DISCLAIMER: The Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel characters are the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and Fox Studios. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2001 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Love is Blonde
by Djinn
The knock on the door
startled Wesley out of the drowsing state he'd fallen into as soon as he sat
down. He glanced at the clock. 4 AM.
Too late for any normal person to call.
Then again, Wesley wasn't sure he knew any normal people in LA.
The knock sounded again. He pushed himself off the couch stiffly and
walked to the door. Once there he looked
through the peephole.
No. It couldn't be.
He opened the door. Harmony stood in front of him, giving him the
uncertain smile that—and he would never admit this to anyone—completely charmed
him. She was a vampire, after all. And she was Harmony. He actually wasn't sure which was worse.
"Hi." Her voice was a mixture of seductive and shy.
"Harmony." He kept his face carefully neutral.
Her smile turned into a
pout. "You still don't trust
me?"
"In a word, no."
"But I helped."
He grimaced. "I'm not sure that's what I'd call
it."
"Well, I
would." She held up a bag. "Can I come in? I hate to eat alone."
He hesitated.
She pulled out his favorite
cheese and package of crackers.
"Cordelia told me what you like."
"Cordelia did?"
"Uh-huh." Her voice dropped to a wheedling tone. "Please let me in?"
It was absolutely out of the
question that he let her in. He looked
into her blue eyes, such bright blue eyes.
No. He mustn't be swayed by
something so trivial. Blue eyes didn't
matter. Neither did long blonde hair
that he could imagine running like silk through his fingers.
She waved her hand in front
of his face. "Hello?" Can I come in or what?"
He knew it was wrong but he
moved aside anyway. "Yes. Come in."
She smiled in happy
triumph. "Cool," she said as
she skipped past him and found his kitchen.
She began to rummage around in the cabinets, pulling out plates and a
mug. She dug into the sack and pulled
out a container of blood opening it carefully before pouring some in the mug
and slipping it into the microwave. Then
she was back in the bag, emerging with the cheese and crackers, an apple, and
some sort of pastry. She grabbed a knife
from block and began to cut the cheese into pieces. Then she stopped and looked up at him
worriedly. "You don't prefer it
sliced, do you? Because I could slice
the rest of it."
He shook his head. "No.
The way you're doing it is fine."
She looked relieved. "Oh good." She went back to cutting the cheese then laid
it out with the crackers. She sliced the
apple and added it to the plate.
The microwave sounded and she
pulled out the mug, testing the temperature with her finger. Satisfied, she slowly sucked the blood off
her finger.
Wesley stared entranced. It was a moment before he realized she was
speaking to him. "Hmm, what?"
"I said, if you want
something to drink, now's a good time to get it."
"Yes. Quite."
He took a beer from the refrigerator and followed her into the dining
room. He still wasn't sure why he'd let
her in. He helped himself to some food
and was surprised to see her pick a few pieces as well. "You eat?"
"Sure. Why?
Doesn't Angel?"
"Well...not
really."
"His loss." She shrugged.
"Spike says it's a waste to go without things that taste
good."
"Oh yes...Spike. We heard that you'd broken it off with
him."
"You heard right. What a jerk he turned out to be."
"Well, he is a
vampire." He instantly regretted
the comment, but she didn't seem to take offense.
"And so am I, but you
didn't see me running around behind his back." She drained her mug and went into the
kitchen.
He heard her pour more blood
into the mug, then the sound of the microwave.
"Is that your normal way of feeding?" he called into the
kitchen.
"Well, duh," she
answered as she came back to the table.
"You don't, um, get it
fresh?"
"This is fresh. Or mostly anyway. At least that's what the butcher
said." She nibbled on an apple
slice then dunked it into the blood.
Wesley watched her and
wondered when he'd lost the ability to be disgusted. Too much time spent with vampires and demons. "I mean, do you ever get it from a
human?"
She flipped her hair out of
her face. "Oh. Nope."
She dipped a piece of cheese into the mug.
"Why not? I mean, you are a vampire. A normal vampire. No chip or soul to get in your way?"
"Well, there's the
Slayer. She takes a dim view of us
killing innocent people. And you know
what, they tend to be the ones that are appealing: well dressed, value personal
hygiene, drive nice cars. But Buffy has
made them so off limits. And the ones
she won't care about us killing are pretty skanky. I mean the smell alone is enough to turn your
stomach."
She stretched
luxuriously. Wesley tried not to stare
at her chest as he asked, "So the Slayer gave you some trouble?"
"Oh nothing I couldn't
handle. But for a while there I was her
arch-nemesis."
"I hadn't heard."
She looked irritated. "Oh, I totally was."
"I'm sure you gave her
all kinds of trouble."
