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“This weekend,” said Jenny.
Giles might have missed it, were he too caught up in his own nerves. Almost did. Asked, shyly, “Would you like to go out?” because there wasn’t much else that she could be alluding to—and then she shook her head, short dark hair fluffing out, and said that she’d like to stay in. As though it was nothing, her offering that to him.
He had learned, with Jenny, that words weren’t always a reliable way to communicate how he felt. Meeting her eyes and telling her that she was incredible would cause her to flinch back, guard up; brushing his nose against hers would have her settled contentedly in his arms in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t usual, and were it anyone else, he would never have considered it, but in a matter of seconds, Giles was leaning in to kiss her in the well-lit hallway with decorum and propriety thrown to the wind.
(one month ago; the night before the Night of St. Vigeous—and just after Parent-Teacher Night)
It wasn’t what Jenny had planned. If she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t actually planned any part of this. Hadn’t thought past the unguarded misery in Rupert’s eyes, the way he had tensed almost beyond recognition as though already prepared for her to take an inevitable step back. She hadn’t been thinking a lot lately, and had the sense that if she did take a step back, she’d be seeing this connection with Rupert as something her uncle would not at all be happy about. That, or something her uncle would be encouraging her to exploit—but the very thought of abusing Rupert’s trust in her for the sake of getting closer to Angel made her chest hurt. Rupert wasn’t someone whose trust you broke. Rupert was someone whose trust you gathered close like a wounded baby animal and nursed gently back to health. Rupert didn’t exactly trust just anyone.
Part of that was perhaps why, for the first time in her life, Jenny had invited a guy in for a nightcap without designs on his virtue—and why, despite her genuinely innocent intentions, the situation had escalated to them kissing in her candlelit apartment. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were getting hot and heavy, but Rupert kissed with gentle intent: chaste, warm, and altogether tender. Jenny had never been kissed like that before, and was drunk on it. She felt like she might just say yes to anything if he asked nicely.
He was making absolutely no attempt to escalate the situation. She kept on waiting for the mask to drop, for the sweet, gentle lover to give way to the taciturn asshole that she had been sure was the real Rupert Giles—and yet the way he kissed, the way he trembled when she touched him, the guileless adoration with which he had looked at her when she had taken his arm, all seemed to point to one indisputable truth. This was Rupert Giles. Romantic, compassionate, and incredibly adoring, everything good about him tucked behind layers of guarded irony and passive-aggressive dickishness. Trying his very hardest to keep everyone in the world at a distance.
Jenny could understand that.
She wanted him to kiss her harder. She guided her hand to the curve of her breast, expecting him to follow her lead without hesitation—but he pulled his hand back as if burned, then pulled himself back, eyes wide and worried. “Jenny—Ms. Calendar—” He was flushed. Rumpled. She liked him like that. “A-are you—that is, we’ve, we’ve—this has been a, a, an incredibly traumatic night for both of us, I wouldn’t want you t-to—”
“Kiss me,” said Jenny, all but begging.
“Yes,” said Rupert softly, and leaned back in, drawing her close again.
He was so gentle with her. It wasn’t the restrained gentleness that she’d expected from a guy like him. He had her in his arms, could have her in his bed, and he was still kissing her like she was a princess, like she was precious. She recognized very distantly that this was the kind of thing that she tried to steer her partners away from, but somehow her attempt to straddle his lap and grind herself against him turned into her distracted by his attempt to cover her throat with kisses now that it was more readily available to him.
He was getting daring. Warming up without even thinking about it. That was something that Jenny did want to encourage. Taking one of his hands, she placed it at her stomach, right where the hem of her top met her skirt. His fingers brushed against her bare skin.
Rupert pulled back again. “Jenny,” he said urgently. “We shouldn’t—”
Jenny exhaled, frustrated. “You know, you’re really the first guy who’s been so interested in not sleeping with me,” she said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “We’ve been on, what, four dates? I’d think you’d be champing at the bit by now.”
Rupert looked somewhat stricken. God, when would she stop fucking this up? “Jenny, I…” He exhaled, ducking his head. He was visibly flushed in a way that didn’t look like it had very much to do with arousal. “I, I know you’re a modern woman, and I really do appreciate that about you on—on many levels, but this, to me, it’s—” He looked somewhat helplessly back up to her. “You’re incredibly special,” he said. “And I know it certainly isn’t—attractive—a man being so, so forthright and open about being attached this early on, but I can’t be dishonest with you. That’s not what I want from our connection.”
