Title: My Kingdom for a White Christmas (with you)
Author: soft_princess
Website: Fly With Me
Date: May 17, 2008
Word count: 7,200
 
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters, I'm merely playing in his sandbox.
Setting: Post-Chosen.
Summary: Xander wasn't avoiding Giles, he just... didn't want to see him. Or think about him. That wasn't avoiding, that was... something that wasn't the same thing at all.
 
Notes: written for mireille719 in the Giles/Xander ficathon @ gilesxander. Her request was: "They were together. Then they weren't. Now... maybe? Who knows?" Post-Chosen with a happy (though not necessarily pure fluff) ending, and Giles' glasses.

Thanks to lostgirlslair for the swift beta.

Additional notes: I could write a long explanation of why I'm late, and how damn guilty it makes me feel, but I'm going to spare you the details of my mental health. I meant to have this ready on time, but that, obviously, didn't happen. I'm sorry.
 
       
 
"Are you coming for Christmas this year?" Willow's question was punctuated by an excited "You have to be here!" from Dawn.
 
Xander shook his head and sighed, wishing the answer was something other than "no." He hadn't seen Buffy, Dawn and Willow since the summer (Andrew he'd seen last month when he'd come for a whirlwind visit to Madagascar) and Xander missed them, but there was no way he was going to England in the next couple of days.
 
"Xander, come on!" Dawn whined into the phone. "We're going to be there tonight, you have to come."
 
"What she said, apart from the bit where I'm already here," Willow added. "You need to come. It's not like Giles won't give you the time off. You know he will; he said so."
 
Conference calls sucked more than--other things that sucked a lot, like the time the air conditioner had broken down on the hottest day in Madagascar. "I've got a lot of work here, girls, I can't just leave like you can." He knew that excuse wasn't going to fly; he'd tried it once before. He could (maybe) have taken the girls one on one, but two of them in a conference call? Not a chance.
 
"Yes, you can," Dawn countered. "Vi and Rona do more paperwork than you do, and they have experience with patrols and training, too. Come on."
 
She had a point, but Xander stood his ground. He wasn't going to England for Christmas. Snow be damned.
 
"We could do like we did this summer," Dawn tried. "Sure there won't be any snow, but they do celebrate Christmas on that island of yours, don't they? It wouldn't be all that different from California. Just a little bit more exotic."
 
"But Giles won't go," Willow argued back. "You know he doesn't like to leave the Council unattended for more than a couple days."
 
Xander knew better, but the excuse Giles had used on the girls last summer had worked and Xander was sure he'd try it again. It was a damn good excuse too--less flimsy than the one Xander had. "Look, you should go to England, spend a white Christmas there with--each other, and come visit me over spring break."
 
Willow's voice turned speculative. "You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you're avoiding Giles."
 
Xander cringed and looked at his empty apartment (a shack, really). He needed an excuse, but there wasn't anything here except... empty bottles of water near the sink, second hand furniture, and a complete lack of anything personal. Except for a pair of boxers on the floor near the bathroom. He should pick that up. "I'm sorry girls, something's come up, and I have to go." He could hear them both protest, but he hung up quickly, before he could be swayed by the guilt.
 
He left the cordless phone on the coffee table, threw the boxers on the pile of dirty laundry in the corner, and collapsed on his bed--there wasn't much furniture to collapse on in this place--with a sigh and a curse for inquisitive best friends. Okay, maybe Andrew handled all of Xander's assignment (and had for a year), and maybe Xander was making flimsy excuses to avoid obligatory trips to England, and maybe he hadn't actually talked directly to Giles since November of the year before, but that didn't mean he was avoiding him.
 
It just meant Xander didn't want to see him... or talk to him, or spend any time at all thinking about him.
 
The phone rang again. Xander had the sudden urge to pick it up and throw it through the open window, then he pondered just ignoring it until it stopped ringing, but the responsible part of his brain took over, and he looked at the number display. Buffy. There was a fifty percent chance that Willow and Dawn had called her and asked for reinforcement. There was also a fifty percent chance that this was important work related stuff. Xander really hated being a responsible adult.
 
"Hey, Buffy, long time no talk."
 
"What's that I'm hearing about avoiding Christmas again?"
 
So it was on the "bad" side of those fifty percents then. He was so not going to buy those girls presents this year. No way. "Buffy, look, I have--"
 
"I know why you're avoiding Giles," she said, interrupting him.
 
