"I don't think it'll work," Tara told her girlfriend, with a shake of her head.

"Oh, it will too! Come on, Tara."

"Yes, it's really an excellent plan," Giles put in. The three of them were sitting together at one end of the table, eating pizza and breadsticks and drinking enough soda to float the Enterprise. Either version.

"But if we try to walk off without at least two adults with us...." She glanced over at the adults at the table, who were also eating pizza and breadsticks and drinking enough soda --and that only between Spike, Xander, and Dawn -- to float two battleships. Any time any one of them had tried to move from the table, one to three adults had jumped up and grabbed the four-year-old's hand and said 'where are we going?'

At first it had been fun, when Spike grabbed Willow's hand and she said 'bathroom', then when Giles did the same thing to Buffy. But the older...taller set had caught on, so now the kids were trying to come up with something new.

"It isn't like we're trying to give them the slip," Willow explained. "I don't wanna get grabbed by some stranger, and I don't wanna get lectured again by Spike for getting out of eyesight for all of two seconds."

"So why don't we just *ask* them?" Tara asked.

"Because they're too bloody big to get into the maze," Giles explained.

"Are you sure?" She eyed the colorful tubes, then looked back down the table at the adult adults. Then she looked at Giles, and saw the twinkle in his eye. He *did* want to give them the slip. She gave him a look -- the same look that he usually gave her and Willow when they were trying some new spell, as a matter of fact.

He didn't bother trying to look innocent at her, just rolled his eyes. "All right. Look, *no* adult can get into those tubes, so we'll be perfectly safe from harm. I don't want to be snatched any more than you do-- I just want a bit of breathing space -- and breathing in the men's room is not at the top of my to-do list."

Tara thought for a millisecond, then nodded. "Okay! Let's do it!" They counted to three under their breaths, then Tara ever so accidentally knocked her soda over onto the table-- and started wailing.

None of the adults at neighboring tables even looked up -- this was Chuck-E-Cheese, after all -- but Xander and Spike came to her rescue in an instant -- which gave Willow and Giles the chance to slip off to the tubes while everyone fussed over Tara. Then, when they were all looking around and going 'Where's Willow? Where's Giles?' Tara used her secret super Pepsi-power (five caffeinated sodas in two hours) to zoom over to the tubes herself.

Spike almost managed to grab her, but she zipped past him, trailing cola-particles in her wake, and giggling. She slipped inside the entrance to the tube-maze, losing her shoes in the process somewhat near the sign that said "take off your shoes here", and began scrambling upwards to where Willow and Giles were.

At least, where they'd been a moment ago. She stopped at a junction where she'd seen them, and looked around. A bunch of kids she didn't know were headed up one way, and a little girl who looked lost, was sitting down along the other tube. Tara hurried over to the unoccupied tube and slid down, squealing as she went. As she hit the bottom, and exited the tube maze briefly, she peeked out -- and saw Xander standing just beyond the maze, watching her. She stuck her tongue out and hurried back up before he could catch her.

She caught sight of Giles, and scurried after him, managing to grab his ankle before he climbed up another tube. He glanced down. "Oh! Good lord, I thought you were Dawn."

"Dawn? She can't get in here...can she?" Tara looked around. Nothing but under-seven as far as she could see.

"I'm not sure. But she was waiting for us when we tried to give you the slip -- er, I lost Willow, ducking back in here."

Tara squeaked. "They got Willow? Oh no!" She had to go rescue her poor girlfriend. Tara began to shuffle back down the tube, but Giles grabbed her wrist.

"No, Willow got into the other tube. I think she's up there, over our heads."

Tara looked up through the big clear bubble at the top junction of their tube, to see, sure enough, Willow looking down at her through the bubble in the bottom of the overpassing tube. Grinning, sticking out her tongue, and waggling her fingers in her ears. Which was universal sign language for "Nyah-nyah, nyah nyah, can't get me!" Tara pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and scrambled up the tube, climbing right over Giles.

"Ooh-- you just wait! I'm gonna get you, Willow Rosenbooger!" She could hear Willow giggling somewhere above her as she climbed.

"Hey! Wait up!" Giles called, behind her. She didn't, of course, but if he helped her catch Willow, all the better. They chased her through three tubes, somehow never managing to get into the same tube at the same time. At one point Tara and Giles climbed out into a crow's nest, and looked around. On the ground level, looking up at them, were Anya and Spike. "You know, I don't think we quite gave them the slip," Giles observed.

