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First, thank you so much to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stumbelina, soft_princess and ladygaladriel04 for the beautiful Act of Nature icons; they're perfect for the fic and it was very kind of you ::smooches::
Here's the next chapter of the fic bywesleysgirl and me which carries right on from the last.
Previous parts are here
Act of Nature by Wesleysgirl and Jane Davitt
Giles shrugged a little helplessly. “What good would it have done? You couldn’t have helped with the problems themselves, and I’d no wish to bore you to death, so you stopped calling me.” He shook his head. “I just wanted to forget all about that bloody place. Believe me, hearing about your trials and tribulations finding the perfect fishing spot was just what I needed.” He stood up, wanting to get comfortable if they were going to talk. “I lit a fire in the room next door. I wasn’t sure if you used it or not, but it was about the only one with any furniture in it. Want to finish off this wine under the beady gaze of that rather moth-eaten stag on the wall?”
"Sure." Xander picked up his own wine glass and preceded Giles into the sitting room, where the fire had burned down just about enough to require another log. As Giles added one, Xander sat down on the sofa that faced the fireplace, and when Giles turned Xander was looking at the stag's head up on the wall. "I'm thinking I should have taken that down," he said. "Because right now? It's giving me the creeps."
Giles studied it, trying to see why. The expression on the animal’s face seemed one of mild surprise and resignation – hardly frightening. “Really? Well, it’s a little late now, but I’ll help you take it down tomorrow if you like.” He walked to the couch and motioned to Xander to move over. “Sit with your back to it then, and I’ll try and take your mind off it.”
Xander slid over cooperatively, turning to face Giles. "Promise you'll tell me if it starts to look shifty?"
Giles couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him. “I refuse to sit beside you with my eyes fixed on the wall. I’d much rather be looking at you.” He swallowed the last of his wine and put the empty glass down beside him. Xander was leaning back against the high arm of the couch with a cushion shoved behind his neck, looking relaxed. Giles sat close enough to him that he could pull Xander’s feet up and into his lap and then stared into the fire, watching the flames leap and dance. He found himself reluctant to carry on the conversation they’d been having. He didn’t think it was as simple as Xander made it seem, but perhaps he wasn’t as much to blame as he’d thought? Deciding to leave that for the moment, he said instead, “The night you invited me to come up here for Christmas, I got about three hours sleep, you know. I came so close to calling you back and telling you I couldn’t make it.”
The worn jeans Xander was wearing were soft under Giles' hands. "Okay... I guess the obvious question to ask here would be 'why?'"
“I’d think the answer was obvious, too,” Giles said, leaning back against the couch and running his hand slowly along Xander’s thigh and back again. “I’d got to the point where I was rehearsing ways to tell you how I felt. Even with me making up your lines – and I didn’t do a very good job of it – it never ended well.” He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, remembering. “It might have been as clear as day to John that you...liked me, but it wasn’t to me. Not that way.”
"I guess we were both doing a pretty good job of being oblivious there. I mean... if someone asked how I felt about you, I probably would have listed twenty things I liked, but... I still don't know if I would have put the pieces together." Xander took another sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. "It wasn't a picture I was expecting to see."
“Six months ago, I’d have said the same about you.” Giles shifted slightly so that he could look at Xander without twisting his head and smiled at him. “You stayed with me for a week, remember, just back from Africa, waiting to start this job, and I honestly don’t think it occurred to me to see you as anything but a friend. Who’d brought back a lot of sand in his luggage and clogged up the washing machine. And kept getting lost and calling me for directions in the middle of meetings. Then you left and – I missed you.” He reached for the wine bottle, sighed when he discovered it was just out of reach, and moved Xander’s legs so that he could go to fetch it. After retrieving his own glass, he split what was left in the bottle between them, and sat down on the floor beside Xander, grabbing a cushion to lean against.
"It's not my fault you freaky British people have a thing for roundabouts," Xander complained good-naturedly as he settled a hand on Giles' shoulder and began to rub gently. "I missed you too."
Xander swallowed the rest of his wine, balanced the empty glass on the somewhat flat arm of the sofa in what Giles could only assume was an action destined to result in broken glass.
"Stay there," Xander said, squirming around until he had a leg on either side of Giles' body. "Okay, now just... move like this..." And Giles found himself shifted until his back was against the sofa, both of Xander's hands on his shoulders. He felt Xander's thumbs press firmly into muscles in his back that he hadn't even realized were tense. "What's the worst thing? About your job, I mean."