"Wha--" She couldn't know. Nuh uh, no way. And, and, that didn't matter, because he wasn't avoiding Giles, he was... something that wasn't avoiding at all.
 
"It's been a year, get over it."
 
She couldn't know that. She couldn't know anything. Xander tried to say something, opened his mouth and... nothing.
 
"You're on the nine o'clock flight tomorrow morning. Straight up to London. You better be on it, because I'll be waiting for you at Heathrow, and if you stand me up there's gonna be hell to pay, mister."
 
"Buffy--"
 
"Don't forget our presents!"
 
"Wait!" But it was too late, Buffy had already hung up. Xander tried to dial back, but it went straight to voice mail. He could stand her up, he pondered. He could just stay here, in his tiny one room apartment, and never make it to the airport. Andrew was a totally bribable ally (at least, he'd been last year), and Xander could get him to tell the girls he was hung up in work stuff--demon invasion or something.
 
That, though, that would be a lot more trouble than it was worth. The girls would probably see right through it anyway, especially if Buffy really knew what she thought she knew.
 
Xander sighed, took his smaller suitcase out of the closet--talk about irony--and started to pack.
 

 
Xander grabbed his carry-on bag from the overhead bin and followed the other passengers off the plane towards Customs. Lucky for him, it was late in the afternoon, and peak hour had just passed. Twenty minutes later, he was walking into the baggage claim area. He looked around for Buffy, but stopped when he noticed someone else he recognized.
 
Giles hadn't changed. Granted, it had only been a year, but... a lot of things could happen in a year; Xander was different. Giles only had a little more pepper coloured hair. And--Xander added mentally when Giles turned around to face him--a few wrinkles extra. "Hey."
 
"Xander, I... I wasn't expecting you." Giles' smile was painful, going straight to Xander's heart and twisting it. Hard. It wasn't a happy smile.
 
"I expected my welcome wagon to be a lot shorter and blond, myself." A part of him wanted to drop his suitcase and wrap both arms around Giles and-- but that was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
 
"Yes, this welcome wagon of yours told me I was the only one available to greet a new slayer. How she managed to draw Andrew in on her conspiracy, I've no idea. Shall we?" Giles didn't really need to lead Xander out of the airport, but he took the lead anyway, head bowed and hands stiff to his sides.
 
He was angry, Xander could tell. Not at him, that much was obvious, but Xander guessed at Buffy and Andrew, and their stupid scheming. If Xander wasn't so surprised to see Giles, and very tired from the flight, he'd probably be angry too. Giles' car was different. Xander thought he remembered Andrew mentioning a slayer-related incident a few months back, but it still took him by surprise.
 
They'd had sex in the old car.
 
Maybe it was better this way. Xander shook his head to clear his thoughts, and put his suitcase on the backseat. It wasn't snowing, but the clouds were thickening, and Giles mentioned a storm warning for later that evening when they were on the freeway somewhere between Heathrow and London. "Andrew got my email?"
 
"Ah, yes, he did mention that his spare room was ready for you."
 
"Good," Xander said.
 
They drove in silence for another little while, then Giles said: "Buffy had told me you were only coming in tomorrow--"
 
"She told you wrong."
 
"Obviously, my point is that I've no idea what she has planned for tonight. Would you rather I drop you off at Andrew's flat?"
 
"And risk getting my head chewed off for avoiding them? No thanks." Xander snickered then gave a quiet sigh. Going to Giles' place was the last thing he wanted, but there was no way Buffy and the others would let him get away with not showing up until Christmas Eve dinner. To get there with Giles, though, that was--a lot like all those other times Giles would pick him up from the airport and take him home. Which wasn't home anymore.
 
This time, Giles wouldn't tell him to leave his suitcase in the car, "we'll get it later." There wouldn't be the same hurried walk through the long corridor to the bedroom, unable to keep their hands off each other already. Giles wouldn't get up in the aftermath to make tea or coffee for them both. They wouldn't order Thai or Chinese or pizza and eat it in bed. They wouldn't...
 
A whole year, and Xander was still like... like... like this, his chest tight and his head throbbing with the need to think about something else, anything, but he wasn't able to. In Africa, it had never been this bad, even at the beginning. Xander had things to do, Slayers to train, demons to kill. He had friends--granted, most of them were slayers--who made sure he never really had time to think... but here, with Giles, it was exactly like being back in time, and Giles had just told him...
 
"Would you like to stop for something to eat on the way?" Giles asked. The words were awkward, like Giles wasn't sure exactly how to ask, what words to use.
 
