Wesley ficlet
Feb. 9th, 2006 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheesymiceA bit of silliness written for the "personal ad" challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lighter_wesley. Early AtS, rated PG-13-ish? Around 600 words.
Wesley wasn’t able to wish Cordelia a good afternoon before she let into him.
“There you are. What has happened to you? Was it the leather pants? I bet it was the leather pants, wasn’t it? That’s how it starts, one teensy little kink and before you know it you’re strapped naked to a wheel in a leather thong, begging Mistress Spanksalot for mercy!”
Wesley stared at her, slack-jawed, until she finished her tirade. “I-I-I beg your pardon?”
Cordelia backed away from him. “Oh, no you don’t, mister. Our time together was brief but it’s over. You can just find someone else to be your dominatrix!”
“Dominatrix? Cordelia, you aren’t under some sort of spell, are you? Because I haven’t a bloody clue what you’re talking about!”
Cordelia picked up her message pad and waved it at him angrily. “This is what I’m talking about! Don’t you have your own phone that you can use for this sort of stuff?”
“Cordelia, I still don’t know what’s going on!”
“They’ve been calling all day! I knew there were some major sickos in L.A. but you should have heard the things these people wanted to do to you—with you—and with me! With whips, and and and straps, and--my God, Wesley! Kitchen tools!”
Wesley continued to stare at her in shock.
“I asked one of them where they got this number and they told me.” Cordelia shoved a folded section of the newspaper at him.
Wesley took the paper and looked at the ad Cordelia had circled in red ink.
“‘Affordable custom binding by hand. Leather a speciality. W. W.-P. 213-555-0163.’” He then noticed which section of the paper he held. “Oh, good lord. I’m going to kill that clerk in the advertising department! Not only did he leave out the word ‘book’, but he was supposed to put this in the classifieds, not the personals!”
Cordelia continued to keep her distance. “Maybe it’s your own business what you do in your own time, Wes, but I had no idea you were into bondage. Although the book kink, I could see.”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Binding, not bondage. Custom book-binding. I took a course in book-binding a couple of years ago and I thought I’d try to make a little extra money by offering my services on the side. It’s arts and crafts, not S and M.”
“So, not a leather and bondage fetishist?” Cordelia asked curiously.
Wesley became pensive. “Well, sometimes I like--”
“Okay, so don’t wanna know about it.” Cordelia cut him off.
Wesley picked up the phone. “I’ll call the newspaper and make sure they change the ad before tomorrow’s edition comes out. Until then we’ll just have to tell callers they have the wrong number or something like that.”
“Oh, no. I tried that, but some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer. Seems you attracted a lot of pushy bottoms.”
Wesley lifted an eyebrow. “And just how do you know about pushy bottoms?”
“How do you know about them?” she retorted.
“Touché.” He muttered. “But what shall we do about these callers?”
They looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Wanna grab some supper?” Cordelia suggested.
Wesley put down the phone. “Sounds good.”
...
Later that evening.
Angel groaned in exasperation as the phone rang again. Where the hell had Cordy and Wes gone?
“Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. No, I do not have my own set of ass-less chaps! I… wear what? I… uh, a nun’s habit, huh? Um…” Angel looked about nervously. “What was your number again?”
lighter_wesley. Early AtS, rated PG-13-ish? Around 600 words.Wesley wasn’t able to wish Cordelia a good afternoon before she let into him.
“There you are. What has happened to you? Was it the leather pants? I bet it was the leather pants, wasn’t it? That’s how it starts, one teensy little kink and before you know it you’re strapped naked to a wheel in a leather thong, begging Mistress Spanksalot for mercy!”
Wesley stared at her, slack-jawed, until she finished her tirade. “I-I-I beg your pardon?”
Cordelia backed away from him. “Oh, no you don’t, mister. Our time together was brief but it’s over. You can just find someone else to be your dominatrix!”
“Dominatrix? Cordelia, you aren’t under some sort of spell, are you? Because I haven’t a bloody clue what you’re talking about!”
Cordelia picked up her message pad and waved it at him angrily. “This is what I’m talking about! Don’t you have your own phone that you can use for this sort of stuff?”
“Cordelia, I still don’t know what’s going on!”
“They’ve been calling all day! I knew there were some major sickos in L.A. but you should have heard the things these people wanted to do to you—with you—and with me! With whips, and and and straps, and--my God, Wesley! Kitchen tools!”
Wesley continued to stare at her in shock.
“I asked one of them where they got this number and they told me.” Cordelia shoved a folded section of the newspaper at him.
Wesley took the paper and looked at the ad Cordelia had circled in red ink.
“‘Affordable custom binding by hand. Leather a speciality. W. W.-P. 213-555-0163.’” He then noticed which section of the paper he held. “Oh, good lord. I’m going to kill that clerk in the advertising department! Not only did he leave out the word ‘book’, but he was supposed to put this in the classifieds, not the personals!”
Cordelia continued to keep her distance. “Maybe it’s your own business what you do in your own time, Wes, but I had no idea you were into bondage. Although the book kink, I could see.”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Binding, not bondage. Custom book-binding. I took a course in book-binding a couple of years ago and I thought I’d try to make a little extra money by offering my services on the side. It’s arts and crafts, not S and M.”
“So, not a leather and bondage fetishist?” Cordelia asked curiously.
Wesley became pensive. “Well, sometimes I like--”
“Okay, so don’t wanna know about it.” Cordelia cut him off.
Wesley picked up the phone. “I’ll call the newspaper and make sure they change the ad before tomorrow’s edition comes out. Until then we’ll just have to tell callers they have the wrong number or something like that.”
“Oh, no. I tried that, but some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer. Seems you attracted a lot of pushy bottoms.”
Wesley lifted an eyebrow. “And just how do you know about pushy bottoms?”
“How do you know about them?” she retorted.
“Touché.” He muttered. “But what shall we do about these callers?”
They looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Wanna grab some supper?” Cordelia suggested.
Wesley put down the phone. “Sounds good.”
...
Later that evening.
Angel groaned in exasperation as the phone rang again. Where the hell had Cordy and Wes gone?
“Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. No, I do not have my own set of ass-less chaps! I… wear what? I… uh, a nun’s habit, huh? Um…” Angel looked about nervously. “What was your number again?”
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Date: 2006-02-10 01:28 am (UTC)