Jenny decided to focus on the part of that statement that she could handle. “So I’m too special to debase, is that it?” she said archly.
“That—no,” said Rupert. His blush was deepening. “But—yes. Jenny, really, just—”
“Am I supposed to not be up-front about wanting to fuck you?”
“I…” The hint of a pleased grin stole across Rupert’s face. It was a clear effort on his part to wrestle it into submission. “I’m of the mind that we’re arguing over absolutely nothing,” he said tentatively. “You seem to think that I’m not interested in going to bed. I am. I want it to be something planned, and, and not something happening in the heat of the moment after a narrowly averted massacre on school property during Parent-Teacher Night.”
“I don’t exactly find scheduling sex the most attractive thing in the world,” Jenny began archly.
Rupert’s smile was now entirely gone. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I…I wish that I could give this to you.”
Abruptly, Jenny felt like a total heel. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m obviously not going to pressure you into something that you don’t want to have happen—”
Letting out an exasperated breath, Rupert leaned in, catching Jenny’s mouth against his.
This was not the kind of kiss he usually gave her. This was insistent, languid, deliberate in every sense of the word. This was Rupert gently biting her lower lip, tugging her body against his, tangling his fingers in her hair so that he could kiss her deeply and slowly. His free hand worked itself between them, just under her shirt, one hand resting against her stomach as they continued to kiss. Every place where he was touching her felt like it was on fire—a fire burning too fucking slow—but he was holding her against him to the point where Jenny wasn’t able to do anything but kiss him back. It would have terrified her with anyone but him. She had never felt so safe before.
Rupert pulled back, breathing ragged, and said, “Does that seem like I don’t want it, Jenny?”
She could feel how hard he was underneath her. He was making no attempt to draw her attention to it, but he was also in no way attempting to hide it.
“I want this to just be us,” said Rupert. “Nothing but choice. Planned.”
Jenny was struggling to catch her breath herself. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his, and twined her arms around his neck, feeling her breathing steady at their closer proximity. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” Jenny’s smile wobbled. “I’m sorry I was such an ass.”
“It does make a man feel…wanted,” said Rupert, a strange cadence to his voice on the last word.
Something occurred to Jenny. “I do want you,” she said. “That’s my point. I—you keep acting like I’m just going to leave when things get too hard, but I—”
She did not want to finish that sentence. Didn’t even want to think about that moment in the library, seeing him about to go up against a school full of vamps with a battle-axe, his unwavering loyalty, and that determination that she knew she wasn’t going to be able to argue with. Be careful, she’d said, like that could even begin to cover what she had felt. What she did feel.
“I don’t want to leave,” said Jenny. It was a thready little whisper that she almost wished she hadn’t let him close enough to hear.
“Jenny—”
“Just kiss me,” Jenny managed, throat tight.
The tension in her chest immediately gave way as soon as Rupert obliged.
She did take him to bed, even if it wasn’t the way she’d hoped to that night. Tugged him into her arms, down into the pillows, felt his weary laugh muffled against her shoulder and his lips pressed tenderly to her neck. Kissed and kissed him until she could feel him relaxing against her, pliable and content, and then pulled away just enough to settle herself into a comfortable sleeping position. “You gonna be here in the morning?” she asked, soft and drowsy. It had been an exhausting night on more levels than just the usual.
“Always,” said Rupert.
Jenny hid her face in his chest, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling, and told herself that she had probably just heard him wrong. They were both really tired, after all.
(presently)
Jenny was the one to pull back. Giles found himself chasing her mouth, leaning forward as she pulled away, and it took him a moment to realize exactly why she’d chosen to do this. The hallway was positively bustling with people. “Um—this—Saturday, then,” he managed, trying his very hardest to keep his face detached and professional. Two colleagues having a conversation. Nothing remarkable about that.
“Saturday night,” Jenny agreed, meeting his eyes with that sparkle of amused determination in her own. She wavered, then leaned in. “I’ll see if I can make you squirm.”
It was as though Giles was back in her apartment with the lights down and his hands on her body. At a loss for words—and particularly flustered considering their location—he pushed the vivid memories away, fumbled to give her a nervous smile, and ended up landing on some confused blinking that gave way to a helpless stare. Her response—a warm, brilliant grin—was impossible to take his eyes off of as he left, and it was only when he felt the library door against his back that he realized that he never actually had managed to look away.