Giles thought about it for a moment, letting his head sink forward a little. The strength in the warm hands on his neck was reassuring, and it felt so good to be touched after weeks where the only physical contact he had with others was a brisk handshake or the impersonal, intrusive press of bodies on the Tube. “I don’t know...the fact that it’s not my job, I suppose. I was a Watcher, Xander. I was responsible for one Slayer; now I have hundreds to care for. Everything’s on a larger scale; the shop had a turnover of a few thousand dollars a month – do you know how much money the Council has? Millions. It’s been around for ever, it’s got power that scares me to think about it...and I’m clinging on grimly as it flails around wildly trying to regrow the head Caleb and the First chopped off. I’m out of my depth, but there is no one else. We lost so many...”
"Yeah," Xander said, his voice a bit rough as he filled in the silence left when Giles ran out of words. His hands continued to rub Giles' shoulders and neck, slowly and with a sort of innate talent Giles wouldn't have expected, even though that was absurd. Of course Xander would be good with his hands. "Can't you delegate some of the work? I mean, I know there aren't... I mean... what about me?"
“You?” Giles heard the note of surprise in his voice and realised too late how it would sound, as Xander’s hands went still and then slid away. He turned around and reached up to stroke the side of Xander’s face, cursing himself as he saw the hurt on it. “Sorry. That sounded as if I didn’t think you’d be up to it, and that’s not true at all. I just – Xander, you’d loathe it! Tedious routine, never-ending forms...death by a thousand paper cuts. It’s not what you’re used to.” He searched Xander’s face for some sign that he’d repaired the damage he’d caused by one thoughtless word and saw none. “Working with you would be wonderful. Someone I could trust completely, someone utterly reliable and capable of thinking for himself? You’d be a godsend.” Giles allowed himself a moment to think wistfully about Xander working with him and all the benefits. Then another thought occurred to him and he grimaced. “And how long do you think it would be before it leaked out that we were involved? Your position would be untenable.”
"I'm already working for you," Xander pointed out. "And this job -- this house -- is going to be done sooner or later. What were you thinking would happen then? I mean, if you have plans to send me off to Egypt or India or something, I'd appreciate some advance warning." His expression was slightly less hurt, but still troubled.
“Did it ever occur to you that I can’t send you anywhere?” Giles said curiously. “Only ask you to go? And that I sent you here less to oversee the renovation than to give you a breathing space?” He slipped his hand into Xander’s, linking them, needing to touch him. “You looked ready to drop in your tracks, to be honest. No one lost as much as you in Sunnydale and no one showed it less. I thought a few months up here would help – and it did. Listening to you sound brighter every time we spoke was very reassuring – quite made up for the fuss everyone made when they found out I’d sent you to the back of beyond.”
Xander's next words nearly echoed his. "Did it ever occur to you that I'd go wherever you asked me to? I mean... what else am I supposed to do? Get a job somewhere building bookcases and dining room sets and pretend that everything I know was just some nightmare?" Xander's fingers moved restlessly in his. "I tried that in Africa -- believe me, it doesn't work."
Acting on instinct, and a need to comfort, he moved to sit beside Xander on the couch, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close with the other. “I barely spoke to you while you were out there; the time difference for one thing, and that bloody crackle on the line...when you said you tried to pretend, what do you mean?”
Giles tried to keep the depth of his concern from his voice, but it wasn’t easy. His hand tightened on Xander’s shoulder and he forced himself to relax.
"You know," Xander said. "Typical stuff. Drinking, mostly. Trying to forget."
The impatience that filled Giles surprised him. Not with Xander, but with himself, for not getting what Xander meant so that he had to keep asking him questions...
“I can think of a lot you’d want to forget; Anya’s death, the loss of your home –” Giles brushed gently at the patch covering Xander’s missing eye, “- this. Or was it something else that bothered you?”
Xander shrugged slightly under Giles' arm. "I don't know. All of it. Mostly Anya, I guess. She was..." He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "I think she really loved me." He glanced at Giles. "Or maybe I just wanted to think that."
“She adored you,” Giles said, remembering long hours in the shop trying to close his ears to her overly frank chatter about Xander, “but you don’t need me to tell you that you hurt her badly. If it’s any consolation, I think she forgave you.” I can tell by the way you’re still human-shaped, he added silently.
