The Giles Thing II
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @ virginqueen.com

Months after his brief and terrifying interlude with eighteen-year-old Ripper, Xander survived graduation and a summer in Oxnard. Now he's back home and he's got Ripper on his mind. Only, it's not Ripper on his mind so much as, well, Giles, the here-and-now edition.
Pretty much set over the top of The Freshman.

The Giles Thing I is back here: (complete on my archive) or (on lj: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). There will be more Giles Things, but they are troubled by cliffhangers, and so I'm not going to post them until they can be posted consecutively. Giles Thing II has no cliffhanger, but a round endy-ending. I'm posting a part a day.

Pairing: Giles/Xander.


Archive at NoOne Knows please, thankyouverymuch Sofy.
If there's anywhere else this should go, archive or listwise, I'd love to know... And I'd love to join. I'm happy for this to be archived anywhere as long as the header, most particularly my e-mail address & website, are kept intact *on* the story. (Intact, please, not as a weird-arse link that will disappear with c+p.)

Or, the complete story can be found at my archive, http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html

Rated R, for porny goodness.
No serious violence, no sexual violence, no underage sex; I only warn that I don't warn for anything else.

Wordcount: 17680 for the five parts.

Everything comes from Joss, and Mutant Enemy. Everything returns to Joss, and Mutant Enemy.

Grovelling thank yous to gloriana & mmmchelle, who all helped to make this considerably better.

Is there anyone who doesn't love feedback? I love all kinds, including critical.



The Giles Thing II 1/5


(Previously, in The Giles Thing I: Just post-'Amends', Xander had his first gay experience with a young hottie who turned out to be time-travelling 18yo Giles, complete with attitude problem. After some wacky car-denting fun and a brief bout of math-room fellatio, Xander dragged Ripper in to meet the rest of the Scoobies, to Ripper's and Giles' mutual horror. Ripper's horror escalated with the realisation that he would one day be saddled with all the responsibility of the genuine Slayer. Giles' horror escalated after he returned his young self to the seventies and realised there'd been some Xander/Ripper mutual attraction. Xander made everything a little more freaksome, by planting his goodbye kiss on Giles.)


Xander nodded in thanks as his mom dealt him a serving of lasagne from the tray. He'd been dreaming of a home-microwave-cooked meal for weeks. Or anything that would cover at least fifty percent of one of the food groups. "You know, I could've moved my own stuff down to the basement." Would have wildly preferred to have done it himself, in fact.

"It was no trouble at all," she replied. At least she looked a little guilty, which proved that she knew that he knew that she'd liked having the excuse to go through his stuff. Which scared him way more than anything hellmouthy.

His dad laughed as he came in. "Afraid we'd find your collection of titty mags?"

"Tony!"

Xander let out the breath that had been lodged in his throat since his parents broke the news of his new sub-ground address. His dad hadn't found his stash. There wouldn't be jokes if he had. He kind of suspected his stuff would probably be on the street, not stacked haphazardly in the middle of the basement. Welcome home, son.

"Quit it, Jessica," his dad retorted from the refrigerator. "He's a man now, and a man needs his space. Beer, son?"

"Uh. Sure."

His mom looked annoyed, but she pursed her lips and forced a smile as his dad cracked open a second beer for himself and sat at the head of the table. She'd cleared all the junk on the kitchen table down to one end in honour of his return, and they were going to have a whole meal here, no TV, no laps. "So, Honey. Tell us about your trip." A conversation, even. She smiled like an interested mother.

"I told you. Nothing to tell. Oxnard, so not the world's best secret tourist destination."

She pointedly filled a glass with water, and placed it between Xander and the beer before bringing her glass of sherry over from the counter. "You must have got up to something. Did you meet any nice girls?"

"I met dishes, Mom. None of them nice."

The conversation lapsed as they ate, his mom working through a few glasses of sherry, his dad a couple of beers. After so long away, wolfing down McDonald's and cold sandwiches in a motel room by himself each night, it felt weird being home, where nothing much had changed.

"Will you be going out to see your friends tonight?" she asked, at last.

"Nah. I've been driving all day. I could sleep to next week."

"There'll be none of that, now." His dad waved his beer. "You've had your fun. Time to start contributing to this household."

"Technically, I had no fun-"

"Don't you back-talk me, boy."

"Sorry." Xander took a long drink from the water glass. Nothing had changed at all.

"We let you finish up through senior year. Your free ride ends now. Starting next Friday, I'll be expecting you to contribute to this house. Rent on this day, every week."

Xander swallowed. He hadn't been expecting that. Obviously he was going to have to get a job, but he hadn't realised it was going to be that urgent. Or half of it already spent. He hadn't even thought about what he was going to do, except not wash dishes.

"You listening?"

"Rent. Yeah. Um, I'm pretty beat, still gotta unpack some stuff before I can crash. Do you mind if I...?"

His dad waved him off, and his mom glanced at his half-cleared plate. "Of course, Alexander. We don't want to keep you if you have more important things to do."

Xander stood, carrying his dishes to the sink. "Thanks for dinner, Mom."

The basement was dim and depressing, and there was something faintly damp beneath the overwhelming scent of Lemon Tide. Xander closed the door behind him - he ought to get a lock for it, so long as he was paying rent - and hurried down to his drawers. Third drawer, a few layers of Babylon 5 and Next Gen comics, looking pretty much undisturbed, and then, thank god, the Other Magazines beneath, bursting with naked girls. The real danger hadn't been his mom seeing these. It had been that his dad might see them, pull them out to borrow them, and find the Other Other Magazines at the bottom of the pile. Hot girl-on-girl action might be proudly added to the collection in the upstairs bathroom, but Unzipped, not so much. Xander had never worried about being caught skipping school, or flunking science, or fighting creatures of the night, but since he slid his first 'blue' under the girl mags his dad gave him for his fourteenth birthday, he'd held his breath every time he came home.

Xander shut the drawer and stood. He really was tired. Post-apocalypse kind of tired. The sort of tired where he'd usually still want to head over to Willow's and be tired at her place, but she wouldn't be there now, and he actually had no idea where to find her room on campus yet.

He'd missed them all summer, but right now he wasn't especially eager to see her or Buffy or Oz. It was going to be weird. It was going to be the first time him and Willow wouldn't be sharing everything, since they used to have baths together as kids. He'd always had that first-tie with Willow. Now it was going to be Buffy and Willow and Oz all together at college, Xander not.

He'd be glad in the morning if he unpacked his laundry now, if he even got so far as making piles for the machine, but just unzipping his bags sounded like too much effort. Much better to flop back on his bed, and stretch his arms over his head until his shoulders creaked.

Ah. Like that. Maybe he'd close his eyes and go right to sleep like this tonight, and worry about putting the sheets on and taking his shoes off and all that complicated stuff tomorrow.

Complicated stuff, like thinking about Giles. And about how much Xander thought about him. Washing dishes made for a lot more not-talking time than Xander was used to, which had led to way more thinking time than Xander was used to, and a whole lot of it had been spent picking apart the second half of last year. Mostly picking apart the talk they had after he kissed Giles, and the goodbye Giles bid him for his road trip. Which wasn't even a talk; it was just the way Giles had looked at him and seemed to hold the handshake too long. Just long enough to put Xander's imagination into overdrive.

Not like his imagination had needed the Acme rocket launcher strapped on. He had a few thousand happy endings in mind that began with coming home to find Giles had spontaneously recovered his memories of Sunnydale visit 1.0, realised Mr Harper's classroom was home to the best blowjob of his life, and had only been holding out until Xander graduated, roadtripped, and came home a man.

Xander should have been obsessed with Ripper, and what they did, and what they could have done, but he wasn't. Or not completely. It wasn't like Ripper had totally dropped out of the late-night-visuals catalogue - there were plenty of pages in there starring Ripper, and the feature fantasy reserved for special occasions was still Giles and Ripper all at once - but more and more, it was Giles that kept showing up naked and horny when he let his brain wander on its own.

The real goal of the road trip was supposed to be San Francisco, though he hadn't told anyone that. Of course he wanted to see everything else too, but top of the list had been going to San Francisco, far from Sunnydale, and... trying it out. Maybe he could meet some guys - who weren't Giles - and sort of experiment a bit. Find out what he liked aside from middle-aged British librarians. He didn't know what he was looking for, except he was sure it would have been easier to figure it out far away from here, and from everyone that knew him, but he ended up in Oxnard, and if there was any gayness in Oxnard then he had definitely been missing the pride flags.

He'd just had dishes, and time to think.

So now he was back, just as full of unenlightenment as when he left. He'd hoped at least to find out how to find out if a guy liked you, so he could come back and find out if Giles did or if that was just something crazy he'd made up in his head. Crazy was the flavour of the month in Xander's brain, because Xander really liked Giles. He'd had sex with Faith, followed by some deeply intimate attempted murder, and he'd expanded his horizons with the scariest prom date in the history of proms, but through all the Ascension research time it was Ripper on his mind, and he always ended up staring over the books, watching Giles frown through various volumes. Thinking about kissing the tension from his mouth. Thinking about going down on him in his office. Thinking about other things, that Xander was somewhat fuzzier on. Xander had become pretty much obsessed with wondering what Giles liked in bed. Or if Giles even liked it in bed, or if he still had that weird thing for cars.

A few times, Giles had caught him staring, but he'd never said anything. Sometimes he got flustered, and once he blushed. Of course, the whole time, a large portion of Xander's good sense was telling him he was nuts to even imagine it. Or want it. It was Giles. Snappish librarian who thought Xander was the Scooby idiot. Like a village idiot, but more specific.

Even if there was vague, theoretical interest, Xander wasn't deluded enough to believe that Giles would ever be actually interested, in the practical relationship sense, in any eighteen-year-old kid (no matter how much Xander's inner voice wanted to insist he was) but he'd realised he'd at least like to be friends with him. Adult friends. So somewhere high on Xander's agenda was seeing Giles, and finding out if things might be different now that he was out of school.

Xander squirmed up and around until his head and feet were pointing in the right directions, which left him just enough energy to toe off his shoes and kick his jacket off the end of the bed. Tomorrow. He'd face all of it tomorrow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He'd unpacked his bags, done all his laundry, rearranged the furniture, made the bed. He'd put it off in every way possible, but his early night had made for an early morning, and everything was done, except to head out to Giles'.

He hadn't been procrastinating, at first. He'd even been kind of eager, to start. It was just early, and there was stuff to do, so he did it while he waited for a reasonable hour to go over. But somewhere between breakfast and trying to decide if he had four loads of laundry or five, he'd started to wonder what he'd say. Giles was going to look up from whatever he was researching, and he'd ask what brought Xander to visit, and what was Xander going to tell him? Giles would ask about the trip, and that was going to be humiliating, but at least it was five minutes pre-planned.