Xander shook his head. "No, thanks."
 
Giles let out a nervous sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't have his glasses on--it was contacts when he went to meet people, glasses to read--which meant he'd left them on the bedside table, on the left side, in their black and blue case, with the top still open, gathering dust. "I'm sorry that Buffy put us in this position," he said a little while later. "I should have known she had--"
 
"Buffy's good, don't blame yourself," Xander replied, eye kept firmly on the passing road. "Does she know?"
 
"I'm sorry?"
 
"She said, on the phone, she said she knew why I wasn't going to come for Christmas," Xander explained. "How did she find out?"
 
"Not from anything I've said," Giles answered. "I assure you I've not said a word about... about us."
 
Xander let out a sigh of relief. "Then she can't know as much as she thinks she does."
 
"Would it be so bad if she knew at all?" Giles asked back. He signalled and changed lanes, heading for the next exit.
 
"What do you think?" Xander was glad Giles took that as the rhetorical question he'd meant it to be, and burrowed himself deeper in his seat. The lights were on in the living room when Giles parked the car in front of the house. The lights were on, and there were two cars in the drive--a rental one and another Xander recognized as Andrew's--and as soon as Giles parked the car, the door opened and Dawn appeared, waving at them with her breath steaming the air.
 
"For what it's worth," Giles said, his voice soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry."
 
Xander shrugged. "Not your fault." But that wasn't what Giles was saying, he wasn't apologizing for Buffy again, he was… but it was too late, way too late for this.
 
"No, I didn't mean--"
 
"I know what you meant," Xander interrupted him. "Just... stop apologizing." He got out of the car, grabbed his suitcase from the backseat, and walked resolutely up the stairs to give Dawn a hug.
 
He didn't even glance at the snow, or the steps, at the familiarity of the decor as he walked. The anger was familiar too, better than the ache and the despair he'd felt the first few days after he'd left. As long as he felt angry at Giles for... a really large number of stupid things, Xander could pretend that he was okay, that they were okay, that this Christmas visit was anything but the torture it really was.
 
Dawn launched herself at him the moment he was within reach, Buffy and Willow hovering right behind her. They were talking, all at once, and Xander could barely make out words through all the excitement.
 
"Did you like my surprise?" Buffy whispered when he was holding her. "Thought you two might want to talk."
 
"No," Xander said tightly, forcing himself to remember that this was not the time for a confrontation. He didn't need to tell her just how bad an idea it had been. "But it's Christmas, so I forgive you."
 
"Just glad you're here," she finally said, after a second of silence.
 
Giles was nowhere to be seen, and Andrew was hovering in the doorway as if waiting for his turn. Xander grinned, the first genuine grin he'd had in months, and said, "Yeah, me too."
 

After the first few exciting minutes, the rest of the evening turned out to be an exercise in torture.

Giles spent a good part of it in the kitchen, supposedly "cleaning," and Xander sat there on the couch--a couch with too many memories attached; he'd made out with Giles on this couch, the first and the last time and many times in between; he'd had sex on this couch --listening to Dawn talk about school and cute Italian boys, Willow talk about Kennedy and magic, and Buffy talk about... something. He lost track.

Xander was staring into space when Andrew tugged on his arm and nodded to the girls, all in various stages of falling asleep. "Well, okay, then," he said, loudly enough that all three of them startled awake. "I think it's time for the ladies to go to bed, and us men will go do the same."

"Why are you staying at Andrew's anyway?" Dawn asked, looking about four years younger than she was as she groggily rubbed sleep from her eyes. "It's not like this house is lacking in guest rooms."

"Andrew's my pal, aren't you Andy?" Xander replied, hooking an arm over Andrew's shoulder who beamed at him proudly.
 
"Yes, yes, Xander and I have a lot of things--"
 
Xander interrupted him before he started babbling the girls to sleep again. "This way you girls can have the whole place to yourselves without us guys cramping your style."

"Well, Giles' still here," Dawn protested lamely.

Xander opened his mouth to reply, but Buffy beat him to it. "Giles doesn't count."

"And why would that be?" Giles was hovering in the doorway, dishtowel in hand and eyebrow raised.

"Right, that's our cue to go, now," Xander said. He grabbed Andrew's elbow, and pulled him up.

"You guys'll be here tomorrow at four pm sharp," Buffy said more than asked, standing up too and grabbing the blanket she'd been wrapped under. "Unless you want to come by earlier."
 
