I was a taller girl too, once. (regala_electra) wrote,
I was a taller girl too, once.
regala_electra

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Conversations for the sleep deprived.

My back. Is killing me. Can someone punch it or something, maybe it'll feel better then. Stupid back.

Okay, I can't edit this damn fic any longer. So...

Wesley. Lilah. Conversations for the sleep-deprived. Sexy innuendo and witty banter. Catty comments.

Did I mention that I'm a feedback whore? Because I am.

Read and enjoy:



Title: 3 AM: Conversations
Author: Regala Electra
E-mail: regala_electra@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Pairings: Wesley/Lilah, Wesley/Fred
Summary: “I’m just like you, Lilah. I never change.”
Spoilers: Habeas Corpus, Long Day’s Journey
Author’s Notes: A dialogue between ex-lovers at three am makes more sense than you’d think. Set before the events in “Awakening.”

*

“You realize that this is normally time for sleeping?” She’s groggy and annoyed, and she doesn’t even have to look at the caller ID to see who would be calling at three in the morning.

“Yes. And you’re awake.”

She hesitates before answering him. “Thinking about my options.”

“Ever the lawyer, even without a job.”

“Insults result in hang ups and no phone sex.”

“I wasn’t calling you for that.” His voice comes over the phone in agitated waves, curt and brisk. “Remember.”

There is silence.

“Then why did you call me?” Normally she’d cut him down with a biting comment, but that time has passed for them.

“Because I had nothing better to do.”

“You’re already sick of the goody-goody life? Please, and I’ll be redeemed and become a nun at the eleventh hour,” she snots in disgust. Apparently, she still has a few zingers left.

“Are you staying?” It’s a loaded question and he knows it.

“Sometimes I think of going. Buying a wig and a new identity.”

“You could always dye your hair.”

“There’s no point. I’d have to leave before I had time to actually settle. So, a new wig and a new identity, always prepared to leave and never waiting or wanting to stick around for too long.”

“That’s horribly depressing.” His voice betrays him. “Do you really want to do that? Do you have to run? From what?”

Silence.

“Ah, I see,” he says, a smug satisfaction in knowing the answers coloring his words, “I don’t think I’ll be hunting after you-”

“The hell you won’t,” she growls darkly. Her voice is low and dusky; a few remnants of sleep echo as she speaks. “You’re still going after the stick insect but you’re still calling me. It’s getting annoying. I’m going to travel, a suitcase full of new identities to slip into and enough money to live very happily.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“What? That I don’t need or want you in my fucking life?”

“No. That you could ever be happy.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Not yet.”

“So what’s the grand plan, Wes? What’s keeping you up this night?”

“Angelus.”

“Knew you had a thing for the kink, but didn’t realize how far it went. Didn’t realize you went for the tall, dark, and leather. Maybe I should’ve tried out a leather cat suit before-”

“I’m probably about to make a horrid mistake,” he interrupts. There’s something ominous in his tone, and she really doesn’t want to care.

“Boo hoo. My heart is breaking. How is this different from yesterday? Or the day before that?”

“Because there were no other options all the other times. This decision though-”

“Is no different from any other. Suck it up.”

“I believe that’s your role in our relationship.”

She swears she can hear his smile over the phone line.

“Relationship? I believe we’re exes now. Let’s not pretend we actually like each other anymore.”

“There was a time when we liked each other?”

“Bastard.” She pauses and then draws out her fantasy plans, “So I’ve been thinking about new identities. About new places. Bali. Australia. It’s summer there and it’s isolated from the world, from this mess in Los Angeles. Or London. Cold and brittle. New York captured in a cold snap of winter. I’ll wear different colored contacts while I’m there and that day, I’ll be a bohemian artist rejecting Starbucks and buy awful coffee for three times the price it’s worth from a Greenwich Village café with some pompous French inspired name. Then I’ll take my suitcases and go to Singapore and live like a queen in a white suite with antique furniture, ordering in every meal except for dinner. At night, I’ll eat in only the best restaurants and wine and dine every attractive and wealthy businessman who lives on that side of the world.”

“How very.” He pauses briefly, a word caught before she can make it out. Instead he says, “Descriptive.”

“Yes. Goodnight. Call a phone sex line the next time.”

“It’s actually good morning, isn’t it?”

Click.

*

“Now I’m really pissed off.”

He chuckles slightly, as though it’s a game. “You’ll survive.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“We have to get the cage prepared tomorrow morning.”

“It’s today,” she says lazy, a yawn barely concealed, “and I got it. New kinks, wish we’d have tried them out before you went all noble again.”

“You starting to pack up? Are you selling the apartment?”

“Bastard. It’s been less than an hour since you called me. I’m not talking about this.”

“I don’t think he’ll go after you. Nor I. You’re not the special.”

“Go fuck a stick figure.”

“I think it was stick insect.”

