Consumer Affairs

~ Co-written by Mad Poetess [website]

Gunn crossed his arms and glared. "No." It was the fourth time he'd said it, and he apparently thought repeating himself would help.

Angel sighed. "Do you really think they'd want a toaster?"

"I'm *not* going into Morrie's to buy a wedding present, or a shower present, or a *whatever* present, for those two. No. Uh-uh. I'm *not*."

Wesley had come into the room in time to hear the first 'no', but not any of the reasons for it. So far Angel and Charles has proven entertaining enough not to interrupt and ask. This time, though, there was new information. "Morrie's? They want their wedding presents from Morrie's?"

"That's where they registered," Angel answered, and then looked a little panicked.

Gunn turned around slowly. "Oh... hi, Wes."

"So, why don't you want to buy them a gift from Morrie's? I'm given to understand that it's not somewhere you've never visited yourself."

Gunn blinked at Wesley and then looked at Angel. "What the hell did he just say?"

"You've been there, why don't you want to go now," Angel said, and Wesley rolled his eyes. As if he needed a translator.

"I don't want to go there now, because going there *now* means going there now!"

Speaking of people who needed translating... Wesley looked at him. "That makes it perfectly clear. Angel? Why don't you and I go purchase something for Spike and Xander? Charles needn't go with us--"

"No. Uh-uh, no way." Gunn had stepped forward to stand between them, as if trying to remind them that he was a big, black man who shouldn't be argued with. Or ignored.

"Fine, then, come with us."

Gunn appeared to be considering taking Wesley literally, as an alternative to going shopping. At least his eyes did that interesting thing where they filmed over and focussed on a point about three inches in front of his face. Then he shook his head, and his pupils contracted again. "No, *you* are not going to Morrie's!"

Wesley crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "*I* am not? I beg your pardon?"

"I am not taking you to Morrie's. Angel is not taking you to Morrie's. You are *not* *going* to Morrie's. Am I being clear enough for you, now?"

Wesley turned his astonished look on Angel, who just shrugged. The coward's way out. He looked back at Gunn. "Is there some reason I shouldn't be 'allowed' to go to Morrie's?"

Gunn opened his mouth to retort, and stopped. Perhaps Wes' tone had sunk in, and he realized how fine a line he was treading. Then he just glared. "Yeah. It's Morrie's."

Angel shook his head, his expression one of disbelief and sympathy. Wesley didn't buy it for a moment. "You two have been trying to keep me away from this place ever since I got Spike to tell me what they sell there. Why?"

Angel put up both hands, as if he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Which would have been more convincing if Wesley hadn't found Spike hanging by his collar from a light fixture the evening after the younger vampire had told him all about Morrie's in gleefully lurid detail. A light fixture that was too far off the ground for Gunn to reach.

Gunn was sputtering, a bit. Finally, he said, "It's *Morrie's*. The type of place people like Spike register at for their weddings!"

Wesley blinked, and waited. "And?"

"And... and... and you ain't going."

This was getting preposterous. "Are you trying to say that I'm too innocent and naive to encounter such a place as Morrie's? That I might faint dead away, or die from too much blushing?"

But Gunn was shaking his head, a tiny bit. In a low mumble, he finally explained, "If I take you in there, I'm gonna wanna try everything out on you."

Oh. Wesley took a moment to consider whether that was a compliment worth blushing over, and decided it was. Still. "I see no particular problem with this. What exactly do you object to?"

"They let you try things out *in the store*."

This place was sounding more and more interesting every time Wesley heard something about it. "Well, that makes sense. It sounds quite convenient, really. No unnecessary returns on items that don't fit properly. Or don't otherwise live up to one's expectations."

"Um, you *do* know what sort of items we're talking about, right?" Angel asked.

Wesley gave him a withering look. Angel withered.

"Do you honestly expect us to take you to Morrie's and get out of there without spending a thousand dollars and a few hours and not ever buy anything for the newt twins?" Gunn demanded.

Wesley tried somewhat to hide his smile. "Why, Charles, are you *embarrassed* to take me to Morrie's?"

Gunn shook his head. "No, I'm not *embarrassed* to take you anywhere, except rap concerts. I just don't..." He looked at the floor.

Wesley waited. Angel finally came to Gunn's rescue. "He doesn't want other people looking at you in Morrie's."

Wesley frowned. Then frowned a bit more, trying to decipher what that meant, and not liking the sound of it. "Isn't that what I just asked?"

"No," Gunn replied, then hesitated, thinking things over again. "I just don't want you there. Where everyone's gonna see you. See us trying to fit you for a-- why don't I just go by myself?"

"I see." And he did. It had taken him a while, but he did see. Why they didn't want him parading around in nearly-nothing swimwear. Why they didn't want to go to fancy restaurants with him, for dinner. Why they always both got so nervous whenever anyone mentioned the three of them having sex, or if *he* should flirt too blatantly with either, in front of someone else. He'd always told himself it was simply that his lovers were a tad possessive. He was beginning to think they might simply be embarrassed by *him.*

"Uh... you *do*?"

"Yes. If you'd rather not be seen in a place like Morrie's with me, that's... fine." He walked away from the both of them, just a few feet, and stared out the window. It looked as if it might rain.

"Wes, that's not what he meant." Angel was standing behind him.

"Well, then, explain it to me. Perhaps I need a translator." Perhaps they thought he was too thick to understand.

"What didn't I mean?" Gunn asked, his voice confused.

"That you didn't want to be seen with him there," Angel explained.

Wes sighed sharply when Gunn said, "I *don't*."

"Why don't you and Angel go, then. You can shop all you like, I'm sure they're open late enough for vampires." He started to walk away but Angel's hand was closed around his arm.

"That is *not* what he meant," Angel said, and there was a hint of things Angel usually didn't show his lovers. Not anymore. Wesley looked up at him. No, looked across at him. It was hard to remember that he was actually a hair's breadth taller than Angel. It was something about that ability Angel possessed to just *loom* over one.

"Then what did he mean? What do *you* mean when you say 'Not here, Wesley' -- 'No, don't wear *that*, Wesley'-- 'perhaps next time, Wesley'?"

"It means we don't want anyone seeing you--" Angel began, and he must have seen how quickly Wesley shut down on the hurt he refused to let him see. It occurred to him that perhaps Spike had actually *been* lying when he'd assured him that Angel and Gunn wanted this as much as he did. But he couldn't walk out, because Angel still had a hold of his arm. "You belong to us," Angel was saying quickly. "If anyone else saw you the way we get to, you'd be out of here so fast we wouldn't have time to say 'no'."

Wesley didn't know how to take that, either. "Are you saying I'm fickle? Or embarrassing? I'm confused." It sounded as if Angel was saying that they *wanted* him, but only in the privacy of their own bedroom. Which gave a small shot of pride to the part of him that cared about his talents in that area, but it was rather a small part of him at the moment. It also sounded as if he was being accused of an infidelity, or a potential for it, that had never even crossed his mind.

