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
The knock on the door startled Wesley out of the drowsing state he had 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 that 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 that 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."
She pulled out his favorite cheese and package of crackers. "Cordelia told me what you like."
"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, he ordered himself. Blue eyes didn't matter. Neither did long blonde hair that he could imagine running like silk through his fingers.
Her hand waved 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. She opened it carefully, poured some in the mug, and slipped 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 that 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 was still not sure why he had 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?"
"His loss." She shrugged. "Spike says it's a waste to go without things that taste good."
"Oh yes...Spike. We heard that you had 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, he guessed. "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 is 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. "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."
He tried to placate her. "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 is Faith?"
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. "Well, that's better then."
He studied her. "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 that he harbored feelings for her."
"You think it was a surprise to you? Try being his girlfriend."
"Yes, I guess that would be hard."
Harmony studied him. "You've never met Spike, have you?"
Wesley smiled at her over his beer. "No. 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?"
"Oh that is 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 attraction," he defended his friend, "but a short lived one, I'm afraid."
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 had never fully understood why. But it had definitely not worked between them. "I'm not sure."
"Hmmm. Well, if I'd been there, I would not 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 that your girlfriend just broke up with you."
He thought of
Harmony's voice interrupted his musings. "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," she dismissed his outrage. Then she brightened again. "Hey, 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 trailed off as she rose and moved slowly around the table. "Unless you don't like me," she purred 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. 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."