“Like it makes a difference.” She’s silent for a while, thinking. “Spain is nice this time of year. There’s a café in Seville that serves fresh sangrias and I’ll celebrate till I have to go to confession, begging forgiveness for my sins.”

“You aren’t religious.”

“Games. New Identities. A fresh skin to wear that doesn’t remember L.A. And you.”

“How did you think this would all end? Not to mock,” his voice is not gentle or even considerate, but it’s the nicest he’s ever sounded to her, “just, a query.”

“With me winning.”

His breathing changes ever so slightly, a sharp staccato that he’s never been able to fix ever since his throat was cut. “God Lilah, stop looking at everything solely as winning or losing. Frankly, it’s childish.”

“So says the man with ‘the women who have bodies like twelve year old boys’ fetish. Now, why don’t you go call up your buddies, if that’s what you could call them, and leave me alone.”

Pause.

“I like you best with a gag in your mouth.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She can’t quite remove the bitterness in her voice. “You only like pretending to be in control. Meanwhile, you need a big hero like Angel to back you up and you run back to them like a scared boy when it gets too tough being bad.”

“You think it’s all that easy? Simply a matter of black and white?”

There’s a stinging pain to her voice when she answers, aware of him throwing her words back at his face, “I’m not the one who’s colorblind.”

“You love being the villain.”

“I love getting what I want. And I hate losing.”

“Sometimes, I wish the world was a simple as you think it is.” He sounds weary. “It would make my decisions so much easier. I’ve make mistakes but I think one of the greatest was thinking you would understand.”

“Like you’re so complicated.”

“Honestly, I did indulge in your fantasies about tramping ‘round the world and you don’t even listen to me. Perhaps is this one of the reasons why I decided to end it.”

“Perhaps this is one of the reasons I hung up on you.”

He laughs, it sounds distant over the connection.

She gets it in one. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yes. Perhaps. Somewhat.”

“British humor,” she sighs. Which is why she didn’t like watching comedies with him. Besides them always having trite happy endings.

“I’ll ignore that tone and attribute it to the late and ungodly hour.”

“Mmm, it would be nice if God actually took an hour off. I don’t think he does, not like it matters. And, why are you calling me again?”

“It’s better than dreaming.”

“Oh fuck. Are you going sentimental?”

“Never, Lilah.” Silence. “A ticket. Anywhere else. Not here. No questions asked. Get out of here before it gets even worse.”

“Don’t offer it to me again, Wesley. That’s not what I want from you.”

“Name it.”

“Stop calling me.”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Sex talk at four A.M. How erotic.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t help, Lilah.” He sounds distracted. “I’m staying in Los Angeles. You can leave.”

“It’s not as great as it sounds. You’re going to be following me even if you think you won’t right now. You’ll think I’m up to something or maybe you’re just lonely, I know that Fred’s never going to dump Gunn for you and I’m really enjoying thinking about you making a fool of yourself.”

“Perhaps.”

“And I’ll buy you a drink and tell you all the guys I should have run off with, but I don’t plan on ever settling down.”

He laughs.

“That’s the one thing I always trusted in you, Lilah. You don’t change.”

“And you’re a jealous, petty, vindictive bastard with a self-righteous martyr complex, who likes to play sadist when it’s masochism that really gets you off.”

His voice lowers and answers amiably, “So wonderful that you’ve noticed. I never realized that you cared.”

“Shove it up your ass and twist it off,” she snaps, growing tired and she’s not concerned how weak her retort is.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He doesn’t bother to hide the laugh.

“No, I sucked you off with this mouth.”

He pauses and there’s a cold shift before he responds. “Get out of here now, Lilah. Angelus goes after everyone and you know that.”

“Aww, you want to protect me? Funny, but I believe that the worst mistake I ever made was thinking several pitiful fucks and a bad attitude actually changed you.”

“I’m just like you, Lilah. I never change.”

“Whatever.”

“I-”

“You get nostalgic and I’ll get dressed and go over there to kick your ass.”

“Remember.”

Click.

She holds the phone and listens to the sharp tone for several moments before placing the receiver back into the handle. Presses a button on the answering machine and leaves a message.

She lies back in bed and doesn’t answer the phone when it rings, urgently and harshly.

“You’ve reached Lilah Morgan. I’m not answering the phone because I’m packing for a trip. Somewhere to the west or the east, it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not here. And stop calling, Wesley.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow night.” It’s a promise and he sounds completely sincere.

She wonders how the Caribbean feels this time of year.

End.

Finished all my homework for my classes for Monday and Tuesday. I read Shakespeare's "All's Well, That Ends Well" and well, that didn't really end so well. In fact, the ending has the male lead still unredeemed and acting like a total ass. Yeah, I can totally see why it's called one of the "problem plays" because damn...the "herione" purposely entwines herself with a lying cheater who will only stay with her because he unknowingly knocked her up.

What a fantastic message.
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