"Anyway, that's not the point." Xander sat up a bit straighter, not pulling away but moving enough so that he could look at Giles properly. "The point is -- you can't forget. You just have to deal. And part of that includes doing what you can to help. I might never be a crack shot with a crossbow again, and it's entirely possible that only lamps will ever tremble before me when I'm holding a sword, but I can still see what's what. Even with just the one eye." He smiled a little bit. "That's what I do."
Giles traced the arch of Xander’s eyebrow with one finger and smiled. “I think you’re severely underestimating both your ability to inspire terror and the contribution you can make.” He stared at him thoughtfully. “I told you I got criticised for sending you here; I didn’t mean by Buffy and Willow, you know. It was Simpson – remember him; the one who came back from retirement to help us out, and will probably be with us for another forty years...the one who made Andrew cry three times in one day?”
"Why? What did he think I was going to screw up?"
Astonishment held Giles silent for a second or two. “Nothing. Why would you -? Never mind. His exact words were, ‘Whilst I bow to your considerable expertise in the efficient deployment of your work force -’ he really does talk like that, you know –‘I cannot but feel that sending young Mr Harris away when we have need of him here, is both indefensible and shortsighted. Get him back at once, Rupert.’ At which point I respectfully pointed out that you needed to rest and he stared at me for a minute, without blinking once, and muttered something about sentimental nonsense and coddling, then gave me a salmon fly he’d made himself and told me to give it to you for the next season.”
Giles took a certain perverse satisfaction in watching Xander’s jaw drop. “It’s been a while since the Council saw you as a civilian, Xander,” he said gently. “Little matter of saving the world single-handed?”
"But..." Xander didn't seem to know what to say. "Do you -- I mean, what -- this is a vacation? Is that what you're telling me?" His voice lowered. "I can do whatever needs to be done. And if that's being in London, and pushing papers to help take the stress off you... that's where I want to be. And I don't care if people think it's because we're... involved." Xander looked a bit worried then. "Unless you do."
Giles leaned forward and kissed him hard, pulling back at once. “That was for offering to help with the paperwork,” he said. “And think of this as a holiday if you like – you’ve certainly benefited from it, as I’d hoped you would – but, yes, if you want it, there’s more you can be doing.” He shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t want to rush you or force you before you were ready.” He moved Xander’s wine glass to the floor before it got knocked over, and slipped his arms around Xander. “And forget what I said about us being involved being a problem. It might make for some office gossip, but as most of it would be concerned with how you could do much better for yourself...”
Xander leaned into the embrace at once with what certainly sounded like a relieved sigh, one arm settling warm around Giles' waist. "What are you, nuts? I'm just a hack who barely managed to graduate high school. You're the one who could do better -- someone with depth perception, for example." He didn't sound upset or even particularly self-deprecating, just matter of fact.
“I could do better? Xander, that’s – ” Giles checked himself. “I’m going to set aside ten minutes a day for telling you just why that’s a ridiculous idea, until it sinks in, but can we take it as read for now and move onto the part where I kiss you? Please?”
"Yeah, I think we can do that." Xander didn't wait for Giles to move, instead shifting closer to press their mouths together in a soft, rather gentle kiss that lasted quite a bit longer than Giles had anticipated, not that he was likely to complain. "Was that what you had in mind?" Xander asked, running a hand back into Giles' hair.
“Oh, yes,” Giles said, wondering if he looked as content as he felt. “Very much so.”
A log crackled and spat in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney, but neither of them noticed. Drawing Xander to him, Giles kissed him again, moving his hands over Xander’s back slowly. This body – he would have said he knew it but he would have been wrong. Close enough that he was aware of every breath Xander took, Giles was discovering all manner of details he’d never noticed before, letting his hands explore what his eyes had seen.
Xander's gentle murmurs of pleasure at each touch only made Giles want to draw more out of him. Xander tasted of the Chardonnay, warm and silky smooth, and he sighed when Giles slid a hand beneath the soft sweater and ran it along his spine. "You win the prize," Xander said gruffly, brushing his lips over a pulse point on Giles' throat. "Best kisser ever."
Giles tilted his head back, wordlessly inviting Xander to continue, and chuckled a little breathlessly. “If that’s so, it’s more to do with the fact that I’m kissing you, than any particular talent of mine. What do I win?”
Xander’s kisses were addictive, he decided hazily. After each one, he wanted another...and another...
"Hmm," Xander said thoughtfully, breath warm just beneath Giles' ear. "Good question. What do you want?"