"Nah, that's perfect," Xander replied. "We can even be here later, if you girls need more time to get ready."

"And what? Not pull your own weight? No way, mister." Willow poked Xander's arm, and he flinched with an exaggerated "ow". "You and Andrew will be here at four and help with dinner and decorating. You owe us for missing last year's party."

Yeah, he did. He owed them a better explanation than the excuse he gave them at the time, but he was nowhere near ready to tell them the truth--not like he could anyway. "Yeah, okay. We'll be there."

Xander sneaked off around ten in the morning to do some last minute shopping--he'd brought Willow's and Dawn's presents from Africa, but he still had nothing for Buffy, and he figured he should probably get Andrew a little something too... after all, they were getting along. Sort of. At least, when Andrew wasn't talking Xander's ear off about the latest seasons of Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica.
 
Xander didn't need to watch either now; he knew all that was worth knowing, and then some.
 
But still, presents. He spent a good part of the day going from store to store, and finally found what he thought were satisfactory presents. He bought gift bags to save himself the gift wrapping part, and got back to Andrew's just in time to be told they were going to be late if they didn't leave "five minutes ago!"
 
"There you are," Buffy said when they opened Giles' front door ten minutes later and walked in. "Come on, you can help Giles in the kitchen." She grabbed Xander's arm, barely giving him time to take off his boots and coat and put down the present-filled bag he was carrying. "Andrew, Willow's in the living room with the decorations! You can bring the presents to her." she called back over her shoulder.

"Buffy, shouldn't I be doing that? Andrew's the kitchen whiz," Xander tried, pulling in the opposite direction.

"Oh no, you're not cooking," she said. "You're getting the table set up."

As soon as he saw the dining room, Xander stopped thinking about how bad the idea of him and Giles working together was, and started thinking up ways to make it into the liquor cabinet unseen. This wasn't just a bad idea, this was going to be disaster. Buffy left him in the doorway and went... somewhere. Probably in search of more things to torture them all with. "Oh. My. God," he finally said, staring at the table. "What the hell was she thinking?"

"Overdoing it, as always," Giles replied, leaning against the far wall with a cup of tea in his hand. "Tea?"
 
Xander went to say "no," then stopped himself and said instead, "If it's spiked, yes, I'll need it. Otherwise, I'm just gonna go raid your liquor cabinet." Drinking didn't solve any problem--and Xander knew that very well for having been there--but it sure would help dilute the horror of Buffy "overdoing" Christmas.
 
Xander didn't think he could handle the living room.

"Here, try this." Giles handed Xander his cup, and went behind the counter into the kitchen area to grab another cup.

Xander took a sip and grimaced. Strong, spicy, alcoholic--
 
And it was Giles' tea.
 
With a shake of his head, Xander put down the cup on the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining room, as innocuously as he could manage, and surveyed the damage. Piles of plates and bowls, cups and glasses, even silverware, all decorated with Holidays patterns in bright colours. There was even a tablecloth and napkins. "She couldn't get paper plates either, could she?"

"That would have been too easy, I suppose," Giles said. "No dishes to torture us with later."

Ah. Torture. "That's a good one." Buffy was definitely on with the torturing this year. Xander was starting to wish he'd decided to stay in Madagascar instead. He breathed deep, letting the air fill up his lungs and exhaled slowly. "I guess we should get on with it," he said. It couldn't be that bad. Porcelain kitchenware to clean and... Giles was looking at him with his eyebrow raised.
 
Xander gulped. "What?" Giles plus eyebrow plus staring--bad combination. It always did things to Xander's head.

"Her instructions were very clear. I'm to keep an eye on this--" Giles waved at the stove, which was taken up by three steaming pots. "--and you're to take care of the table setup."

"And that's fair, how?"

"I've no idea."

Xander took a deep breath. There was no way Buffy was going to let him help elsewhere. "Okay, I guess if you keep to your side of the kitchen, and I keep to mine, we won't step on each other's toes."

"We wouldn't want that, now, would we?" Giles bit back, turning around to face the stove again.

Xander glared at his back. "What's your problem?"

"I suppose I should ask what's yours, since you seemed fine a moment ago, and all of a sudden, it's back to keeping your distance."

"It's always about keeping my distance; you wanted it that way, remember?" Xander made sure to keep his voice low. He wanted to shout, but there was no better way to alert everyone that something interesting was taking place. And this wasn't interesting at all. "You're the one who asked me to go. So I went. I wasn't going to come back here, but I have meddlesome friends who think they know better."

