"A bit of both," Wesley said, "although to be perfectly truthful it was more the latter. But the important part of the story, you see, is that there was a tree that I was afraid to climb. It was the biggest one on our property -- the biggest for miles in any direction -- and I spent all summer trying to get up the courage to try it."
Wesley's eyes were open now, his fingers plucking at the pillowcase on Spike's pillow, just playing with the fabric idly. "I fell out and broke my arm," he said. "Of course, that was the beginning of the following summer, so I spent what felt like most of it with a cast from wrist to elbow, inside reading books."
His gaze flickering to Spike's for an instant, Wesley shrugged a bit. "Well, given that it meant my parents had easy access to me at all times, I'd have preferred to be outside."
"Could've always read outside, though that might've endangered your precious books," Spike said lightly, but he slid his hand up the bed to touch his fingers to Wesley's as they toyed with the edge of the pillowcase. "So you broke your arm and were stuck inside with your parents. Did I miss the happy part of this memory?"
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