"You bet. But it got old always staying one step ahead
of her. I can't tell you how good it
feels to be in a town that doesn't have a slayer."
He pushed up his
glasses. "Actually, we do."
She looked shocked. "What?
Buffy moved to LA?"
"No, Faith is
here."
"Who the hell's
Faith?"
"A slayer."
Harmony's eyes narrowed. "Ok, why do they call Buffy 'the' Slayer
if there are others running around? I really
think that it should be 'a' instead of 'the'."
He laughed. "Well it's a bit of a fluke that there
are two. And if it makes you feel
better, Faith is in prison."
She brightened. "It does. Thanks."
"I'm surprised Spike
didn't tell you about Faith."
"Oh, Spike left a lot of
things out. I guess he thought I already
knew. Or maybe he was too busy being all
moony over Buffy to bother to tell me."
"Yes. That was a surprise to hear he harbored
feelings for her."
"You think it was a
surprise to you? Try being his
girlfriend."
"I guess that would be
hard."
Harmony studied him. "You've never met Spike, have you?"
Wesley smiled at her over his
beer. "No. He's one evil fiend I've managed to
miss."
She looked into her mug, her
hair falling over her face. "I
guess I was in that category too, huh?"
He couldn't help staring at
her. She was the picture of shy
innocence. "I'm having trouble fitting
you into the evil fiend role."
She looked up and gave him a
dazzling smile. "Really?"
He nodded.
"Oh
that's so sweet." Her smile became
even bigger. "I don't know why
Cordy says you're such a sourpuss.
You're totally nice, as far as I'm concerned."
"Cordelia calls me a
sourpuss?"
Harmony made a disparaging
gesture. "Oh you know how she
is. So judgmental. But didn't she have a crush on you back in
high school?"
"It was a mutual but short-lived
attraction, I'm afraid."
"How come?"
Wesley thought back to that
moment in the library when he and Cordelia had finally acted on their
desire. The passion had been there but
the execution had fizzled. He'd never
fully understood why. But it had
definitely not worked between them.
"I'm not sure."
"Hmmm. Well, if I'd been there, I wouldn't have let
you go."
Wesley felt unaccountably
pleased. 'You wouldn't?"
"No way." She leaned in and practically purred. "You're a total hottie, you know."
Again the rush of pleasure.
"I am?"
"Oh yeah." Harmony leaned in closer. "Cordy also told me your girlfriend just
broke up with you."
He thought of Virginia and
how much it had hurt to lose her. They'd
seemed so well matched.
"You look so sad. I think that's what I look like when I think
of my blondie bear. But, I mean, it's
not like I can check, you know?"
He was a little confused by
the twists in her logic.
"I mean because I can't
use a mirror now. And boy does that put a crimp on the makeover gig." She studied him intently. "I don't suppose you know how to put on
makeup?"
He puffed himself up at the
insult. "I should say not!"
"Bummer, but maybe you
could learn? We could go to the mall and
I'd pretend that I was blind, and you could tell them you wanted to learn how
to make me look pretty."
Now he was really lost. "Blind?"
"Well I guess we could
tell the truth, but it might freak the makeup artist out and they never do
their best work when they're upset."
Wesley was still processing
the first part of her idea.
"We?"
"I've been watching you,
Wesley. And I've seen you looking at
me. I just thought..." She rose and moved slowly around the
table. "Unless you don't like
me," she whispered as she slid her hands around his neck and down the
front of his shirt. He could feel her
pressed against his back. Her breath was
cool as she whispered in his ear, "Maybe you don't find me
attractive?"
He was about to answer when
the sensation of her lips nibbling at his ear pushed all rational thought from
his mind. "Errr."
"Shh. Don't talk." Her lips moved to his neck.
Oh sweet Lord, he thought,
not sure if he was begging for mercy or giving thanks.
She was in his lap
suddenly. Blue eyes first seductive,
then suddenly pleading with him to touch her, trust her, like her. Feelings of protectiveness fought with
arousal. "Harmony." He tried her name out.
She gave him a sweet smile.
He leaned in and kissed
her. There was a moment of awkwardness
then they found a rhythm. He was
lost. He sensed she was too.
Not willing to think better
of what he suddenly wanted desperately, he pushed her out of his lap and
followed her up.
She looked bereft until he
scooped her up and she giggled with delight.
As he carried her into the bedroom, she whispered, "Are you sure,
Wesley?"
He laughed. The first honest laugh he'd had in many
weeks. "Oh, I'm very, very
sure." Suddenly he remembered his
manners. "Unless you're not."
Her answer was unequivocal as
she kissed him soundly. Finally she
pulled away enough to ask, "But what about dessert?"
He gave her an evil
grin. "I believe I'm holding
it."
FIN