“You’re making it hard for me to concentrate,” Giles said, easing his hand around enough to rest on Xander’s hip and blessing the fact that Xander’s jeans gaped so invitingly at the waist now. He ran his thumb in teasingly light circles in the dip beside Xander’s hip bone. “What do I want?” It occurred to him that Xander had never said he loved him, but that wasn’t something he could ask for. That had to come from Xander. “Three kisses,” he decided. “Anywhere you like.”
Xander didn't seem to require any time to think about it -- he pulled Giles closer with one hand on the back of his head and murmured, "Close your eyes." When Giles obeyed, Xander pressed a feather-light kiss onto each eyelid, first right, then left. "You try to keep these, okay?" he asked, his voice rough. "I'm kinda used to looking at them." And then, before Giles could say anything in response, Xander kissed him on the mouth with parted lips and what felt like love, even if the word hadn't yet been spoken.
The kiss ended and Giles smiled up at Xander. “Thank you. The last prize I won was a book, for coming first in the long jump at school, and much though I love books, I have to say I prefer your way.”
The fire was dying down now and the room cooling quickly as it did. Giles sighed regretfully. “We have to either build up the fire, freeze, or give up and go to bed. Two of those options require moving, which I’m firmly against on principle, but the third isn’t appealing either.”
He didn’t want to assume that they’d be sleeping together, even after all that they’d gone through that day, but he hoped they would. Xander was looking drowsier by the minute so Giles didn’t expect that they’d do more than sleep, but sharing a bed with him would be more than enough.
Attempting to hide a yawn behind one hand, Xander patted Giles' thigh with the other. "Well I was hoping I could talk you into keeping me warm tonight, but if you want to stay up, I think you're gonna have to do it alone because I've got maybe ten more awake minutes left in me." He stood up. "I can attempt to bribe you with the promise of not particularly scintillating conversation during those ten minutes though, if that helps." Xander's expression was hopeful.
Giles grinned. “I think you’ll find I’m very open to bribery if it gets me into your bed.” He stood up. “If I stop replying after eight minutes, don’t feel your conversation put me to sleep, will you? I swear there’s something in the air up here...they should bottle it.”
"Yeah -- I don't think I've ever slept better," Xander said, going over to adjust the screen in front of the fireplace. "Of course I've been blaming it on all the exercise." As he straightened up again he hitched up his jeans, the motion looking at though it were becoming second nature.
“I could do with some of that myself,” Giles admitted. “I’m not getting to the point where my clothes are all but falling off me, as yours are. Far from it.” He turned towards the door. “Perhaps we could walk into the village tomorrow? Get a few last minute things before Christmas Day?”
"Sounds good." Xander yawned again as they started into the hall and then up the staircase. "Mrs Stewart will be by in the morning with some groceries -- she said something about a ham. Or maybe it was lamb. Anyway, food, but yeah, I wouldn't mind picking up a few things I actually got to choose."
“Do you think she’ll let us sleep in past nine, with it being Christmas Eve?” Giles asked plaintively. He was damned if he’d spend his holiday marching to someone else’s idea of good timekeeping. And he couldn’t imagine being too keen on getting out of a warm bed with an equally warm, and hopefully well rested, Xander in it, just because their porridge was getting cold.
"Yeah -- she always lets me sleep in on the weekends, or the couple of times we've had a day off because we were waiting for supplies to be delivered or something." Xander shrugged. "Anyway, we'll just shut the door." In the hallway outside their rooms he paused. "You need anything?"
Giles nodded. “I’ll go and brush my teeth and join you in a moment. If you fall asleep before that, try and leave me an inch or two of mattress?”
"You got it." Xander stepped into the room, pulling his sweater over his head as he went and exposing the smooth line of his tanned back to Giles just before disappearing from view.
Wondering if it would really matter if he skipped brushing just this once, and deciding he’d better, Giles walked away. When he’d finished brushing and washing, he stripped down to shorts, picked up his robe and went quietly into Xander’s room. As he’d expected, Xander was already asleep, lying sprawled out on his back. One brown arm lay on top of the quilt and the bedside light on Giles’ side of the bed threw deep shadows over his chest and face.
Xander’s eyes were closed and though Giles knew that beneath the left eyelid lay emptiness, without the patch across his face, he could almost trick himself into thinking that if Xander opened his eyes, he’d be whole again.
