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wesleysgirl. The last part ended with them going into the hotel for lunch and this carries right on from there and it's from Xander's POV.
Previous parts are here
Act of Nature by Wesleysgirl and Jane Davitt
Chapter Twelve
As he’d expected, it wasn’t full, though there were people at a few of the tables. No sign of John, or anyone he knew well enough to do more than nod at, which made things simple. He steered Giles to a table by the window, so they could look out at the bay and watch the white-tipped waves as they curled and crashed against the rocks.
Giles picked up a menu and scanned it. “Anything you recommend?”
"Pretty much everything I've had is good." Xander looked quickly at his own menu. "The Angus fillet -- that Glenmorangie sauce is amazing. And the venison casserole." He looked up at Giles, feeling ignorant. "I don't even know what you like."
Giles didn’t even look up from his menu. “Yes, you do,” he said. “In fact, you’re an authority on the subject.” He put the menu down and gave Xander a direct look. “The fillet sounds delicious.”
You'd think Xander would be used to directness, what with Cordelia and Anya, but for some reason when Giles was looking at him like that, he had a hard time figuring out what to say. Or thinking at all, actually. "Uh-huh," he managed to get out, then he realized that there was someone standing at his elbow, and turned his head to see one of the two regular waitresses.
"Glad to see you've weathered the storm all right," she said, smiling at him. "Can I start you two off with a pint?"
“Do you have any 80 shilling ale?” Giles asked. “I remembering trying that some years back and liking it.”
“In a bottle, aye; will that do?”
Giles nodded. “That’s fine, thanks.”
"Make it two?" Xander wasn't really in the mood for a beer, but he didn't figure one would hurt.
The waitress nodded. "Specials are on the board," she said, indicating the little chalkboard on the wall. "Only two today because of the holiday. I'll be right back with your drinks."
Xander shifted the bag of stuff they'd bought so that it was under the table and out of the way, then grinned at Giles.
“This place seems nice,” Giles said, “even if they go in for decorating with animals as much as the person who did Traighshee.”
He nodded at the far wall which was wallpapered in a deep red and decorated with antlers and some large fish mounted in a glass case.
"At least we can change stuff around at the house," Xander said. He hadn't given much thought to decorating, figuring that whatever he liked would end up being stuff that the Slayers who wound up staying there permanently -- well, not permanently, but more permanently than him -- couldn't stand. "But yeah, I don't know about the fish watching you eat your dinner thing. I mean, what if you were having fish? It's a little weird."
“It is,” Giles agreed, “but if you promise not to laugh, what really used to upset me as a child were the restaurants where you chose which lobster you wanted from a tank, and it was whisked away to be boiled alive.” He grimaced. “I’ve chopped demons limb from limb without a quiver, fished and hunted, so it’s totally illogical to be bothered by that, I know.”
"Nah, I get that. I mean -- they're all helpless in a tank. It's not the same as a demon that -- " Xander broke off as the waitress came over to their table with their bottles of beer and two glasses on a tray. "... was in that movie," he finished lamely.
"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, setting the second glass down and tucking the tray under her arm.
He'd forgotten about food. "Oh. Um..." Xander glanced at Giles quickly, hoping Giles would actually know what he wanted and give him a few more seconds to think.
“I think I’ll go with the steak,” Giles said, after a glance at the specials. “Medium rare, with potatoes, please.”
He gave the waitress a friendly smile and began to pour the beer, tilting the glass so that the head built up slowly, ending up as a thick, creamy layer on the top of the reddish- brown liquid. It looked as if it was something he'd done often enough that he could make it look easy. Xander was more used to beer you drank from the bottle, and he wondered if Giles would pour his for him, or if he should have a go and risk it overflowing. Either way he'd end up looking stupid.
Oh geez, he was supposed to be ordering his lunch. "Um... the venison casserole?" He handed over his menu. "Thanks."
Once the waitress had gone away again, Xander said, "You're supposed to stop me when I do stuff like that."
Giles took an appreciative sip of his beer and then tilted his head slightly, looking puzzled. “There’s so much that puzzles me about that sentence that I don’t know where to begin. Help me out by telling me what you think you did wrong.” He took another, longer drink from his beer and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"Talk about demons in front of waitresses," Xander said, gesturing in the direction she'd gone. He picked up his own beer, looked from the bottle to the glass and back again, then just took a sip directly from the bottle.
“Well, I did it first,” Giles pointed out. “And I was talking about rending them limb from limb, so I’m the one who should have got a stern stare and a swift kick on the ankle, not you.”
