Disclaimer: Wesley and Spencer do not belong to me at all. Shucks.

A/N: Thank you too all of our faithful reviewers! Oh, also, I love percussion people, so no one take offence to this. And. Wesley and Narr are the same person. It was dramatic suspense gone wrong. Excuse my lack of knowledge on playing strip poker.

Band Trip

By: Demon

Bum, dum, ba bum! Band proceeded as always; 8:45, Friday morning. I yawned. Stupid percussion. They never practice and their lack of attention gave us the usual speech of 'How Everyone Should Practice At Least 50 Hours A Week' from our band director, Mr. William. Band was boring as hell. Those who signed up for band because it was 'easy' were in for a big surprise. The only reason I joined in the first place was because of the trips.

"Pssst! Gig!" An urgent whisper cut the thick, dried spit smelling atmosphere. It was Spencer. Poor, lovesick Spencer. I don't see why Narr had to be so mean to him as it was a great honor to even be talked to by Spencer. I had come to the conclusion that Spencer's desire, at first, was purely lust, but now it was something more than that. It was love if I've ever seen it.

"What?" I whispered back. Talking in band earned you a triple detention. Shows how nice out teachers are. He passed me a note with 'Gig' scribbled in his rather girly handwriting, written in pink sparkly pen. It read;

Dearest Giggles,

Do you think I'll ever have a chance with my beloved Wesley? I wish he would change his mind about me. I do love him so. Anyway, see if you can persuade him to accomplice us on our trip. Please?

Spencer XOXO

I wrote back:

How many times to I have to tell you that Narr's coming whether he likes it or not? And by the way, call me Giggles again; I'll castrate you with a spoon.

He was so overjoyed that he skipped the part about castration. Figures.

"Why do I have to go? I'm not even-" Wesley complained.

"You're going because Gig and me need someone who isn't a total band geek!" Scorch said reasonably. Really, he shouldn't have been such a baby about things. It was just a band trip.

"And besides, we've already signed you up and I've faked your permission slip, so you are going!"

"But . . . But Gig . . ."

"Too late. Be in the band room at 7:30 tomorrow morning or I'll . . ."

"Tell Mr. Hassid you hacked into the school computer system." He looked at us with that look that usually made me go guilt trippy, but this was an exception. He was finally beaten, although Scorch and I would never tell who hacked into the computers as that was the only reason we were passing math.

"Fine, I'll go. But you guys-" He never got to finish, as me and Scorch high-fived and began to run in separate directions down the hall. I looked back once, and Narr was watching us in curiosity. But he'd never know what we were planning . . .

Exactly at 7:00, my dad dropped me off outside the band room. Thirty minutes early.

God. I hate mornings.

Just as I was about to fall asleep on the paved sidewalk, Narr's black Nova screeched to a halt in a lot really close to me. He practically fell out of the car, and then asked.

"Am I late?"

"No."

"What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Oh. Why did I leave so early?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Well good morning to you too."

We played cards sleepily for the next thirty minutes; Scorch and a few other people joining into the game as they arrived. Most of us were still asleep and hadn't had enough coffee to keep us going.

"Alright people! Time to load up! Grab your gear and get on the bus." A half-hearted cheer sounded as we scrambled for our mode of transportation. After placing my luggage above my head, I settled into my seat beside Scorch and tried to curb the sudden homesickness. An entire week without Vinny!

"Hey Scorch, I brought some stuff . . ." I unzipped my carry-on, revealing a surplus of food, reading material, Cds, and, of course, matches. She squealed, and dove into my backpack. I chuckled, and then Spencer caught my eye. He was standing beside Narr's seat, lost in his little fantastic dream world. He caught my eye, and then spoke.

"Um . . . Would you mind if I sat here?" He asked Narr timidly. Marr looked to me and glared, but reluctantly removed his stuff from the vacant seat so Spencer could sit down. The teenager sat, trying to hide his obvious joy, and pulled out his incredibly vast Cd collection. Narr stared out the window, half moodily, half panicked. But for a second I thought I detected a dash of pure delight.

But . . . Maybe not.

It was one in the morning. I was high on the smoke from the incense Spencer has insisted he burnt, and from the pack of Sharpies that I carried around with me. And I guess it didn't help when Spencer pulled out four bottles of what he called Mexican Wine.

That shit was trippy.

After being told to shut up by on numerous accounts, we decided to play a nice quiet card game to calm us down. But it really didn't last long. After I had gotten Spencer's mini-cooler and Narr's car keys, we decided to raise the stakes a little.

"Strip poker."

"No. No fuckin' way." Was Narr's input.

"You're so not any fun." Scorch said.

"Pretty please?

"No one's awake but us!"