"Well, they still can't get *at* us. We can play in here as long as we like."

"Until we get kicked out when the restaurant closes."

"Which isn't until ten p.m.! Come on, there she is!" Tara leapt for another tube, and slid halfway down -- and landed on Willow's head. "Haha! Gotcha!" Then Tara said, "Ow!" as Giles landed on *both* their heads. "Watch it!" She thumped him on the arm.

Then she found all three of them sliding the rest of the way down the tube. They landed in a heap at the bottom of four tubes. They all leapt up, as one, stuck their tongues out...and hurried off in different directions.

This time, when Tara looked out a bubble window, she saw Buffy standing with her arms crossed, grinning, directly below her. Buffy waved, and Tara made the universal sign-language gesture. When Buffy made as if to dive for the opening of a nearby tube, Tara laughed hysterically, then squirmed away. Just in case Buffy had long arms.

She over-squirmed, though, and found herself once more sliding down a tube, to land against Willow. Who was pushed into Giles. Who popped out onto the floor. The two girls just stayed there laughing, braced too far up the tube for an adult to reach, while Giles scrambled for another entrance, running as fast as his little legs would carry him, Xander hot on his tail.

"Hey, quit pushing me!" Willow said suddenly.

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are. I'm slipping-- I'm gonna fall out. Stop it!"

"Oh, you are not. Baby!"

Willow looked up and stuck her tongue out, waggling it. "Bottle blonde!"

"Not now, I'm not. Neurotic homework highlighter!"

Wilow crossed her eyes, obviously concentrating hard. "Goyim!"

Tara stared at her. "I'm a what?" She leaned her head past Willow and called out "Xander! Willow called me a mean name!"

"It's not a mean name-- it just means you're not Jewish," Willow said.

"Well, duh!" Tara thought for a second, then pouted. "I don't know any special words for 'not ex-Southern-Baptist' "

"Gooberface!"

"That works."

"You know, if you two can't play nice--" They both 'eeped' and jumped away from Xander, who was crouching at the mouth of the tube...and was only inches away from them. Tara shoved Willow ahead of her, trying to get them out of reach before he could grab them. She thought she heard him laughing, but didn't stop to find out.

They ran around the tube maze, dodging strange kids, adults they knew all too well, and, at various points, each other. Finally Tara landed at the bottom of a tube beside Willow and Giles, who were sitting down and breathing hard.

"You two aren't wimping out, are you?"

"I'm considering the necessity of ingesting more pizza, before racing around for another hour," Giles replied.

"Yeah. And I'm thirsty," Willow added.

Tara peered through the blue plastic of the tube's walls. "If you go out there, you're gonna get grabbed."

"What?" Willow and Giles sat up, alarmed.

"Buffy, Dawn, Anya, Spike, and Xander -- they're all standing there. Watching us." She pointed.

Giles peered over his shoulder, and made a face. "Everywhere we turn, one or more of them is right there. Watching."

"Mad because watching's your job?" Willow asked.

"No, merely annoyed because we did this in order to get out from under their overly-protective gazes."

"It's kinda nice, though," Tara pointed out, even though she felt more like racing through the tubes, some more, than sitting here and talking. When Willow and Giles looked at her with expressions of disbelief, she said, "Well, in case something *did* happen. They'll be right there."

"Like if someone grabbed us," Willow said, nodding. Then her eyes lit up. "Or if someone stuck her head out of the tube and said she was thirsty?"

Tara looked at her skeptically. "Um, if you wanna try it...."

Willow grinned. "Nope, I was thinking maybe you would!" Tara felt herself being grabbed by both Willow and Giles, and being pushed so that her head stuck out the bottom of the tube.

"Help!" she shouted between giggles. Then thought better of it, since she didn't want to be rescued and dragged out. "Um... Willow wants Pop! Lots of pop! I do, too!" Her message delivered, Giles and Willow yanked her back up to safety, and Tara whapped Willow on the head, lightly. "Geek!"

Giles pouted. "You didn't ask for my pizza."

They all watched the opening of the tube, and eventually, Xander's head poked its way inside. "You want soda, you have to come out. No food or drink in the play area."

"Boo!" they yelled. It echoed in the tube, and Xander put his hands over his ears.