By late afternoon, when he finally got himself to the stairs to Giles' house, Xander's stomach was somersaulting. He needed to just dive in. No more trying to plan out every possible conversation and every possible response Giles could make. That way lay madness. When he reached the front door, he'd think of something intelligent and fascinating yet charmingly casual to say. Something not, "Hey Giles, can I kiss you?" He'd need a couple of moments at the door, maybe just the time it took to raise his hand and knock. Then he could apologise for interrupting Giles' reading, and it would go from there.

Xander jogged down the stairs just to prove he wasn't worried, and almost tripped over his feet when he jerked to a stop on the landing.

There was Giles, sitting at the table in the sunny courtyard, drinking tea with a middle-aged black woman, the pair of them not dressed like you dressed when you were going *out* to visit a friend for tea, so much as how you dressed when you were staying *in*. He had a grey t-shirt on. Xander hadn't thought he even owned t-shirts. She was wearing a man's button-down - a familiar button-down shirt. Right then. Lucky Xander hadn't spent a lot of time testing out pick-up lines.

Giles looked really good. Better than Xander remembered. Sprawled in his chair with his legs stretched out and smiling at whatever she was saying, eyes warm without his glasses.

So what now? Xander considered creeping back up the stairs, but then, he hadn't been planning to bed him anyway. Friends. That was what he was aiming for. Could a friend interrupt a cosy lovers' tea? Maybe he should come back later.

She solved the problem by seeing him. "Hello?"

"Xander!" Giles stood, smile widening and then turning nervous when he glanced between Xander and the woman. "It's good to see you home," he added lamely.

"I'm just checking in. Passing by on my way to find Will and the Buffster. Thought I'd let you know I was back." Because obviously, he wasn't here to tell Giles that he hadn't stopped thinking of him all summer, and he certainly wasn't here to tell him that he hadn't yet decided if it was just misdirected lust aroused by Ripper's talented hands, or something stronger and deeper for Giles himself, but to hell with it, why didn't they just find out? No sirree. Xander was just checking in. On his way past. To see the girls.

Giles shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and turned back to the woman. "Xander's just returned from a grand tour of the United States."

"Really?" She smiled up at him. "Why don't you join us? I'd love to hear about it. I've always wanted to see more of this country." She was English, like Giles. Forty-something like Giles, too.

"Not much to tell. I really should-"

"Stay." Giles sounded like he really meant it, and Xander's feet made the decision for him, carrying him down the last few steps.

The woman offered her hand. "I'm Olivia. Ripper and I go way back."

Xander blinked at the name. "Me too," he replied. "Sort of." There were only two chairs.

"Xander's one of my former students," Giles explained, and then seemed to realise why Xander was still standing around like an idiot. "I'll, uh, just fetch a chair." He headed inside.

"You were popular," she called, loud enough for her voice to follow him. She seemed amused.

Popular? Giles returned with his desk chair under one arm, an extra teacup and saucer in his other hand. Actual teacups for Olivia. She must be special. "Buffy was here earlier," he explained to Xander, as he filled everyone up. "You haven't seen the girls yet?"

"I figured I'd give them a couple of days to settle in."

"To finish moving boxes?"

"Exactly."

Giles shook his head with a smile as sat down and picked up his cup. He looked totally at ease, sitting there in his kind-of-tight t-shirt, drinking tea with Olivia. She must be good for him.

"Tell us about your trip," she asked.

"Really. Nothing to tell." And Xander launched into what was the second of no doubt many more long explanations about just how much there really was nothing to tell, until he could finally move the subject off his own shortcomings. Shortgoings, in this case. "So how was the summer here? Quiet as usual?" He wondered if Olivia had been admitted to the secret club.

"Very quiet." Apparently not. Petty as it was, Xander was glad. As if he had any place being jealous when the idea of him and Giles was so ridiculous.

"Olivia, what are you doing in the land of the free?"

"I have a conference in San Diego."

They talked for a while. Olivia had gone to Oxford with Giles. She was nice, and funny, much as Xander wished she wasn't.

"I should fill the pot." Giles made to stand, but Olivia beat him to it.

"I'll get a fresh pot and more biscuits. I need to duck in anyway." She let her hand slide up Giles' arm to his shoulder as she left, earning a shy smile. They watched her head inside in silence, and then they proceeded not to talk at all.

Xander drank to fill the gap, even though he was remembering he didn't really like tea all that much, and Giles squinted up into the sun, looking relaxed and casual and... like the lines and dips of his throat probably tasted pretty good. This adult-chatting thing was turning out to be less awkward than Xander had expected, but as his total self-consciousness faded, other things got harder to ignore. Like how much he'd been kidding himself that the chatting thing was all he wanted. So much for being realistic.

"She calls you Ripper."

"Hmm?" Giles glanced toward the door. "Oh, yes."

"I thought that name was left behind with your unruly youth." Xander trod carefully. He wasn't sure where the lines were, anymore.

Apparently the ground here was solid, because Giles wasn't bothered at all. "It's what everyone calls me back home. I've always rather loathed Rupert, but it's difficult to ask people to call you Ripper when you're in your forties."

"Even your parents?" Giles must have parents.

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his mouth curved, and Xander swallowed hard. "No. My family call me Rupert."

It wasn't often that Xander got a chance to watch Giles without his glasses on or twisting about in his hands. A new opportunity for comparison to Ripper, and Xander wasn't surprised to find he liked Giles' eyes more with the lines. Maybe a little surprised at how much he wanted to reach over and trace the creases with his fingertips.

Giles sat up and put his teacup on its saucer, turning it to line up neatly, and then running a finger around the rim. "I want to... That is, I hope finding Olivia here hasn't..."

Xander leaned back in his chair, where he could better see the door. It was probably a good idea to get this out of the way, before Olivia came back and it became one of the things they didn't talk about. "No concern required. My little hiccup is entirely behind us. You don't even need to bring it up."

"Oh." Giles sagged. "That's... good to know." He watched Xander, and then glanced over to the door and back. "Olivia is an old friend."

"So I hear."

"No, I mean..." He took a sip of tea, before he looked up. "I mean she won't be staying long."

Xander really had no idea what that meant, or what sort of response Giles expected. Xander had no idea what he was doing himself. Giles was a well-established resident of his forties, a man whose idea of a great night consisted of a cup of tea and a book of ancient prophesies in Sumerian, preferably with footnotes. What on earth would he want with an eighteen year-old who didn't have the attention span to see Frodo out of the Shire?

Sure, so Giles in his juvenile delinquent years dug Xander, but it was tending towards high probability that his tastes had changed along with his fashion sense, morals, hobbies, and the intervening thirty years. On a brighter note, maybe the man Xander would be in thirty years time was exactly the sort of man that Now-Giles might consider commitment-material. And by then, Future-Giles would be around the age when a good catch was anyone with a full set of teeth, and it wouldn't be much of a commitment at all.

Giles was still watching him intently, but then the door to the apartment opened and the moment was broken. Giles' fingers touched the back of Xander's hand. "I'm sorry I'm no longer that person."

Xander's hand tingled where he'd touched it. What was that supposed to mean?

Olivia laid a plate of cookies on the table, sliding into her seat and lifting the teapot to pour another round of drinks. Xander put his fingers over his own cup. "Thanks. But I should be going. Didn't mean to stay this long. I was just checking in."

"Let me walk you down."

"You don't need to-" but Giles was already standing, so Xander said goodbye to Olivia and led the way up the stairs, and then down to the street. He didn't know why Giles had come with him; they weren't saying anything.

Giles followed him all the way to his car, and when Xander opened his door he turned to find Giles right there, breathing distance, hands bracing the door open. "There is an antidote."

"What?" The last time Xander stood this close to Rupert Giles and a car was exactly the last thing Xander should think about while Giles was trapping him up against a car. Giles was not about to push Xander to his knees and unzip here on the street in broad daylight. Or anywhere else in any other circumstance.

"An antidote to the memory spell."

It took way longer than it should have for Xander to realise what memory spell Giles was talking about. When he realised, goose bumps prickled down his arms. "Oh." He knew. Everything. And he was standing this close. Up against the car.

"I've been wondering all summer whether to track down the ingredients. I almost did, a great many times, but it seemed an invasion of your privacy."

Xander swallowed, and tried to move his brain back up. He hadn't taken the antidote. He didn't know. This re-enactment was a coincidence. But he could know. Xander liked the shape of Giles' jaw. "They're your memories."

"It doesn't really seem like they are."

He should have been right. Ripper should have seemed like one of those things Giles begged not to know about, like he did when Buffy and Willow discussed their boy issues in the library. He should have been standing ten feet away, shoving his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat and changing the subject, but Xander didn't want him to. He wanted Giles to have at least brief, distant memories of Xander being - meaning - something more than a useless jokester friend of Buffy's. And standing here, this close, feeling pinned against his car, Giles felt awfully familiar in a very non-Giles way. "They are. Yours."

Giles was watching him, with his patient green eyes, waiting for more. "It's just that I... I'm not sure..." There was a definite flush to his cheeks. "I don't know what I'll find."

"Or if you want to find it?"

With a tiny snort, Giles dropped his gaze. "I used to be good at this."

"I remember."

Giles looked back at him. Giles was about to kiss him. Xander definitely wanted him to.

Giles stepped back. Suddenly he was tweed man again, looking away and reaching up to adjust glasses that weren't there. "Yes. Well. I should be getting back. Olivia will, will be... I, I should get back." That was more like it. Xander hadn't seen Giles this flustered in a long time, not since Miss Calendar.

Since Miss Calendar. Xander sat heavily in his seat. He wanted to just sit there, and process that, but Giles had stepped back on the kerb and was waiting, hands in pockets, for Xander to go. Xander tried to read something in his expression, but it was bland and friendly, just seeing off one of the gang. Nothing special.

Xander had to grope for the door a couple of times before he found the handle to pull it shut, and he fumbled the key into the ignition. Had to take a long breath before he could put the car in gear and drive.

Giles had been flirting with him. The conversation resorted itself in his head - Olivia not staying long, the way Giles touched his hand. It made sense if Giles was trying to tell him something, but Giles hitting on Xander... that was ridiculous.

His dick, though. His dick had a real appreciation for the ridiculous.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Giles Thing II 2/5


(Previously, in 1/5: Xander got home from Oxnard, and moved into his basement to find the porn collection undisturbed, to his relief. Not so lucky with Giles, who was sipping post-coital tea with a woman in Giles' own age bracket. And yet, it's possible that Giles was putting the moves on Xander.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Another dinner with the parents back in front of the TV, the prospect of yet another night wasted in the depressing basement, drove Xander out of the house for the evening. He was kind of ready to find Buffy and Willow now, except for having no idea where they were. They hadn't even left a forwarding address or phone number for him. He idly considered stopping by to ask Mrs Rosenberg or Mrs Summers, but he didn't really want to seem that pathetic. He should have asked Giles while he was there.