"He's saying that if anyone saw you, naked, swimsuit, or surrounded by a bunch of sex toys, they'd fight us tooth and nail for the right to bring you flowers and tea," Gunn said, apparently having figured out what the problem was. Wesley looked at him, still feeling confused, even though what it sounded like he was saying, sounded... good. "And because I don't think I can control myself around you at a place like Morrie's, and I *don't* need to be dropping my pants in the middle of a retail store, no matter how used to it they are."

Oh. Perhaps it was possible to die from too much blushing after all? He looked out the window again, though this time it was mostly to hide the small, silly grin on his face. "You lot must think I'm as insecure as Xander is," he said after a bit. He suddenly felt two sets of arms going around him, and he was being held tightly, in between his two lovers.

"Actually, Xander isn't so insecure, anymore," Angel observed. Then he kissed Wesley's temple. Nuzzled a bit.

"Are we outta the dog house?" Gunn asked.

"Hmm. Possibly. You might try doing a bit of what Angel's doing, though. Just to be sure." Mmmm. Stereo nuzzling. Still looked as if it was going to rain, though. "It's rather amazing," he said, thinking back to Angel's comment.

"What, that we think you're hot?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, Charles, though the compliment is duly noted. That Spike, of all people, could bring about that much of a change in Xander." Though he still saw it, at times. Xander looking across the breakfast table at his lover, with a strange sort of wonder in his eyes. Rather like Wesley himself tended to look at Angel and Gunn.

"Spike can be very tenacious," Angel said.

"Hmm." Wesley tilted his head back, letting the nuzzling work its way along his neck. It felt very good, and helped reinforce the claim that his assumption had been wrong. Not that the voice wasn't still whispering that it was true, they just said these things to make him happy. But being held like this made it easy to ignore that little voice. Gunn started nibbling, and Wesley forgot what he'd been about to say about Spike.

"So..." There was something he was supposed to be arguing with them about, he was sure of it. "We... mmm... still have to get them some sort of engagement present. Didn't they register anywhere else?"

Angel stopped nuzzling for a moment. "Well... Home Depot, but we're not buying them anything there."

Wesley grabbed Angel's chin and firmly guided him back to his former activity. "What's wrong with Home Depot? That sounds rather wholesome, for those two." He realized the moment that he said it that it would require someone to stop nuzzling him again to answer, but it was too late.

It was Gunn who stopped, and demanded, "Do you *want* to know that much about their sex lives?"

Wesley turned to look at him, wondering if the man had missed part of the conversation. But Gunn shook his head, and said, "What do you think they want from there? chains, bolts, eye hooks..."

"Stop." Wesley held up a hand. "You're giving me mental images."

"Uh-huh. *Exactly*. I do *not* want to know. You don't want to know. Neither of us wants to know if Angel already knows."

Angel lifted his head long enough to say, "Hey--" before Wesley reached up and pushed his head back down where it was.

"They registered at the supermarket, too," Gunn said with a shudder. "I don't wanna go into details, but... vegetable aisle."

"Amazon.com..." Angel muttered into Wesley's neck. "The New Joy of... something I don't want showing up on my credit card statement..."

"Your child is sick," Wesley commented.

"Oh, when he's registering for sex toys online, he's my sick child, but when he's beating your ass at darts and playing that 'Are You Being Served' drinking game with you, suddenly he's some kind of mature companionship?"

Wesley opened his eyes and slowly turned towards Angel. Not glaring, not looking hurt -- but a nice mix of both. Not that he would stoop to manipulating Angel... unless he felt like it. "Are you implying that darts and drinking and British comedies are somehow equivalent to perverted sexual toys?"

Angel gaped, and from Wes' other side, Gunn snickered. "Better get your mouth back on his neck where it belongs, blood-boy."

"I just meant--" Angel began, and Wesley interrupted.

"You meant that none of the above activities should be discussed in polite company."

"No, I meant that... " Angel thought hard for a moment. You could actually *see* him thinking hard. His scalp twitched. "I don't have a problem with perverted sexual toys," Angel said at last.

"Oh, just Britishness?"

"No, just associating the perverted sexual toys with my sick British child."

"Ah." Wesley wondered if it was enough to let Angel off the hook. "So you don't want to know what Spike and I discuss during those 'Are You Being Served" drinking games?"

Angel whimpered. With a triumphant smile, Wesley allowed his lovers to go back to their nuzzling, unhindered. It was rather nice, really, nicer than watching them squirm as he tried to force them to say the things he really wanted to hear. But the question of gifts had not been resolved.

"I suppose I could go to Morrie's, by myself, to purchase their gift."

"NO!" They really sounded quite musical in chorus. Perhaps the three of them could arrange some sort of performance for the reception. They'd need a fourth for barbershop, but there was always Gilbert and Sullivan.

"You think I can't be trusted to pick out the right sort of items?" he asked innocently.

"I think you can't be trusted not to come home with a line of humans, demons, and whatnots trailing you with their tongues and tentacles hanging out." Gunn was frowning at him. "And don't tell me you wouldn't take them up on their offers -- it ain't about that. It's about somebody who's not me and not Angel, seeing things they don't have any right to see."

"Besides, he wants to find out what you'd like, so he can buy it for you," Angel interjected. Wesley turned to him, astonishment changing to laughter as Gunn tried to yell at Angel without actually saying 'Do not!"

"I don... I mean I do but... man, now I know where Spike learned all that crap he pulls. You stand there lookin' all innocent, like 'I've got a soul, I never do anything bad...'" Gunn glared at Angel, who continued to look like he had a soul and never did anything bad. Gunn sighed. "Fine. Let's go to Morrie's. But you're *not* trying anything on. Or out. Or in."

Wesley nodded gravely. He waited until Gunn and Angel had detached themselves from him -- some doing, since none of them were more interested in letting go than in not. But eventually they were untangled, last kisses applied, and heading for the door. Then Wesley asked in an innocent, perplexed tone, "Trying anything in? They allow that?"

"They have fitting rooms. Hell, they have fitters."

Wesley blinked. "Am I to understand that you can..." Well, there was no way to say it without blushing.

Gunn nodded. "You can. People do. They even have signs saying "no ejaculating in the aisles". Wes, please, let me and Angel go--"

"Oh, I think *not*." For some reason the thought of the two of them *alone* in a place like that led to images of the two of them... alone. Which, while physically attractive, didn't include him. Directing from a chair while they did everything to each other that he suggested was one thing. Allowing them to wander off together and play without him... "Shall we go?"

Gunn sighed, defeated. "Let's go. But I'm telling you *right* now that if anything slimy makes at pass at you, I won't be held responsible."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, then turned and reached over to feel the top of Angel's head. Angel gave him a confused look, which turned slightly murderous when Wesley said, "No, it appears to be dry-hold. Not slimy. Come on." He could hear Angel muttering under his breath as he lead them out of the room.