"It's been a year, Xander," Giles replied. "Perhaps…"

"What? I need to get over it? Well, guess what, so do you." He really hated the way Giles said his name.
 
"I was going to say we should talk, but I suppose you won't listen to a word I say--"
 
"Got that right," Xander cut in. "Anyway, a year, two, doesn't change anything." Xander picked up the first pile of Santa Claus dishes and brought them to the sink. He spent the next hour peeling off price tags and washing and drying, and cursing Buffy and her tendencies to overdo any holiday she decided to celebrate.
 
And cursing the day he decided that kissing Giles was worth the risk.
 
It really, really hadn't been.

There was enough Holiday cheer between Buffy, Willow, Dawn and Andrew that no one seemed to notice that Xander and Giles only talked when prodded into it, and spent more time looking at their plates than anywhere else. His own laugh sounded fake in Xander's ears, but by the time dinner was done, a little of the cheer had rubbed off on him.
 
Presents, movies, snacks, and five hours later, the living room was littered with gift wrapping paper, half empty bowls of popcorn, chips, and dips, and empty drinks. Xander looked up from his third beer--and there'd been a scotch in there somewhere, too--and the movie credits to find that Buffy and Dawn had fallen asleep on the couch huddled under one of Giles' afghans; Andrew was passed out in the sofa chair, and Willow on the floor.
 
"Well, I guess I'm gonna have to clean on my own then," Xander muttered, picking up the remote from the coffee table and turning off the TV.
 
"I can help," Giles said.

Xander startled. He hadn't noticed that Giles was still there, sitting quietly in a chair further away from where Xander was. "Nah, I got it," he said. Standing up and shaking his head to fight off the sudden dizziness, he headed into the kitchen for a garbage bag.
 
Giles followed him. "Xander, let me help." He reached into the cupboard at the same time as Xander, and their arms brushed.
 
Xander took a step back and turned away. "Okay then," he said, ignoring the tingling of his skin. His head spun again, and he rubbed his neck. "You get those, and I'll get the dishes."
 
"Xander..."
 
"What?" Xander snapped. Maybe he'd drunk just a little too much.
 
"I know this is hard for you--"
 
"No, no," Xander interrupted. "I'm fine. I'm dandy. Tonight was fun when I forgot you were even there." The living room had looked absolutely nothing like it usually did, what with so many bodies and snacks and other things lying around, and Xander had sat in a chair he wasn't used to, and Giles... hadn't said a word the whole night. It had been very close to being a perfect Christmas party.
 
"Xander, I--"
 
"If you're going to say you're sorry one more time..." Xander grabbed a towel and walked into the hallway.
 
"Xander, please." Giles grabbed his arm before Xander could enter the living room.
 
Xander looked at the hand on his skin, and then up at Giles. There was something there, in Giles' eyes, a kind of desperation that Xander had never seen before. He looked tired, worried, exhausted and sad all at once, and Xander reached out with his free hand to cup Giles' cheek. He barely had time to spare a thought to how damn stupid this was, before Giles' mouth was on his and Xander stumbled back, just a couple of steps until his back hit the wall.
 
"Fuck," he groaned, grabbing Giles' shoulders and pulling him closer. There was no way this was going to end well. No way at all, but holy hot damn, Xander had missed this. Missed the way Giles' hands felt on his body, burning hot and strong through layers of clothing, the way just the touch of Giles' lips on his was enough to have Xander ready in seconds.
 
He should have pushed Giles away, he knew that as soon as they collapsed on Giles' bed, scrambling at their clothes, not even bothering to make sure the door was locked, but the alcohol was doing its job, and Xander didn't care. He wanted this. He deserved this. Bad ideas be damned.
 
In the aftermath, Giles, an arm thrown over Xander's torso, whispered "I'm sorry" over and over against Xander's skin, but Xander was too tipsy, tired and satisfied to tell him to stop.
 

Xander scrambled for his clothes, putting them on hastily while trying not to wake Giles up. It was barely morning, and the storm clouds from the night before were still hanging overhead when Xander stepped outside into the cold air. He zipped up his jacket, and leaned against the banister.
 
This shouldn't have happened. That was very clear in Xander's head. Sleeping with his ex-boyfriend, who happened to be his boss and who used to be a friend... definitely not a good plan. But dammit, it had been--just about as mind-blowing as it used to be. Angry, which was not something Xander was used to, but hot, so damn hot. And Giles was...
 