Maybe he should stop by now, and while he was there he could prod Giles a bit, find out if... Olivia was still there. No, no nocturnal visits to Giles. Way better to stay away and focus on that imminent-death-like feeling of terror that hit his gut every time he wondered if Giles had done the spell yet. Giles had said 'track down' the ingredients, so he couldn't have them yet. Probably. Surely wasn't chanting and burning things at this very moment while Xander watched Jeopardy re-runs with an empty plate in his lap.

The Bronze. Xander was going to the Bronze, see who was there, hang out, listen to music, fake a little relaxation. Tomorrow, he'd find the girls, and see what he could do about clawing back a little reality.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Of all people to find in the Bronze, Xander hadn't been expecting to find Buffy, even more miserable than he was, with her not-so-shiny new college life.

When she threw her arms around him, it was the first moment since he got home that went totally right. He needed a welcome home like this, where his best friend's face lit up to see him, and she needed him, and he helped. Dada-ist pep talk, sure, but it did the job and dumb old Xander Harris earned himself a smile that plenty of guys would kill for.

The Mayor was dead and Sunnydale High a pile of ash and ruins, but Xander could still be Buffy's key-guy. He could pick Buffy up off the proverbial floor - or the literal booze-soaked Bronze couch - and he could find the lair of the new vamp-bitch, and he could be the one she trusted for back-up. Team Scooby had survived the Master and Angelus and Mayor Wilkins, and it could survive the girls moving five miles east. Buff and Willow were still his best friends, and he loved them like crazy.

Of course things had seemed off. How could he have expected to feel at home, without a welcome-home dusting party?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Willow bumped her carton of Buffy-possessions against Xander's side, making it incredibly difficult not to drop the weapons chest. "So tell us about it! The big trip! Did you see the Golden Gate Bridge? Mount Rushmore? Niagara Falls? The Atlantic Ocean? Did you eat a hot dog in New York City?" She bumped him again, and his fingers started to slip on the chest's handles. "You stopped sending postcards! I should put a hex on you!"

Xander sighed. "Oxnard. Car died. Washed dishes. And while I will never tell you the full story, I will save what little remains for a day when your self esteem could use a little boosting by comparing it with the inevitable and eternal comic misfortune of Xander Harris."

Willow grinned. "I'll drag it out of you somehow, mister."

"Not tonight. Tonight you are going to tell us all about the wild rollercoaster of fun that is college life."

Like he knew it would be, that was all the distraction she needed. She was pretty much bouncing over all the new classes, and all the new people, and all the new social life. It was enough to warm even Buffy out of her earlier funk. Okay, maybe twenty percent of the mood-improver was Willow's infectious enthusiasm, and eighty percent was the satisfaction of a vampire nest well-slayed, but however it worked, Buffy was now smiling and throwing in the details. Even Oz managed the occasional input.

Giles trailed quietly after them, obviously having realised that the evil was on the done list. He hadn't really looked at Xander since hurrying up to Buffy's non-rescue. He hadn't done the antidote spell. If he had, there'd have to be some sort of reaction. Horror, or, maybe, no, it would have to be horror. Xander had been crazy to tell Giles he could go digging back there, for things that could only lead to mutual embarrassment.

Maybe Giles had realised that all paths of remembering could only lead to badness, and he'd decided not to do it.

Xander kept trying to make eye contact, but he didn't manage it until they tried to fit through Buffy's dorm door at the same time, bumping elbows, and it wasn't so much the accidental touch as the shy smile that made Xander stick to the spot, until Willow ploughed into him from behind. Now Giles was in front as they climbed the stairs, and Xander wasn't going to feel guilty about trying to x-ray through his pants to see if Giles had taken up wearing boxers or briefs.

Xander hoped he was gathering his ingredients for that spell.

"I'm wide awake," Buffy announced, as they dumped the boxes in her room.

"Me too," chorused everyone else. Everyone else meaning Willow and Xander. Oz simply made that minute shift in expression that generally signified agreement for him. Giles was staring around the room, probably realising they'd just been lugging everything Buffy owned, and wondering how the room got emptied in the first place. They hadn't exactly got around to explaining it to him.

Buffy propped her parasol neatly on the drawers, fiddling until it didn't look so totally stomped, and then she faced them all. "Bronze? For old times' sake?"

"Sounds good!" Willow said.

"Magic Pudding are playing the late set, trying out a new thing with an accordion backing," said Oz. "Should be a good night."

"But..." Xander looked at Giles, who was paying attention now, smile seeming forced. He'd come all this way, and he'd hardly want to hang out at the Bronze.

"You all go along. Much as I'm sure I would enjoy the lyrical strains of Magic Pudding, I should be getting home."

Buffy looked up at him through her lashes, the first time she'd noticed him since he arrived outside the ex-lair, babbling about self-reliance. "You know, the Bronze is a halfway point between here and your house."

"Yes, I think I can manage to fit you all in."

"Yay! Thanks Giles!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn't until they were settled at their usual table, with the not-at-all-mellow strains of two guitars and an accordion, that Buffy swept her hair back and rested her chin on one hand to level a piercing gaze on Xander. "You're being awfully quiet."

Xander debated whether to open his mouth, for all of two seconds. "That was pretty rude back there."

"What?" He had to give her this; she looked all remorseful even without knowing what he was talking about.

"Giles came all the way out to help, and we just ditched him like a bad date. He's hardly gonna want to hang out here."

Willow looked hurt; Oz nodded in agreement. Buffy just wrinkled her nose. "Why would he want to hang out with us?"

"We're his friends."

"Nah. he doesn't want to hang with us. He'd hang out with people his own age. In fact..." Buffy's eyes went wide, and she leaned in to the group like she was about to impart all the secret wisdom of slaying. "Giles... has a girlfriend."

"Really!" Willow practically dove across the table. "A girlfriend? Did you meet her? Is she nice? Is she pretty? Does she know about-" Willow waved her fingers and waggled her eyebrows, "-things that go bump in the Hellmouth?"

"I don't know." Buffy slumped back, happy to be the bringer of the gossip. "I didn't stick around. They were... not wearing a lot." She shuddered.

"Ooooh, Giles!"

"Score for Giles," Oz threw in, looking pleased.

Buffy screwed up her face. "Giles isn't supposed to score. He isn't supposed to take his clothes off, ever."

"I think it's cute," retorted Willow.

"Last time he was 'cute' it was with my mother, and I'm still in therapy over that one."

Xander watched it all, bemused. Is this how they always treated Giles? Like a pet, to be taken for walks when it suited them? Is this how he'd been treating Giles?

Aside from Miss Calendar, he'd never seen Giles with any adults, and he was reasonably sure he didn't have any other friends. Not in Sunnydale, anyway.

And okay, maybe it was okay for them to be self-absorbed in high school... more than okay, it was pretty much a rite of passage, but, hey, graduated now. Xander wasn't quite ready to embrace the joys of gainful employment, paying rent or developing a 401K, but the being friends with Giles part he could do. And if embracing could ever be part of the deal, then so much the better.

Of course, that was all going to depend on how well Giles embraced the five hours of Xander-featuring back-time he was about to introduce to his teenage years.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next afternoon, he firmly steered everyone to Giles' house. This way, Giles could be included, and more importantly, if Giles was all brimming with spell-induced revelations, having Buffy and Willow and Oz around would protect Xander from sitting-down-in-chairs kinds of conversations.

Willow made no attempt to be subtle as she scanned the apartment. "Where's your girlfriend?"

Giles' glare slipped straight past Xander to rest on Buffy.

"What? You're the one who was all 'I'm not supposed to have a private life?'"

"Olivia has gone home. To England."

"That was quick." Willow ducked her head. "Sorry."

Anyone but Willow would have earned a glare, but it was Willow, so she only got a wry look. "She was visiting, not setting up house. She's an old friend."

"Well. Good for you."

"So glad you approve."

"*I* don't."

"I'm well aware of that, Buffy." Giles adjusted his glasses, and then folded his arms. "Is there a purpose to this visit?"

The girls looked at each other strangely and shrugged, as though they weren't sure how they'd ended up here. "Nope. No purpose."

"Just thought we'd hang out with the Giles," added Xander.

There was dry disapproval beneath the "Splendid," but beneath the dry disapproval was definitely a glimmer of pleasure, which was entirely too many layers to be dealing with. Damned English.

Xander made his way into the kitchen. "What you got to eat? I suppose it's too much to hope for decent candy?"

"'Decent candy' is an oxymoron. If you want something decent, then what you are looking for are sweets. Top cupboard on the left."

Xander reached in and pulled out a small box, with what looked like a foil-wrapped baseball inside. "Chocolate orange?"

"I'm going to regret this."

But Xander had already peeled back the foil and broken off a piece, and was biting into... oh lord in heaven. That was good. "Thatsch good!" he mumbled through his mouthful of orangey chocolaty goodness. The others stared at him, and he hugged the box close. "It's mine! I found it!"

"I advise you, Xander, never to get between a displaced Englishman and his Terry's Chocolate Orange."

"I'll share with you," he offered.

Giles tugged the box out of his hands and dealt him a paltry two pieces, before claiming one for himself, offering it around to the group, and putting it back in the cupboard. Xander's skin tingled where Giles had grasped his arm as he rescued his candy. He was standing really close, which made everything tingle, a bit.

"If you want to overrun my kitchen, Xander, why don't you get everyone drinks?"

"You have soda?"

"Yes. I have soda."

"Did you do the spell?"

"Did I... No." Giles broke their stare to look over the counter at the girls and Oz, who were busy rifling through Giles' stuff. "No," he added more quietly, cautious green eyes studying Xander's face. "It didn't seem... No, I haven't."

They both just stood there, staring at each other. They needed an interruption, or Xander was going to do something stupid. Like reach out. Or open his mouth.

Oz saved them. "Giles, is this a first edition?"

Giles jerked away to see what Oz was holding up, and didn't look back when he headed out there to talk music. Xander stayed right where he was, talking down his erection.


By the time Xander had got himself together to pour drinks, Willow was talking about the meditation studio her mom had made out of her old bedroom, and Buffy was mumbling about her childhood being turned into a warehouse. Nice to know Xander wasn't the only one with an eviction notice on the nest.

He passed drinks to Buffy and Willow and Oz. "At least you guys have windows that allow you to gaze upon the outside world, and all of nature's majesty. I have a sliver of glass, painted permanently half-open, that provides almost all the evidence I need for an educational guess whether it's night or day." He grabbed his own glass and headed for the couch.

Really, he had no idea how it happened. He'd managed not to do anything completely stupid for a whole ten minutes, but as soon as he got everyone's attention headed his way, his foot caught on the rug, or his karma, and a stumble and a twist and Xander had upended pretty much his entire drink down his front.

Better, he supposed, than destroying Giles' carpet. What an oaf. No, Giles, I'm not too young for you, if you don't mind having a partner who drinks from a sippee cup. "Shit." He stared down at his shirt.

Willow had jumped up but Giles beat her across the room. "Come on, we'll find you a towel." He dropped his glasses on the counter and Xander was being hauled down the corridor by his elbow.