*****

"I don't see what's so bad about this place. I thought the fellow at the door was quite pleasant," Wesley said, looking around at the brightly-lit shop.

"Of course you did," Gunn muttered. He glanced at Angel. "Please, can I go back and beat him up?"

"No, we'll get thrown out." Angel shook his head. "We should find Spike and Xander's present before we hurt anybody."

Wesley ignored them, making his way down the first aisle. Everything appeared perfectly normal, for a sex shop. The shelves here were lined with videos, divided by category. "Oh, look, they offer human/vampire gay male movies." He stopped at a rather well-stocked portion of the video shelf. "Fangs and fur... No wait, that should be on the shelf above, with the vampire/werewolf films." Wesley looked closely at the young men on the back of the video box. "Er... that's never Oz, is it?"

Angel looked over his shoulder. "Um... I think you should put that away while I can still pretend I don't see the resemblance."

Wesley quickly slipped the box onto the correct shelf and continued looking. "Blood Wedding. Oo-- Goldeneye. It's a Bond parody."

Gunn was looking a bit further down the shelf, and suddenly grabbed Wesley by the arm. "Oh my God."

"What?" He put the video down and looked over at what Gunn was staring at. It took him a moment, but then he realized what had caused the alarm. "Scooby, Inc.? Isn't that Xander's company? I didn't know he was into making movies." He reached over to pick one up, and was startled when Gunn took his hand and directed it towards one particular video. The title was 'All In a Day's Work' and the picture was of three men. One black, two white. The blurb across the top indicated that one of the men was a vampire. "Oh, dear."

Flipping the tape over, he began to read the descriptive blurb aloud. "By night, they're fighters of Evil, taking on whatever dangers the world can throw at them, with fangs, an axe, and a wicked British wit." Wesley smiled, pleased. "Wicked British wit? Really?"

Gunn did a magnificent impersonation of Angel's best growl. Wesley continued reading. "But during the day, the men known as Magnum, Eastley, and Dangermousse..."

Angel gave a better impersonation of his own growl. "*Dangermousse?"

"I kinda like Magnum," Gunn said thoughtfully.

Wesley read on. "retire to their private suite and... oh my."

"Oh my? How can it be 'oh my'? It's *already* 'oh my'," Gunn said, sounding ready to rip the box from Wes' hands.

Gunn stared at the box, then exploded. "WHAT? WHAT?! I'm gonna kill them. Slowly, quickly, I don't *care*. They're dead."

"What's wrong?" Angel asked, the only one not yet upset -- then he was handed the box, and he read aloud, "Fourth in the critically acclaimed series..." His gaze went flat. In a tone that sent chills down Wesley's spine, and not pleasant ones, he said, "Wesley, may I *pretend* that I'm evil again? Just for a few hours?"

Gunn's eyes lit up with a dark fire. "They sell things here, guys. Things you could do some *damage* with..."

"We could simply ask for a cut of the royalties," Wesley began, and took the box back. He scanned the shelves for the other titles. "Or... perhaps we should get one of them?"

He found Gunn and Angel staring at him, dumb-founded. "Are you out of your over-educated British mind?" Gunn demanded, his street-slang accent strengthening the words as it hadn't done in a long time.

Wesley wondered if he was supposed to be offended, or flattered. "Charles, don't you realize what they would do if we gave them a copy of this for their wedding?"

"Play it at the reception," Gunn answered seriously. "Those two *have* no shame, Wesley."

"And you think they would wonder why we were giving them this video?"

Gunn opened his mouth, then stopped. Tossed a quizzical look at Angel. "Ya think?"

"It might make them paranoid," Angel said thoughtfully. "That's usually a good thing."

Gunn shook his head. "I still think we should turn 'em back into newts."

Wesley smiled mysteriously. Gunn looked at him expectantly. Angel looked at him expectantly. Wesley smiled *more* mysteriously.

"WHAT?" Gunn finally asked, running his fingers over the top of his skull. "I got spiders on my head or something?"

"And *that* is the expression I'll be wearing when we hand them this gift," Wes explained. "Would you like me to teach it to you?"

"Oh, yes, please," Gunn said immediately, clasping his hands in front of him. "Please. I know I can't do that pout thing you got going--" He stopped as Angel whapped him on the arm. Angel turned an innocent look on him, when Wesley narrowed his eyes. "Not that we know you do it on purpose," Gunn offered quickly, which got him whapped again.

Apparently Angel had been taking lessons from Xander on keeping one's lover under control. It worked about as well as it did for Xander-- Gunn glared at Angel and stuck his tongue out. Then covered his face. "Now I'm channeling Spike. Wes, am I just easy to possess, or what?"

"I believe that is what as known as a straight line, and I'm not going to take you up on it," Wesley replied with a smile, and tucked the video into his shopping basket. "This *is* a rather inexpensive gift, however. Shouldn't we check with the management to see what they actually *registered* for?"

"We have to spend a lot of money? Who came up with that rule?" Gunn asked.

Wesley stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Do you want them to remember us as being cheap, when it's time for them to buy *us* presents?" Then he walked away while Gunn was still gaping.

Angel was walking at his side, obviously trying to say something. As they reached the end of the aisle, the sound of Gunn's footsteps hurrying up behind them, Angel finally asked, "You do mean for the Feast of Saint Vigeous, right?" One of Spike's favorite gift-giving holidays. He also celebrated Guy Fawkes' Day, though Angel made him do it outside the city limits, and dragged an oath out of him *never* to let any of them know where he got the C-4.

"Of course," Wesley said, not even looking at them. What else would I mean?" Thankful that they couldn't see him grin, with his face turned away. He led them up to the counter at the back of the shop. "Pardon me..." he began, and three rather attractive young demons, mostly humanoid, converged on him from separate areas, smiling as if he'd just waved a thousand dollar bill in the air.

"What can we do for *you*?" The blond one asked, showing off a mouthful of teeth that put Angel's vamp-face ones to shame.

The redhead, who had a faint greenish tint to his skin, hissed a bit at his co-worker. "Hey, I saw him first!"

"Some friends of mine are registered here." He glanced at each of the three clerks, not even trying to pick one out. Whichever one was left after--

*Growl* He didn't have to glance back to know it was Gunn.

*GROWL* And there was Angel.

That left the bald one with the iridescent scales, who smiled politely. But not *too* politely. "Yessssss, sssssir? What issss the name of the party?"

"Harris and..." Wesley stopped. Looked at Angel. Angel shrugged. What would Spike have registered as? William T. Bloody? It wasn't as if he'd ever had to establish a legal identity, for anything useful like getting a job, or driving a non-stolen car.

The clerk typed industriously on his computer terminal for a moment, and then looked up. "The Harris-Jones party? Alexander Harris?"