"You were done talking before she got close enough to the table to hear," Xander said stubbornly.
“And you covered it up perfectly well, not to mention the fact that people hear what they want to, so she would have translated it into something innocuous in her head anyway.” Giles shrugged. “I don’t see why you’re being so hard on yourself about it, but consider yourself forgiven.” Xander felt a gentle tap against his leg and jumped. Giles smiled a little wickedly. “And kicked, if that makes you feel better,” he added.
"Gee, thanks," Xander said dryly, taking another sip of beer. "Hey, you know, this stuff is pretty good."
“Comes with having centuries to get it right, I suppose,” Giles said as the waitress appeared with their food, fragrant steam curling up from the laden plates.
Even though they'd had what Xander considered a decent sized breakfast and it wasn't much past noon, they both reached for their plates pretty eagerly. It wasn't until he'd had at least half a dozen bites of his rich gravy-thick casserole that Xander gestured at Giles' food. "You like?"
“I certainly do,” Giles said, “though the walk was supposed to get me fit, not build up an appetite.” He sighed. “I hadn’t appreciated how much benefit I got from training with Buffy until I stopped. There’s a gym at the London office, but it’s always full of Slayers, and I find that slightly intimidating to say the least.” He grinned, looking a little embarrassed. “Though after years of being called, ‘Giles’ at best, and ‘G-man’ at worst, ‘sir’ is a refreshing change, especially when they get all wide eyed when they say it.” He speared a baby carrot on his fork and said wistfully, clearly trying hard to keep a straight face, “None of you ever used to stare at me worshipfully. Total lack of respect. Shocking, really..."
Xander was aware that he was probably staring at Giles kind of worshipfully right that very minute. "You can train with me if you want," he offered, dropping his gaze back down to his plate and taking another bite of venison and pastry. "But seriously, I don't think you should worry about it. I mean... you look good to me." Better than good, and he felt his cheeks flush.
“I do? Really?” Giles looked as if he didn’t believe it, but he was definitely pleased, Xander could tell, and suddenly he stopped feeling anything but in a hurry to get home. “I’m still bruised just from holding onto the punch bag you were hitting,” Giles said, sounding as if he was making an effort to change the subject. “Possibly we could train in the same room, but I think I’d find you too...distracting.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s better than adorable, but feel free to tell me to stop going on about the effect you have on me.”
"Why would I want to do that?" Xander asked. "Besides, if I'm remembering right, the last time this happened you said I might need to tickle you to make you stop, and I'm thinking you really don't want me to do that here."
“I really don’t,” Giles said. “I’m too full to defend myself for one thing.” He pushed his plate away with a sigh. “That was delicious. Well worth the walk in.” He glanced around the room. “We seem to be about the last people here. Did you want dessert, or coffee? Or shall we get the bill?”
Xander looked out the window at the now gray sky. "I'd say let's get out of here before we get totally rained on on the walk back," he said, nodding at the waitress across the room to indicate that he wanted the check. At the same time, someone familiar walked into the dining room from the bar beyond it. John spotted them right away and smiled a little bit, but hesitated like he wasn't sure he wouldn't be interrupting, and Xander didn't want to wave him over if the whole thing was going to be awkward and if it would make Giles uncomfortable, and...
“You just froze,” Giles said, without turning his head, or altering his expression. Xander was pretty certain Giles couldn’t see John from where he was, but Watchers must get training in looking around corners, because he said quietly, “If John came in, and it wouldn’t bother you, by all means ask him to join us.”
"Thanks," Xander said simply, and made a little motion with his head, a 'come on over' kind of thing, and John came across the room toward them. "Hey."
"Hello, Xander. Mr -- " John paused, a look passing between him and Giles, then said, "Giles. How are things at the house?"
Xander took the bill from the waitress, who came up and smiled at them without saying anything before disappearing again, glanced at it, and took out his wallet. "Good. Well, you know, the roof didn't blow off or anything in the storm, although from how it's looking like rain out there I guess it could always surprise us." He put some cash inside the small leather folder and set it down on the table.
"And how are you liking the island?" John asked Giles.
“Very much,” said Giles. “Though I imagine I’m seeing a different side to it than the summer visitors do. I’d like to come back some day.” He stood up, stepping away from the table, and said, “I think the restaurant seems to be closing, but if the bar’s still open, would you take a drink with us before we go?” Xander couldn’t hear anything in his voice but a casual friendliness but he had a feeling that there was a whole silent conversation going on over his head.
