Coffee Breaks
8:00 am
"Good morning Angel," he says groggy, grappling at the coffee pot.
He's wearing the blue tie, the one that I used to fasten him to the bed frame.
"Why are you in the break room?" he asks, sipping his coffee slowly. His lips look pink and perfect on the white ceramic coffee mug, and I remember how they looked against my skin.
"I like the break room," I answer, snapping back to reality, "Harmony says it's important for me to mingle with the staff."
"She's right," he says, starting towards the door, "You're doing a good job here. Just so you know."
If I had eaten, I would've blushed, "I'm trying my hardest."
"And it shows," he says, exiting the room.
He's wearing the gray cashmere slacks, the one's that Lilah bought him, because we both had a huge appreciation for how his ass looked in them.
It's going to be a long day.
5:00 pm
He's drinking a cup of tea now, like he usually does as the day comes to a close. It calms him down, and makes him taste like earl grey.
"You look sort of hungry," he says, as he finally acknowledges me standing in the doorway, staring...leering...drooling.
"I always get hungry when I look at you," is the answer that runs through my head, but instead I raise my glass to him.
"The best blood money can buy," he grins, "So what brings you back to the break room?"
"I'm stalking you," is the truth, but I lie.
"Harmony mentioned that there was cake in here, someone's birthday or something," I peek around the room.
"Oh, actually it's a calf sacrifice in the 3rd floor employee lounge, for George from accounting," Wesley says, still grinning with the smile that he knows gets the women of the office to squeal, "If you hurry up, you can still probably catch it."
2:00 am
"So, I guess someone else is burning the midnight oil," Wes smiles, as he starts to refill the coffee filter.
"I like to make sure everything closes up okay at night," I answer, staring at the squinty
way he focuses on the task. I loved that squinty look, even when I busy hating him for everything that happened.
I move closer, grazing the stubble he cultivates on his chin with my hand. He smiles
softly, and I remember that despite everyday we spent together, I never saw that smile.
He's smiling again, everyone is smiling again, and there was a reason I agreed to this. To save Connor, to save Wesley, to save everything that had gone to shit.
I take another step back, "I'm going to head to bed Wes. Maybe you should too."
He frowns slightly, "Perhaps you're right Angel."
"I know I am."
8:00 am
He's wearing the red shirt, the one that I used to gag him one night in the hotel.
And so it begins again.