"Er, yes," Wesley replied, but it was the expression on Angel's face that drew his attention away from the smiling clerk. It was similar to the one he'd been wearing when Spike and Xander had first announced their engagement, and Angel had thought no one was looking at him. He reached down and took Angel's hand, gave it a light squeeze. Angel started, then looked over, his face quickly becoming a simple expressionless Angel-look. Except for his eyes. They still glowed a little.

"There issssss a lissssssst," the clerk was ssssssssaying. He typed something, then the printer began printing. "Would you like me to help you locate thessssssse itemssssssssss?" He glanced at Angel, then Gunn, and looked considerably willing to let them search on their own.

Wesley considered stirring up more trouble, but decided against it. He was actually more interested in looking at the items with his lovers than in watching them intimidate yet another poor employee. "We'll take the list, thank you."

Once it was handed over, the three of them made their way to a central open area, a good place to read and decide which section to examine first. Angel still had a somewhat goofy look on his face, and Wesley smiled. "You realize, aside from the fact that he's decided to use your name, or rather, your completely illegal alias, as his own..."

Angel blinked questioningly.

"It means he's registered as Spike Jones?"

Angel just looked at him. "Huh?"

Wesley sighed, though Gunn was now giggling. "Come on, Angel. Let's go check out the..." He read the first item on the list. "Gates of hell?" He looked at his two lovers, wondering if he wanted to ask.

Gunn shifted his eyes. "It's... um..."

Wesley lifted an eyebrow. And they thought *he* was going to expire from blushing? Gunn might have thought he had an advantage in that you couldn't really *see* him blush, but his ears sort of contracted to the sides of his head, and his nostrils flared. Finally Gunn set his lips together in straight line, stalked around the corner, and returned in a few moments with a package, which he placed in Wesley's hand.

"Oh. Rings. And they... yes. I see." Rather like a set of cock rings strung together, and once one had it on, they wouldn't come off until the wearer had-- er-- done so as well. "That could be quite amusing."

"Amusing ain't the word for it," Gunn managed, sounding like he'd rather be back at the video section, finding out what the perverted population of Los Angeles knew about his sex life.

Wesley looked up at him, one eyebrow rising. "And do we have some personal experience with the item in question?" He laughed at the glare Gunn gave him.

"What's next on the list?" Gunn demanded, and shot another glare at Angel, who quickly pretended he wasn't laughing, either.

"Don't you want to know which one of them wears--" Angel began.

"*NO* I do not! And neither do either of you, so you can just stop pretending I'm the only one who wants to just go buy them a pizza and be done with it."

"I only meant that they come in four sizes, and we should probably try to pick the right one," Angel said mildly.

"Get 'em two of each," Gunn answered with a little snarl. Wesley agreed silently. The less they knew about whether Angel knew what size Spike wore, the better.

Angel shrugged one shoulder, and took the basket from Wesley, disappearing back down the aisle for a moment. When he returned, there were several of the packages in the bottom of the basket. Wesley made a point of not counting. Instead he focused on the list once more. "Extra large, silicon-- oh." He put the list down again, beginning to believe that perhaps insisting on accompanying Angel and Gunn had been a bad idea.

"What's wrong with them wanting a dildo?" Angel asked.

Wesley felt himself blushing even harder. "It isn't... perhaps you should--" He handed the list to Angel. There were some things even a well-trained Watcher didn't want to know about evil, and evil's ways. It wasn't anything terribly frightening-- he carried the living versions at the end of his own wrists. It was just... now he was *thinking* about it. And every time he saw Spike reach for that pair of lefty scissors to cut out another Andy Capp cartoon, or Xander whap Spike on the back of the head, he'd be *looking* at them. And... *thinking.*

He was startled when someone nudged him. Flustered, he looked over to find Gunn watching him. It was ridiculous to think it was written on his face, what he was thinking. Trying not to think. Then Gunn smirked. "You wanna wait in the car?"

Wesley frowned, feeling the insult. "Perhaps I should go ask Geruklu to show me where they are." He named the clerk who'd given them the list.

"You know his *name*?" Gunn asked.

Wesley was a bit taken aback. "It's printed on his name tag, Charles."

There was that flattening of his ears to his skull again. "Oh. Yeah." Then he frowned. "Not in English."

"No, Naga. If it calms your bloodlust any, the 'klu' suffix indicates that he, or rather khe, is a neuter."

"Oh." Gunn shook his head, not that it made his ears pop away from his skull or anything. "Naw, I'll show you where they are." Then they contracted even further. "I mean..." He shook his head again. "Pizza. Pepperoni. Anchovies."

"I think Spike likes anchovies," Angel said calmly, following along behind. Wesley frowned at him -- he seemed to be taking this entirely too calmly. Then again, the elder vampire had probably seen and done much more than this. Probably with Spike. Wesley decided he didn't want to think about *that* either. Gunn was leading them past an aisle which had regular dildos, however, and Wesley stopped when something caught his eye.

"Did you know," he asked as he pulled a rainbow-colored one off the shelf, "that there's actually a town called Dildo?"

Gunn looked at him as if he'd suddenly metamorphosed into Spike, then and there. "Uh-huh. Right."

"No," he waved the item, which was also ribbed for someone's pleasure, in Gunn's face. "I'm serious. It's in Newfoundland." Gunn didn't appear to be breathing very well. "Every year they have a sort of seafaring festival, to celebrate the town mascot, Captain Dildo." Now even Angel was making little choking noises, and *he* didn't *have* to breathe. "They call it Dildo Days."

He paused, and watched Gunn's face. The man's eyes seemed to be dilated a bit, and he didn't appear to be listening to Wesley's rather interesting mini-lecture. Wesley turned to Angel, coincidentally waving the dildo at him, and pointing it towards him as he asked, "Angel? Have you ever been to Newfoundland?" Angel didn't answer right away. In fact, he didn't answer at all until Wesley waved the tip of the dildo back and forth a couple times before prompting, "Angel? Want one?"

"Yeah. Huh?"

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Do you want one. Would you like one. Or three."

Angel blinked slowly. Then he carefully took the dildo from Wesley's hand, and set it back on the shelf. After a moment, he licked his lips. "Not... uh... rainbow colored. It reminds me of those Lisa Frank sticker albums with the purple unicorns."

Wesley knew which ones he meant. The evening after Spike and Xander's engagement party, Harmony had dragged a small group of hapless victims -- including Buffy, Drusilla, Wesley and his lovers -- up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart looking for them. "Agreed." Wesley put the item back on the shelf -- the picked up another. "What about this one?"

"Damn. I knew it."

Surprised, Wesley looked over at Gunn. "You knew what?"

Gunn was staring at the dildo in Wes' hand, and his own were straying near the fly of his pants. "Knew I'd end up... Dammit, Wes, put that thing down!"

Wesley was surprised. He'd rather thought... "You don't want one?"

"Put it down in the basket. Just get it outta your *hand*!" Which of course caused Wesley to look at his *hand* again. And he started to *think.* So he didn't put the dildo down. At least not fast enough for Gunn's taste. "Wes! Pleeeeeese!"