Around the corner just short of the bathroom and Xander was pressed hard against a door being kissed. Being kissed - hard - by Giles. Giles was kissing him. A lot.

Xander's hands flailed. He should be doing something. He should be... something. Doing. Something back? Giles was kissing him, the full length of him pressed to the full length of Xander, a thigh pressed between Xander's legs and up against Xander's dick; there was a hand in his hair and a hand on his jaw, holding him still as Giles kissed him. Xander couldn't remember how to breathe, except Giles was drawing the breath out of him and blowing it back in, with his strong, wet mouth.

Giles had him pressed up against a cupboard, just out of sight of the gang, kissing him. Well. All right then. This, he remembered, was exactly what he wanted.

Xander's fingers sank into Giles' shirt like claws, and he kissed back, drinking him, grinding against that hard, long thigh, grunting when a shift pushed Giles' hard dick into his. This was... Were they going to hump to a finish right here? Because Xander was just fine with that. Pretty much in favour, in fact.

Two palms on his cheeks, and the kiss was slowing, withdrawing, leaving them panting, noses barely two inches apart.

"You kissed back," Giles whispered, straight at his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Was that about me, or who I used to be?"

"That was entirely you. Can we do it again?"

A grin spread across Giles' face, and it took the little breath Xander had left. "They're going to wonder-"

"Do you guys need a hand?" Willow yelled from the other room, and they sprang apart.

"We're good!" Xander called back, surprised that he could. He gasped as Giles reached for him, but he was only peeling him off the linen closet door, to pull out a towel.

"You're soaked," Giles said, looking down to see that he himself was almost as damp, now.

"Maybe I could borrow a shirt?" Even with everything pretty much tingling already, Xander felt a charge at the idea of wearing something of Giles'. "Not tweed."

"I'll find something," Giles responded, gravel-voiced.

Xander closed his eyes and there was a kiss; he tried to follow it but Giles was already gone, footsteps thudding up the stairs. God. His heart was racing, his lips were tingling, and he couldn't swallow properly. Giles just kissed him.

He stumbled through to the bathroom, and went to the mirror. Looking rumpled, but surprisingly not as debauched as he felt. Giles had kissed him. Kissed? That was... There hardly seemed a point to willing his erection to subside. As long as he sat in that room with Giles, he was going to be sporting a full salute.

Ripper had never... never been... Giles had learned a lot since he was eighteen. Was there a way to just shove all of them out of the house and follow Giles upstairs and find out what else he'd learned? He hoped Giles was picking a shirt that was long and baggy.

Giles appeared behind him in a fresh knitted black pullover and Xander watched the reflection. He looked disgustingly, deliciously smug, but he had the good sense to just throw a deep blue shirt over Xander's shoulder and head back out. Xander didn't know if he could have stopped a second time.

Thank goodness. It was a very big button-up shirt, that hung safely past Xander's relentless hard-on. When he lifted the collar to his face, it smelled like Giles. Which unhelpfully contributed to the hard-on.

Xander made it back out to the main room, where Giles was folded demurely in the armchair, just like he would if he was an ex-librarian who couldn't kiss a guy to his knees. Xander took the desk-chair, safely away from everyone else, and somehow managed to look like he was participating in the conversation, even though he had no idea what it was about.

"I heard Fairview's taking most of them."

"That'll be a blow to the Razorbacks."

How did the others not know? The air swam with sex, and surely any moment Oz was going to smell it with his werewolf nose and bound over to pin Xander down before Xander threw himself across the room to pull Giles' sweater over his head and taste his neck...

"Their library won't need reinforcements, Giles?"

...and Xander met Giles' smug gaze and knew, almost certainly, that if he did just that, Giles would let him. Hell, Giles would probably like it, putting on a show, shocking the others, making Buffy's world fall in. There was more mischief left in him than they'd imagined. Xander wanted to find it all. Right now.

"Has anyone heard if there are plans to rebuild?"

"Would it be too much to ask them to scout for other sites?"

Xander tried to concentrate on the future of Sunnydale High, but Giles was sitting back, attention on Buffy, so Xander let his gaze drift down, to see the bulge, standing out from Giles' pants.

"They might have some trouble lining up a principal."

"You gotta wonder how they'll advertise that position. 'Wanted, school administrator; indigestibility a bonus.'"

Xander's eyes widened, and he stared, and then he stared at everyone else. How did they not see it?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Giles Thing II 3/5


(Previously, in 2/5: Feeling guilty for the way the gang ditched Giles for a post-slay trip to the Bronze, Xander vowed to make sure they all treated Giles more like a person. His plan got accelerated when Giles yanked him around a corner and onto first base.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Xander stayed in his seat, tucked safely behind the desk, while Buffy and Willow and sometimes Oz talked about a bunch of stuff. He didn't quite catch any of it over the chanting in his brain reminding him not to stare at Giles' crotch. It didn't help that Giles shifted to adjust himself every few minutes. Or that Xander had to squirm twice as often.

He held on until the others stood up, presumably having had some conversation where they decided it was time to head out. He waved goodbye like they did, and waited until they reached the street before stopping them. "I forgot my shirt."

"Do you want us to wait for you?"

"Nah, I think I'll head home. Still tired. From the driving." Two days ago. "Got unpacking to do. Stuff. Jobs to search for. You go."

They were climbing into Oz's van before he'd finished his list of excuses. Fine by Xander; that meant he could hurry - but not run - back up the stairs. Maybe sort of a jog as he went down into the courtyard, but he reached Giles' door, stopped to prepare a casual stroll, and pushed the door open.

Giles was lounging against the kitchen counter, hands in his pockets, like he was wondering how to fill his evening. He straightened, pulling his hands out and wiping them on his pants as Xander came through the door. He'd been waiting for Xander to come back.

What now? What came after a stolen kiss against the linen closet? Was Xander supposed to sit down with him and have some sort of adult discussion? Or was Giles going to pull him upstairs for some adult sex? He didn't know which sounded more terrifying. What was he doing here? Was he breathing too loud? Should he have said something already?

Xander's hands were caught in Giles' soft, damp hands, and he was pulled forward into another one of those kisses. Except this was all kiss, no groping, no desperate press against a wall or car or fence. Giles held his hands by their sides and he just... kissed. And this time Xander was up-to-date and kissing Giles, and the terror was subsiding to a perfectly manageable level of not thinking a single second beyond how sweet Giles tasted right now, how his lips were smooth and his tongue was lazily tracing magically arousing patterns through Xander's mouth.

Giles' hand squeezed as the other let go, to fit over Xander's cheek, and then slide back into his hair. God yes, the man could kiss. He tasted... like tea and heat and the lingering sweetness of chocolate and just a trace of the kid Xander remembered.

Ripper, laughing in the alley, chain link fence carving into Xander's back as they kissed exactly like this, and Xander had wondered back then if Giles could feel as good, because he hadn't figured out that Giles could be a thousand times better.

When he finally drew back, Giles was flushed and blurry around the edges, and he was smiling at Xander like he was happy or something. It made Xander's throat stick.

He looked around like he didn't know what to do next, like he was just as clueless as Xander, but then he seemed to figure it out and he pulled Xander to the couch, sat down and tugged Xander to sit straddling his lap. This was something Xander might have done with Cordelia, except she would have been on his lap. Here he was in Giles' lap, in Giles' living room, close enough to count the lines on Giles' face. Xander wanted to do something, take the lead somehow, but his brain was taking way too long to catch up to where he was now. And everything Giles was doing - like right now he was sliding his fingers up under Xander's shirt, heavy hands trailing sparks up his stomach - was more than all right. Still smiling, as he pulled out and used both hands to grab Xander's hips to tip him forward into more kissing.

Xander made a sound and Giles pressed his tongue inside again, slowly stroking Xander's tongue and it was so dirty and hot that it took Xander a second to realise buttons were being unbuttoned. As the last one went, Xander was nudged back, and the way Giles stared at his chest, spreading his hands over his skin, made Xander tingle all over. This was surreal. Xander's fantasies had never been so... silent.

Xander didn't want to be left behind, so he slid his own hands from Giles' shoulders (and when did they get there, anyway?) down his arms, to his waist. He could feel the hard line of belt under the soft wool of his sweater. He worked his fingers underneath, under the t-shirt. To warm, smooth skin.

Giles' breath caught at the touch, like he was surprised, like he hadn't just felt Xander rummaging his way in. Xander traced the skin of his waist, around to the small of his back. Skin. This exciting sliver of hot skin - not exactly X-rated, but no ordinary person could touch Giles here.

Xander screwed up every scrap of courage he had and bunched the hem of sweater and shirt in his hands, pushed them up, up Giles' sides, up his arms, over his head, holding his breath when Giles' face disappeared, letting it go when he came out the other side still smiling, glasses askew.

It wasn't like his fantasies. He'd pictured the shape of him, the flat, leanly muscled chest, the scattered grey hair, the two tight, sharp nipples. His imagination had left out the ugly marks that were left by Angel, ugly marks that weren't. Giles let him look, his own thumbs making tiny, intimate circles in the curves of Xander's hips. This wasn't just the guy who pressed him up against the cupboard. This was their man of eternal patience. There was time to breathe.

Xander inhaled. He couldn't have named this smell a year ago, but he would have known it was familiar. Maybe it was soap or deodorant or washing powder, but it was Giles.

The sweater coming off had gone well, so he slipped off Giles' glasses and stretched back to lay them on the coffee table, and when he leaned forward, Giles parted his lips in welcome.

The kiss was slow, molten, all lips and just brief tastes inside, Giles' hands resting on the small of Xander's back, Xander's hands cupping Giles' shoulders. He'd never kissed like this, felt this from a kiss, all liquid inside like the lingering comedown from a really long, really good jerk-off. If this was kissing, Xander wasn't sure he'd survive the comedown from whatever he was about to do with Giles.

He sat straighter at the thought, breaking the kiss. He was about to do 'whatever' with Giles. Who was puddled back against the couch, looking up at Xander with that warm expression he usually reserved for Buffy. Which was great, but suddenly god, it was quiet in here. "This is good," Xander said, which was a little bit stupid but not too bad, and better than silence.

Giles' smile widened. "Very good."

And now Xander wasn't sure whether he should keep talking, or go back to kissing. "Do you mean what we're doing, or me not talking for ten minutes?"

That bought him a chuckle, and Xander felt the vibration right through his body. "I'm enjoying both." His hands squeezed Xander's hips and then he was pushing Xander's shirt - his own shirt on Xander - back over his shoulders and down his arms to settle on his wrists, closed his hands around the cuffed wrists in a silent request to keep them there. Okay. Anything Giles wanted was okay right now. And now Giles watched his own hands explore Xander's chest, feeling the shape of his shoulders, tracing his ribs, dipping to sweep over his stomach. There was a full stunt-action team of butterflies in there. Vampire butterflies, sucking the blood out of him to make him dizzy.