"That's what I'm worried about." Spencer didn't pick up on the comment, but both Scorch and I kicked him from under the table. He finally realized we were going to play anyway, so he might as well join before we burned him to death. Once Scorch had said that, Wesley joined, knowing she would derive great pleasure from it and would do it without a second thought.

The game had begun.

By two a.m., Scorch was down to her boyshorts, and a skimpy tank top that held little to the imagination. Wesley had reluctantly removed his jeans, revealing a pair of flannel pajama pants underneath, much to the disgust of Scorch and I, and to the depression of Spencer. I was in my black undershirt, and a pair of Vinny's silk boxers, which he had given to me the night we had . . . Never mind that. Read on. Spencer was down to a pair of tie-dyed briefs, not having worn much of anything anyway, and having a lot of sucky hands at poker. Luck was not on his side. But maybe it was, considering he liked to do this sort of thing.

Spencer shivered with the lack of heaters on this bus, but he was grinning the hugest smiled I had ever witnessed.

Wesley had just lost. And he wasn't too happy about it. He scowled, and lay down his hand of cards, then settled back into his seat.

". . . No." He said, and Spencer sighed, very sad that his hope had been crushed. Scorch and I looked to each other, and then pounced on Wesley, furious that he was being so difficult. We grabbed the edges of his shirt, and pulled, ripping the seams and tearing the cloth from him. Spencer half gasped, half sobbed in relief at seeing Wesley's well defined abs, and we smiled at him sweetly and innocently as he sent us formidable looks of death.

Around three o' clock, Wesley feel asleep on his cards, shirtless and jeanless. Scorch and I were amused as Spencer announced he was also very tired, and he quickly closed his eyes, waiting for us to fall asleep so he could passionately stare. The thought made me giggle as I gathered the cards, and slipped into my t-shirt, as did Scorch, who too fell asleep with her lighter in hand. Stupid pyro. After putting away the cards, and disposing the bottles of quote Mexican wine, I looked up to see Spencer gently stroking Wesley's bare chest, thinking we were all asleep.

"Oh Wesley," He murmured to himself, "Why don't you love me?" Sometimes it scared me on how poetic people could be.

"Yeah Wesley, what's your problem?" I asked mockingly, startling Spencer, who let out a rather girlish squeak and turned to me.

"I . . . I thought you were asleep."

"You thought wrong. Insomniac." I shrugged. He nodded almost sympathetically, and turned back to Wesley who was still asleep. He sighed, and I thought I could see tears in his eyes.

Shit. He was crying, and before I could try to comfort him, he began to speak,

"I've always admired him, and he means so much to me. I just wish he would feel the same way . . ." He sobbed quietly, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Ahh, don't cry. Please don't. You're going to- listen. Don't give up completely on him yet. He might come around or something . . ." I tried to think of something else that might comfort him, but what I said seemed to work, and he rubbed the tears away. A smile crept onto his face,

"You think so?"

"Sure . . . Why not." That seemed to make him happy, and he smiled to me in thanks. He settled back into his seat, facing his sleeping love, and as gently as a fly, kissed Wesley's slightly open mouth. I wasn't sure if I should applaud or what, so I sat quietly. The kiss made me smile, and burn with envy and homesickness. Vinny was at least fifty miles away by now . . .

Spencer snuggled into his seat, and drifted into his dreamland.

It seemed longer, but a mere thirty minutes later, I had dug a magazine out of my bag, and was beginning to read it when a noise startled me. I peeked over the top of the book, and was surprised to see Wesley watching sleeping Spencer intently. I was about to say something, but stopped when I realized what it could mess up. I grinned happily to myself when Wesley shuffled his hand through Spencer's hair, gently as not to wake him. He bent down, hovering his lips over Spencer's nose, and kissed him there. My grin widened. Way to go Wes, I said to myself, way to go.

I was expecting to find Spencer and Wesley in the same seat, smooching and doing all the other stuff Spencer specializes in, but when I came too, at 5:30, the boys were as far away from each other as possible, and only Scorch was awake. But she was too enthralled in burning her hair to notice I had awoken. I groaned, feeling the pounding sensations of a hangover in my skull.

"Great game last night, huh Gig? That was too much fun." She stated, and her voice made my head pound even harder. Mexican wine my ass. That was Mexican hard liquor. I pulled out some sort of medicine out of my bag, and swallowed two, hoping it would calm the aching. My eyes wandered back to the sleeping boys, remembering both of their actions earlier in the morning. I was glad Wesley had reconsidered; Spencer would be thrilled, although we now had to get Wesley to admit his true feelings, which would be a completely different chapter.

I shrugged it away. It wasn't my life, and Wesley could fend for himself. But, had I been him, I would have already said something to Spencer, because I'd hate to see his temper, and Spencer wasn't going to hold out long.