October 2006
2,498 words
This is a sequel to Rain and Dreaming of Rain, which were written in March and April of 2004. I've wanted to write a sequel since I put the last words on Dreaming of Rain, and now, three years later, here it is. You should read the other two first, although, bear in mind that they were written before my long bout of Writer's Block.
Thanks to Mireille for the beta and encouragement.
* * *
Xander stared outside at the falling rain. He could hear Giles moving around in the kitchen behind him, but he didn't look back. Giles' flat had a direct view of the valley below, and Xander couldn't remember the rain falling so beautifully before.
They had stayed in bed at the inn for another hour that morning, sleeping and talking about the little things. And kissing. There had been a lot of that. Xander smiled at the memory of Giles' lips on his, so new, and yet so right, like they were made just for him. The ride back to Bath had been interrupted by a quick stop for lunch, and it was still raining when they finally got home. While Giles took care of his bags, Xander had put Giles' raincoat on and stayed outside for a few minutes, but he hadn't been able to stay, the cold autumn air finally pushing him back inside.
"Here," Giles said softly. "You're trembling. This will warm you up."
Xander turned around to find Giles standing just a few feet away, and took the cup from his hands, his shivering hands closing around the warmed china. He turned back to look out the window. "What is it?"
"Tea." Giles settled behind him, just a foot away. Close enough that Xander could feel his warmth; so close, but not touching.
"I don't like tea."
Giles chuckled quietly, the sound barely audible. "I'm aware of that. You'll like this one."
Xander smiled, holding onto the cup with both hands. "Because you made it? Or because it's warm?"
"I'm not quite that self-confident, no," Giles said, and Xander could hear the smile in his voice. It felt nice. "And not only for the warmth either. It's a particular brand of tea that I ordered from Asia a few months back."
Xander brought the cup to his lips and breathed deeply, letting his lungs fill with the scent of the tea. He sighed, releasing his breath slowly. "It smells good." There had been teas in Africa. All different, the odour drifting from the homes and the markets Xander passed in his travels. He never tried any of them, but he remembered the smells.
Africa had smelled different, spicier, dirtier, harsh. Drier, too. Dust everywhere, clinging to Xander's nostrils, making it hard to breathe. The rain would have washed it all away.
It never rained. At least, not where Xander went.
"It's beautiful." Xander knew Giles wouldn't ask what. Giles knew. A hand on Xander's shoulder, and he sighed, leaning into the touch, and bringing the cup to his lips again, this time for a careful sip. "It tastes sweet."
"Yes," Giles whispered into Xander's ear, his arm snaking down around Xander's shoulder and over his chest.
Xander turned slightly to the side, letting his head fall against Giles' shoulder. It didn't matter anymore, the pretences, pretending that he was someone else, someone who didn't need this, didn't need Giles' touch, his strength. Giles didn't care. He just held Xander more tightly, and kissed his forehead. "No one's ever-" Xander's voice wavers on the words. "Ever taken care of me before. Not like you do."
"I know, Xander," Giles said, his hand moving up and down Xander's arm. "I've watched-I'm not quite blind yet."
There was a bit of amusement behind the tone, but there was truth too, underneath the words, a truth Xander should have seen before. "How long-"
"Have I been watching you? Wishing-wishing I could hold you? Touch you?"
Xander looked back at the rain, taking another sip of his tea. He might actually like this one. It was soothing. "Yes." He knew; he didn't really need Giles to tell him. He had known for a while; maybe not a long time, but a while. Sure, he hadn't actually wanted to know until just a few months ago, but-he had known.
"Years," Giles replied.
Xander smiled.
Africa wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Pretty, maybe, if you liked sand, and, you know, the colour brown-or beige, whatever. It was charming, confusing, ancient, warm, yes, Africa was all of those. And Xander had loved the people he'd met, but they, or the warmth didn't make up for the lack of rain.
Or, more importantly, the lack of Giles.
"When the rain stops, do you think there'll be a rainbow?"
"There usually is."