Giles got into bed beside Xander and leaned up on his elbow, staring down at Xander’s face, relaxed in sleep. He didn’t want to risk waking him but if he’d dared, he’d have returned the three kisses Xander had given him, in the same places. He settled for one against the silky, dark hair and turned out the light.
stumbelina, soft_princess and ladygaladriel04 for the beautiful Act of Nature icons; they're perfect for the fic and it was very kind of you ::smooches::Here's the next chapter of the fic by
wesleysgirl and me which carries right on from the last.Previous parts are here
Act of Nature by Wesleysgirl and Jane Davitt
Giles shrugged a little helplessly. “What good would it have done? You couldn’t have helped with the problems themselves, and I’d no wish to bore you to death, so you stopped calling me.” He shook his head. “I just wanted to forget all about that bloody place. Believe me, hearing about your trials and tribulations finding the perfect fishing spot was just what I needed.” He stood up, wanting to get comfortable if they were going to talk. “I lit a fire in the room next door. I wasn’t sure if you used it or not, but it was about the only one with any furniture in it. Want to finish off this wine under the beady gaze of that rather moth-eaten stag on the wall?”
"Sure." Xander picked up his own wine glass and preceded Giles into the sitting room, where the fire had burned down just about enough to require another log. As Giles added one, Xander sat down on the sofa that faced the fireplace, and when Giles turned Xander was looking at the stag's head up on the wall. "I'm thinking I should have taken that down," he said. "Because right now? It's giving me the creeps."
Giles studied it, trying to see why. The expression on the animal’s face seemed one of mild surprise and resignation – hardly frightening. “Really? Well, it’s a little late now, but I’ll help you take it down tomorrow if you like.” He walked to the couch and motioned to Xander to move over. “Sit with your back to it then, and I’ll try and take your mind off it.”
Xander slid over cooperatively, turning to face Giles. "Promise you'll tell me if it starts to look shifty?"
Giles couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him. “I refuse to sit beside you with my eyes fixed on the wall. I’d much rather be looking at you.” He swallowed the last of his wine and put the empty glass down beside him. Xander was leaning back against the high arm of the couch with a cushion shoved behind his neck, looking relaxed. Giles sat close enough to him that he could pull Xander’s feet up and into his lap and then stared into the fire, watching the flames leap and dance. He found himself reluctant to carry on the conversation they’d been having. He didn’t think it was as simple as Xander made it seem, but perhaps he wasn’t as much to blame as he’d thought? Deciding to leave that for the moment, he said instead, “The night you invited me to come up here for Christmas, I got about three hours sleep, you know. I came so close to calling you back and telling you I couldn’t make it.”
The worn jeans Xander was wearing were soft under Giles' hands. "Okay... I guess the obvious question to ask here would be 'why?'"
“I’d think the answer was obvious, too,” Giles said, leaning back against the couch and running his hand slowly along Xander’s thigh and back again. “I’d got to the point where I was rehearsing ways to tell you how I felt. Even with me making up your lines – and I didn’t do a very good job of it – it never ended well.” He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, remembering. “It might have been as clear as day to John that you...liked me, but it wasn’t to me. Not that way.”
"I guess we were both doing a pretty good job of being oblivious there. I mean... if someone asked how I felt about you, I probably would have listed twenty things I liked, but... I still don't know if I would have put the pieces together." Xander took another sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. "It wasn't a picture I was expecting to see."
“Six months ago, I’d have said the same about you.” Giles shifted slightly so that he could look at Xander without twisting his head and smiled at him. “You stayed with me for a week, remember, just back from Africa, waiting to start this job, and I honestly don’t think it occurred to me to see you as anything but a friend. Who’d brought back a lot of sand in his luggage and clogged up the washing machine. And kept getting lost and calling me for directions in the middle of meetings. Then you left and – I missed you.” He reached for the wine bottle, sighed when he discovered it was just out of reach, and moved Xander’s legs so that he could go to fetch it. After retrieving his own glass, he split what was left in the bottle between them, and sat down on the floor beside Xander, grabbing a cushion to lean against.
"It's not my fault you freaky British people have a thing for roundabouts," Xander complained good-naturedly as he settled a hand on Giles' shoulder and began to rub gently. "I missed you too."
Xander swallowed the rest of his wine, balanced the empty glass on the somewhat flat arm of the sofa in what Giles could only assume was an action destined to result in broken glass.
"Stay there," Xander said, squirming around until he had a leg on either side of Giles' body. "Okay, now just... move like this..." And Giles found himself shifted until his back was against the sofa, both of Xander's hands on his shoulders. He felt Xander's thumbs press firmly into muscles in his back that he hadn't even realized were tense. "What's the worst thing? About your job, I mean."