Giles scratched his fingernails around his navel, sending the butterflies into a feeding frenzy. "I don't remember you looking like this a year ago."

Xander grinned. "Thank goodness you were wrapped up in all that tweed, or you would have had one embarrassing student crush to deal with."

Giles' face smoothed, and his gaze dropped, finding their groins and skittering off to the side. "I would never have taken - or wanted to take - advantage."

"You could have made a young man's-"

"No." Giles was almost angry, staring Xander down hard. "It matters. I don't want you thinking I'm the sort of man who... looks at children. Who might have looked at you or the girls that way."

"You think that's what I think?"

Giles heaved a sigh, mood rapidly slipping away. "Some might, and not without reason. I don't know how clear the line is between when this would have been wrong, and when it wasn't. I just hope I'm on the right side of it. I hope I was harbouring nothing... subconscious."

Xander wanted to ask how overwrought a man's guilt complex had to be, to batter his conscience about things his subconscious had never shared with his conscious, but while he was here, somehow having made the fantastical road into Giles' lap, trying to navigate towards making both of them very happy, that seemed like a wrong turn. He shook his wrists out of his shirt-sleeves and laid his hands on Giles' chest, feeling skin under his fingers. "I remember the unspeakable horror in your expression, in the car, the first time you saw young you making eyes at me. I think it's safe to say you weren't harbouring anything."

Something eased. "It wasn't unspeakable horror. It was... surprise."

"You've watched Buffy dismember slime demons with less distaste."

Giles ducked his gaze, knowing it was true. Xander liked this nervous, worrying side of Giles. As long as he really did want Xander, and they were starting to amass some pretty good evidence that he did, in fact, want Xander, then the concern was... Xander had never used the word 'sweet' to describe a guy, like Buffy and Willow did, but he was starting to see what they meant by it.

"You're still young." He wanted to be persuaded, and Xander happy to play along.

"I'm older than Buffy was, and you're a hell of a lot younger than Angel."

His smile turned wry. "Truly the model romance of my dreams."

Xander grinned. There was nothing better than Giles taking a dig at Angel. "Also, he's a vampire. And he had a curse on him that would turn him into the world's worst ex if she gave him a happy." Xander wrapped his fingers around Giles' wrist, searching until he found the slow, steady bump of his pulse. "Not a vampire. Are you cursed?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no. But I am a high school librarian."

"Not currently." Xander still had Giles' wrist in his hand, so he curled the fingers closed and kissed the knuckles. Each knuckle, and then the thick ring on Giles' little finger. He opened his hand, and kissed the palm, and pressed it to his own chest. "Don't stop this."

That, to Xander's relief, was all Giles needed, and they were back on the make-out highway, doing ninety. He pressed up to nuzzle Xander's collarbone, nudging Xander's chain with his nose, hand smoothing over his chest as the other settled well up Xander's thigh. "Do you have sensitive nipples?" was asked into his neck, fingers lightly testing for himself. Yes, yes he did, and Xander answered in the affirmative with a high strangling sound.

"Good." Giles' lips latched on and he sucked hard while the other one was rolled and tugged, and sensitive yes, he'd figured that for himself while flying solo but who knew? Who knew?

Xander scrabbled for grip on the couch, but a hand directed him to hold Giles' upper arms.

"I won't break. I want to feel what I'm doing to you." Giles wanted to feel it. It mattered to him, how good he could make Xander feel.

And he was doing amazing things, sharp and almost too much. Xander dutifully squeezed Giles' arms as he gasped and moaned, not capable of anything more. Maybe Giles wouldn't break but maybe Xander would, somewhere between his burning nipples, where Giles was twisting ever-harder, and starting to chew a little with teeth, and his dick, which had ceased to fit in his jeans many hours ago.

A moment of relief. "Not too hard?"

"Don't stop! Just right. Just there."

He went just a little harder, a painful pull and a scraping thumb, a sharp nip and the swollen point teased with a flicking tongue, and then a hand settled whole and firm on Xander's crotch, squeezing the denim and Xander cried out, thought he'd snap Giles' bones when Giles rubbed him hard through the thick fabric, the bump of fly pressing sharply against the head of his dick and when Giles bit down Xander shouted and came, throbbing hard in his pants, breath wheezing, body shaking, and arms were gathering him gently against a familiar chest.

For a long time, Xander simply panted, and enjoyed being held. "Wow."

He was squeezed. "That was good?"

Xander almost laughed. "Very good."

"Too sudden?"

"Very good."

But sudden. Now he was a kid who'd come in his pants in front of a man with great big realms of experience, and knowing he shouldn't be embarrassed about being exposed like this didn't make him not.

It only took a little nudge and Xander gladly tucked his face into Giles' neck where Giles couldn't see the blush, or too much of anything in Xander's face.

Hair tickled Xander's chest, and he tingled at all the extra skin-contact. Arms circled him, pulling him closer, and it warmed over the draught under his open shirt. He probably should be moving to do his share, but Giles seemed content to sit, and Xander wasn't going to fight it. A hand was stroking up and down his spine, and it was so, so relaxing, Xander was tempted to simply close his eyes and drift off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Giles Thing II 4/5


(Previously, in 3/5: Giles made Xander come in his pants. That's pretty much all.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Hm?" Shifting woke him, and Xander struggled his way up to opening his eyes. "Sorry," he managed muzzily.

"No apologies. It's just my legs are falling asleep."

"Oh. Sorry." Xander twisted to spill across the seat beside him.

Giles didn't seem to care. He looked as happy and relaxed as Xander felt, as he rubbed the circulation back into his thighs. Happy being with Xander.

"How long was I out?"

"Perhaps a few minutes. I don't suppose I would be remiss in guessing you are in need of nourishment?"

"That's a big sentence."

Giles stood. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

Xander accepted the hand up, Giles' grip lingering as he started leading the way to the kitchen, before it loosened, and let go. Probably there was a lot of stuff they should be having a discussion about, now. Since he opened his eyes, Xander had been waiting for Giles to say, "We should talk," and that he'd turned to food instead was, for this particular moment, Xander's very favourite thing about Giles.

With whom he'd just rounded second base, heading for third. Giles was so comfortable with it, like making someone come and then fixing dinner was no big deal. It probably wasn't, for Giles. He probably did this stuff all the time. He did it two days ago for Olivia. Xander wondered how often all the time could be. And then he very deliberately stopped wondering. Trust Giles. Think about food. "What do you eat, anyway?"

"Black pudding."

Xander stopped. "What?"

"It's made with pig's blood. It's quite delicious."

"I know what it is. The pig's blood, that is. I don't believe it's delicious. And I generally have an aversion to consuming anything Angel would class as a square meal."

"I was joking. Though not about it being delicious. One eats black pudding for breakfast, not dinner." He opened the fridge, considering a moment. "I could throw on a couple of steaks."

"You da man."

"There's leftover salad, too."

"Less exciting, but acceptable."

"I imagine you'll be eating your steak raw, like a Californian?"

"I like to wrestle it on the plate. You don't burn good steak, do you?"

"No, I don't burn it, but I do like to make a passing acknowledgement that my ancestors discovered fire."

Giles tossed a bag of meat on the counter and started digging about for a pan. For a moment Xander just watched, enjoying the view. When Giles looked up, he smiled and shrugged. "Guess I'll go clean myself up."



Giles seared Xander's steak, seared his own a little more, and they settled on opposite sides of the kitchen counter to eat. Giles had pulled his sweater on to cook, but skipped the undershirt, and there was a tantalising arrow of chest hair in the vee. Ogling chest hair was kind of new, but Xander felt he was mastering it pretty quickly.

Xander poured a good lather of ketchup over his steak, taking Giles' disapproving sniff as a bonus. Now they were going to find out if they really had anything to talk about. If there wasn't going to be some sort of conversation about what just happened, there ought to be a conversation about something. Otherwise, this was all just going to be cheap, meaningless sex.

Xander grinned. Kind of a win-win situation.

"Do I want to know?"

"Would you object to being used as a sex object?"

Giles chewed and swallowed. "It's not something I've ever felt a particular need to consider."

"You have time."

"Alternatively, we could hold a conversation."

"No! You can't say that! Now we're doomed to both sit here trying really hard to find something to talk about until we're so self-conscious that we think everything to death before we say it and it all gets unnatural and awkward, as if everything in Sunnydale isn't unnatural and awkward enough so ungkkh-" Xander almost-choked on the piece of steak Giles had just shoved in his mouth.

"Chew."

Xander chewed. It was good steak, way better than he'd ever had at home, the three or four times his mom stumbled over a frypan. Needed more ketchup.

Giles cut and ate a small piece of steak himself, as he thought about it. Eventually, he sighed. "You're right."

"Tell me about you."

"Me?"

Xander shrugged. "You already know pretty much everything about me. Percentage-wise, comparing years knowing each other to years actually lived, you-" and he pointed with his fork, in case there was any confusion about who he meant, "are a mystery. I want to know... something."

Giles contemplated a moment. "Liverpool supporter since birth. I prefer being devoured by fire ants to sitting through a cricket match, though I was a passable bowler in my youth..."

If they'd been at a proper table, Xander would have kicked him under it. "Something real. How old were you when you stopped wigging about being a Watcher?" Way to hide what had been secretly on his mind for the past seven months.

Giles looked uncomfortable, but he didn't back off, which was good. Xander didn't want to go peeling open old wounds, but he wanted to know that at least some of the barriers were down. Giles knew all of Xander's biggest humiliations, and somehow that wasn't quite fair.

"I left Oxford when I was twenty-one. That was when I met Ethan Rayne and..." He trailed off. "I went back at twenty-four."

"That doesn't seem too long."

Giles pushed his fork into a piece of tomato, but didn't lift it to his mouth. "Three years getting up to what we got up to... It was a long time."

Xander shuddered to imagine what Giles would have been like, young and angry as Ripper was, but armed with the sort of knowledge he had now. "It must have been hard going back."

His voice got even softer. "Oh, you can't imagine. My father opposed it. I thought he was punishing me, but knowing what I know now... He probably thought it wasn't safe to put more knowledge in my hands. It's more likely he was trying to protect me."

Xander ate for a while. He wanted to know about his father, but that could wait. There were plenty of other things to learn. Like... "You said - Ripper said - that you knew you were going to be a Watcher, but not 'the' Watcher. How do you know? Who chooses, anyway?"

"Fate. Much as with Buffy herself. There is a Watcher for every Potential, entwined somehow in her life from an early age-"

"But you didn't know Buffy."

"Buffy had slipped through the cracks. A few do. When she was called, they found her, and Merrick became 'the' Watcher, so to speak."

"So... you didn't have a Slayer."

He raised his glass, like he was making a toast. "To the Council's relief, I'm sure. My youthful irresponsibility was not forgotten. I worked for the Council, keeping an eye on powerful artifacts in the British Museum, studying them. I had time to complete what would count as a doctoral thesis, if Oxford didn't classify it as horror fiction."

