Cheeseman Ficathon
Mar. 1st, 2004 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlettuceThis is for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deviousli, who wanted Whistler and mention of lotrips. Hope you like...
Supernatural Thoughts
By Claire
Whistler reached out a hand, running fingers over the Wolfram & Hart sign that stood outside the almost majestic building of grey and glass.
"It wasn't meant to be like this."
"Wasn't meant to be like what?"
Whistler turned at the sound of the voice to see small eyes peering at him through round glasses, half surprised and half expecting to see the other man standing there. In all his years working for the Powers, he'd dealt with demons, werewolves, vampires, and one slightly insane used car salesman who thought he was the reincarnation of Elvis sent back to Earth to lead the world into Nirvana. And never, *never*, had they seen fit to send their chief troubleshooter out to check up on him until now. And it wasn't as if he couldn't have used the help back in Tacoma. After all, that guy Chuck had a mean right hook for an Elvis wannabe. But oh no, that time, they'd let him be laid out cold by a delusional idiot in a sequined jumpsuit without anyone backing him up at all. But now? Now they send him. As if Whistler didn't have enough to deal with. Oh well, maybe if he just ignored him, he'd go away.
Pointedly not looking at the man next to him, Whistler hummed his way through the greatest hits of Abba. He was just hitting the second verse of Chiquitita when a hand rested on his arm.
"I'm not going away, you know."
Whistler sighed. Of course he wasn't going away, it was too much to hope for that the Powers would listen to him for once and leave him to his contemplating.
"Brooding."
"I'm not brooding," Whistler snapped. "And stop doing that mind reading thing, it's off-putting."
"I'm sorry," Cheeseman smiled, not sounding at all sorry in the slightest.
Whistler sighed. "So," he asked, fake interest lacing each word, "what are you doing in our bright metropolis that is LA?"
"I'm needed here," came the succinct reply.
"They don't, by any chance, need you in Timbuktu, do they?"
"No." Cheeseman smiled indulgently.
Muttering softly to himself, Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Still wearing the cheese, I see."
The smile widened. "It is better than the cheese wearing me." He picked a slice of cheese off his head and nibbled daintily at a corner. "Mmm, cheddar," he all but purred, holding the piece out to Whistler.
Whistler stared at the yellow slice, mesmerised by the perfectly symmetrical teeth marks for a moment before looking back at Cheeseman. "No thanks, I'm trying to give up."
Silence reigned for long moments as Whistler looked back up at the building. He hadn't realised just how imposing the Wolfram & Hart offices were until he was standing right outside them.
"Shall we go in?" the soft words broke into his reverie.
"What?"
"It is why we're standing here, isn't it?"
Whistler took a step forward before he realised what he was doing. "I can't." Not after the Powers had laid down their rules. Not after they'd decided he was becoming too attached. He had been there to set Angel on his path, not to walk it with him. "Angel isn't to see me, it's not allowed."
The hand still resting on his arm squeezed slightly. "And now he won't." Cheeseman motioned towards the entrance. "Shall we?" he asked, not waiting for Whistler to follow him as he walked up the steps towards Wolfram & Hart.
The first thing to hit Whistler when he entered the building was how clean the air smelled, crisp and fresh and not at all like the smog-laden stuff they breathed in the south side.
"Oh, they gotta be shipping this in from somewhere else. There's no way this air is from LA."
"The arctic." Cheeseman leaned in, conspiratorially. "If you sniff especially hard, you can smell the penguins. Now, I do believe it's this way."
The people in the bustling office ignored them as they wove through corridors and up elevators, until finally they were at their destination.
Whistler moved forward, towards the office that housed Angel, only to jump back when a green demon he didn't recognise burst through a set of doors, talking rapidly on a cell phone.
"No, tell Arnold that we can't change the space-time continuum to give him the lead role in Lord of the Rings. We gave him California, what more does he want?" There was a brief pause, and then the demon hmm'ed. "He'll give it up for the Elf? Well he can't have him; he's already someone else's. Will a real elf do? We have a couple of those spare."
The rest of the conversation was lost as the demon stepped into the elevator they had just come from and was whisked away to another floor.
