A/N: Written for the Escape from L.A. fication Suggestions/requirements for the story: by the end of the story, Wes should not be hopelessly and horribly depressed (or, you know, dead), the Midwest, smut (grungy motel?), road trip, set before season five.
BTW, the movie Faith is referring to is It Happened One Night.
Wesley couldn’t help smiling as he glanced over at the girl beside him. Faith was lovely when she slept. Her face softened, and she appeared to be a normal, carefree, pretty girl in blissful slumber. Even with the bit of drool on her chin and the soft snoring that was slowly growing louder, he thought she was just as charming; maybe more so.
The car passed over a bumpy stretch of road, and Faith’s head bounced against the headrest.
“Hmmm? Wha?” she mumbled as she awoke.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Waazn’t ‘sleep.” She slurred as she wiped her chin with her hand.
“We should probably stop for the night anyway.”
“Stop where? We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.” She looked out her window at the darkened landscape zooming by. A few lights could be seen here and there away from the road, but no other signs of life were visible. They had passed fields, fields, and more fields, all day. Then after that there were some fields.
“I think there’s a town a few miles ahead. Perhaps we can find a suitable place there.”
“If we’d stuck to the interstate like I said, then we wouldn’t have to hunt down a goddamn motel. But no! ‘Let’s see America the way it should be seen, Faith. The back roads are the way to travel. Charming small towns and quaint shops and fucking picturesque scenery.’ I haven’t seen a McDonalds in two days, Wes! Now that’s un-American,” she huffed.
He sighed. “I thought you were enjoying our trip.”
She leaned closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “I am. I’m just so fucking tired of being in the car is all.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know. I’m sorry. But we promised to meet Giles in Cleveland by Thursday, and I thought we should cover a little more distance today.”
“Should-a taken the interstate,” she sing-songed.
Wesley was about to argue in defense of scenic byways when he spotted a neon sign ahead. “There’s something.”
He pulled into the drive of an old tourist court. About a dozen tiny, whitewashed cottages sat around a U-shaped drive. He parked the car in front of the first cottage, which was marked “Office.”
“This looks alright. Wait here,” Wesley said as he stepped out of the car. A few minutes later he came back with a key. He moved the car three buildings down and parked in the little carport next to the cottage.
“It’s like a little house.” Faith yawned. She stumbled out of the car and helped Wesley fetch their bags from the back.
“Home sweet home, for tonight,” he said as he unlocked the door.
The interior of the cabin was a bit worn and dated but it was neat and clean, and more importantly to Faith, the bed was only a few steps away from the door. She dropped her bag on the floor, tumbled onto the bed and kicked off her shoes.
Wesley placed his bag on the luggage rack and looked over at Faith, who was lying diagonally across the bed. “You are going to make room for me, I hope.”
She giggled and stretched out her arms and legs.
“There’s plenty of room.” She moved one leg in.
He smiled coolly as he rustled through his bag. “Since you’ve already made yourself comfortable, you won’t mind if I have my turn in the bathroom first, then.”
“Hey!” She leapt off the bed in hot pursuit, but he had already shut and locked the bathroom door.
“Bastard! Don’t take too long in there. I gotta pee,” she shouted.
She looked around at the small room. Blue chenille bedspread, pale green walls, threadbare rust-colored carpet, light wood furniture, funky old lamps and garish pictures that looked like some she’d seen in her Gran’s house when she was little. Retro, they called this stuff now. Who knew Gran’s taste in tacky shit would become fashionable one day, she thought.
The bathroom door opened.
“’Bout time. I was gonna burst,” she exclaimed.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Faith. I was only in there a few minutes.” He yawned. “I’m going to shower in the morning. I’m too tired to bother now.”
After Faith bounded into the bathroom, Wesley undressed and got into bed. The mattress wasn’t the comfiest in the world, but his body welcomed it as he realized how exhausted he was. Just as he’d settled in comfortably, the bathroom door opened. “Aw, don’t tell me you’ve conked out on me already.”
He opened his eyes to see her naked and leaning sultrily against the doorway. Her attempt at a sexy pout slowly morphed into a silly grin. “This place is like something out of an old movie. Well, except I’d have on a lacy negligee, I guess. Or a pair of your baggy pajamas. And we’d be in black and white.”
Wesley felt his fatigue overridden by other sensations in his body. He gave her a sly grin as he admired her naked form. “I rather like you the way you are now, in living color. I didn’t bring any pajamas anyway.”
She slowly walked toward the bed, swaying her hips for effect. “We’d have to pretend we were married so the office manager wouldn’t kick us out for indecency. Oh, like that old Clark Gable movie, where they hung the blanket between the beds for the sake of modesty.” She pulled back the covers, crawled into bed and straddled him.
He ran his hands along her thighs. “Modesty is highly overrated.”
“So’s decency,” Faith purred as she ground herself against his hardening cock.
“I don’t think we’re being indecent,” he gasped.
She leaned forward so he could tease a pert breast with his mouth. “So, watchers and slayers do this sort of thing all the time, then.”
He released her nipple with a sputter.
“Well?” She seemed genuinely curious.
“There have been instances, certainly, but it was strictly forbidden by the Council. It resulted in disciplinary action and a watcher’s immediate dismissal if an improper liaison was discovered. Since the Council no longer exists, I don’t think we need to worry about our—arrangement.” He returned his attention to her nipple with added fervor.
“You know, I bet the old Council Handbook didn’t even list ideal positions for fucking your slayer in a bathroom stall at a truck stop, or proper etiquette when your slayer’s sucking you off in the emergency lane of the interstate.”
He chuckled. “When in doubt, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ is the least one should do.” He gave her other nipple a lick.
Faith leaned back. She put on her sweetest girlish smile and looked at him underneath her eyelashes. “Won’t you please fuck me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?”
His eyes darkened and Faith felt his cock twitch. “What was that, Faith?”
“Please fuck me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Sir,” she repeated coyly.
This was a pleasant surprise to Wesley. Faith didn’t call all the shots in their bed, but this coquettish schoolgirl act was new. It was a terrible cliché but he couldn’t deny that it was making him extremely hard—and he could tell that it was making her extremely wet.
He slipped a hand between her legs. She whimpered and began wriggling against him again.
“You have been a good girl today, despite your cranky little outburst this evening.”
She scowled. “I was tired, and my ass was numb from sittin’ all day, you bastard.”
He moved his hand to her ass and gave it a hard slap. Faith yelped.
“It isn’t numb anymore, is it?”
Suddenly he found his arms pinned above his head. The schoolgirl was gone, but Wesley found this Faith to be equally arousing. She leaned forward and crushed her lips to his as she slid down onto his cock. They remained still until she finally broke the kiss.
“Guess we never did have a normal watcher/slayer relationship, huh?” she murmured as she began to rock back and forth. She released his arms and his hands moved to her hips, helping to set her rhythm.
“Relationships,” he said the word softly, “have their problems, always.”
Faith looked into those striking blue eyes. They seemed sad for a moment, and then they became warm when Wesley returned her gaze. They’d long since moved beyond all the pain and hurt and mistrust of their past, but there was no escaping it completely, no matter how far they ran from the ghosts and demons of L.A.—the personal and the literal kind. It was understood and accepted. They fought demons and fucked and lived and somehow it all worked. That was all that mattered in the end.
Faith began moving faster. “Normal sucks anyway,” she said decisively.
Wesley smiled and pulled her down for a searing kiss as he bucked his hips up to meet hers. They said nothing else as they continued to move. Only wordless moans and breathy whispers broke the silence until they frantically reached a shared climax.
She collapsed breathlessly onto his chest. “Thank you,” she murmured against his neck.