"Dr Giles." Sexy.

A half smile. "Of a sort."

"What mother doesn't want her son to bring home a doctor?"

The half smile disappeared at that.

Stupid. Surely that was a pile of issues that could have waited until, at least, they'd had one meal together, or a date, or after their fiftieth anniversary.

"So Buffy."

Giles nodded at the yank back on subject. "Merrick was killed, and I knew."

"You knew it was your turn?"

He shook his head. "I knew he was dead. I... felt it. I packed my bags and caught the next train up, and I was the one to break the news to the Council."

"Wow," said Xander, quietly.

"It was probably less of a 'wow' than your own introduction."

"Probably." At least Giles had had some warning.

Giles laid his knife and fork neatly on the plate. "You lost a friend."

"Yeah." Xander poked at his steak, appetite suddenly zero. Don't go there. Not tonight.

"I remember."

He let that settle into the silence. Sometimes it seemed like even Willow didn't remember Jesse. It was good to know he wasn't completely forgotten, but how did they get to this? Xander had wanted to know a little about Giles, not drag them into an extended showing of 'This is Your Miserable Life.' But now, they were here, and there didn't seem to be a way to escape. "I bet you never imagined back then that you'd get fired by the Council." Instead of escaping, Xander could always open his mouth and make it worse.

Giles stood, and collected their plates, turning away to stack them all by the sink. With his back to Xander, he said, "They may see it that way, but being a Watcher is not a day job. It is a sacred duty. It... hurts to be disowned by the Council. But they cannot change who I am." He turned around to face him. "I couldn't leave Buffy any more than Buffy could choose not to be a Slayer, and they are well aware of that fact." He tossed a sponge over. "And now I believe you know more about Watchers than Buffy does." Subject gently closed.

"I probably should have started with something less depressing."

Giles lifted his shoulders. "You can ask me anything you wish." Before Xander could test that out, he started packing the dishwasher, leaving Xander to shut up and wipe down the counter.

When that was clean, Xander headed in to do the stove. They'd run out of conversation, but that was all right. They moved around each other as they tidied up. He could get used to this, boring chores with Giles. Wasn't much different to boring research with Giles, except this was likely to end in Giles' bed, not some hell dimension. And this was much quicker; they were done already.

Which meant next came...

Giles was bending over the sink, and that decided him. Xander put down the sponge, and moved close enough to lay a hand on Giles' ass. Close enough, but in the time it took to reach, he lost his nerve and touched a little higher, on the small of his back. That was a pretty nice place, too. Giles straightened and Xander's hand slipped down to the solid curve of Giles' ass. Except on Giles, he supposed, it was arse.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" Giles asked softly, looking down into the sink. After all this, he actually sounded unsure.

"I really, really do." Xander squeezed Giles' ass, just because he could.

"Your parents won't wonder?"

"I live in the basement, now."

Giles turned and slid a hand down his arm to catch his fingers, and then he was pushing them back, pulling Xander after him, to the stairs. Suddenly Xander was more nervous than he'd been all day. After that kiss, he'd flown back in the door in a cloud of blind lust, and everything they'd done was very, very good, and really not even as far as he'd gone with Ripper. He'd gone further with Faith, but that night brought new meaning to 'just along for the ride'.

Now there was something cold and clinical about the way they were heading up the creaking stairs to the bed. An appointment for sex. Unlike a couch, which, orgasm and all, was really just advanced making out. Giles clearly knew things, liked things, well-beyond Xander's imagination. Was Giles going to want to fuck him? Xander wasn't sure he was ready for that, because while his dick sprang at the thought, his ass was clenching madly. And Buffy had muttered something about her mother and handcuffs after the band candy bar incident, and Xander definitely wasn't ready for that.

And while Xander knew for damn sure that Giles didn't want to have any demon possession orgies, ever again, the fact remained that he had, and who knew what manner of sexually-deviant things were in between?

They reached the landing, next to Giles' Bed, and Giles kissed him, skilfully undoing buttons. He laid warm, strong hands on Xander's chest and gradually slid them up to push his shirt from his shoulders again, following it down his arms with light fingers. Xander shivered. Was Giles going to ask him, or just... Or Xander could be an adult. If he was going to get in bed with one, he should probably be one. Look, he was maturing already. He pressed Giles back gently, just far enough to give their groins some air. "I haven't... you know. Done a lot."

Giles' eyes widened, and a second later he snatched his hands away. "You're not a, a, a- You have, I mean- Oh dear lord tell me you're not a virgin."

Uh-oh.

"Um. In some things?" Xander felt like a little kid, as he folded his arms across his naked chest. "I'm sorry."

Giles sagged, covered his eyes with his hand and then waved it around. "No, no. Don't, don't apologise. I didn't mean to, to imply..." He was working himself in knots. He took a breath, licked his lips, and met Xander's gaze head on. "There's no shame in, in, inexperience. I just meant that your first time should be something more than-"

"-a cheap motel with a Slayer who'll kick me out before I've finished dressing and later try to choke me to death? Check. Noted."

"Oh." Now Giles looked even more like he was about to make Xander dress and drag him downstairs for cookies and milk.

Xander shuffled closer, brushing a finger along Giles' collarbone, trying to look mature and... tall. "Not everyone's first time is in the back of a steamed-up car in the hold of the Titanic with Leonardo DiCaprio."

"With who? The Titanic?"

"Okay, for the first time ever, I'm jealous of your total pop culture illiteracy."

"I'm sorry?"

Hailing Giles across the generation gap was not going to help. "Yes, I've had the sex, so now can we get on with doing it better?"

Giles was calming, but not nearly enough. "This isn't too soon? I don't want to-."

"It's good. So far. I mean, I don't know yet." Xander's face burned. "Everything so far is very, very good." Yep, he sounded twelve years old.

"I don't want to push you. If you want to slow down-"

"I know. You don't need to say it."

Giles smiled, just a bit. "I think saying it is a necessary part of the ritual."

Xander grinned. "Consider the reassurances made."

Giles wasted a couple more seconds thinking about it, and then put his hand on Xander's shoulder. He watched it slide down the length of Xander's arm. "Why don't you show me what you want?"

That seemed safe, except now the ball was in Xander's cart, and a veritable pornographic library of gay-Penthouse-letter fantasies were galloping through his head, way too fast for him to actually see how any of them started. "Why is it I can imagine it in detail, but I can't seem to find a way to say I want to suck your dick?"

Wait. Did that come out out loud? Judging by the way Giles was opening and closing his mouth, yep. He did.

"Say that again."

"I want to suck your dick?"

Xander was pretty sure he actually saw Giles' eyes get darker. "You're doing very well."

Okay. Not so difficult. In fact, if he leaned in to talk in Giles' ear, where he couldn't see his face, "I want you on the bed, naked, and I want to taste it, and make you come," was incredibly easy. Also, it made Giles yank his sweater over his head and drop his jeans and boxers in one moment, and stand, with his back to the bed, waiting. "That was easy."

Here was all of Giles. Way more than he saw before. Soft in places and pale, like an older guy, but nicely muscled, hair from his chest trailing down to the curls around his dick. Which was every inch what it was last year, or all those years ago. Just as hard as Xander, which was shocking even after getting all the way to here. More scars than Xander had known about, though some were familiar, and Xander's stomach clenched at the memories.

"Not too old?" Xander looked up and realised Giles looked nervous, which seemed only fair.

Xander was having trouble finding words. "Look at you," he breathed, and that made Giles blink and look away, embarrassed but kind of happy.

"A little worse for wear."

Xander fingered a white line on his abdomen. He remembered that one. "Angel."

"Yes."

Xander lifted his foot onto the bed, pulling up his jeans to show his shin. "Skateboard."

Giles stared at him, and then chuckled, shaking his head. "That must have been terrible for you."

"I'm a survivor."

Xander pushed at his shoulders, but Giles stayed, tugging meaningfully at the button of Xander's fly. All right. Moment of naked truth. Xander shucked off his jeans and shorts fast, like a Band-Aid, and pushed Giles back before anybody could make a big deal about it. Of course, Giles didn't exactly hide that he was looking as Xander crawled up to kneel over his hips, bobbing around in the fresh air, and totally self-conscious. He didn't know where to put his hands.

"Look at you," said Giles. His fingers skirted ticklishly over Xander's knees. "You are beautiful."

Xander felt a flush creep over him. He could scrub up to a passable cute, but beautiful was for girls, and guys in art photos. Then again, there was a wonder in Giles' tone that made it tempting to believe him. Tempting enough that Xander had to stretch forward and kiss him, entirely conscious of Giles' hands sliding up to his now-bare hips, very close to his bare ass, and his bare erection. It was enough that he considered just settling straight down, body to body, so they could finish naked and horizontal what they'd started against the linen closet door a couple of hours ago.

But no, Xander wanted to see and taste Giles' dick, the one act where he figured he had some idea what he was doing, and might not make a total idiot of himself. Sucking Giles off had been the top of the fantasy pile, and he was well and truly prepared, if not flat out greedy for it. He broke the kiss, let it trail over Giles' rough jaw and down his throat, past his chest - Xander would have to find out later if Giles liked his nipples bitten like he'd done to Xander - along his soft stomach, to his huge, hard dick rising from wiry hair.

It wasn't like Xander had a lot that he could have compared from this close, but it was a really nice dick, skin stretched tight over the thick, smooth length of him. He poked Giles' knees apart and knelt between, pushing them wide so he had a good view of his thighs and balls, and a little of the crevice behind. Giles let him do whatever he wanted.

"Are you having trouble finding it?"

Xander burst out laughing, a little giddy with it all. "That's what you said last time."

Giles lifted his head. "We did this?"

"In Mr Harper's classroom."

"Good lord. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"I can't believe you haven't done the spell."

"Sod what happened thirty years ago when I was a foolish boy. I wanted to know you now. But we did this?"

"This will pretty much bring you even with your younger you." And to end the conversation, Xander took him straight down as deep as he could go.

"Christ!"

Yep. That was good. Xander sucked hard, rubbing up and down Giles' thighs. Giles was enormous in his mouth, not leaving much room for art, or breath, and this angle was way more awkward than on his knees in Mr Harper's classroom, but gradually he got used to it and managed to take more and more inside. Not nearly all of it, but the sounds Giles was making were more than pleased. He tasted almost exactly how Xander remembered, sweaty and salty and male, and Xander was full of him. He let his hands explore, squeezing the base and scratching his nails through the hair and rubbing his balls, loving the way Giles' thighs squeezed around his ears. Xander let his thumb slide back, to the soft place just behind his balls and Giles' whole body lifted off the bed. "Yes! Like that!"