The sound broke him out of his daze, and thankfully wiped any Xander and/or Spike images out of his head. Temporarily, anyway. "What?"

"That! Put it down!"

Wes looked down at his... no, not at his hand. He wasn't going that route again. He looked down at the black latex item *in* his hand, and gestured with it towards Gunn. "This? Why do you want me to put it down?"

Gunn's eyes were wide, and very definitely in danger of rolling back into his head. Wesley kept his face impassive, and he could hear no sounds from Angel -- which meant Angel was either controlling himself as well, or equally distracted. Wesley held the dildo out, and Gunn whimpered in exactly the same way he did right before Wesley would enter him, when they were on the bed and Gunn was on his back.

"Charles...?"

"Uh?"

"I do believe the sign said 'Do Not Use Items In Aisles'."

"They have fitting rooms..." Gunn squeaked.

"Ah. And did you want to use one?" All in a tone perfectly calm, cool, and collected. Thank God for Xander and Spike. Wesley repeated that phrase in his mind, and decided it didn't bear examination.

Gunn just whimpered at him. Wes considered it -- for all of two seconds. Then Gunn turned and walked towards the rooms Wesley had noticed earlier, recognised immediately and known that he *would*, if he had to return to this place a dozen times, get his lovers in there. Apparently Gunn had been right, in wanting to keep him away from here. His lover had no self-control at all. Perhaps, Wesley told himself, as he walked after Gunn, that should be 'lovers'. Angel was following them, but he was right behind Wes -- body only a few inches away, walking faster until he was nudging Wes along, hurrying him to follow Gunn through that first door and down the short hall.

There were signs in the hall. Well, of course there were signs, the outer area of the store was plastered with them. But... 'Please do not spawn in Fitting Room Three. All others are equipped with brood tanks...' Somehow Wesley doubted that they were referring to isolation chambers for sometimes-morose vampires. And then there was 'If it doesn't fit, pick another. No re-sizing of items via magickal means. Unless they are attached to you, in which case, feel free. Check out Aisle Four."

He decided he would have to return to Morrie's, alone, just to read all of the signs.

Gunn stopped outside fitting room 10, and looked back at Wesley and Angel. The expression on his face was partly lust, partly worry. Wesley arched an eyebrow and looked down at the item in question. Gunn sighed. "I was *gonna* ask if you were sure, but, dammit, if you say 'no' now, I'll have Angel do it."

Wesley smiled. "Inside," was all he said, and he waved towards the room. Gunn was in, and dropping his clothes before Angel could shut the door behind them. "You might wait," Wesley teased. "I might not want to share the sight of your backside, delicious as it is, with three Sheeardi Demons and a Kitsune of indeterminate gender."

There was no one in the hall behind them, though it hardly mattered. While Angel spared a quick glance back, Gunn just gave a small moan and made it perfectly clear that he didn't care if the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir were out in the hallway, backing up Spike Jones on nose flute and Xander Harris singing 'You Light Up My Life.' The moment the door clicked into its latch, a slight tingling enveloped Wesley from head to toe. Judging from the looks on his lovers' faces, the same thing was happening to them. It was... pleasant, vaguely sexual, yet also impersonal. The dildo in his hand glowed, for a second, and then both effects dissipated. Wesley blinked at Angel, since Gunn was obviously in no condition to explain anything.

"Sterilization spell."

"Ah. Of course." He nodded, the feeling of impersonal distance washing briefly over him, again. It made him think about what he was about to do. What Gunn, who was already lying on his back, was so eager for. He hadn't ever mentioned wanting something like this before. What else was Gunn hiding in that libido of his? Wesley grinned to himself. They had a whole store, yet, to wander about and find out in.

Wesley moved forward, standing at the end of the raised bench where Gunn was lying, waiting for him. Angel stayed back, off to one side, to watch. Yielding to a wicked impulse, Wesley lowered the dildo and pressed its dry tip to Gunn's ass. "So... how much do you want it?"

A look. Desperate dark eyes half-glazed with something more insane than Wesley had ever seen on any demon he'd met, except perhaps for Angel in a situation that had involved a live chicken, a weed-whacker, and a bottle of peach preserves.

But at least Angel had saved the children who'd been in danger, and the peach preserves had tasted delicious the next morning, spread on freshly-baked scones.

"Hrrm... We-ess..." And Gunn actually ground himself *towards* the dildo. Wesley snatched it away.

"That much?" And his voice was gentler now. "Then I suppose we shall have to do something about that." He started to look around, and found Angel there, handing over a small packet of lube. Together they quickly prepared the dildo -- Gunn's eyes glued to the thing, glued to their actions as if just watching was going to make him explode.

Then Wes turned back, and leaned forward. Pressed the tip in place, once more, and asked, "Did you want it slow?" He pushed. The dildo slipped in completely. "Or fast?" But Gunn wasn't answering, he was arching his back and letting out a moan that made him glad the walls were sound-proofed.

There was a second, softer moan, from over Wes' left shoulder. He turned around to see Angel looking slightly glazed himself. Nothing in Gunn's league; if Gunn were, for example, as glazed as a classic Krispy Kreme, Angel was somewhere in the lightly-basted cruller category. Since Gunn hadn't come to a decision on the fast or slow issue, Wesley decided to take some time to explore Angel's probably encyclopedic knowledge of the shop and its history. It had nothing to do with torturing either of his lovers. Really.

"So... how long has Morrie been in business, Angel?" He gave the vampire his best 'Yes, Professor, I'm terribly concerned with the socio-economic plight of the miners featured in Sons and Lovers, and wasn't D.H. Lawrence terribly, terribly clever and can I unfasten those trousers for you, sir,' look.

"Huh?" Angel took several seconds before dragging his gaze away from what Wesley was doing -- or not doing. "Morrie's...?"

"How long has this shop been here? Did it start out catering to demons, or did they branch out later?"

"I... I don't know." Angel's gaze was trying to sneak back to Gunn, though he was making valiant efforts to focus on the conversation. Such as it was. "I think... demon, first."

"That's quite intriguing," Wesley said, ignoring the way Gunn was panting, now, and trying to form coherent syllables. "The Watcher's Council, of course, never shared information on this type of establishment-- yes, Charles? Have you decided?"

Gunn had lifted his head, and was glaring at Wesley. Death-ray eyes, or a passable attempt since they kept glazing over. Gunn blinked again, and glared harder. Then he moaned.

"Apparently not. Well, you just take your time. The place is open twenty-four hours, yes, Angel?" Angel nodded slowly, his eyes on Gunn, who had lost any hope of being able to glare now. *His* eyes were more or less fixed on the ceiling. "Very convenient." Wesley cocked his head at Angel. "I suppose you weren't really a client, in the old days. Pre-soul-permanence. Where did you end up hearing about this place?"

