By Minim Calibre
For the prompt, “Mistaken for gay – Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Charles Gunn/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, set during S2. G, 370 words. Originally posted here.
By the time Gunn hears the tell-tale sound of his truck pulling up in front of their rathole of a building, they’re already forty-five minutes late getting back with the takeout. Gunn wads up another Kleenex, tries for a three point shot into the garbage can from the far end of the office, and hopes to hell Cordelia hasn’t somehow screwed up his truck and that she and Wes didn’t forget his Kung Pao chicken.
He never should have agreed to let her drive to go get it. Hell, he’s not even one hundred percent sure she has a license.
“…I mean, jeez Louise, we’re supposed to be friends! I’m not like Mister Broody-Abandoned-His-Friends-When-They-Tried-to-Help-Him. I’m totally cool with it!” The door slams open and Cordelia slams in, followed by a flustered looking Wes, struggling to balance the plastic bags the food came in.
“Cordelia, we’re not keeping anything from you.”
“Damn right you’re not!”
“As I was trying to say, there isn’t anything for us to keep from you.”
“Not anymore there isn’t, buster. Not after Mrs. Lee spilled the beans about you two being gay!”
Gunn’s damn sure he couldn’t have heard that correctly. “Excuse me?” Then he has to blow his nose again. The Kleenex bounces off the edge of the can.
Two heads swing around to look at him. Cordelia’s got her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.
Setting the bags down on the desk, Wes fills him in. “She asked me where my boyfriend was. Apparently, she thinks we’re together and was worried that we’d had a bit of a row.”
Okay, he heard that right. “You set her straight?”
Wesley looks a little sheepish. “I told her you were ill and she gave us an order of hot and sour soup, compliments of the house.”
“So that’s a no, then. Hey, English, you remember the Kung Pao chicken?”
“Yes, Gunn, I remembered the Kung Pao chicken. When have I ever forgotten it?”
Cordelia snorts, “Oh, please. You expect me to believe you’re not dating?”
In unison, he and Wes answer her, “Well, yes.”
She rolls her eyes, digs into her carton of sweet and sour shrimp. “Well if you’re not, maybe you should consider it.”