So Xander rubbed circles, not quite back to his asshole - that was something to tackle when he was feeling way braver - but this seemed to be enough for now. He slid his other hand up Giles' flexing stomach, until it was captured in a vice-grip. Giles' hips began to rock and Xander let him, this was good, Giles taking what he wanted, Xander enjoying the ride as the rhythm built and Giles' grip tightened, until he was riding right on the edge, his cock rubbing Xander's lips in time with his harsh pants, soft desperate sounds on every shaking exhalation, grasping for the crash. These were the sounds of Giles having sex. Giles fucking. This was through the looking glass stuff. Xander moaned and Giles froze, suddenly silent, the moment hanging until Xander felt something hitting the back of his throat, and he had to pull back a little to swallow.

He stayed until he was pretty sure Giles was done, and then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and crawled his way up to see what effect he'd had. Giles was dazed, and that was pretty good. He dazed Giles. He could live with that. A fluttering hand found Xander's mouth and traced his bruised lips, until Xander lay down on him and a light kiss turned hard as Giles swept his tongue deep, exploring all the crevices of Xander's mouth. And Xander realised he was after his own taste, which was bizarre but totally hot.

Giles rolled them over and with no fanfare at all took Xander's dick in his own mouth - "Giles!"

Giles sucked harder, and it struck Xander, that calling him by his last name right now was kind of weird, so he tried, "Rupert..."

Giles stopped, and they looked at each other.

Xander squirmed. "That sounds weird."

A nod. "My friends at home call me Ripper."

Xander shook his head. "Ripper's the guy I... last year. Which is you but-"

"I do understand." Giles licked up the length of him. This was an incredibly stupid time to talk about- Well, anything. "I really don't mind Giles."

"Oh good. Giles."

That got his dick sucked very hard indeed. Xander had had no idea mouths really felt like this, hot and wet and all the cliches. This was how his mouth had felt to Giles.

Giles pressed his knees to his chest and dove down to taste his balls, buried his nose in Xander's groin and breathed him in, never closing his eyes until a wet lick made Xander gasp, and then he opened them again. He seemed to want Xander in all his senses, like this was his only chance to do this. If Xander could talk he would have told him he was free to do this as often as he wanted until it was all down by heart, and then a few times more. Giles drew back to do stuff with his tongue and his teeth and his sandpapery jaw that made Xander's eyes roll back, and then he swallowed Xander down again, all the way down, Giles' throat closed on him and Xander turned inside out and upside down and it had never, never been like this.

Afterwards Giles gathered him close and kissed him, and now Xander pushed his own tongue deep, looking for his own taste. Much the same. Giles, tasting like Xander's come. This was going to take some getting used to.

Giles was stroking him, his hair, his back, settling him down, and Xander squirmed to lay his head on Giles' shoulder, sprawled half on him, half beside him. He felt like he'd just been for a ride in a tumble dryer. Except without the dryer.

A finger drifted over his nipple. "Ow."

"Sensitive?"

"They're going to need a few days off."

"That was... acceptable, I hope," Giles said, tentatively.

Xander wanted to tease him for the 'acceptable', but to hell with it. He was too comfortable. "As soon as they don't hurt, you'd better do it again." He rubbed Giles' stomach, pressed his nose into Giles' collarbone to breathe him in. This was post-sex snuggling. Xander was going to vote in favour. Glowing in the warm after beat the hell out of clutching his clothes on a motel kerb, or stumbling into a library interrogation "So. How come you didn't do the spell?"

Giles' fingers drew circles through his hair, while he took his time to answer. "I realised I didn't want to. If I... If I wanted this, I wanted it to be what I wanted now, not..." His chest rose and fell. "What happened may be recent for you, but I haven't been that boy for a long time."

"Are you going to do it?"

"Perhaps. Not yet."

Xander didn't know how he felt about that. He wanted Giles to remember jerking him off outside the Bronze, and being impressed that Xander fought vampires, and all of it. But at the same time, Giles hadn't needed it. This was their Giles, and without any of those memories, he'd still decided Xander was worth his time. Who could complain about that?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Giles Thing II 5/5


(Previously, in 4/5: Xander learned about the evolution of Giles-as-Watcher, Giles had a gulp moment when he remembered his new partner is eighteen, and then they got on with the more important business of sex.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A arm lay heavily across Xander's chest, and his teeth were growing moss, and the sheets were soaked with sweat and he couldn't feel the lower half of his right leg. And he'd slept so deep, it was possible he'd drooled on the pillow.

"G'morning," was murmured in his ear.

Xander grinned. "Morning." Giles' body was pressed against his back, prickly chest hair and sticky hot skin. From behind, lips pressed to his jaw near his ear, stubble rasping against stubble. "You really don't want to kiss me right now," Xander warned, voice still thick and sleepy. He could feel the smile against his neck.

"Believe me, it would be no picnic for you either." Giles stroked Xander's tangled hair. "Are you all right?" No second thoughts, Xander could almost hear him ask.

"I've never woken up with someone before." Xander squirmed happily. "I like it."

"Good." The arm over Xander's chest squeezed.

Xander wanted to roll over and have more fabulous sex, but his gums ached for a toothbrush and last night's sweat clung to his skin, and if Giles was going to taste him, he didn't want to taste like this.

He sat up, dislodging the arm and rolling the kinks out of his shoulders, and realising he was gonna have to pee real soon. He looked down, and paused. Giles looked rough but in a sexy way, shadow-beard defining his cheeks, hair mussed, bare eyes still half-shut.

"Look at you."

Giles covered his face. "Disgusting."

"No." Xander held his morning breath and leaned over to press a dry kiss to the mouth peeking between Giles' hands. "I want a shower more than I've ever wanted one in my life."

"More than after graduation?"

"Yeah. More." Xander slid out from under the damp sheets and headed for the stairs, grinning to himself when he felt Giles' eyes on his naked ass.

Downstairs in the bathroom, Xander heaved a happy sigh as he pissed. Oh, yeah.

Most urgent matter taken care of, he looked longingly from the sink to the shower and back. Tough choice, but teeth won.

Of course, he hadn't brought his toothbrush, had he, because yesterday's plan had been to hang out with everyone and then go home, not stay, have sex and wake up with morning mouth.

And he was just gonna take a moment to reflect on how much better it had turned out than he planned.

Okay, he'd read, and kind of assumed, that things went quicker between two guys than a guy and a girl, Faith the obvious exception to any rule, but he hadn't really applied that to Giles. He certainly hadn't imagined... Xander had fantasised about this happening one day, maybe in a year or ten, not an afternoon. But he hadn't had to persuade Giles at all. Giles just... liked him. Liked who Xander was, not who Xander wanted to be.

Xander eyed the lone yellow toothbrush in the cup, shrugged and picked it up. Wasn't like they hadn't shared plenty of other stuff already. Xander loaded it up and stuck the brush in his mouth and shook his head. Sex with Giles. Wanted by Giles. If someone had told Xander a year ago that one day he'd wake up tangled with Giles in Giles' bed, he would have laughed. And if he was really honest, he probably would have thrown in some retching noises.

Xander grinned a foamy grin. Turned out everyone was right after all. He was a moron in high school.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Hey, college girl!"

"Xander!" Willow squeezed out of the door to her room, along with an explosion of noise that made the Bronze sound like a library. A normal library, not a hellmouthy one. She grinned, delighted to see him, and slammed it shut. Interesting roommate, she had. "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Well, I was in the area, figured since I was nearby..."

"On campus?"

"California."

"Well. Lucky you took the opportunity," Willow responded in her most serious voice. "Come on."

She led the way back down the stairs and out into the sun, to the wide lawns and criss-crossing paths of the campus. They were surrounded by college kids hurrying, shouting back and forth, sprawled about on the lawns: hardly private. There had to be somewhere better to go, and maybe in the time it took to get there he could figure out what he could and couldn't say. Which was crazy. Rehearsing conversations with Giles was one thing, but this was Willow.

She was shooting him looks like she was trying to gauge whether it was time to start poking, or if this was one of the times when silence would make him blurt it out.

"Will, you know I'm gay, right?"

She stopped and stared at him. Had he misjudged? He knew she didn't have a problem with gay people, but maybe she wasn't ready for this... And then she threw her arms around him. "You told me!"

He was so relieved it took him few seconds to realise there was a problem. "Choking..." Plus, her breasts were pressing against his bruised nipples, but he wasn't about to explain that one.

She eased up, and eventually let go. "I was wondering if you were keeping it secret, or if you were still figuring it out yourself."

She was wondering? She knew? Obviously, he should have just asked her. "Well, the final counts are in, and the judges are awarding it to the team from Castro."

Willow squeezed his hands. "Soooo? Does this mean there's a guy? There must be a guy. Unless you found a gay bar in Oxnard and you're talking lots of different guys, and that's a valid lifestyle too, if you're practising safe sex - you're practising safe sex, right?"

That was loud. Xander smiled and waved at all the people staring at them. "Hey there." That would be great. Giles, I don't know if you wanted to keep our thing private, hope you don't mind that I just came out to UC Sunnydale. How was your day?

Willow ducked her head in apology, so Xander dragged her off the path to the lawn, where the crowd was at least a little thinner. "No. No hordes of horny men."

"One horny man?"

If only she knew. "Look, there's... someone I like, but I'm not ready to go all Ellen on the world, yet, or to tell Buffy or anyone else, so can we just sort of leave it for now?"

Willow smiled and nodded; maybe she'd heard the unspoken part about how he couldn't keep it from her. "All right. But I want to meet him soon." She couldn't help pouting a little. "Is he a good guy?"

"A very good guy."

"And cute? Is he cute?"

Giles? "Yeah. Yeah, but I don't think that's one he'd like to hear."

"Human?"

"One hundred percent Homo sapien."

She squeaked and threw her arms around him. "I'm so happy for you."

"Ooh, can I get an invitation to the hug party?"

"Oz!" Willow's face lit to see him strolling up, and they met with a brief kiss, Oz's hand slipping comfortably around her waist.

"Oz."

"Xander. How's it going, man?"

"Good. Nothing much going on." He was trying to imagine greeting Giles like that, wrapping an arm around him like it belonged there, and drawing a serious blank.

"Good to be home in your own bed, I'll bet."

"Uh. yeah." Please let Willow not read his thoughts on that one.

"Did you ask?" Oz asked Willow.

"Oh! No! I was getting to that. Or actually I forgot, but I was going to remember."

Oz gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Xander, we were wondering if you'd do watcher duty tonight."

"What?"

Oz glanced up at the clear sky. "Full moon."

"Grrr time," added Willow. "We wouldn't ask but I've got a group presentation tomorrow and the others wanted to meet tonight..." She blinked. "Oh! Unless you have a thing! If you have a... thing that you need to do tonight, you should do that. I could ask Giles. I'll ask Giles. He's not doing anything these days-"

"It's fine. I'm free." He couldn't spend every night at Giles'. One night wasn't really grounds to move in. Besides, Xander didn't turn down any chance to do favours for Oz. He had no idea how Oz had forgiven him for what happened with Willow last year, or how he was okay with them staying friends, but Xander was under no illusions about how much he owed the guy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Xander tossed his book down on the table. It wasn't even midnight yet, and he was bored and that was making him tired. "You know, this job'd be easier if you could carry a conversation."