Tara giggled, and couldn't seem to stop. Xander looked at her for a minute. "Right, and only diet soda for Tara."

*That* stopped the giggles. She couldn't believe he would be so mean! "Willow, Xander's saying I'm a fat little kid!"

"No, sweetie, he's saying you've had more than enough sugar for one night."

"You should know," Giles put in. "You fed her three of your regular colas, after Xander tried buying her only diet ones, before."

"I did not!" Willow protested.

"Willow?" came a foreboding, very authoritarian voice. They all looked at Xander, then Tara and Willow looked at Giles.

"When did you teach him to sound like that?"

"What? *ME*? I never did anything of the sort. He got it from...from Spike, I imagine. Er, actually, I don't want to imagine..." He sighed. "Too late. I've imagined it. Someone shoot me, please?"

"We have a fresh pizza, at the table," Xander said. "And breadsticks."

Tara watched as Giles actually moved an inch towards the mouth of the tube. She grabbed his arm. "Don't go!"

"But they have more food," he said, not even looking back at her. He moved another inch, and she let go.

"Fine. Go, see if we care. Willow and I will play without you." But Willow was inching towards the exit, as well. "Willow!"

"I'm *thirsty*," she whined.

"I can't believe you'd leave me," Tara sniffed. "After I've given you the best...um...four years of my life! Over Root Beer!"

Willow looked at her, then said softly, "The best four years?"

"Well, duh!"

"Cool!" Willow said, then slid out of the tube, running for the table.

Tara looked after her in dismay, then shrugged. Fine. She could still have fun by herself. She took off for the farther reaches of tubeville, clambering in and out of the Amazon Jungle, playing Tara, Queen of the Ape People. She even noticed that if she used the little anti-static spell she and Willow put on the dryer in the apartment building when they were doing laundry, it made the slidey tubes *really* slippery.

Of course, every time she did that, it made her kinda tired for a second or two, but she wasn't worried-- she had plenty of energy to spare. Finally she made it up to the highest point, and sat down for a rest. Just a little one, where she could watch everybody down below, and make faces at them through the bubble. A little while later-- she wasn't sure how much later, because she'd closed her eyes, just for a second, she heard voices in the tube.

"Hey, watch where you're going, lummox!"

"You're the one who stopped, Spike. What's the matter-- afraid of heights?"

"No-- but you pinched my arse!"

"Er, and this is bad why?"

"Because we're in a kiddie tube, and you nearly made me slip. I'd have landed on your face," Spike explained. Tara looked around, confused. Why could she hear Spike and Xander so clearly, from here?

"Yeah, butt-first."

Tara crawled to the edge of the bubble, and looked down the tube. Right there, less than four feet away, was Spike. "How'd you get in here?" she asked. Wasn't he supposed to be too big?

Spike turned around, and smiled at her. "Awake, then, are you? Come on." He held out one hand. She crawled towards him to take it, and shook her head.

"You can't get in here. It's for kids-only. You're too big."

Spike just grinned in that way that made her want to cuddle him. Or be cuddled, which when she was awake and adult, was the sort of thought that was worrisome. Right now, she slid down into his arms.

"You got her?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. Back up, now -- hey! No pinching!"

Suddenly Tara was sliding in Spike's arms, all the way down the tube. She, Spike, and Xander, landed in a heap on the rubber playmat at the bottom, Spike's arms still wrapped around her. "You pinched, didn'cha!" she asked Xander, who was grinning unashamedly at Spike. One arm unwrapped from around her shoulder to whap Xander on the head. Xander whapped him back.

"You know, if you two can't play nice..." came Anya's voice from the table.

"Yes?" they both chorused.

"You won't get to play naughty when we get home!"

The whapping stopped instantly. Spike stood up and carried Tara over to the table, Xander following. "Anybody want this, or you think I should keep her?" Spike asked the group, holding Tara out over the table like she was a pizza that somebody forgot to pick up.

"Is that the prize that came with all the skeeball tickets?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah. They were all out of stuffed monkeys, so I got the little girl. 500 tickets this thing was!" Tara laughed, and poked him in the ribs. Spike frowned at her and added, "I think I got ripped off."

"We can hang her in the living room, with Mr. Fluffy and Frankenporker." Xander was putting slices of pizza on plates, and passing them out to Spike, Tara, and Giles, before keeping one for himself. Tara grinned, then looked really, really hungry at him. He passed her his plate, and reached for another.