A wistful sigh escaped Xander's lips, and he sipped his tea again. "I haven't seen a rainbow in a long time. I stopped looking for them, years ago."
"If the sun comes out, just as the rain is stopping, a rainbow usually appears right here," Giles said, the fingers of his free hand tracing an arch in the air, along the clouded sky, falling right against the hill.
"It must be beautiful." And suddenly, Xander wanted the rain to stop; he wanted to see what would happen after, when it was gone, when the grass and the soil were wet, and the air held the memory of the rain. Xander didn't want to seek the rain; he didn't want to escape anymore. He had Giles. He took one last sip of his tea, and set it down on the windowsill. Turning around in Giles' arms, a soft smile touched Xander's lips.
He had figured out, yesterday evening, when they pulled at the inn in Alton, that no, he didn't need the rain anymore. But this feeling was different. He didn't need it to hide himself, didn't need it to cry for him, didn't even need its comfort. He had all the comfort he needed, right here, in Giles' arms, and (hopefully) Giles' bed.
He wanted the rainbow. And yes, he was aware of how corny that sounded, considering...
"Perhaps, if it's still light out when the rain stops, I'll walk you to the hill and we can watch for it from there."
"Have you-have you ever hunted a rainbow before?" Xander imagined Giles, a young Giles, running across that same hill, trying to catch the end of the rainbow, but the rainbow always beyond his reach. Xander had never thought about Giles' childhood before; he knew Giles had to have been a kid once, but Xander had never had a reason to wonder what it had been like. But he was now, wondering, and imagining, and wishing... wishing that Giles had happier times than Xander had.
"No," Giles said, his laughter soft in Xander's ear. "I've always been too afraid that leprechauns were real. Father used to tell me that leprechauns would rob you of your most precious possession if you got too close to them."
"What were you afraid to lose?"
"My mother," Giles whispered.
Xander heard the emotion, how Giles' voice wavered underneath it, and he wrapped his arms around Giles' torso, holding him close. Giles really spoke of his family, of his childhood, and Xander couldn't remember ever hearing him say his mother's name.
Giles breathed in deeply, then slowly released it, the air tickling Xander's cheek. "She died when I was seventeen, and leprechauns had nothing to do with it."
Xander held on more tightly. "I didn't-I'm sorry."
"It was a lifetime ago, Xander; it's all right. Things changed, after her death, but fundamentally, they were the same. Perhaps it's time for me to follow the rainbow." And now, Giles was laughing, the smile on his lips bright and reaching his eyes. Xander wondered for a moment if Giles could read his mind.
He turned his head slightly to the side, brushing his lips against Giles'. "I feel the same."
"I'll admit I'm terrified." The smile vanished, and a frown appeared.
Xander found himself comforting Giles, their roles reversed. He kissed his lips and cupped his cheek. "I'd be more worried if you weren't at least a little scared." Everything about this terrified Xander. Oh, he had come to terms with himself, with liking Giles, with kissing him and holding him and wanting him close. Not even a day back from Africa, and Xander was already home. He was already where he wanted to be. No pretences. Not anymore.
But it didn't make this any less scary.
"I have something to show you," he said, pulling away from Giles' warmth. He shivered, arms coming up around himself to try to lock in the heat. Sighing when it didn't work, Xander strode to the couch, picking up his bag from where it sat on the floor. He lifted it onto the coffee table and reached in, digging for his scrapbook. He held it with both hands, close to his chest, fingers digging into the soft cover. Giles hadn't moved from the window, just turned around to watch Xander, keeping silent. Xander looked at him and smiled. No, there was nothing to be scared of. At least, not about this.
Giles wouldn't criticize him. It.
Xander walked back to Giles' side. He handed Giles the scrapbook, hands trembling slightly, but not out of fear. Nervousness, maybe, but not fear. "I-I had a lot of spare time, and a camera. I took-took pictures. It's everything I liked about Africa."
