October 2007
500 words
Written for the Giles/Xander Fest's Dabble-a-Day prompts @ gilesxander. This fic was built using two prompts:
#1: "Oh baby know how you feel? / you feel like my favourite underwear / and I'm slipping you on again tonight"
#5: "the only courage that matters is the one that gets you from one moment to the next."
* * *
I'm slipping you on again tonight
Xander tries to date other people, other men even, because Giles wants him to. It isn't the same. There isn't that level of comfort, of understanding, of rightness that he gets, those nights, when he just can't hold off any longer. On those nights, he slips into Giles' bedroom, under Giles' sheets, touching, craving, comforting in the only way that matters.
But in the morning, it's always the same: "too old," "not good enough," "better, newer models". Xander still hasn't found the exact words to explain, the right touches to make Giles understand that he doesn't want someone younger, prettier, dumber, because Giles is the one he wants, the only one that matters.
Mostly though, Xander thinks, from the looks, the avoidance, the whole pushing away thing, that this is what Giles wants: a night here and a night there, anything more is annoyance.
And so Xander lets it happen. He tries to date other people, other men even, because Giles tells him to. Then, on some nights, when he can't stand it anymore, he slips into Giles' bedroom, again, under Giles' sheets, again, touching, craving, and comforting.
And he remembers every moment, every word, because it's all that matters.
From one moment to the next
Xander tries not to panic. He goes through another date gone wrong, another night of craving Giles' touch, Giles' warmth, and now it's the morning after. Things need to change, this morning, at this very moment.
Xander has to say something, shut Giles up before he rattles on the same excuses again -- "too old," "not good enough," "newer, better models" -- he needs to pin Giles down before he moves out of bed.
What comes out is this: "I love you."
Simple, concise, Xander's feelings in a nutshell -- and absolutely not what he'd planned to say at all.
"Xander..."
He doesn't like the look Giles is giving him so he looks at the bedspread instead. It has an intricate pattern, kind of like the patchwork blankets Xander's grandmother kept in the hallway cupboard when he was a kid. He takes a deep breath: "Just hear me out."
Though now that Giles is actually paying attention to him, Xander can't find the words. He can't say what's on his mind at all.
"Xander..." Same tone, and a glance up confirms what Xander guessed: the word comes with the exact same look too.
"You're going to try to rationalize this," Xander finally says, "but there's nothing you can say that's going to make me not feel this. I tried, you've seen me try, I did what you told me to do, but Giles..." He sighs and reaches for Giles' hand, twining their fingers together.
He's never thought of himself as particularly brave, but for some reason this feels like the bravest thing he's ever done. They don't do casual touches, they never have, even before they had this, whatever it is between them.
Maybe that's where it's gone wrong.
Giles doesn't take his hand away. He tightens his hold instead.