"I, er..." Angel trailed off, again, watching as Gunn suddenly started to move. Wesley glanced down sharply at Gunn, who had started jerking himself back and forth in fast, but short stroke, trying to fuck himself on the dildo Wes held.

"Ah, then you've opted for fast?" he asked, still smiling. Held the dildo quite still, waiting to see just how desperate Gunn would become before he screamed at them to do something. Gunn was moving his legs, now, reaching out for Wesley as if to pull him closer. As if that would help, Wes told himself, but allowed himself to be drawn in.

He rested his other hand on Gunn's thigh, and brought his own knee up. Resting it at the base of the dildo, he held it in place as he put both hands, now, on Gunn's legs. "Charles?" Gunn wasn't listening. Or he didn't care. He was still moving, though he had poor purchase on the bench, he wasn't achieving the effect he was no doubt hoping for.

"Fast, or slow? Just say it, Gunn." But there was nothing he could say, and Wesley knew it. When he turned to glance at Angel, he saw something there, beneath the dumbfounded lust, that looked suspiciously like admiration. Which was both flattering and mildly chilling, if he thought too deeply about it. Angel did have a couple centuries more experience at torture of various sorts, after all.

He returned his attention to Gunn, who was now grasping at the air with his hands. Begging without words, Wesley knew exactly what he wanted. What his lover needed...

"So you never said how you found this place," he reminded Angel. There was a loud, disgruntled groan from Gunn.

"Well, actually it was--"

"Fuck!" Gunn yelled, finally finding his voice. It wasn't, Wesley knew, a command. "Dammit I'll do it myself..." Then he lost coherence again as he moved, and discovered once again how poorly made the bench was for what he was trying to do. Either that or it was the way Wesley was holding his legs back, moving the angle of the dildo's entrance higher, so that any motions back and forth did quite little.

"It was...?" Wesley prompted Angel. And then he thought about what the answer was going to be, and wondered if he should've bothered asking. "Spike, of course," he supplied, finishing his own sentence.

Angel shook his head. "Ah... no, actually."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. Gunn raised the lower half of his body an inch off the bench. Wesley lowered his hand to compensate, making sure the dildo didn't touch anything that would make Gunn's effort worthwhile, but he didn't lower the eyebrow. "Then who?"

"Ah... um..." Angel fidgeted with his collar.

Wesley rolled his eyeballs as Gunn made an attempt to roll his hips. Gunn was muttering something under his breath, which said undesirable things about his ability to think, once more. Wesley twisted his wrist slightly, turning the not-exactly-smooth-round dildo. Gunn's eyes rolled and his head fell back. Then Wesley held it still once more, and he could hear Gunn trying to inhale enough to form more mutterings.

"Who was it?" Wesley demanded. This was proving to be almost as interesting as what he was doing to Gunn. Who was now starting to shake, a bit.

"Um, I... usawahuh." Angel muttered.

Wesley puzzled it out. "You use a wire?"

Angel shook his head, and Wesley wondered if everything he thought he knew about vampires and their inability to blush was in fact some sort of propaganda spread by... well, probably by Spike. Because there was a faint pinkish *something* creeping across Angel's face.

"You use a whore gear?" It was a possibility. That convertible of Angel's had more positions on the shift than a normal car, and several of them were distinctly comfortable when one was sitting in the front seat between one's lovers and... Wesley shook away the distraction. Angel's *hair* seemed to be blushing, and though his mouth was open and his lips were moving, no sound was emerging, and if Wesley's lip-reading ability was any good at all, he wasn't even trying to speak English.

He narrowed his eyes and tried again. "Yousawuha is the name of the demon who brought you here?"

"He used to work here!" Gunn shouted. Wesley turned to him, astonished. He could actually speak? Then Gunn's words registered and he looked at Angel, who was looking as mortified as a vampire who'd tried to destroy the world, could.

"You did?"

Angel nodded. Wesley thought about that, as he started moving the dildo ever so slightly. Gunn deserved *something* after all, for deciphering what Angel had said. Gunn was moaning, again, and sounding much happier about it.

"You used to *work* here, and yet you didn't even want to bring me to this place?"

Angel shook his head. Tore his eyes away from the writhing figure on the bench, and actually looked directly at Wesley. "I... ah... It was the seventies. I got sick of rats. Temporarily."

Wesley wasn't sure whether to be insulted that Angel hadn't wanted him to meet any former co-workers who might still be around, or merely intrigued. He decided to reserve judgement. On the other hand, there was the possibility of Angel's former-employee discount to take into account.

He looked back down at Gunn, wondering if he had anything else to add to the conversation. But Gunn was happily writhing, now, shoving himself towards the dildo Wes was holding in a more useful position. It was rather interesting to watch, seeing the man fucking himself, with little assistance from anyone else. It made him think of rigging a holder for the dildo, something to hold it in place so that he and Angel could watch from across the room...

Angel growled softly in his ear. "Fine, isn't it?" he said.

"It has a certain... something... to it." Suddenly Wesley's vocabulary was deserting him. He made a concerted effort. "It does appeal." Gunn was muttering again, something about someone's mother, but Wesley decided it couldn't possibly be in reference to anyone in the room, since Angel had eaten his centuries ago, and Wesley's would certainly never get up to the sort of things Gunn was implying.

"It has an illustrious quality," Angel remarked, and Wesley could hear the slight hesitation in his voice that said his objective observation was not so objective. Shifting his grip, and his stance, Wesley positioned himself so that Angel -- should he so choose -- could stand behind him, and... yes. Precisely that. Wesley moaned as Angel's hands began to undo his trousers. Gunn was suddenly holding his head up and staring, wide-eyed.

Wesley supposed it must have made an interesting picture. Even an illustrious one, if that was really the word Angel had been seeking. Angel standing behind him, one hand pulling Wesley's trousers down, the other on what marked Wesley's own comments as being understatements of a heinous degree. Angel nuzzling up to his shoulder, but nothing so soft and comforting as it was before they had left home. This was more like a pre-dinner nibble. An utterly safe one, but the pretended danger was enough to make Wesley shudder a little, as it always did.

Shudder more when he realized consciously, as he'd known all along, that Angel still had what was left of the lube in his other hand, and was pressed cool and slick against him-- no warm Wesley-breath to take away the chill. He began to work the dildo with more precision, pushing and turning it solely to give pleasure, no longer to tease and torment. Angel's fingers began to dance along his skin, by-passing the chance to tease and going straight for touching him, grabbing him firmly and getting him as hard as Gunn had been since they'd entered this room.

His mind was trying to tell him this was outrageous. There must be something unthinkable here, something that ought not be done. But despite the absurdity of it -- and was there any requirement to purchase what you'd already used? -- he could not think of anything to stop this. Perhaps it was an aura about the establishment, perhaps it was simply too many months spent being at his lovers' behest, to let himself do and be done, anything they desired. Neither of his lovers had any reservations in the bedroom. Why should it be any different, out of it?