"Sneaky," Spike whispered in her ear.

She looked over. "Can I have something to drink?"

At least three people said "No soda!"

*****
Part 17:

"Why do you do that?" Wes was asking. Angel sighed the most patient sigh Gunn had heard since his Grandma Nannie got asked 'Why is the sky blue' for about the five thousandth time, when he was a kid.

"Why do I do what, Wes?"

"Comb your hair straight up like that. Is it so things won't hit you on the head so hard?"

"No, it's a fashion choice."

Gunn was very proud. Wes just stood there watching Angel continue to comb his hair, and didn't say a word. For at least ten seconds. Then, of course, he started laughing hysterically, to the point where he actually fell down on the ground and began to roll around. And point. "Fashion... choice...heeheeheeheehee...."

Gunn was proud of Angel's newfound social ability, too, though he'd never tell the vamp. Angel was just waiting patiently while Wesley laughed at him. Of course, from the look on Angel's face it seemed he was just happy to see Wesley laughing so freely, that he didn't mind it being at his own expense. Then again, maybe Spike and Xander *really* had softened him up, and putting up with one human kid was *nothing*.

Gunn waited for Angel to ask Wes why he was laughing, but after a couple more minutes it seemed pretty clear that Wes wasn't gonna stop laughing for a while. As long as he didn't pass out from lack of air, Gunn figured it was a good thing. Meant he'd finally regressed enough to *relax*.

He wasn't all the way, yet, Gunn knew. A couple times he'd caught Wes trying to act like he was still an adult, like he still cared about what everyone thought of him and how he appeared to strangers. Gunn deliberately hid all Wesley's matching socks that morning, just to help him along. Of course, today they'd been at the hotel all day, so Wesley was going around barefoot.

Angel looked up at Gunn. "Do you think he's gonna hurt himself?"

Gunn considered the giggling child sprawled on the carpet. "Not unless he starts turning blue."

Angel looked back down at Wesley, then asked in a serious tone, "Think we should tickle him?"

That started Wesley off on a fresh round of hysterical laughter. Gunn gave Angel a grin. "You think we *need* to?"

Wesley was still rolling. Angel brushed the top of his hair, as if considering something. "Well... if I make him turn blue, I'll never find out what he thinks of my hair."

Gunn blinked. Then he pointed. "I think we *know* what he thinks of your hair."

"He could be laughing about something completely unrelated." Angel crossed his arms. "He *might* even be having a seizure."

"No history of epilepsy in his family." Which Gunn actually knew, since Wes had told him that his parents had wondered if his breaking things were the result of 'fits', or if he did it on purpose. He blinked the memory away.

"What about insanity?"

"That would be *your* family, dude."

Angel gave him a slightly pained look. "Drusilla isn't actually *related* to me, you know."

"Uh-huh. And your excuse for you?"

Angel blinked. "Me?" It was clear he didn't know if Gunn was referring to the Angelus portion of his personality, or the 'I am indirectly responsible for Spike's existence' portion.

"You *gotta* be insane to go around with your hair looking like that." Gunn shook his head. There was a happy shriek from the floor, and Wesley was off, again. Gunn almost started laughing, himself, just from hearing it.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Angel muttered. Then Cordelia yelled for him to take the phone, and he walked away towards the office. Gunn crouched down beside Wesley, and waited for him to open his eyes.

When he finally began to wind down, he looked up and Gunn said, "Boo." Like a shot, he was off again, fourth round. Gunn shook his head, and wondered where Wes got the energy. Maybe he should take a page from Xander's book, and stop giving the kid sugar. But sugar smacks cereal didn't have *that* much sugar...did it? "Wes? How many bowls of cereal did you eat this morning?"

Wesley somehow managed to stop laughing long enough to answer coherently. "Four."

"Four? You had *four* bowls of sugar? I mean cereal? Where did you put it all?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "With the three slices of cinnamon toast and two glasses of chocolate milk-- it was only a *part* of my complete breakfast, you know."

This from the kid who couldn't eat a whole Taco Bueno kid's meal just a few days ago. Of course, if you added up the bits and pieces stolen off someone else's plate, and the extra cinnamon crisps, and the oh, can we get one to eat in the car on the way home... Dear God. His lover was a four-year-old eating machine. He couldn't remember the grown-up Wesley scarfing down that much food -- even the time they'd hit Ling's All-Night Buffet after spending 36 hours trapped, waiting for the Mekrak demons to leave, with only a granola bar between them.