"Actually there are some things that I need to tend to, but I appreciate the offer." John glanced at Xander, but for the most part his attention was on Giles. "And in any case, I wouldn't want to intrude."
Xander really wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but he didn't like the thought of John feeling unwelcome. "You wouldn't be intruding," he said.
“No,” Giles said, and he made it sound convincing without making too much of it. “You wouldn’t be, John, but I understand if you’re busy. Another time, perhaps?” He paused and then added, “I really would like to buy you a drink before I leave.”
John nodded. "I'd like that."
Xander snagged their bag from under the table and stood up too, stepping sideways to move in closer to Giles and telling himself it had nothing to do with the thought of Giles and John drinking together. He did feel like he should say something to John -- to thank him, or something -- but he had no idea what. Which seemed to be his problem a lot of the time, actually. "Thanks," he blurted out. "I mean... well, you know. Thanks. For everything."
He got a slow smile and an understanding look. John always did seem to understand Xander, no matter how drunk, rambling or just plain stuck for words he got, which was handy at times like this. “You’re welcome, Xander.”
John glanced between them both, as if he was checking that they weren’t in need of any more help from him, and said, “You’d best hurry if you want to stay dry. Rain’ll be here soon. I’ll wish you a Happy Christmas, then.”
He held out his hand to Giles, who shook it, and then turned to Xander, hesitating a little before gripping his shoulder for a moment and then patting his arm. “You’ll do,” he murmured, turning away.
And Xander was still stuck in not knowing what to say mode, so he just moved a little bit closer to Giles again, until their sleeves were touching. He waited until John had left the room, then glanced at Giles. "Home?" he asked.
“If you think we’re done here,” Giles said, his tone a little gentler than usual. He turned around and stared out of the window. “We’re going to get wet, aren’t we?” He sounded resigned to it rather than regretful.
"Probably. But then again, think about it this way," Xander said, as they started for the hotel's foyer, "once we get back, we don't have to leave the house again for at least two days." They stepped out the front door, and it was raining and windy and all the things it had been off and on -- and a heck of a lot more 'on' -- since he'd arrived in Scotland.
For once, Xander didn't care.
wesleysgirl. The last part ended with them going into the hotel for lunch and this carries right on from there and it's from Xander's POV.Previous parts are here
Act of Nature by Wesleysgirl and Jane Davitt
Chapter Twelve
As he’d expected, it wasn’t full, though there were people at a few of the tables. No sign of John, or anyone he knew well enough to do more than nod at, which made things simple. He steered Giles to a table by the window, so they could look out at the bay and watch the white-tipped waves as they curled and crashed against the rocks.
Giles picked up a menu and scanned it. “Anything you recommend?”
"Pretty much everything I've had is good." Xander looked quickly at his own menu. "The Angus fillet -- that Glenmorangie sauce is amazing. And the venison casserole." He looked up at Giles, feeling ignorant. "I don't even know what you like."
Giles didn’t even look up from his menu. “Yes, you do,” he said. “In fact, you’re an authority on the subject.” He put the menu down and gave Xander a direct look. “The fillet sounds delicious.”
You'd think Xander would be used to directness, what with Cordelia and Anya, but for some reason when Giles was looking at him like that, he had a hard time figuring out what to say. Or thinking at all, actually. "Uh-huh," he managed to get out, then he realized that there was someone standing at his elbow, and turned his head to see one of the two regular waitresses.
"Glad to see you've weathered the storm all right," she said, smiling at him. "Can I start you two off with a pint?"
“Do you have any 80 shilling ale?” Giles asked. “I remembering trying that some years back and liking it.”
“In a bottle, aye; will that do?”
Giles nodded. “That’s fine, thanks.”
"Make it two?" Xander wasn't really in the mood for a beer, but he didn't figure one would hurt.
The waitress nodded. "Specials are on the board," she said, indicating the little chalkboard on the wall. "Only two today because of the holiday. I'll be right back with your drinks."
Xander shifted the bag of stuff they'd bought so that it was under the table and out of the way, then grinned at Giles.
“This place seems nice,” Giles said, “even if they go in for decorating with animals as much as the person who did Traighshee.”
He nodded at the far wall which was wallpapered in a deep red and decorated with antlers and some large fish mounted in a glass case.