There was a growl from the cage.

"Well, if you're just going to bitch..."

"Don't taunt the wolf, it's bad form."

"Giles!" Xander bounced to his feet. "And you brought me food! If there's a burger in there, I'm going to find some X-rated way to reward you."

"No, no M-E-A-T, I'm afraid," Giles replied, getting a snarl from the cage anyway. He came down the stairs, and handed over the paper bag. "Hot chips. Coke."

"Good enough." Xander crammed in a fistful of salty potato goodness. He chewed and swallowed, and then there was a moment of quiet hesitation, and they both looked towards the pacing werewolf.

"He never remembers anything, does he?" asked Xander.

"There has never been any indication of werewolf memory transfer, no."

"Well then."

They stepped together for an awkward kiss. Kind of how Xander might have imagined a kiss between them before Giles rewrote the script yesterday.

He looked over; Oz was up against the bars, black eyes unblinking.

"It's most likely the smell of the chips," Giles offered, but they both moved back to sit shoulder to shoulder on the little stone bench.

The fries were really good. "I didn't expect you to come."

"I'm not overwhelmed with other ways to occupy my time. I thought you might be able to use some food and-"

"Someone to keep me awake?"

"-and a break from your comic."

"Graphic novel."

"Picture book."

"'Road to Perdition' is going to be a classic."

"I'm quite sure." He stole a fry. "So what is Willow up to, that she had to draft you in?"

"Group project. College thing. I didn't ask the details."

Giles looked around. "This is quite the place Oz found."

"Yeah." It was just another strangely roomy Sunnydale crypt, but he'd welded together a way more sturdy cage than at the library. "We're keeping an eye out for a couple of full moons, just to be sure it's secure, then he was talking about getting a combination lock for the door, and he shouldn't need a babysitter anymore."

"I'm sure that will be a relief for him." Giles had stretched back to rest his weight on his hands, open in a way that made Xander want to lean across to kiss him. Or rest a hand on his thigh. Maybe kneel over him so he could watch his face as they talked.

"I told Willow."

"Told her?"

"That I'm gay. Not about you, but she figured there was someone."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Xander didn't know how to fill it; seemed like it was Giles' turn to speak.

"Did you, er, want to, to tell her?" Jeez. He sounded more reluctant than Xander. No offence taken, or anything.

"Some of me does. I don't usually keep stuff from Will." It was too far to reach back for Giles' hand, but he wanted something, so he put a hand on his leg. He could even feel the tension there. "But... this is pretty new. I don't... I don't know what we're doing, yet. I want it to be... something." Great. That explained it. "I just really liked last night, you know?" He wanted a lot more of last nights, and he wanted this, but he wasn't quite ready to go around introducing people to 'Giles, my boyfriend,' and he felt like an asshole for thinking it, so no way was he going to say that out loud.

Giles leaned forward to lay a hand on Xander's. "I did as well." Something in his look said he understood at least some of the stuff Xander hadn't said.

"And if I tell Willow, we have to tell Buffy."

"Yes," and that 'yes' was ominous.

"I can't imagine Buffy breaking out the champagne." She had her own ideas about what people should and shouldn't do, and she could be possessive of Giles, and she thought Giles was too old for people his own age, let alone theirs.

"I'm not certain it's an idea she would embrace."

"Not because of the gay thing. I mean that'll wig her out but she won't- she's not- I mean, she wouldn't like Willow dating you either."

The corner of Giles' mouth was curling, and okay, well, fine, Giles laughing at him was better than wherever that conversation was going. Also, Xander had said 'dating' and Giles hadn't wigged, which was the first real proof Xander had that last night wasn't a one night thing. Not that Giles would, Xander thought, at least not with him, but it was a relief anyway.

"Can we just say 'not tomorrow' and leave it at that for now?"

Relief washed across Giles' face. "I can live with that. I don't... I'm simply not prepared for the taunting."

"They won't... Yeah, they will. Of course, usually I'd be the chief taunter, so at least I'm out of the way."

There was a lull, and then Giles squeezed Xander's hand on his knee. "So what did Willow say?"

"She said it's about time I came out."

One eyebrow lifted. "As reactions go, that's not a bad one."

"It's pretty hard to wig out Willow. She dates a werewolf."

"What about you?"

"I don't want to date a werewolf." Xander could actually see the glare Giles was fighting to contain. Apparently it was no-jokes time. Xander didn't really do well in no-jokes time.

"I meant, how are you doing? Not... wigging out?"

Xander prickled. "I haven't changed who I am." It wasn't snapping, but it wasn't exactly gentle, either.

Giles didn't blink at his tone. "Of course. Though it isn't always as easy as it ought to be."

Xander turned to face him a little more. "What was it like for you?"

Giles shook his head. "I revelled in it. It was one more rule to break, one more way to upset the system. One more way to upset my parents, though they were never as upset as I wanted them to be."

Xander stared at some vague point beyond the bars. Was this where he was supposed to talk about his own parents? Even without looking he could feel Giles giving him one of those penetrating stares. Yeah. It was time to say something. He might be old enough for Giles to take to bed, but he wasn't old enough that Giles wouldn't worry about what his parents would say. He'd never really talked to Giles about his family, but it only took knowing Xander to see he wasn't raised by the Cleavers.

"My ma'll be crushed, but she might forgive me if I bring home an Oxford graduate."

There was a quiet snort. "Your father?"

Xander couldn't even imagine considering the vaguest possibility of telling even an alternate reality version of his dad. "He'll be disgusted, but he'll think the Oxford thing is worse."

"Worse? He dislikes the English?" Yeah, in a million years, Giles'd never get the Harris family.

"He doesn't like smart people. He'd hate you." That got him a long, bemused silence.

"Charming. He's... He's not an easy man to get along with, is he?"

Xander tensed. "He's okay. He doesn't beat me or anything."

"That's not my measure of a good father."

Xander stood and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, whatever this is, we're not at a place you can start talking about my dad, okay?"

"All right," Giles replied, quietly.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't, but Giles looked hurt and he felt he should say it.

Giles shifted, summoning something, obviously trying to find his way into a conversation Xander didn't want to have. If he touched his glasses, Xander was going to take them off him.

"I worried a great deal about you through school, though I felt my duties left me in a precarious position to intervene."

There was a boatload of guilt in his voice, and Xander folded his arms, taking another step away. He didn't like the idea of people wondering about his home life, and he hated the idea of Giles being all concerned teacher at him.

"He's okay, all right? He's no prize-winner, and I can't imagine either of you liking the other too well, but he's okay. Definitely not someone anyone needed to be calling social services about."

Giles nodded, looking a little bit relieved.

"And you did help. You and Buffy and Willow. I mean, Willow and Jesse were there since we were kids, but you and Buffy came along and it was different. Home wasn't different, it was the same, but it wasn't who I was anymore." He'd never really thought about what the difference was before, but that was exactly it. It hadn't mattered quite so much that home sucked because there were other things that were way more important. "And I've had enough soul-searching for one night, and you brought me fries, and you're sitting there looking all understanding and with your shirt only buttoned most of the way so can we just make out?"

He hadn't really been ogling him this entire time, but making out sounded better than talking. Maybe being gay wasn't such a burden, because the touching part of this thing with Giles was the only part he was clear on. He didn't know what Giles saw in him and he didn't know where it was going and he didn't know if he really needed to be having conversations like this, but if they were kissing, he could stop caring about all the other stuff.

But Giles was still sitting on the bench, watching him. Xander took a couple of steps closer, and Giles reached, just able to catch his fingers and draw him forward, and down to the seat. "There are limits," he murmured.

"Huh?"

Giles glanced toward the cage. "There is a reason why werewolves head for Lover's Lane." Oz was watching them intently, hunched at the bars like he was waiting for curtains-up on a Broadway show.

"You're saying we shouldn't get too turned on. Strictly a hands above the belts operation. I can do that."

Giles' eyes darkened behind his glasses. "You don't need to put your hands below my belt to turn me on, Xander."

Like apparently Giles didn't need to put his hands anywhere to turn Xander on because his voice when it was like this did it plenty. Xander twisted so he was awkwardly facing him. This felt like how teenagers made out, but Xander couldn't figure out a more adult position to sit so to hell with it. Giles didn't seem to care. He slid off his glasses and laid them on the seat beside them, resting his fingers on Xander's cheeks as he leaned in to kiss him.

Surely, kissing Giles ought to be less weird by now. But like this, without the mad-crazed lust, on the tail of a conversation, mid-Oz-watch, this felt like kissing Giles, the Giles he knew. Not bad at all, just... this was the first time he'd been so conscious of the click and smack of tongues, the quiet sounds around them - Oz brushing against the bars - the awkward angle his neck twisted to meet Giles' mouth. It made his stomach flutter the way it hadn't last night, more like the way he'd felt around Giles in the first few weeks after Ripper. There'd been plenty to distract them: Giles being fired, Faith and that night in her hotel room, Faith and the other night in her hotel room, the looming Ascension... Enough going on that it was easy for them to pretend nothing happened, but not so much that Xander hadn't sometimes had time to look up from whichever enormous research book he'd been assigned for the day, and watch Giles putter about his shelves, and imagine Giles calling him back there, and kissing him behind the stacks. When he'd imagined it, his stomach had fluttered exactly like this, nervous and self-conscious and...

Giles let his mouth trail over Xander's cheek and jaw. "What is it?"

"Just thinking about last year. After Ripper. How I used to watch you and wonder what it would be like."

Giles tipped his head. "So what is it like?"

Xander grinned, watching Giles' tongue trip over his lips. "Good. This is how I imagined. Not last night. Last night was kind of a surprise."

"A good surprise?"

"You're fishing."

Giles grinned back, eyes crinkling, and kissed him briefly. "You rather tipped my world over the day you kissed me. I never..."

"Never thought anyone with any taste would be seen with me?" Xander asked, lightly.

"I never imagined myself, until I saw the way he looked at you, and I tried to see you through his eyes."

This was a way better conversation than the other one. Xander kissed him, deep and slow, and then drew back to see him, fuzzy-eyed, wet-lipped. "What did he see?"

"Now who's fishing?"

"That would be me."

"Your kiss helped enormously with the seeing," Giles added.

So Xander kissed him again, just the same but longer, rubbing his back and lifting a hand to curl around his neck.

There was a whine from the cage, and Xander tried to pull back but Giles held him steady. Still against his mouth, Giles murmured, "The way you kiss..." and then they did again, slick and warm, Giles always a little more forceful than Xander, always seeming to want to be inside him while Xander was entranced by the soft meeting of lips, the way it was and wasn't like kissing a girl.

This was kissing Giles.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

ze end.


There will be more to come in this universe, but unfortunately, there have been plot developments, so it may be a while.

In the meantime, every time you feedback, a fairy gets a blow job. Pull my tentacle!

S.