Giles was the best lover Xander had ever had.
 
The door opened behind him, startling him. He turned around and watched as Giles walked out with a cup of tea in hand. "I wasn't sure you'd want one, but there's more in the kitchen if you do," he told Xander.
 
"No, thanks. Not right now, anyway," Xander said. Giles gave him a nod, and leaned on the opposite side of the porch.
 
"I'm so--"
 
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Xander muttered, rolling his eye. "Stop apologizing for everything. Last night was... it wasn't your fault or mine, it was... What was it anyway? A one-night stand? A thing we're not going to talk about?"
 
Giles sipped at his tea and sighed. "I don't know, Xander. What do you want it to be?"
 
Xander's fingers on the wood tightened in frustration. "You're the one who broke up with me. I'm asking you."
 
"I'm not young enough to play games."
 
"You think this is a game?" Xander snapped. "It's not. I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck you want from me." Then he added, "Wait. Is that why you broke up with me? Because you're old?"
 
"Xander, I--" Giles' tone had a hint of annoyance.
 
"No. No, no, no. I thought we had that conversation before. A million times, even. Read my lips," he said, staring straight into Giles' eyes. "I. Don't. Care."
 
"I'm aware of that," Giles replied.
 
"Then what--"
 
"I wanted something you couldn't give me, Xander. I wasn't going to ask you to give up--" He sighed. "Not for me."
 
"Give up what? My job, my life, what, Giles?"
 
"I didn't want to be selfish. You weren't ready and I wasn't going to force you to make a choice," Giles said, resigned.
 
"So you made it for me," Xander countered. "Great logic there, Giles, really amazing. You deserve an F for absolutely made of fail!" He pushed away from the railing and rubbed his forehead. It was way too early for a fight, too early to think, but Giles stopped him with a hand on Xander's arm before he could make it to the front door.
 
"I hadn't seen it that way at the time, but I admit it wasn't one of my brightest moments," Giles said softly.
 
"You don't say," Xander replied. "I wasn't ready for what, anyway? I was twenty-two, Giles, when we--our thing started. Twenty-two and just figuring out that maybe the reason sex with girls wasn't extraordinary was because, well, they were girls, and it wasn't because of me--well, okay, technically it was all me, since I was so far up denial's ass I--anyway, the point is, I was gay, and you..." He shrugged off Giles' hand, and went back to the railing, staring out into the snow. "You were there. You were so fucking patient with me--and no, maybe at the beginning I wasn't ready to tell people "I am gay, and hey, guess what, I'm having the hottest sex of my life with Giles," but we were together for a year, and I got over it."
 
"I'm..."
 
"Goddammit, Giles, if you try to apologize to me one more time..." Xander muttered. "And stop interrupting me, I'm not finished." Giles looked down at the dusting of snow on the porch, and said nothing, so Xander continued. "I was ready to come out. I was even ready to move in with you. But you broke it up for no valid reason. You didn't ask me, Giles, you just didn't ask. You said "we should go our separate ways" and I did."
 
Xander kicked at the snow and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He waited for Giles to say anything, but it was clear he'd taken Xander's warning seriously, because he didn't even mutter a "sorry." "I was going to tell you, on Christmas day. Pathetic, right? But it was just one more month away and it was kinda romantic--and I can be that when I try. I was planning how to tell the girls; I was leaning towards snogging you under the mistletoe." He had a small, self-mocking chuckle, and shook his head.

"But," Giles argued. He had his arms crossed now, and Xander could see from where he was standing that Giles was shivering. "What about Africa?"

"I love Africa, but I don't love it that much. If I had to choose--it was you. It was always you."

"I didn't want you to--"

"--have to choose, I know," Xander interrupted him. He was starting to be annoyed with all the repeating he was doing, but maybe that was what he needed to do to get through Giles' thick skull. "That's what life is, you know, choices. Compromise. Can't always have what you want, kinda thing. We have competent people who can handle Africa. Rona and Vi, they're already filling up most of the paperwork for me, and they were then, too. I was spending so much of my time with you, they kinda had to. And they're better at handling the girls than I am." He smiled and added, before Giles could protest, "And note that I didn't say I suck at it, just that they're better."

"Xander, I--"

"Giles," Xander warned him again.

"No apologies," Giles assured him. "I admit that I was feeling selfish. You're--let's face it--much younger than I am, and I knew that you'd find someone your age someday, and for me to want you to stay here with me felt... perhaps as if I'd be holding you back."