Then again, the grown up Wesley didn't run around the hotel screaming "Help! The Zombie Cheerleader is after me!" at the top of his lungs, either. So maybe this version needed all the energy he could get. Which didn't explain why *Gunn* wasn't scarfing down the sugar smacks -- after spending the last two weeks chasing after being-chased-by-zombies-Wesley, *he* needed all the energy he could get, too. At least he had the benefit of foisting Wesley off onto Angel or Cordelia for a few hours each day.

Speaking of whom -- "Who fed you that much cereal?"

Wesley looked up at him from the floor, still sprawled in a completely unself-conscious way. Cordy was right, he realized. They needed to put sunglasses on this kid. "Angel."

"Angel, huh? Then maybe I oughtta give you *back* to Angel until the sugar's worn off." He smiled as he picked Wes up, to avoid sending him into a major sulk. That was the disadvantage of having Wesley sharing his emotions freely. He went into funks as easily as he laughed.

"But by the time the sugar's worn off, it'll be time for lunch!" Wesley protested.

"Uh-huh. You ever hear of peanut butter sandwiches, and carrot sticks?"

Wesley made a face. "I want tacos."

"Tacos?" Gunn settled Wesley on his hip, and carried him towards the office, listening for any signs that Angel was discussing things Wesley didn't need to know about.

"And more cinnamon crisps."

"Wes, you know those things are just sugar and styrofoam."

The eyes again. Damn. If his wallet weren't up in the suite, he'd be dialing Taco Bueno delivery right about now...and they didn't *have* regular delivery service. He tore his eyes away, to see that Angel was motioning him into the office. Gunn lifted an eyebrow and nodded his head down at Wes, but Angel just nodded and continued with the 'c'mere' gesture.

"It's for you," he said to Wesley, with a somewhat perplexed expression.

"For me? Really? But I can't talk to them like this." Wes went from excited to downcast in two seconds flat.

"Yeah, you can. It's Spike."

Angel held out the phone, and Wesley looked commandingly up at Gunn. "Down, please."

Gunn set him down on Angel's chair, and Wes immediately started to chatter into the phone -- almost faster than the human ear could follow, turning the chatter into jibberish. Then Gunn realized -- he couldn't understand it because it wasn't English. He glanced over at Angel, who shrugged.

"Don't ask me -- some demon language that Spike speaks, obviously. He was always better at the non-human ones than me. And French, which Spike swears is a demonic language, too."

Wesley undoubtedly had a good reason for picking a language that Angel didn't parley-voo, Gunn thought. He wondered if he should be worried, or amused. He saw Wesley glance up at them as he listened to something Spike was saying. His gaze flickered to Angel, and he smiled. It was the most mischievous smile he'd seen on Wes' face since...well, yesterday. But this time Angel was the target, so he relaxed.

Wesley nodded at the phone, then chattered something demonic -- or possibly French. He listened for a moment, still staring at Angel. Then he laughed. It wasn't the hysterical Angel-has-funny-hair laughter. This was worse. This was mischief, and amusement -- and it was courtesy Spike. Gunn suddenly recalled Spike's offer to tell Wesley some things to do to Angel while he was four. Gunn stepped away from Angel, just in case.

Angel glanced at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Gunn waited, then took another step away.

Angel gave him another paranoid look. "Do you know what they're saying?"

"Nope." Gunn shook his head. "Don't have to. Spike, evil laughter...all add up to 'I don't know you, I ain't within firing distance'." Wesley was chattering again, interspersed with laughter. Gunn had the feeling he was telling Spike what was going on.

Angel suddenly said, "You know, this is a long distance call. I think you should say good-bye." He reached for the phone in Wesley's hand.

Wes pulled it back and glared at him. "I'm not through talking to Spike, yet."

Angel backed away from the Wes eyes, and groaned. "I should have killed him years ago..."

Gunn glared at him, too. "Wesley?"

"No, Spike. I should have picked up a stake the minute Drusilla looked up at me and said 'look what followed me home, Daddy-- can I keep it?' and said no. And poof, all my troubles would have been gone. But nooooooo, I had to actually look into those big damn eyes of hers..."

Gunn was too busy laughing, then, to voice his suspicion that it might have had something to do with *Spike's* big damn eyes, too. Or big damn anything else.

