldn't be proper." At Gunn's raised eyebrow, Wesley twitched his lip. "What with the 'ain't' and all." He ignored the chuckling, and snuggled in a bit closer. Then he looked again at the book cover. It really was an interesting subject, and yes, he probably would have bought it on his own, but... "I *am* sorry. That I was such a...a prick, earlier."

Gunn laughed. "Now who's with the inappropriate vocab, huh?" He opened the book again, and turned the pages, stopping on a picture of a Stegosaurus. "You gonna freak out if I say I think it wasn't you?"

Wesley peered up at him. "As in, you think I'm the victim of a routine possession, demonic subclass 17A, stroke 12, paragraph 32?"

"You made that up-- it sounds too much like something outta the Real Ghostbusters. No, I think it wasn't you, as in, it *was* you, but not your fault. Just you bein' worn out. Because your body's four, and you'd been out all day, which you hadn't yet before, and maybe..."

"You think I'm starting to regress."

Gunn turned a page, and nodded. "Could be. The timing's about right, ain't it?"

"I--" Wesley frowned. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? To reach the point where he wouldn't mind looking silly, or being small, or... all those things he still seemed to be worried about, today. But now he wondered. To be under the control of his body, his hormones and enzymes all telling him to run about and do things he normally wouldn't think of doing-- wasn't it a sort of possession?

When he was truly emotionally regressed, the way he had seen Rupert, Buffy, Xander, and Spike acting, he obviously wouldn't *care* about that. It was just this transition period that was...uncomfortable. He was starting to act like a child despite his best intentions, but was able to notice it. Worry about it.

"Hey-- maybe you are possessed. By Angel. Were you gonna quit brooding and read to me anytime soon?" Gunn asked.

Wesley jerked his head up, then found a smile, somewhere. "I thought you were going to read to *me*?" he protested. "This is above my reading group level, remember?"

"Uh-huh." Gunn gave him a look, then just pulled the book towards them again, and opened it. Wesley halted him long enough to get comfortable, wriggling a bit and trying to get his elbows in just the right place -- so he could let Gunn know if he were reading too fast. Or too slowly. "You do remember I know where you're ticklish, right?" Gunn asked.

"You do remember I can tell Cordelia you've been mean to me," he responded.

"Like she would *blame* me?" But Gunn flipped past the title page, and began reading aloud.

It was nice, Wesley reflected, as he laid his head back and listened to Gunn reading. The sound of his lover's voice stumbling over the Latin names of dinosaurs, the anticipation of greasy, hot pizza, and the not-completely-recovered feeling of tiredness since he'd woken from his nap, after a long, full day of nothing but fun. It had been a very long time since he'd felt this good.

It would have been nice, as well, if they'd been rocking. He'd fall asleep within minutes, however, so perhaps it would be best if he didn't ask. As he watched Gunn turn another page, his four-year-old head resting against Gunn's chest, he decided it was just as well they weren't. But it'd have been nice. "Eustreptospondylus," he corrected, absently. Gunn repeated the word, and continued reading.

*****