That was the problem with the spoken word. It couldn't be crumpled up and thrown in the waste basket - or the fireplace - after coming out wrong.

It lay there like a dead elephant in the corner while Wesley tried to hide the metaphorical shotgun behind his back.

No, no, that analogy didn't sound quite right.

He was relieved he hadn't said that out loud as well.

When the bedroom door opened, Wesley snapped his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. He'd have rolled over for effect as well, but even the thought of pushing himself over onto his side in bed made him gasp with the pain.

"Yeah, I'm buyin' that sleep routine, English." The side of the bed dipped with Gunn's weight, and Wesley kept his eyes determinedly, stubbornly, childishly closed. But he tensed, making his left side throb and he muffled a groan, turning his head away from the warm, dry fingers that cupped his cheek and jaw. "C'mon, man. Doc said you've gotta relax."

"Why are you still here?" How on earth was he supposed to relax after that most humiliating, most embarrassing, most honest thing he'd ever said?

"Well, see, I've got this dumbass friend who got himself shot trying to protect me, so I'm gonna take care of him till he's better 'cause for such a smart guy, he can be pretty stupid."

A hysterical laugh caught in Wesley's throat, and that hurt too, and god the tears in his eyes were humiliating, and there one went rolling down his cheek, and-

"Hey. Don't, man. It's okay." Warm hands, soft hands, strong hands cupped Wesley's cheek and supported his head, lifting him up enough to take a painkiller and sips of water, stroking his throat to make him swallow.

"I'm sorry. I - I shouldn't have said anything, I-"

"Nah. It's cool. I get you're gonna say shit you wouldn't say otherwise while you're takin' these. That you didn't mean it."

Wesley shook his head, or at least rocked it back and forth in Gunn's grasp, wishing he could lift his eyes further than those full, gentle lips, the lips he still ached to kiss and taste. The words echoed silently in the room between them.

"I didn't ask you to save my ass! I knew what I was doing!"

"I was worried about you!"

"I don't need some English guy worryin' about me on my own turf!"

"And I can't simply not worry about the man I love!"

Wesley licked his lips, wishing the painkillers would work faster, take away the terrible clarity in his head, because he knew he was going to do it again. Be foolishly, stupidly honest. "I meant it," he said, and waited for Charles to lay his head back on the pillow and leave.

Gunn did lay his head back on the pillow, but instead of leaving, he made himself comfortable in that bedside chair. "Then say it again when you're better, and then we'll talk."