Wes was nodding now, just as if Spike could actually see him shake his head over the phone. Not that they didn't all have that habit of course, but there was something adorable about how *serious* Wesley was when he did it. It was the visual equivalent of 'Yes, I understand that the safety of the world depends on this, Mr. President.' when he was probably agreeing that the new Honda commercial was silly. Then Wesley said, "I will," in plain English, followed by, "Then you should thump her," in that same serious tone. He hung up without actually saying goodbye.

He jumped up onto the desk and leapt at Gunn. Gunn caught him, mostly through sheer reflex and having been practicing this catch a thousand times in the last few days. Which reminded him.... He glared at Angel. "Next time you feed him sugar cereal, I'm handing him over to you and I'm taking the morning off."

Angel looked immediately innocent, which meant Angel had *known* what he was doing. Of course he had -- he'd probably watched Xander consume just as much sugar cereal then spend the day zooming off the walls. Which meant.... Gunn watched as Angel looked at the clock. "Oh, I almost forgot, I have an appointment. Downtown. Gotta head for the sewers, excuse me." He tried to brush past Gunn, who was holding a now-wriggling Wesley.

"Appointment? Someone doing your hair?" Gunn demanded.

"Um-- actually, no. It's work. Work-related. We have a case." Angel was still trying to get past Gunn and out the door. Gunn just kept stepping sideways, back and forth, so that the Evil Eyes of Doom were always within range to gaze at Angel.

"Case? We have a case? Do you need me to look anything up?" Wesley asked. He sounded eerily like his older self.

Angel looked down at him, and stammered, "Uh, no, it... um, it isn't that kind of case. Yet. Maybe there will be something later? Right now I'm just...meeting a guy."

Wesley blinked at him. Then his eyes widened (if that was possible), and the most incredibly demonic smile appeared on his face. "You're meeting a guy? Really? Angel, that's wonderful!"

Angel's turn to blink, then look disturbed. "No, that's not what I meant--"

But Wes was reaching out and tugging on his arm. "What's his name? What's he like? Is he cute? Oh god, it's the Host, isn't it. I always knew he had a thing for you."

Angel was shaking his head wildly. "What?! No. No, no, that's not what I-- you think the Host has a thing for me?"

"Are you blind, man? How many times has that man pinched your arse?"

"It's just his way of being friendly. He does it to everybody," Angel protested.

"Not to me, he don't," Gunn told him.

"And he stopped pinching my arse after we stopped sleeping together," Wesley said blithely. "Angel, *surely* you--"

"WHAT!?" Gunn turned Wesley around, and held him up so he could glare at him in the eye. "Slept together? *Slept* together? Wes, you better be about to tell me it was completely platonic when you didn't have anywhere else to go."

Wesley just looked at him, his expression a tad miffed, at first. Then he began looking more innocent than Angel had.

"Damn. Damn, damn -- you gotta promise me *never* ever to tell me *any* details. I do *not* wanna know." Gunn settled Wes back on his hip, where he wouldn't have to look over at his boyfriend's face, and stepped hurriedly back into Angel's way. "Excuse me? Where are you going?"

"Hey, obviously you two need to...discuss some issues. I'll just go out and see of Cordy needs a hand with the filing."

"I thought you had to go meet a guy," Gunn reminded him.

"Er, I do. I thought I'd help Cordy after I got back, though, so I need to tell her not to do all the filing before I get back." From Angel's expression, even *he* knew that one was lame.

"He's green all over," Wesley said.

"His mother has a *beard,*" Angel responded, looking frightened.

"See! He took you home to meet his mother. And you don't think he has a thing for you?" Wesley crowed.

Gunn was closing his eyes and *not* thinking about green-all-over people. Not thinking about their mothers. In fact, he was thinking about Mother Teresa, just to focus on an image as far removed from this conversation as possible. Except now he was seeing Mother Teresa with a beard. He opened his eyes quickly and glared at Wes. "I said I didn't want to hear any details!"

Wesley looked hurt. Really hurt. Gunn was just about to do the whole down-on-my-knees-what-color-pony-do-you-want thing, when the corner of Wesley's lip twitched. "That wasn't a detail. It was merely an anatomical curiosity that I thought Angel might find interesting. A detail would be something like the fact that his--"

Gunn put his hand over Wesley's mouth before he found out anything more about the Host's anything. Then, hand still over Wesley's mouth, he handed him over to Angel. Angel took him, reflexively no doubt, and Gunn started to leave the office. "I'm outta here. I'll go meet this guy, while you two help Cordelia with the files."

