His heart pounded in his chest as he pushed open the door of Angel Investigations. Strange, it had been his workplace for nine months, and yet today he felt nervous entering it.

He knew the reason why, of course. Last night he had experienced the most erotic dream in his life. It had been more real to him than the dreams he'd had while infatuated with Cordelia while working in Sunnydale. It had been more real than any other dream. And when he woke up, he'd wished it had been real.

Angel. He rolled the name around in his mouth. The object of his desires. How had he never realised this before?

Because, he told himself, you didn't want to admit your feelings to yourself. You told yourself it was nothing more than admiration and respect for your boss, your friend.

Cordelia was at her desk, flipping through an old copy of W. Angel was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Wesley," Cordelia greeted him.

"Hello," he said distantly, distracted by the absence of Angel.

"You OK?" she asked, concerned.

"Uh - yes. I'm fine. Where's Angel?" he attempted to ask the question casually, but it came out sounding meaningful. Which it was.

"He's gone to visit Faith," Cordelia said. "Wesley, is everything all right?"

"Mm-hmm," he lied.

She got up and looked straight into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Cordelia, I'm sure," he replied, looking away.

"If something wasn't right, you'd tell me, right?" She was worried. Wesley wasn't acting normally.

"Of course," he snapped. It sounded harsher than he intended. Cordelia recoiled as if she'd been hit.

"Right then," she said frostily, returning to her chair.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Cordy."

The nickname got her. She hadn't heard it in a long time. Angel and Wesley always called her Cordelia. The last person to use it had been Doyle. She looked over at him.

"I'm going through a tough time right now," he added.

"It might help to talk about it," she said gently. Wesley looked distraught.

"Is this about Angel?" she asked tentatively.

"What?" he looked alarmed, panicked. Guilty.

"What I mean is, do you have feelings for Angel?"

He looked at her, debating whether or not to tell her. He was wary of her reaction. Her face, however, showed nothing but kindness and compassion.

"Yes," he admitted.

"And you just figured this out, huh?" she asked.

"I've felt this way for a long time - but I suppose I only realised it recently," he explained. Suddenly he looked alarmed. "He hasn't noticed, anything, has he? I mean, my behavior - does it give anything away?"

"I don't think so," Cordelia pondered the question, "I mean, he might have noticed something. I suspected - but I guess I notice these things."

Wesley took a deep breath before asking his next question. "Do you think I should tell him?"

"You want the truth?" Cordelia asked.

"I shouldn't tell him," he said in resignation.

"I just don't think he's ready to hear it yet," Cordelia said softly.

***

As soon as Angel returned, Wesley left, making some excuse. He suddenly couldn't stand being around Angel and not telling him how he felt.

Angel looked puzzled. "What was with that?"

Cordelia shrugged.

"Cordelia, what's going on?"

"What do you think is going on, Angel?" she sighed. "Why am I the only person who can see what's going on between you and Wesley?"

"What? Cordelia, I don't know what you think is going on, but there's nothing."

"Angel, don't lie to me," she said quietly. "And don't lie to yourself. I'm in here every day with the two of you. I see what's going on. Don't think I don't see the way you look at him. Or the way he looks at you. There's something between you, but you're just too scared to admit it."

Angel was silent as he recognized the truth in her words. When he spoken his voice was shaky. "Do you…do you think I should tell him?"

She smiled. "He asked me the same question an hour ago. I told him you weren't ready to hear it. I needed to talk to you first. He loves you, Angel."

***

There was a knock on the door of Wesley's apartment. As he went to open it, he hoped that it was Angel, but he knew that was too much to ask for.

It was him.

"Angel," he attempted to keep his voice neutral.

"Wesley," Angel spoke with more tenderness than Wesley would have believed possible, and in that moment he understood it all.

"Come on in," he invited.