"At least we can change stuff around at the house," Xander said. He hadn't given much thought to decorating, figuring that whatever he liked would end up being stuff that the Slayers who wound up staying there permanently -- well, not permanently, but more permanently than him -- couldn't stand. "But yeah, I don't know about the fish watching you eat your dinner thing. I mean, what if you were having fish? It's a little weird."
“It is,” Giles agreed, “but if you promise not to laugh, what really used to upset me as a child were the restaurants where you chose which lobster you wanted from a tank, and it was whisked away to be boiled alive.” He grimaced. “I’ve chopped demons limb from limb without a quiver, fished and hunted, so it’s totally illogical to be bothered by that, I know.”
"Nah, I get that. I mean -- they're all helpless in a tank. It's not the same as a demon that -- " Xander broke off as the waitress came over to their table with their bottles of beer and two glasses on a tray. "... was in that movie," he finished lamely.
"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, setting the second glass down and tucking the tray under her arm.
He'd forgotten about food. "Oh. Um..." Xander glanced at Giles quickly, hoping Giles would actually know what he wanted and give him a few more seconds to think.
“I think I’ll go with the steak,” Giles said, after a glance at the specials. “Medium rare, with potatoes, please.”
He gave the waitress a friendly smile and began to pour the beer, tilting the glass so that the head built up slowly, ending up as a thick, creamy layer on the top of the reddish- brown liquid. It looked as if it was something he'd done often enough that he could make it look easy. Xander was more used to beer you drank from the bottle, and he wondered if Giles would pour his for him, or if he should have a go and risk it overflowing. Either way he'd end up looking stupid.
Oh geez, he was supposed to be ordering his lunch. "Um... the venison casserole?" He handed over his menu. "Thanks."
Once the waitress had gone away again, Xander said, "You're supposed to stop me when I do stuff like that."
Giles took an appreciative sip of his beer and then tilted his head slightly, looking puzzled. “There’s so much that puzzles me about that sentence that I don’t know where to begin. Help me out by telling me what you think you did wrong.” He took another, longer drink from his beer and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"Talk about demons in front of waitresses," Xander said, gesturing in the direction she'd gone. He picked up his own beer, looked from the bottle to the glass and back again, then just took a sip directly from the bottle.
“Well, I did it first,” Giles pointed out. “And I was talking about rending them limb from limb, so I’m the one who should have got a stern stare and a swift kick on the ankle, not you.”
"You were done talking before she got close enough to the table to hear," Xander said stubbornly.
“And you covered it up perfectly well, not to mention the fact that people hear what they want to, so she would have translated it into something innocuous in her head anyway.” Giles shrugged. “I don’t see why you’re being so hard on yourself about it, but consider yourself forgiven.” Xander felt a gentle tap against his leg and jumped. Giles smiled a little wickedly. “And kicked, if that makes you feel better,” he added.
"Gee, thanks," Xander said dryly, taking another sip of beer. "Hey, you know, this stuff is pretty good."
“Comes with having centuries to get it right, I suppose,” Giles said as the waitress appeared with their food, fragrant steam curling up from the laden plates.
Even though they'd had what Xander considered a decent sized breakfast and it wasn't much past noon, they both reached for their plates pretty eagerly. It wasn't until he'd had at least half a dozen bites of his rich gravy-thick casserole that Xander gestured at Giles' food. "You like?"
“I certainly do,” Giles said, “though the walk was supposed to get me fit, not build up an appetite.” He sighed. “I hadn’t appreciated how much benefit I got from training with Buffy until I stopped. There’s a gym at the London office, but it’s always full of Slayers, and I find that slightly intimidating to say the least.” He grinned, looking a little embarrassed. “Though after years of being called, ‘Giles’ at best, and ‘G-man’ at worst, ‘sir’ is a refreshing change, especially when they get all wide eyed when they say it.” He speared a baby carrot on his fork and said wistfully, clearly trying hard to keep a straight face, “None of you ever used to stare at me worshipfully. Total lack of respect. Shocking, really..."
Xander was aware that he was probably staring at Giles kind of worshipfully right that very minute. "You can train with me if you want," he offered, dropping his gaze back down to his plate and taking another bite of venison and pastry. "But seriously, I don't think you should worry about it. I mean... you look good to me." Better than good, and he felt his cheeks flush.
“I do? Really?” Giles looked as if he didn’t believe it, but he was definitely pleased, Xander could tell, and suddenly he stopped feeling anything but in a hurry to get home. “I’m still bruised just from holding onto the punch bag you were hitting,” Giles said, sounding as if he was making an effort to change the subject. “Possibly we could train in the same room, but I think I’d find you too...distracting.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s better than adorable, but feel free to tell me to stop going on about the effect you have on me.”