"I don't know if I can do this," Whistler said, coming to a sudden stop. Out of all those the Powers had sent him to help, Angel had been the one who affected him most, the one who got the furthest under his skin. And the one who had crashed and burned the most spectacularly. Angel, the Champion. Angel, the Powers' weapon in the fight against darkness. And now Angel, the CEO of the LA office of the very darkness they were fighting against.
"You didn't fail, you know."
"Didn't I?" Whistler doesn't need to ask what Cheeseman means. "I set Angel on his path, and he ended up here. Working for Wolfram & Hart."
"Angel is where he is meant to be."
Turning into a corridor, Cheeseman motioned to the large glass wall in front of them that revealed Angel's office.
Whistler banked down on the sudden nervousness he felt as Angel's head turned and he looked directly at them. Eyes met for a brief moment before Angel shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the man standing next to him.
"The others, the cheese wears them. But that one, he wears the cheese."
"Well, he's a Champion."
"Not the vampire."
At Cheeseman's words, Whistler looked at the other man more closely. Words drifted into Whistler's thoughts: Watcher, leader, failure, betrayer.
"You were never meant to walk with Angel on his path, merely to set him off to find the one who will."
Whistler was confused. "But I thought the Slayer-"
"The Slayer's path doesn't lie with Angel's. It never did. They were with each other for as long as they needed to be. And now they are where they need to be at this moment. With who they need to be with."
Whistler turned back to the two people in the office to see Angel smiling at the man with him. The vampire's hand moved to cover the human one resting on the desk, and more words filtered into Whistler's mind: redemption, lover, trust, hope.
With the words still ringing in Whistler's thoughts, he turned back to Cheeseman. "Angel is where he's meant to be?"
"Exactly where he's meant to be. You haven't failed, Whistler. Believe me. What needs to be, needs to be, and what is, is."
After long moments, Whistler stopped trying to figure out exactly what Cheeseman meant and took the words at face value. With a final glance back at the couple in the office, he grinned. "You know," he said, as he led the way out of the corridor and back towards the elevators, "I think I'll take you up on that cheese offer, after all."
End
deviousli, who wanted Whistler and mention of lotrips. Hope you like...Supernatural Thoughts
By Claire
Whistler reached out a hand, running fingers over the Wolfram & Hart sign that stood outside the almost majestic building of grey and glass.
"It wasn't meant to be like this."
"Wasn't meant to be like what?"
Whistler turned at the sound of the voice to see small eyes peering at him through round glasses, half surprised and half expecting to see the other man standing there. In all his years working for the Powers, he'd dealt with demons, werewolves, vampires, and one slightly insane used car salesman who thought he was the reincarnation of Elvis sent back to Earth to lead the world into Nirvana. And never, *never*, had they seen fit to send their chief troubleshooter out to check up on him until now. And it wasn't as if he couldn't have used the help back in Tacoma. After all, that guy Chuck had a mean right hook for an Elvis wannabe. But oh no, that time, they'd let him be laid out cold by a delusional idiot in a sequined jumpsuit without anyone backing him up at all. But now? Now they send him. As if Whistler didn't have enough to deal with. Oh well, maybe if he just ignored him, he'd go away.
Pointedly not looking at the man next to him, Whistler hummed his way through the greatest hits of Abba. He was just hitting the second verse of Chiquitita when a hand rested on his arm.
"I'm not going away, you know."
Whistler sighed. Of course he wasn't going away, it was too much to hope for that the Powers would listen to him for once and leave him to his contemplating.
"Brooding."
"I'm not brooding," Whistler snapped. "And stop doing that mind reading thing, it's off-putting."
"I'm sorry," Cheeseman smiled, not sounding at all sorry in the slightest.
Whistler sighed. "So," he asked, fake interest lacing each word, "what are you doing in our bright metropolis that is LA?"
"I'm needed here," came the succinct reply.
"They don't, by any chance, need you in Timbuktu, do they?"
"No." Cheeseman smiled indulgently.
Muttering softly to himself, Whistler raised an eyebrow. "Still wearing the cheese, I see."
The smile widened. "It is better than the cheese wearing me." He picked a slice of cheese off his head and nibbled daintily at a corner. "Mmm, cheddar," he all but purred, holding the piece out to Whistler.
