Notes and disclaimers: Property of Mutant Enemy, etc. Not mine and no profit garnered ever. Thanks to Mosca for awesome beta action.


Wes rubbed his neck and sat heavily on the bed.

"Getting possessed by that thing no fun, huh?" Gunn sat down next to him. He started to take off Wes's shirt and noticed the lack of hissing or flinching. "But not too painful, I see."

"Actually, it was quite painful. But the scotch is dulling the pain." Wes twitched and relaxed as Gunn tossed his shirt on the pillow. "Were you injured at all?"

"The usual knock around. I'm okay," Gunn said. A little twinge in the thigh, sore wrist, nothing that wouldn't ache like hell in the morning. They were two old men, still fighting the good fight. Should have left tonight's good fight to the teenage Slayers swarming Los Angeles, but Wes wanted to be out there, proving something. Proved he could force a demon right out of his skin, with a little help from some English witch girl.

Wes said, "I could use more scotch."

"I can get that for you," Gunn said.

He watched Wes swallow straight from the bottle and wondered how much Wes was really hurting. That wasn't near as much Scotch as Wes used after a rough night. "You're really not that hurt."

"No, but I didn't want to be forced into some sort of Slayer social." Wes grinned. Now the glasses came off and were carefully put on the bedside table.

"Those girls are hard to take," Gunn said. He lay back on the bed and kicked off his boots.

The bed shifted as Wes did. Wes was holding down Gunn's wrist, not the sore one. Wes probably knew which one was sore. "I have other ideas for tonight than giggling girls covered in Baslet gore," Wes said.

"Go for it." Like Wes needed the invitation.

He could still move fast, even after the night they'd had, and Gunn had Wes on top of him before he exhale. Gunn grabbed Wes's ass with the hand not held down on the bed. "No aching here, right?"

"Shut up," Wes said and kissed him.

Wes ran his hand down Gunn's neck to open his shirt. Wes always felt a little cool, not vamp cool, but a shiver against Gunn's skin. It was a familiar feeling, just right. Gunn opened his legs and pushed his hips up against Wes's. Good to know, Gunn thought as Wes gasped, they were both up for this. Which was also familiar.

Wes pushed up and then down Gunn's body. Gunn sat up a little to watch Wes undo Gunn's belt and pull down Gunn's pants. "That's your plan. I like it."

"Part of it," Wes said. Gunn's pants were pooled around his ankles. Wes ran his hands up from Gunn's ankles to his knees to his thighs. One big long shiver. Then his mouth after his hands all around Gunn's balls and his legs again and back to the balls. Gunn could have killed him if he was feeling up to moving.

Gunn was about to shout or hit when Wes gripped the base of Gunn's dick. Wes took a deep breath and nearly swallowed him. Gunn closed his eyes and lay back on the bed so he didn't pop like a teenager. It was time to stop thinking, just feel and push and fuck, Wes was so fucking good at this.

At some point in the proceedings, Gunn knew he was moaning and swearing and he heard the sheets rip from the mattress. He kicked at nothing and came. He opened his eyes to see Wes rubbing his jaw and standing up.

"You planning on coming down here?" Gunn grinned and sat up. "I want to say thank you."

"I hope you'll do more than say it," Wes said as he got on the bed. Gunn got his hand in Wes's pants and didn't bother with zippers or buttons. We was hard enough already, his pants were tight and it was only worse for Wes with Gunn's hand in there, too. Wes grunted and between the two of them they got Wes's pants and boxers down to his thighs. "More comfortable," Wes said.

"I'm not trying to make you feel comfortable," Gunn said. He kissed Wes. Gunn had a firm grip on Wes's dick, up and down and not as fast as Wes wanted. Two could play at that. Gunn shifted Wes closer so his hand bumped against his own hip on every stroke. Wes pushed closer and nearly bit Gunn's lip. "Comfortable yet?" Gunn opened his hand slightly and closed down just as quick.

Wes swore, came, and fell back. Gunn's hand and hip were wet and sticky. He tried wiping off on his leg, but it was pointless. Wes looked at Gunn flailing and said, "At this moment, yes."

"I miss the hotel," Gunn said. He sat up and thought about going to the bathroom. They had this apartment, crammed with weapons and stolen books. Between Gunn and Wes's savings from their year as Big Bad Lawyers, they were pretty much set for a year or so. But it wasn't any way to live. "We need to get the band back together or something."

"What band," Wes said, sounding tired. "There's only you and I left."

"That's all we need back when Angel fired us." Wes and Gunn and Cordelia, but they couldn't get her back. Wes knew it and Gunn knew it, it wasn't worth saying. "We were doing okay for a while there." They had done okay.

Wes laughed. "We could get the old storefront back. I imagine it still has that same smell."

"What was that?" Gunn rubbed his knee and looked over his shoulder. Wes hadn't moved since he came. "It's not a bad idea. We can't work from here. We can help people. Not just baby Slayers who don't know their axes from a hole in the ground."

"They don't want our help."

"They need it."

Wes said, "They don't think so."

"They're wrong."

"It would be nice to have clients again."

"People to lie to us," Gunn said. "Say they're not paying because demons don't exist."

"Those were the days," Wes said.

Gunn stood up and went to the bathroom. It looked clean and Spartan. Like they didn't even live there. A change was needed, for sure. He took a quick shower and walked back into the bedroom. Wes was already under the covers. "This time, let's call it the Gunn Agency."

"Wyndham-Pryce Investigations," Wes said.

"Let's compromise. Gunn Investigations."

Wes opened his eyes and stared him down. "Let's discuss it in the morning."

"In the morning," Gunn said. In the morning, they'd go with Angel Investigations and it would be all right. They'd call it a tribute. Two old men who couldn't even think of a name.

But it wasn't so bad. If anyone could make this work, it was the two of them.


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