"Why would I want to do that?" Xander asked. "Besides, if I'm remembering right, the last time this happened you said I might need to tickle you to make you stop, and I'm thinking you really don't want me to do that here."
“I really don’t,” Giles said. “I’m too full to defend myself for one thing.” He pushed his plate away with a sigh. “That was delicious. Well worth the walk in.” He glanced around the room. “We seem to be about the last people here. Did you want dessert, or coffee? Or shall we get the bill?”
Xander looked out the window at the now gray sky. "I'd say let's get out of here before we get totally rained on on the walk back," he said, nodding at the waitress across the room to indicate that he wanted the check. At the same time, someone familiar walked into the dining room from the bar beyond it. John spotted them right away and smiled a little bit, but hesitated like he wasn't sure he wouldn't be interrupting, and Xander didn't want to wave him over if the whole thing was going to be awkward and if it would make Giles uncomfortable, and...
“You just froze,” Giles said, without turning his head, or altering his expression. Xander was pretty certain Giles couldn’t see John from where he was, but Watchers must get training in looking around corners, because he said quietly, “If John came in, and it wouldn’t bother you, by all means ask him to join us.”
"Thanks," Xander said simply, and made a little motion with his head, a 'come on over' kind of thing, and John came across the room toward them. "Hey."
"Hello, Xander. Mr -- " John paused, a look passing between him and Giles, then said, "Giles. How are things at the house?"
Xander took the bill from the waitress, who came up and smiled at them without saying anything before disappearing again, glanced at it, and took out his wallet. "Good. Well, you know, the roof didn't blow off or anything in the storm, although from how it's looking like rain out there I guess it could always surprise us." He put some cash inside the small leather folder and set it down on the table.
"And how are you liking the island?" John asked Giles.
“Very much,” said Giles. “Though I imagine I’m seeing a different side to it than the summer visitors do. I’d like to come back some day.” He stood up, stepping away from the table, and said, “I think the restaurant seems to be closing, but if the bar’s still open, would you take a drink with us before we go?” Xander couldn’t hear anything in his voice but a casual friendliness but he had a feeling that there was a whole silent conversation going on over his head.
"Actually there are some things that I need to tend to, but I appreciate the offer." John glanced at Xander, but for the most part his attention was on Giles. "And in any case, I wouldn't want to intrude."
Xander really wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but he didn't like the thought of John feeling unwelcome. "You wouldn't be intruding," he said.
“No,” Giles said, and he made it sound convincing without making too much of it. “You wouldn’t be, John, but I understand if you’re busy. Another time, perhaps?” He paused and then added, “I really would like to buy you a drink before I leave.”
John nodded. "I'd like that."
Xander snagged their bag from under the table and stood up too, stepping sideways to move in closer to Giles and telling himself it had nothing to do with the thought of Giles and John drinking together. He did feel like he should say something to John -- to thank him, or something -- but he had no idea what. Which seemed to be his problem a lot of the time, actually. "Thanks," he blurted out. "I mean... well, you know. Thanks. For everything."
He got a slow smile and an understanding look. John always did seem to understand Xander, no matter how drunk, rambling or just plain stuck for words he got, which was handy at times like this. “You’re welcome, Xander.”
John glanced between them both, as if he was checking that they weren’t in need of any more help from him, and said, “You’d best hurry if you want to stay dry. Rain’ll be here soon. I’ll wish you a Happy Christmas, then.”
He held out his hand to Giles, who shook it, and then turned to Xander, hesitating a little before gripping his shoulder for a moment and then patting his arm. “You’ll do,” he murmured, turning away.
And Xander was still stuck in not knowing what to say mode, so he just moved a little bit closer to Giles again, until their sleeves were touching. He waited until John had left the room, then glanced at Giles. "Home?" he asked.
“If you think we’re done here,” Giles said, his tone a little gentler than usual. He turned around and stared out of the window. “We’re going to get wet, aren’t we?” He sounded resigned to it rather than regretful.
"Probably. But then again, think about it this way," Xander said, as they started for the hotel's foyer, "once we get back, we don't have to leave the house again for at least two days." They stepped out the front door, and it was raining and windy and all the things it had been off and on -- and a heck of a lot more 'on' -- since he'd arrived in Scotland.
For once, Xander didn't care.