Whistler stared at the yellow slice, mesmerised by the perfectly symmetrical teeth marks for a moment before looking back at Cheeseman. "No thanks, I'm trying to give up."
Silence reigned for long moments as Whistler looked back up at the building. He hadn't realised just how imposing the Wolfram & Hart offices were until he was standing right outside them.
"Shall we go in?" the soft words broke into his reverie.
"What?"
"It is why we're standing here, isn't it?"
Whistler took a step forward before he realised what he was doing. "I can't." Not after the Powers had laid down their rules. Not after they'd decided he was becoming too attached. He had been there to set Angel on his path, not to walk it with him. "Angel isn't to see me, it's not allowed."
The hand still resting on his arm squeezed slightly. "And now he won't." Cheeseman motioned towards the entrance. "Shall we?" he asked, not waiting for Whistler to follow him as he walked up the steps towards Wolfram & Hart.
The first thing to hit Whistler when he entered the building was how clean the air smelled, crisp and fresh and not at all like the smog-laden stuff they breathed in the south side.
"Oh, they gotta be shipping this in from somewhere else. There's no way this air is from LA."
"The arctic." Cheeseman leaned in, conspiratorially. "If you sniff especially hard, you can smell the penguins. Now, I do believe it's this way."
The people in the bustling office ignored them as they wove through corridors and up elevators, until finally they were at their destination.
Whistler moved forward, towards the office that housed Angel, only to jump back when a green demon he didn't recognise burst through a set of doors, talking rapidly on a cell phone.
"No, tell Arnold that we can't change the space-time continuum to give him the lead role in Lord of the Rings. We gave him California, what more does he want?" There was a brief pause, and then the demon hmm'ed. "He'll give it up for the Elf? Well he can't have him; he's already someone else's. Will a real elf do? We have a couple of those spare."
The rest of the conversation was lost as the demon stepped into the elevator they had just come from and was whisked away to another floor.
"I don't know if I can do this," Whistler said, coming to a sudden stop. Out of all those the Powers had sent him to help, Angel had been the one who affected him most, the one who got the furthest under his skin. And the one who had crashed and burned the most spectacularly. Angel, the Champion. Angel, the Powers' weapon in the fight against darkness. And now Angel, the CEO of the LA office of the very darkness they were fighting against.
"You didn't fail, you know."
"Didn't I?" Whistler doesn't need to ask what Cheeseman means. "I set Angel on his path, and he ended up here. Working for Wolfram & Hart."
"Angel is where he is meant to be."
Turning into a corridor, Cheeseman motioned to the large glass wall in front of them that revealed Angel's office.
Whistler banked down on the sudden nervousness he felt as Angel's head turned and he looked directly at them. Eyes met for a brief moment before Angel shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the man standing next to him.
"The others, the cheese wears them. But that one, he wears the cheese."
"Well, he's a Champion."
"Not the vampire."
At Cheeseman's words, Whistler looked at the other man more closely. Words drifted into Whistler's thoughts: Watcher, leader, failure, betrayer.
"You were never meant to walk with Angel on his path, merely to set him off to find the one who will."
Whistler was confused. "But I thought the Slayer-"
"The Slayer's path doesn't lie with Angel's. It never did. They were with each other for as long as they needed to be. And now they are where they need to be at this moment. With who they need to be with."
Whistler turned back to the two people in the office to see Angel smiling at the man with him. The vampire's hand moved to cover the human one resting on the desk, and more words filtered into Whistler's mind: redemption, lover, trust, hope.
With the words still ringing in Whistler's thoughts, he turned back to Cheeseman. "Angel is where he's meant to be?"
"Exactly where he's meant to be. You haven't failed, Whistler. Believe me. What needs to be, needs to be, and what is, is."
After long moments, Whistler stopped trying to figure out exactly what Cheeseman meant and took the words at face value. With a final glance back at the couple in the office, he grinned. "You know," he said, as he led the way out of the corridor and back towards the elevators, "I think I'll take you up on that cheese offer, after all."
End
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Date: 2004-03-01 12:59 pm (UTC)Now let's see if it gets through this time!
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Date: 2004-03-03 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-03 11:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-03 01:58 pm (UTC)