"Oh, uh, actually," Angel hurried up behind him, still holding Wesley -- and holding his own hand over Wesley's mouth. "Actually, uh...." Gunn stopped, and glanced back at him. "It isn't work. I'm meeting my hairdresser."

Wesley pulled Angel's hand away. Some vampire strength, Gunn scoffed. "You're dating your hairdresser?" Wesley said.

"I'm not *dating* him!" Angel glared, and put his hand back over Wesley's mouth. Which Wesley then reached up and removed.

"But you're meeting him, that's very good."

Angel glared at Gunn, in consternation. "How is he doing that?"

"You got me." Gunn shrugged.

Angel put his hand over Wesley's mouth. Wesley rolled his eyes, and pushed it away. "I *swear* I was holding it in place that time!"

Wesley started to grin, then wiped all traces of smugness from his face, and said piteously, "They're being cruel to me!"

Before either man could react, Cordelia stepped between them and grabbed Wesley from Angel's arms. "What are they doing to you?" She gave them both evil, mother gorilla glares. Which Gunn knew he had better never let on he'd compared Cordelia to, even in his head, if he wanted to live to ever maybe have a *real* kid for her to spoil rotten when they brought him to the office. Which he hadn't just thought, no he hadn't. Nope.

"They're talking about sex, when they know I can't enjoy it for at least another two weeks," Wesley said pathetically.

Gunn looked at him. "At *least* two weeks?"

Angel looked at him. "*We* were talking about sex? Mr.'He's green all over' ?"

Cordelia looked over at Angel. "Who, the Host? Duh, everybody knows that."

"They do?"

"Haven't you seen the picture he has of him in speedos, at the beach? It's on his desk in his office. Along with the one of you and him onstage singing 'Ebony and Ivory.' "

Angel winced. "I was drunk." Then he blinked. "He's got a picture of me on his desk?"

"See?" Wesley said proudly. He told Cordelia, "Angel's just getting a clue that the Host likes him."

Cordelia grinned. "Think we should invite him over to dinner sometime?"

"No!" Angel said. "We can't...we can't, anyway, while Wesley's...like this, right?"

"Somehow I don't think he'll mind," Cordelia said. She looked at Wesley, enquiringly. "Wes? Do *you* care if Lorn sees you?"

Wesley thought about it for a moment. Then, in a serious voice, he said, "If it will help Angel...I'll do it."

Gunn exchanged a grin with Cordelia, as Angel tried to think of some way to convince them all that this really wasn't necessary. "Why don't you go get your hair done," Gunn finally told him, "And we'll call and invite him over."

"No, really--" Angel tried again. "Wesley, won't you be embarrassed?"

"He's seen me naked, unshaven, and before I've had my tea, Angel. I hardly care if he sees me three feet tall."

Gunn gave him a quick glare. "I *said* I didn't want to hear any details."

"Those weren't details," Wesley retorted. "Details would be 'he's seen me naked after peeling me out of a pair of grey speedos'."

Over his own groaning, Gunn could hear Cordelia saying, "*You* took that beach picture, Wes?"

Then somehow there was Angel calling from the lobby, "Bye! Going to get my hair done! In Bangkok..."

When Cordelia stopped tittering, Gunn looked at Wesley. Who looked so innocent you could stick construction-paper wings on his back and sell him in a Christian bookstore. "Okay -- he's gone now. Spill. What did Spike tell you to do to him? Details, kid."

Wes looked haughtily at him. "What makes you think Spike told me to do anything to Angel?"

"Oh, right -- this *is* Spike we're talking about." That came from Cordelia.

Gunn gave Wesley a 'you're my homey, ain't ya?' look. "Come on-- who helped you set up that photo-on-the-mirror trick? Who stood lookout while you slipped Aretha Franklin CDs into all his Manilow cases?"

Wesley simply raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think Spike told me to do anything to *Angel*?"

"Because you were looking at him when you laughed."

But Wesley just looked at him, not quite doing the innocent face. This was more like a 'not my fault if your logic is faulty'. Which, OK, Gunn had seen dozens of times before -- most often over a pente board.

But that meant it was fair to resort to treachery. "Come on, Wes -- don't we deserve to have some fun at Angel's expense, too?"