"It's a really stupid logic. I'm in lo--I like you. I don't want a younger model. I get why you'd think that, but it's still stupid logic."

"I was your first, Xander," Giles said with a sigh. "You've no way of knowing--"

"Why does everything have to be about sex?" Xander muttered between his teeth. "Come on, I get that we're both guys, but--Also, no way. You weren't my first."

Giles just looked at him with eyebrows raised and Xander rolled his eyes. "Well, okay, maybe no one put their cock up my ass before you did, but I wasn't a virgin. I'd had sex before, and you weren't my first."

"The fact remains that whether or not you like to think about it, I am older than you are by quite a fair margin," Giles said again.

"I don't care, what do I have to do to get you to believe that?" Xander snapped. "Seriously, God, you're more stubborn than a freaking mule." He grabbed Giles' arms and looked straight into his eyes. "I don't care."

"Well, it matters to me, Xander," Giles murmured with a hint of sadness in his words.

"It shouldn't."

"But it does. I'm growing older and getting closer to sixty far faster than I'd like. You're not yet thirty."

Xander rolled his eye, and cupped Giles' cheek. "So this is some kind of mid-life crisis? But instead of basking in the fact that a hot man half your age thinks you're hot and wants you, you're doing the opposite and... I don't get you, Giles, I really don't."

"I only wanted you to have the freedom to..."

"As opposed to what?" Xander interrupted him. "Being your live-in boyfriend? Guess what," he said, a little louder than he'd liked. He brought his voice down. "That wouldn't suck!" He licked his lips and continued. "You know what I think? I think you're the one with the commitment issues."

Giles stared at him hard and long, but Xander didn't bulge. "Seriously," Xander said, "the moment you want me to yourself, you balk. I call that issues. And just because I made one mistake in my life doesn't mean I'm not ready to commit. I didn't marry Anya because I knew it was the absolute wrong thing to do--I didn't know why, but I still knew. And also? Moving in? Not such a big deal. Not after I'd practically been living here anyway."

"I know apologies aren't well received with you, but I am sorry, Xander. I meant well."

"I know. That's the problem," Xander replied. He stepped closer and let his fingers drift down Giles' jaw, feeling the angles, the stubble, feeling them make his skin tingle. He looked up and frowned. "Is that mistletoe?"

Giles followed his gaze. "Oh, damn her," he said.

"Hey," Xander said as he shrugged. "It's tradition. Who are we to argue?"

"I agree," Giles replied.

The kiss was tentative, nothing of the anger and desperation of the night before. Giles' lips were warm against Xander's, chapped and strong, and with just a little hint of hesitation. Xander curled his hand on the back of Giles' neck--
 
"Oh my God."
 
Xander took a step back, and stumbled, letting go of Giles. "Buffy--"
 
"Buffy," Giles said when Xander stopped.
 
"Yes, that's my name," she replied. "Buffy, that's me. What were you guys doing? Because from where I stand it looked a lot like--oh my God, I can't believe this."
 
"We were, in fact, doing exactly what you've asked of us."

Xander cursed Giles' ability to stay cool under pressure, and awkwardly leaned back against one of the pillars. "Yeah, exactly. You said we needed to get over it, we were working on that."
 
"Oh my God." She closed the door and leaned against it. She wasn't wearing a coat, but she didn't seem worried about the cold at all. At least not yet.
 
Xander shivered and tucked his hands in his coat pockets. "I'm not sure, but I think you said that already," he said, and gave her a small, nervous smile when she turned to glare.
 
"Well, excuse me for being a little bit shocked. It's not every day you find out your best friend's snogging your Watcher behind your back." She poked his arm with her finger hard enough to bruise, and turned her glare to Giles.
 
"Ow," Xander muttered.
 
"Buffy, we--" Giles shook his head; he looked just as lost for words as Xander was.
 
"Now I get why you've been avoiding each other. You could have said something, you know," Buffy said to Xander, looking about four inches taller than she was.
 
Xander shrunk back, and replied, "You said you knew."
 
"I thought you'd had a fight," Buffy said more vehemently. "I didn't even know you were gay! Both of you."
 
"Bi," Xander provided. "At least he's bi. I'm gay."
 
"Okay, bi, gay, whatever, the end result's the same, right? I don't care." She crossed her arms, and added, "You're okay now, right? Because that was some definite snogging."
 
Xander pointed up to the mistletoe. Buffy looked up and rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha ha, that's very funny."
 