Giles thought about it for a moment, letting his head sink forward a little. The strength in the warm hands on his neck was reassuring, and it felt so good to be touched after weeks where the only physical contact he had with others was a brisk handshake or the impersonal, intrusive press of bodies on the Tube. “I don’t know...the fact that it’s not my job, I suppose. I was a Watcher, Xander. I was responsible for one Slayer; now I have hundreds to care for. Everything’s on a larger scale; the shop had a turnover of a few thousand dollars a month – do you know how much money the Council has? Millions. It’s been around for ever, it’s got power that scares me to think about it...and I’m clinging on grimly as it flails around wildly trying to regrow the head Caleb and the First chopped off. I’m out of my depth, but there is no one else. We lost so many...”
"Yeah," Xander said, his voice a bit rough as he filled in the silence left when Giles ran out of words. His hands continued to rub Giles' shoulders and neck, slowly and with a sort of innate talent Giles wouldn't have expected, even though that was absurd. Of course Xander would be good with his hands. "Can't you delegate some of the work? I mean, I know there aren't... I mean... what about me?"
“You?” Giles heard the note of surprise in his voice and realised too late how it would sound, as Xander’s hands went still and then slid away. He turned around and reached up to stroke the side of Xander’s face, cursing himself as he saw the hurt on it. “Sorry. That sounded as if I didn’t think you’d be up to it, and that’s not true at all. I just – Xander, you’d loathe it! Tedious routine, never-ending forms...death by a thousand paper cuts. It’s not what you’re used to.” He searched Xander’s face for some sign that he’d repaired the damage he’d caused by one thoughtless word and saw none. “Working with you would be wonderful. Someone I could trust completely, someone utterly reliable and capable of thinking for himself? You’d be a godsend.” Giles allowed himself a moment to think wistfully about Xander working with him and all the benefits. Then another thought occurred to him and he grimaced. “And how long do you think it would be before it leaked out that we were involved? Your position would be untenable.”
"I'm already working for you," Xander pointed out. "And this job -- this house -- is going to be done sooner or later. What were you thinking would happen then? I mean, if you have plans to send me off to Egypt or India or something, I'd appreciate some advance warning." His expression was slightly less hurt, but still troubled.
“Did it ever occur to you that I can’t send you anywhere?” Giles said curiously. “Only ask you to go? And that I sent you here less to oversee the renovation than to give you a breathing space?” He slipped his hand into Xander’s, linking them, needing to touch him. “You looked ready to drop in your tracks, to be honest. No one lost as much as you in Sunnydale and no one showed it less. I thought a few months up here would help – and it did. Listening to you sound brighter every time we spoke was very reassuring – quite made up for the fuss everyone made when they found out I’d sent you to the back of beyond.”
Xander's next words nearly echoed his. "Did it ever occur to you that I'd go wherever you asked me to? I mean... what else am I supposed to do? Get a job somewhere building bookcases and dining room sets and pretend that everything I know was just some nightmare?" Xander's fingers moved restlessly in his. "I tried that in Africa -- believe me, it doesn't work."
Acting on instinct, and a need to comfort, he moved to sit beside Xander on the couch, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close with the other. “I barely spoke to you while you were out there; the time difference for one thing, and that bloody crackle on the line...when you said you tried to pretend, what do you mean?”
Giles tried to keep the depth of his concern from his voice, but it wasn’t easy. His hand tightened on Xander’s shoulder and he forced himself to relax.
"You know," Xander said. "Typical stuff. Drinking, mostly. Trying to forget."
The impatience that filled Giles surprised him. Not with Xander, but with himself, for not getting what Xander meant so that he had to keep asking him questions...
“I can think of a lot you’d want to forget; Anya’s death, the loss of your home –” Giles brushed gently at the patch covering Xander’s missing eye, “- this. Or was it something else that bothered you?”
Xander shrugged slightly under Giles' arm. "I don't know. All of it. Mostly Anya, I guess. She was..." He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "I think she really loved me." He glanced at Giles. "Or maybe I just wanted to think that."
“She adored you,” Giles said, remembering long hours in the shop trying to close his ears to her overly frank chatter about Xander, “but you don’t need me to tell you that you hurt her badly. If it’s any consolation, I think she forgave you.” I can tell by the way you’re still human-shaped, he added silently.