There was a softening of Wesley's expression, and he fidgeted a bit in Cordelia's arms. Then he sighed. "All right. I'll tell -- but you can't let on you know."

"We swear," Gunn and Cordelia said together.

"Cross your heart, hope to get painted purple?"

"Wes! Just tell us, already!" Gunn wasn't about to swear, because he'd seen what happened when you did. Somehow, he'd end up purple.

"All right, all right. He told me...to look at Angel, and laugh."

Gunn stared at him. "Uh... would I be perpetuating a cultural stereotype if I said 'Watchoo talkin' about, Wesley'? "

"No, just perpetuating a really crappy sitcom," Cordelia answered. "Just look at him and laugh? Really? But we do that all the time!"

Wesley looked smug. "It's not the *fact* of laughing. It's how you do it. Spike gave me detailed instructions."

"So? Share!"

"No. Sorry. It only works for children. And childer." Wesley looked so happy about that -- made Gunn wonder how many times he'd been told 'No, Wesley, only adults can do that.' Some of which, like chasing demons down blind alleys and swinging a double-bladed longsword, they were perfectly right about, of course.

"You mean, only stuff kids can do? Like get held upside-down?" Gunn grabbed him from Cordelia, and held him upside-down. Wesley shrieked, and giggled -- then shrieked again when Cordelia tickled him.

Gunn held him until his face turned red, then flipped him upright. Wesley was breathing hard, but still grinning like a loon. Or like a four year old. "So, whadya say we go make dinner plans?"

"Can I call Lorn?" Wesley asked.

Gunn opened his mouth to say 'yes', then stopped. "Is this gonna involve me knowing any more details?"

"Details?" Cordelia asked.

"About him and that green whosit. Doing things I don't wanna know about."

Wesley was doing the innocent-eyes thing, again. "Who, me?" Then there was a hand over his mouth.

He reached up to remove it, but Cordelia didn't budge. The eyes above that hand got bigger. Then they bulged out a bit, as if she were suffocating him. The pitiful help-me-you-love-me-don't-you look Wesley was giving Gunn was almost too much to bear. So it was a good thing Gunn was heading out of the office to the lobby where he didn't have to *look* at that look.

A few hours later, Gunn was overjoyed that *he'd* been the one to give Wesley his lunch. He'd managed to resist the insinuations that not letting him have ding-dongs and ice cream for lunch constituted some form of subtle child abuse, and they'd all had tacos, as originally requested. With no cinnamon crisps.

So now Wesley was winding down, though lack of hyper-ness didn't remotely diminish the power of the huge eyes staring at Gunn now. And staring. And staring. It was like one of those creepy pictures where the eyes follow you around the room.

Add to that, Wesley wasn't *saying* anything. He was just sitting there in Gunn's lap, the book open on his knees, and looking up at Gunn. Looking. He couldn't take it!

"I am *not* falling for this." Look. "I'm not!" More look. "No way. No how." Tiny bit of guilt in that look maybe, which was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or the boyfriend's heart. "Aw, dammit, Wes! What color pony?"

But what he heard was, "You're not rocking."

"I'm not what?" The words slipped out; Wesley turned back to his book and didn't repeat the request. Gunn smiled, though. He'd seen the uncertainty in Wes' eyes, that maybe he didn't know if he ought to be asking, despite the recent ease with which he begged for anything he wanted.

Gunn leaned back in the chair, and pulled Wesley back, as well, settling him against Gunn's chest. He propped the book up on Wesley's lap, and held it so Wesley could arrange himself however he liked. Then he slowly pushed against the floor and began rocking.

After a moment there was a soft whisper. "You don't have to."

"You think I'm gonna make you ask Angel? For an ancient undead white boy, he has *no* rhythm. Best you let me do it." He felt the tiny tremor of Wesley's silent laugh, then Wesley was laying his head back, wriggling down a bit, and flipped the page of his book. "Is this the Sumerian Big Book of Bedtime Stories?" Gunn asked.

"It's in English," Wesley scolded.

"If you say so."

"Read to me," came that imperious voice, and Gunn didn't know that the Eyes Thing worked without there even being any eyes involved. He frowned at Wesley, and wondered if he would lose this power when he grew up, again. Probably not. Gunn began reading.

"To Sherlock Holmes, she is always *the* woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name..."

*****