So there it was. There was Gunn before him, the perfect picture of wanton abandon, taking and rolling with every move of the dildo that Wesley still had the presence of mind to make. There was Angel behind him, one hand on Wesley, one hand guiding himself along the crack of Wesley's arse-- not entering, or trying to, just sliding slowly back and forth against him in that natural groove. Human teeth in his shoulder, biting down just so hard. Then a bit harder. Enough to make him gasp. Enough to make him push forward against Gunn, and there was another gasp, and Angel growling behind him.

Pulling him back by the hand around him, back against Angel's own hardness. Back and forth between the two of them, with Wesley in the middle. Breathing. Almost still thinking. Enough presence of mind to keep his hand wrapped firmly around the dildo, though not enough to do more than hold it and let the motion of the man -- vampire -- behind him, push him and it forward, let them fall slightly back. The noises, now, coming from before him were lengthy, unbroken. Low growling howls, moaned and panted as Gunn took whatever air he could and gave it back to his lovers in echoing sound.

Angel, behind him, pushing a bit more, holding still before releasing and pushing again, sliding past where Wesley wanted him to be. Wesley's head fell back and it landed on Angel's shoulder, and he would have let go, let go everything and let Angel simply fuck him if it weren't for the sounds still coming from the bench. Wanted more of those sounds, and more of those trembling muscles to make his own seem normal. So when Angel let up, playing into the rhythm, Wesley broke it. Moved forward when he should have moved back. Forward to push into Gunn, to elicit a moan that made the others seem like whispers, that almost matched Angel's growls in intensity. And Angel did growl, oh yes he did, at being pulled away from, but Wesley didn't let himself be pulled back. Just waited, muscles almost turned inside out with twitching, for Angel to come to *him*.

For someone to realize just who was in control, here.

With a low whine -- something sideways from human, that made Wesley wonder which face he would see if he turned his head, though the teeth in his shoulder still felt blunt -- Angel moved forward against him and waited. Wesley found himself thinking, again. Untouched for long enough for his head to clear and his eyes to focus on Gunn, who was lost, lost and ready to be pushed over the precipice Wesley had been holding him over.

He wanted to see it, more so than he wanted to feel it himself. He returned his attention to Gunn, to the device in his hand which allowed him to reach and touch, without ever touching him, himself. A barrier of silicone that let him step back and *see* what he was doing. A slight whine, from behind him, and he realized Angel was still waiting. Glanced back to see, waiting and impatient and needing a word to know what he could do. It occurred to him that someone else had not been tormented, enough.

"Yes?" He asked the question, but didn't wait for an answer, his gaze homing in on Gunn once again. His hand moving, pushing, twisting. Focused entirely on the man in front of him. To the observing eye, at any rate. Inwardly, he was listening to Angel's little growls, little whines, little almost-breaths. Smiling, and hoping Angel couldn't see his face reflected in Gunn's eyes.

"Wes..." Angel rhymed apparently unknowingly, and Wesley felt his lips twitch. Nothing else twitched, however, unless you considered the flick of his wrist that followed the sound of his name, growled in a voice that was no longer human. But Gunn was panting, now, almost screaming. Wesley reached forward and ran a fingernail along the length of Gunn's erection. Not nearly enough to send him over, but enough to promise more.

There was a fingernail along his own erection, barely a hint of a touch. Asking, begging, and running along his skin again as Wesley repeated his own teasing scrape on Gunn. Angel's finger followed his, and Angel was growling again, half-demand, half-question. Wesley moved an inch away and Angel was left whimpering again, bereft.

Wesley had to swallow his own whimper. Wanted to shove his cock back into Angels' hand and -- but he wanted to keep pushing. They needed punishing, anyhow. Keeping him from this place as if he were too young or too naive to be here. Hell, he was older than Gunn, and as for naive... He twisted the silicone length in his hand, just so. Just there. Just... there. Pushed in. When Gunn was actually screaming, so close to the edge that you couldn't measure it with the naked eye, Wesley pulled it out. All the way out.

Looked down at the wide, despairing eyes, and grinned. Wesley set the dildo down, base end, upright on the floor. It was clean enough, though he figured it was spellcraft that made it so. Gunn was sitting up, expression of disbelief almost comical. Then Wesley tucked himself back into his trousers, shifting a bit to make himself as comfortable as was reasonable. Glad he'd worn loose clothing, then crouched -- no bending at the waist -- and picked the dildo back up.

He regarded it. "I'd say it fits. We should purchase it." Then he turned and walked towards the door.

Gunn wailed, then one of them growled, and he was fair tackled before he took two more steps. Gently turned around, and Gunn was there, somehow able to stand up-right. "That was not *nissssse*," Gunn hissed in unconscious parody of the Naga salesclerk who was probably even now mentally toting up the gargantuan commission khe would be earning from this little visit.

"Ah, and Wesley is far too *nice* to be seen in a place like this, isn't he?" He matched Gunn stare for stare, and just managed to keep from smirking.

"Wesley is far too nice to be seen stripped naked, painted blue, and tied to the top of my truck, but I'm willing to make an exception," Gunn threatened.

Wesley laughed. "You wouldn't let me be seen in public in a certain pair of notorious striped swim shorts, but you want me to believe you'd paint me blue and enter me in the Local Gay Pride Parade?"

Gunn growled, while Angel put a frustrated hand on Wesley's arm. "At this point I'd enter you in the middle of Wal-Mart, Wesley."

Wesley turned to him, eyebrow raised. "You'd enter me in Wal-Mart?" He wouldn't even had had to use the suggestive tone of voice. The words did enough, and Angel's eyes went black and his mouth hung slightly open.

"I... yes." He stared at Wesley with his most determined 'I will fuck you now... if you'll just lean over' expression.

"The same Wal-Mart where you chastised me for stepping out of the dressing room with only a pair of trousers on?" The look on Angel's face now indicated that yes, not only would he enter Wesley in that Wal-Mart, he'd do it with the entire guest list for Xander and Spike's wedding standing about watching. He *might* even let Spike film it and sell it to the highest bidder. Though since Gunn would almost certainly be the highest bidder, that wasn't really much of a threat.

"The same Wal-Mart where you almost staked your own sick British child for pointing out that those trousers show off my arse quite nicely?" Angel didn't answer. He didn't look like he *could* answer. His eyes were completely black and he was staring at something. Probably a memory. Wes had purchased the trousers, though on a separate trip to the store.

"Can you two discuss this later?" Gunn interrupted. "I'm in some serious need, here."

Angel turned to him, and in a swift move was on his knees in front of him, swallowing the erection that had been begging for it since they'd arrived. Wes' eyes went wide as Gunn threw his head back and groaned appreciatively, grabbing onto Angel's shoulders to remain upright. Only a little jealous of the fact that Gunn was reaping the benefits of two and a half centuries of sucking practice, Wesley leaned back against the door. He kept his fingers resolutely away from his own fly, gripping the dildo tightly in both hands. The part of his brain that specialized in relaying messages from his cock pointed out that the dildo didn't appreciate it, and Wyndham-Pryce the Younger would, but he told it firmly to bog off.