"Anyway, that's not the point." Xander sat up a bit straighter, not pulling away but moving enough so that he could look at Giles properly. "The point is -- you can't forget. You just have to deal. And part of that includes doing what you can to help. I might never be a crack shot with a crossbow again, and it's entirely possible that only lamps will ever tremble before me when I'm holding a sword, but I can still see what's what. Even with just the one eye." He smiled a little bit. "That's what I do."
Giles traced the arch of Xander’s eyebrow with one finger and smiled. “I think you’re severely underestimating both your ability to inspire terror and the contribution you can make.” He stared at him thoughtfully. “I told you I got criticised for sending you here; I didn’t mean by Buffy and Willow, you know. It was Simpson – remember him; the one who came back from retirement to help us out, and will probably be with us for another forty years...the one who made Andrew cry three times in one day?”
"Why? What did he think I was going to screw up?"
Astonishment held Giles silent for a second or two. “Nothing. Why would you -? Never mind. His exact words were, ‘Whilst I bow to your considerable expertise in the efficient deployment of your work force -’ he really does talk like that, you know –‘I cannot but feel that sending young Mr Harris away when we have need of him here, is both indefensible and shortsighted. Get him back at once, Rupert.’ At which point I respectfully pointed out that you needed to rest and he stared at me for a minute, without blinking once, and muttered something about sentimental nonsense and coddling, then gave me a salmon fly he’d made himself and told me to give it to you for the next season.”
Giles took a certain perverse satisfaction in watching Xander’s jaw drop. “It’s been a while since the Council saw you as a civilian, Xander,” he said gently. “Little matter of saving the world single-handed?”
"But..." Xander didn't seem to know what to say. "Do you -- I mean, what -- this is a vacation? Is that what you're telling me?" His voice lowered. "I can do whatever needs to be done. And if that's being in London, and pushing papers to help take the stress off you... that's where I want to be. And I don't care if people think it's because we're... involved." Xander looked a bit worried then. "Unless you do."
Giles leaned forward and kissed him hard, pulling back at once. “That was for offering to help with the paperwork,” he said. “And think of this as a holiday if you like – you’ve certainly benefited from it, as I’d hoped you would – but, yes, if you want it, there’s more you can be doing.” He shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t want to rush you or force you before you were ready.” He moved Xander’s wine glass to the floor before it got knocked over, and slipped his arms around Xander. “And forget what I said about us being involved being a problem. It might make for some office gossip, but as most of it would be concerned with how you could do much better for yourself...”
Xander leaned into the embrace at once with what certainly sounded like a relieved sigh, one arm settling warm around Giles' waist. "What are you, nuts? I'm just a hack who barely managed to graduate high school. You're the one who could do better -- someone with depth perception, for example." He didn't sound upset or even particularly self-deprecating, just matter of fact.
“I could do better? Xander, that’s – ” Giles checked himself. “I’m going to set aside ten minutes a day for telling you just why that’s a ridiculous idea, until it sinks in, but can we take it as read for now and move onto the part where I kiss you? Please?”
"Yeah, I think we can do that." Xander didn't wait for Giles to move, instead shifting closer to press their mouths together in a soft, rather gentle kiss that lasted quite a bit longer than Giles had anticipated, not that he was likely to complain. "Was that what you had in mind?" Xander asked, running a hand back into Giles' hair.
“Oh, yes,” Giles said, wondering if he looked as content as he felt. “Very much so.”
A log crackled and spat in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney, but neither of them noticed. Drawing Xander to him, Giles kissed him again, moving his hands over Xander’s back slowly. This body – he would have said he knew it but he would have been wrong. Close enough that he was aware of every breath Xander took, Giles was discovering all manner of details he’d never noticed before, letting his hands explore what his eyes had seen.
Xander's gentle murmurs of pleasure at each touch only made Giles want to draw more out of him. Xander tasted of the Chardonnay, warm and silky smooth, and he sighed when Giles slid a hand beneath the soft sweater and ran it along his spine. "You win the prize," Xander said gruffly, brushing his lips over a pulse point on Giles' throat. "Best kisser ever."
Giles tilted his head back, wordlessly inviting Xander to continue, and chuckled a little breathlessly. “If that’s so, it’s more to do with the fact that I’m kissing you, than any particular talent of mine. What do I win?”
Xander’s kisses were addictive, he decided hazily. After each one, he wanted another...and another...
"Hmm," Xander said thoughtfully, breath warm just beneath Giles' ear. "Good question. What do you want?"