Giles took the book, balancing it on one forearm and opening it with his other hand. "Xander," he said, and there was awe in his voice, and that, for some reason, made Xander shiver. "Those are beautiful." Giles shuffled the pages, his fingers stroking them like they were the most precious things he had ever touched. Xander knew what it felt like to be touched like that. He'd learned just that morning, and looking at Giles now he wanted to be touched again. Wanted those hands on his skin, exploring where they hadn't yet been.
The pictures were of people, at least, most of them were; children smiling and playing, mothers laughing, feeding their babies-
"So gorgeously captured-"
"I-I'm not a photographer."
"You could fool me, I've never seen pictures of this quality from an amateur."
"I just-" Xander licked his lips, watching Giles as he looked at the pictures, looking at each other before turning the page. "I figured, I have just one eye, right? So why not put it to good use. I don't-the lens on the camera, it sees more than I do. The camera makes out details that I can't see. It's-"
Giles looked up, and his eyes were filled with tears, but he wasn't crying. "Xander-"
"I found-I found a way to have full sight again. I don't notice details as much, because I have to compensate on the bigger scale. But the lens picks up the details, better than I can."
Giles cupped his cheek than, interrupting him. The kiss was soft, their lips touching and moving together slowly, until Giles pulled back.
Xander felt his cheeks heat up, and he looked down. "I know-I know it might sound stupid, but-" He shook his head. "Never mind."
"Whatever it is, I'm quite sure it's not 'stupid'." Giles had that 'please tell me' tone that Xander couldn't resist. Not even if he wanted to.
"I was thinking maybe-maybe I could publish this. I've been working on captions, and maybe even a narrative, I don't know. I have them in a notebook, and-do you think someone would like it?" He hated to sound so unsure and nervous. These pictures, the scrapbook, they had been his secret project, his lifeline for two months; for the days that he spent alone, for the long hours while he waited for Giles' weekly phone call.
When he missed the rain, when it made his heart and his body ache with longing to touch and be touched by it, Xander would grab his camera and go for a walk. The children always ran to him, wanting to know what the camera was for, what it did, how it worked. Xander hadn't known much about it either at first, but he'd learned and then he'd showed them. The smiles on their faces had been the best reward Xander could have ever hoped for. It made him ache for something so completely different than anything he'd ever thought he could want.
"I don't know anything about the market for these kinds of books, but it is definitely worth looking into." Giles put the book back down on the windowsill, right besides Xander's teacup.
"It's not finished," Xander said, looking at the scrapbook, and then outside at the rain. "I still have a roll of film in the camera that I need to get processed. It's from yesterday, before our phone call. Er, the day before yesterday."
Giles stood behind him again, more closely than he had earlier at first, his chest touching Xander's back. "We'll find a photo center then, tomorrow," he said, his breath tickling the back of Xander's neck.
The rain was slowing down; the clouds weren't as thick, and Xander leaned back, sighing. "Okay." The silence stretched between them, but not uncomfortably. Xander knew Giles must have things he should be doing, but he didn't move, so Xander stayed right where he was, eyes fixed on the hills and the sky, watching as the clouds started dispersing.
"Can we go?"
"Of course, let me find a warmer raincoat for you."
"Not yet, we still have a few minutes." Xander's words stopped Giles from moving away, and his arms wrapped around Xander. "You're warm."
"Perhaps I should put the heat on?" Giles chuckled, but tightened his arms.
"No, I like when you warm me up. I'm just not used to the cold anymore." And it was only September; it wasn't that cold. "What Africa lacked in the rain department, it made up with heat."
Soft chuckling sounds coming from Giles again, and Xander couldn't remember feeling this content before. "I could get used to this."
"My warmth?"
Xander smiled, turning around in Giles' arms and kissing him softly. "That, and everything else. Being here. Being with you. The-everything."
Giles tightened his arms around Xander, and kissed him again, his tongue slipping out to lick at Xander's lips, before pulling away. "I see what you mean."
There was something in Giles' voice, awe, and wonder, and something else, and Xander hoped, he really hoped, that it was love.