At least he didn't have to watch, or control his increasingly disobedient fingers, for long. Gunn achieved his long-denied release with a shudder that rippled along his entire body, while Angel knelt there, amazingly patient. Or perhaps not-- Wesley could see the tiny tremors in Angel's back muscles, even through his shirt. He was almost as close to losing it as Gunn had been. Only his long experience of self-denial was keeping him under control.

Then he saw Angel lower his hand, and grasp himself. A few short, quick jerks and Angel was moaning, licking and sucking even harder, despite the fact that Gunn was dangerously close to collapsing in a satiated puddle on the floor. Angel spread his own release across the floor, and for a moment Wesley was distracted by the flicker of white-blue light that appeared, vanishing to leave behind a perfectly clean room. He had to find out where they got these spells. It would save *so* much on laundry.

Then he focused on his lovers, once more, and realized they were both now swaying, eyes closing, ready to curl up in a corner and sleep it off. He could almost sneak out without their noticing. They didn't, those two, *really* need him there. He watched them for a moment, then turned again. He could probably pick a few items for the grooms-to-be without an argument, if he had the aisles to himself.

One finger on the door handle, and no, he wasn't moving slowly so that they had a chance to catch him. If they wanted to avail themselves of it. He was merely trying not to make too much noise. Not to disturb them. He wasn't remotely relieved when he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Shopping," he replied, matter-of-factly. Then he was being lifted into the air by one hand under each arm, and carried over to the bench. He managed to look startled, then the dildo was taken out of his hands and he was being placed on his back, and his legs were being lifted.

"Aren't you going to remove my trousers?" he asked.

Gunn smirked at him. "You think we've already forgotten you teasin' us? What comes around, Wes, goes around."

It occurred to him that his tormenting of his lovers just *might* have a drawback. Then there were fingers. Drawing things on him, through the fabric of his trousers. Gunn's fingers, because Angel's were firmly holding his legs up and out of the way. Invisible patterns that probably meant something to Gunn, although all they conveyed to Wesley was that it would be a damned long time before he pulled something as stupid as this again, if Gunn had anything to say about it.

Teasing. Almost tickling. Then it wasn't fingers, it was something harder. The silicone rod that Gunn had confiscated from him was now being used to systematically drive Wesley insane. He was considering the prudence of begging, swearing never to tease Gunn again -- thought he knew he'd be lying. Gunn would know, as well, and would just smirk at him and continue doing what he was doing. Setting his own pace, ignoring anything Wes did to get more...

He was already moving his hips, trying to thrust. Ready to come just thinking about it. A hand clamped down, and fingers pinched him. "What-!" Astonished, he looked down to see Gunn's fingers pinching his cock through his trousers -- pinching most cruelly. He moaned. "Please..."

"Yeah, that's real nice, Wesley. Very polite. Very gentlemanly. Keep it up." Gunn didn't move, just grinned at him with those very white teeth. He heard Angel laugh appreciatively from behind him.

"Bastard..." he muttered, unable to stop himself.

Gunn removed his hand entirely. "No, not nice. Bad little upper middle class English boy."

Wesley groaned again. When his head had cleared slightly, his bad little upper middle class education took over, and he tried not to grin. "Yes. Yes, terribly, terribly bad. I should be punished, really. Care to spank me?"

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh, from Angel. There was what was very definitely a stern glare from Gunn. "Somehow I don't think so." He traced one finger very lightly along the edge of Wesley's zipper. Wesley had to clench his jaw shut, to prevent himself from collapsing into begging, once more.

Gunn continued to almost-but-not-quite touch him for a few moments, then he turned to Angel. "Whadya think we oughta do to him?" Oh, wonderful. Leave it up to the one of them that still had a demon living inside him. A demon more or less limited to thinking up terrible things to do to the attention-deficit boys when they got on his nerves... and tormenting his lovers.

Angel was apparently thinking about it, so Wesley looked at Gunn, beseechingly. "Couldn't you just say I have to pay for their gifts? Tear my trousers off and have your way with me--"

"No, I don't think so," Angel interrupted. "I have a better idea." And the tone of his voice made Wesley ready to swear he would never, ever, mention going to Morrie's *or* Wal-Mart, again. "Gunn? How about you and I make use of that dildo. We know it fits *you*, but I'm thinking we should make sure it fits me."

Wesley was tempted to say something about there being no room, what with Angel's head stuffed up there, but wisely refrained from doing so. Of course, if Gunn were to let go of him to use the dildo on Angel, he could at least return to his shopping. Unsatisfied in more ways than one, probably, but it would be some sort of a victory.

Gunn frowned. Wesley could see the choices warring in his eyes. Give Angel pleasure and torment Wesley by denying it, at least until Wesley made his escape, or focus fully on the prisoner before him. Unless Angel had some diabolical plan in mind for allowing him to do both.

It seemed he did. Angel handed another small tube of lubricant to Gunn, then positioned himself over Wesley. Hands on Wesley's wrists, Angel loomed over him with a smile. His body held Wesley's legs in place, and though he could not see what Gunn was doing, he could certainly see the results. He squirmed, and discovered that Angel had not lost any of his vampiric strength.

"Ah, ah, Wes. You just lie there like a good boy."

"I thought Charles said I'd been bad," Wesley pointed out hopefully.

"Yeah, and now you're being punished." Gunn looked at him, over Angel's shoulder.

It was a strange sort of punishment. As Gunn did nicer things to Angel than Wesley had done to Gunn, Angel grinned down at him. Occasionally losing focus, but then the demon would appear again, only in Angel's eyes. A golden spark. And every so often, Angel would surge against him. Just a little. Just enough to let him know what he was missing.

He couldn't move. Not that he truly wanted to leave, not with Angel above him looking as fallen as any angel could possibly be. Not with Gunn behind Angel, peering over his shoulder every so often. To watch. To smile. He didn't want to leave. He just wanted to be part of it.

He wanted to reach up and at least hold onto Angel, as he moved. But his hands were held tight. Nor could he reach around with his legs, hold Angel by the waist, to feel him moving. All he had was his eyes and his ears, and his lovers made love... to each other. Then Angel closed his eyes, moaning softly, and he lost even that connection. Wesley peered over Angel's shoulder to find Gunn, head down and focusing on what he was doing. Whom he was doing.

Wesley closed his eyes. There was just sound now, and Angel didn't breathe, though he made low, soft sounds, almost sung, as if the only time he could stay in tune were during sex or when he was drunk enough to start in on "No, nay, never, no nay never, no more..." Just little Angel notes these were, to no particular song. They were comforting, in their way. Then they stopped.

"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.