“You’re making it hard for me to concentrate,” Giles said, easing his hand around enough to rest on Xander’s hip and blessing the fact that Xander’s jeans gaped so invitingly at the waist now. He ran his thumb in teasingly light circles in the dip beside Xander’s hip bone. “What do I want?” It occurred to him that Xander had never said he loved him, but that wasn’t something he could ask for. That had to come from Xander. “Three kisses,” he decided. “Anywhere you like.”
Xander didn't seem to require any time to think about it -- he pulled Giles closer with one hand on the back of his head and murmured, "Close your eyes." When Giles obeyed, Xander pressed a feather-light kiss onto each eyelid, first right, then left. "You try to keep these, okay?" he asked, his voice rough. "I'm kinda used to looking at them." And then, before Giles could say anything in response, Xander kissed him on the mouth with parted lips and what felt like love, even if the word hadn't yet been spoken.
The kiss ended and Giles smiled up at Xander. “Thank you. The last prize I won was a book, for coming first in the long jump at school, and much though I love books, I have to say I prefer your way.”
The fire was dying down now and the room cooling quickly as it did. Giles sighed regretfully. “We have to either build up the fire, freeze, or give up and go to bed. Two of those options require moving, which I’m firmly against on principle, but the third isn’t appealing either.”
He didn’t want to assume that they’d be sleeping together, even after all that they’d gone through that day, but he hoped they would. Xander was looking drowsier by the minute so Giles didn’t expect that they’d do more than sleep, but sharing a bed with him would be more than enough.
Attempting to hide a yawn behind one hand, Xander patted Giles' thigh with the other. "Well I was hoping I could talk you into keeping me warm tonight, but if you want to stay up, I think you're gonna have to do it alone because I've got maybe ten more awake minutes left in me." He stood up. "I can attempt to bribe you with the promise of not particularly scintillating conversation during those ten minutes though, if that helps." Xander's expression was hopeful.
Giles grinned. “I think you’ll find I’m very open to bribery if it gets me into your bed.” He stood up. “If I stop replying after eight minutes, don’t feel your conversation put me to sleep, will you? I swear there’s something in the air up here...they should bottle it.”
"Yeah -- I don't think I've ever slept better," Xander said, going over to adjust the screen in front of the fireplace. "Of course I've been blaming it on all the exercise." As he straightened up again he hitched up his jeans, the motion looking at though it were becoming second nature.
“I could do with some of that myself,” Giles admitted. “I’m not getting to the point where my clothes are all but falling off me, as yours are. Far from it.” He turned towards the door. “Perhaps we could walk into the village tomorrow? Get a few last minute things before Christmas Day?”
"Sounds good." Xander yawned again as they started into the hall and then up the staircase. "Mrs Stewart will be by in the morning with some groceries -- she said something about a ham. Or maybe it was lamb. Anyway, food, but yeah, I wouldn't mind picking up a few things I actually got to choose."
“Do you think she’ll let us sleep in past nine, with it being Christmas Eve?” Giles asked plaintively. He was damned if he’d spend his holiday marching to someone else’s idea of good timekeeping. And he couldn’t imagine being too keen on getting out of a warm bed with an equally warm, and hopefully well rested, Xander in it, just because their porridge was getting cold.
"Yeah -- she always lets me sleep in on the weekends, or the couple of times we've had a day off because we were waiting for supplies to be delivered or something." Xander shrugged. "Anyway, we'll just shut the door." In the hallway outside their rooms he paused. "You need anything?"
Giles nodded. “I’ll go and brush my teeth and join you in a moment. If you fall asleep before that, try and leave me an inch or two of mattress?”
"You got it." Xander stepped into the room, pulling his sweater over his head as he went and exposing the smooth line of his tanned back to Giles just before disappearing from view.
Wondering if it would really matter if he skipped brushing just this once, and deciding he’d better, Giles walked away. When he’d finished brushing and washing, he stripped down to shorts, picked up his robe and went quietly into Xander’s room. As he’d expected, Xander was already asleep, lying sprawled out on his back. One brown arm lay on top of the quilt and the bedside light on Giles’ side of the bed threw deep shadows over his chest and face.
Xander’s eyes were closed and though Giles knew that beneath the left eyelid lay emptiness, without the patch across his face, he could almost trick himself into thinking that if Xander opened his eyes, he’d be whole again.
Giles got into bed beside Xander and leaned up on his elbow, staring down at Xander’s face, relaxed in sleep. He didn’t want to risk waking him but if he’d dared, he’d have returned the three kisses Xander had given him, in the same places. He settled for one against the silky, dark hair and turned out the light.