“No, nothing like that...my father, well it just wasn’t done...we had certain standards, as Watchers.”

I crossed the room,so we were standing face to face. As I threw the book I’d been reading on the couch, I thought I heard him gasp. Wow, Howard, really living on the edge with this one. “I guess he was worried you’d fall in with a bad influence...the kind of girl who’d come up to your room to study so she could...do this.” And I gave him a little kiss, but warm and wet.

“Oh, dear Lord. But that wouldn’t happen at my school...it was a boys’ school.”

”Not with a girl, you mean, right?”

And I thought I felt him responding. You better get back to Balmer fast, kiddo, I thought to myself, before all of your instincts completely turn to shit.

“No, it isn’t that. It was lovely...”And he backed up some.

”But?” I kept myself from feeling rejected by making a witness of him. I’d done it before.

“Someone could come in any time...and I just got out of a relationship. With another redhead, actually.”

“So it’s not that I’m not pretty enough.”

“Hardly.”

”Good, cause I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not an English rose, huh?”

“I’d noticed,” he said. He had a nice smile. He should use it sometime. Listen to me, griping that somebody else doesn’t smile enough. After I’ve been in the Sun twice as “grim-faced” Detective Howard. Well, excuse me if it’s not a fashion show out there. (Pembleton looks like a pallbearer for the IRS sometimes, and nobody says boo. But you didn’t follow me out here to talk about that.)My job is hard, and sad, and ugly.It doesn’t seem the place to be flashing the pearly whites But I have a feeling Wes’ sadness goes deeper than that. Deeper than a knees-up with his bunkies, or a roll in the hay with me. I’m good, but I’m not that good.

“But there is something I must tell you.”he says, and it’s true that he looks like he’ll die if he doesn’t spill his guts right that minute. He looks like Timmy, which kind of makes me feel sisterish, not slutty. Damn it. “Knock yourself out. Not that I could possibly have any more fun than I already am."

Erika, you just continue to amaze me. What great characters you've got doing believable and interesting things.

I just posted a story in my lj. It's a backup for the valentine's ficathon I just did. It's Angel/Lindsey, but not really about them.

you know a story is good when you want to find out what happens next.

Thanks for your comments, everyone. I think where I went wrong before is falling for the badfic thing where chemistry always has to take the paint off the walls.Which has never really happened to me, honestly, even though it's fun to read and write about(not the badfic ones) These aren't those people.

Deena, great story! I posted a comment in your lj.

Me too.

Thanks and thanks! I'm glad you guys liked it.

“But there is something I must tell you.” he says, and it’s true that he looks like he’ll die if he doesn’t spill his guts right that minute. He looks like Timmy, which kind of makes me feel sisterish, not slutty. Damn it. “Knock yourself out. Not that I could possibly have any more fun than I already am.” I don’t mean to bust his chops but a lengthy conversation was not my plan for this evening. Where are all the guys who are out for one thing that my dad warned me about? If you find one, send him my way for a couple hours, huh?

“Well, it’s a sort of a confession, really. But I don’t want our...friendship under a cloud.”

Oh, man, this is not going to be Rocky Point all over again. Not. Not. If it is, fuck responsibility, I’m going home. My heart can’t take much more.Back to the nice simple drivebys, and dead people that stay where you put them. And no more frigging incantations, just simple math:

2 yos +1 rock+1 weapon=dead yo. Like Stan says, live stupid, die young. Wonder what Mr. Private School would say about that. “What? Cordy pissed you off the final time and you killed her and shoved her in the closet? She could drive you to it, huh?”

“No. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“We’re all the type, Wes. If the walls close in tight enough, right?” I sighed, and, God help me, made the “Get on with it” handwave.

“I knew about your Munchkin, way back in Hong Kong Gardens...I recognized Darla.”

”Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would go home.”

“Wesley, I’m not up for a feeling thing. Except for maybe ‘That was great. Thanks’, huh?”

erika, I almost don't *want* tosee the real Homicide because I don't think I could love the real Kay as much as the way you write her.

And thanks for the reassurances, y'all. I agree the sex is kind of stuck in there ... it seemed like it wasn't a 'fic without some smut, but you're right that it's not organic as the story stands; will have to either expand it or cut it out. I just wanted to be sure I didn't butcher Connor.

know Charmed better than I'd like other people to know I do

So you noticed that I managed to make the spells almost as stupid as the real ones?

Aw, that's so great!She's a great character, though...it's in there till they made up some bullshit to write her off with so she had to fight with everyone and disappear. Besides, they ditched her for, like "The Babes of Homicide" "We solve murders. And we're very pretty." (Picturing Tom Fontana going to visit Warren... hey, it's one explanation) Of course, being charitable, I could say that I'm not writing for Frankentim, who can be very distracting. And by distracting, I mean...