Blue Moon Rising: Fanfic: "Ready" by Hjmugillecuty

RATING: FRC [GF]

SUMMARY: Sometimes it is about holding hands.

SPOILERS: Up to and including "Players"

PAIRING: Wes/Fred

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me; they belong to their original creators (Mutant Enemy, the WB and others) and I make no profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to dedicate this to Kenn and Chantel. Congratulations on your wedding! Archive permission granted as always to Whole New World and Blue Moon Rising, if you want it.

Fred's POV:

It's not always about holding hands sometimes it is about need. It's not always about love and hate; sometimes it is about loneliness and desire, and even fear. I'm starting to understand how it happened, Wesley and Lilah. He was lost, he was alienated from his friends, the people who care about him, and he was searching for something to feel. He used to hate her, I know he did, but without us to be close to, she was his best option. I bet he didn't want to at first, but she was the only person offering him any kind of attention and it just happened. And knowing Wesley and even the little I knew Lilah, I'll bet it was explosive.

But it wasn't about holding hands. It wasn't simple and romantic. Holding hands means a relationship, not just heat and sex. Holding hands is something that can last. Wesley and Lilah couldn't last. They were on opposite sides of the same war, and with both of them being true warriors for their sides, there would have been eavesdropping, fighting and using of each other. Their relationship explains how Wesley knew Cordelia was staying at Connor's; it explains how Lilah knew that Lorne was alone to have his brain sucked. They must have lied to and tricked each other constantly, and while that could provide a giddy, sexy feel, it can't last. They say opposites attract, maybe so, but they don't always last.

And Connor and Cordy are another example of things that can't last. Nine months ago she was in love with Angel. Eighteen months ago she was changing Connor's diapers. She and I were like his mothers. And even though we didn't get to watch him grow up, I still feel the responsibility of him being our child. Then, this summer Charles and I treated him like a son. A brooding, rebellious, patricidal son, but still a son. I'm imagining my son, who should really be only a year and a half old, with my only female friend who was twenty-one when he was born. That's what is so icky about this. He is a child and Cordy took advantage of him. The Cordy we knew wouldn't have done that, no matter how alone she felt. Something has changed about her. She hasn't been herself in ages.

The thing is, it should be about holding hands. It should be about holding hands, and heat and sex and love. It should be about all of that. And it can be. Last year I didn't choose Wesley because I was afraid, not that I didn't also love Charles, because with Wesley everything was there. I had just returned from what I had desperately hoped was a dream, and I wasn't ready for the real thing. I was ready for holding hands; I wasn't ready for love and heat. Until Wesley kissed me, I wasn't ready for it all. I am now.

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