He shrugged. Buffy looked really put out, not angry, but disappointed, and Xander shook his head. "Look, I'm just--I'm gonna go for a walk, let you guys talk, okay?" He didn't wait for them to answer. He walked down the steps into the undisturbed snow, and up to the street. He heard Buffy say "Xander, wait!" behind him, but he didn't look back. He needed to clear his head.

 
Luckily for him, the coffee place around the corner was open on Christmas day. He would have walked around in the cold to clear his head, if he'd had to, but the cold made that a not so very awesome plan.
 
Xander had sat here, right here at this table, just a little less than two years ago, doing something that was absolutely not sulking. Giles had walked in about an hour later, and he'd put his hand on Xander's shoulder, and--
 
They'd had their first date that night.

And now... Now it was all a mess, and Xander wasn't sure what he wanted, what he needed, what Giles wanted of him. The kiss had been... well it hadn't been an answer to anything. It had only reminded Xander of exactly what Giles touching and kissing him did to his body, to his head.

He was on his second cup of coffee when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn to see who it was, he recognized the touch, the shape of the fingers, the grip. "I should have known you'd find me here."

"It's not the first time that I have," Giles said, sitting down on the chair facing Xander. He put both hands on the table, and linked his fingers together. "I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and looked up into Xander's eye. "I'm an idiot."

"Yeah, you can say that."

"I should have--I should have talked to you, asked you, instead of deciding what was best for us on my own--"

"And totally getting it wrong," Xander felt the need to interrupt. "Cause you did. You got it so fucking wrong."

"I should have asked you." Giles took a deep breath. "Would you move in with me?"
 
"Yeah, that's exactly how you should have asked." It was too late now, wasn't it? Too late to pretend the past year hadn't happened? Xander sighed. "I don't know, Giles," he replied, tired and trying to remember exactly why he'd thought this much coffee was a good idea. "I don't know. I want to say yes, I want to say we can do this, and it won't be a disaster, but I know better. I think... I think maybe we need to take it slow. Start all over again, and I can't believe I'm being the grown-up here."

"You've changed," Giles said, taking up Xander's hand in his. "Not just this year, although you're different from when you left; but Africa's changed you."

Xander turned his hand palm up, watching as it fit perfectly into Giles', and squeezed. "Yeah, I guess." He sighed. "I just really want this to work, but it won't if we rush into it again. We can't just pick up where we--when you--" Xander scratched the back of his neck and pulled on his eyepatch string as he tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. "You broke up with me, Giles, and maybe I want to forgive you, because--because--I get it. But... it's not that easy. It can't be that easy."

He continued: "I still want you. Heck, I still love you, and if there wasn't a pessimistic part of my brain arguing that I'll end up hating myself again, because you can be a moron sometimes, I'd already be moved in by now. But there is, and... Just let me make up my own mind from now on."
 
"Life is choices," Giles repeated.

"Yeah, and I know how to make them, promise. I'm a big boy now." Xander tried a smile, and was rewarded with one from Giles. "I'm going to tell Dawn and Willow, as long as Buffy hasn't told them yet--"
 
"Highly doubtful," Giles interjected.
 
"True, but I can pretend she didn’t. I'll tell them about us, and what happened last year, and then--we'll see okay?"
 
Giles gave Xander a nod, and moved his hand to tangle their fingers together. "Well, if we're to start fresh..." He stood up without letting go of Xander's hand, and pulled him up to his feet. "Would you agree to go to dinner tonight? My treat. I know this lovely Italian restaurant--"
 
Xander smiled, transported back to another cup of coffee, another question very similar to this one, and shook his head. "That sounds great, but you remember the part where it's Christmas today? Giovanni's is not going to be open tonight." Giles got a sullen look on his face, and Xander almost felt bad for raining on his parade. "But there's always tomorrow. And hey, I'm not against putting out before the first date." Not after last night. It was obvious they were still more than compatible in the bedroom, and hey, sex was one thing they'd always been good at; maybe it was a good place to start over.
 
Giles laughed--and wow had Xander missed that--and said, "I think there's perhaps one thing we should be doing first."
 
"And what is that?" Xander asked. Giles' mouth was partly opened, he noticed, just like it always was moments before a kiss. Xander's heart sped up and he wet his lips
 
"This," Giles whispered, cupping Xander's jaw and moving closer.
 
There was nothing awkward or hesitant about this kiss.

Maybe this time it'd be worth it.