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It wasn’t, technically speaking, the right thing to do, cancelling on Joyce hours before her date, and Giles knew that Buffy wouldn’t be exactly pleased to have to stand in and play sitter for Dawn, but—well—the fact of the matter was that Jenny had bought lingerie, and put it on, and really, that was all there was to it, especially when she’d chosen to drape herself across the bed like that. He’d tried, very valiantly, to assert that he had other long-standing commitments (which, in this situation, mostly just meant a few inarticulate syllables before she was pressed against the mattress as he kissed every exposed inch of skin he could find), but it was only when she had him halfway undressed that his initial intentions returned to him.
“Wait,” he said, dizzy with lust, and placed a hand between them, inadvertently grazing the swell of her breasts. Jenny’s small hands moved up to press his fingers into her skin, encouraging him to caress and stroke, at which point he was distracted for another two minutes before remembering—again—that he did have to tell Joyce he wouldn’t be available to watch Dawn. “Jenny—Jenny. I have to—Joyce—”
Jenny fell back on her elbows, looking up at him with a mournful expression that put his own “puppy-dog eyes” to shame. It was as though he’d run over her laptop with his Citroen. “Rupert,” she sighed, toying with the ribbons of her corset, “I need you.”
“You are being deliberately difficult,” said Giles breathlessly, moving in for another heated kiss. Jenny giggled against his mouth, draping her arms around his neck. “Mm. And I’ll have you—ah—know, that, that—oh, Jenny, I—I promised Buffy I’d look after Dawn tonight—”
“So call and cancel,” said Jenny.
“That is what I am trying to do,” Giles informed her, too interested in the half-unlaced corset to even feign irritation. “That—and you know that, Jenny, you are not helping, doing what you’ve done tonight—”
“Rupert,” said Jenny sweetly, tucking her thumb under his chin, “I have been telling you for three weeks that if you wouldn’t take a night off, I was going to make you. Buffy can survive staying home with Dawn for one night, but, well,” she looked coquettishly up at him, “if just me in some cheap lingerie is enough to have you enchanted, isn’t that a strong fucking argument for the fact that you could do with, you know, some strong fucking?”
“That is a ridiculous conclusion,” said Giles in a low whisper, moving in to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. “You should know by now that you are utterly bewitching no matter what you are wearing. We could have made passionate, torrid love for three hours before this and I’d still not be able to take my eyes off of you.”
Jenny patted his cheek indulgently. “Very sweet,” she said, “but generally speaking, you’re at least able to remember to call Joyce and cancel before you jump me.”
This was a frustratingly good point. Even in the throes of passion, Giles wasn’t one for indecorous behavior, and simply not showing up to a social engagement fell firmly into that category. “Well, I-I-I’ll cancel, then,” he stammered, largely to prove Jenny wrong about exactly how much he didn’t need a break, before belatedly realizing that he had just signed himself up for one. “That is—”
He was just about to tell her that he was not, in fact, going to cancel on Joyce, if only because it was unreasonably short notice and Buffy would likely be thoroughly displeased, when Jenny raised a hand to tug enticingly at the laces of her corset. Horrified by the prospect of losing the chance to divest Jenny of the lingerie himself, Giles said, hastily, “Stay right there,” and all but dived across her legs to grab for the bedside phone. He could hear Jenny’s laughter behind him as he dialed Buffy’s number.
“Summers residence, Buffy speaking,” Buffy chirped.
“Ah—Buffy,” said Giles. Jenny’s arms wrapped round his shoulders. “Stop that,” he hissed.
There was a long silence. Then Buffy said, “So, Giles. By any chance are you calling to cancel the whole sitter deal? Because if that’s what’s happening, and if it’s for the reasons that I think it’s happening, I’m just gonna hand this phone to my mom before the call gets weird again.”
“The call—what—don’t know what you mean,” said Giles, trying desperately to shake Jenny off. Her fingers had snaked under the open collar of his shirt, brushing against his bare skin.
“Oh, you absolutely know what I mean,” said Buffy. “You guys got way worse once you moved in together. You do know that, right?”
Giles had completely lost track of anything that was happening outside of Jenny’s mouth, which had begun to press sweet, insistent little kisses to his neck. “No,” he said, vaguely remembering that he was on the phone with someone, for some reason. Then, just to cover all of his bases, he said, “Yes,” and finally, “How’s the weather?”
Jenny had stopped kissing him and was now just laughing at him.
“I can hear her giggling—okay, you know what? This is Mom’s territory.” There was a note of affectionate amusement to Buffy’s voice. “Mom, Giles is on the line! Can you deal with him so I don’t have to?”
A rustle as the phone was handed to Joyce, who sounded as though she was saying something gently reproving to Buffy. “Hello, Rupert,” she said warmly. “Everything okay?”
“Ah—” Giles had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing.
“You know,” Joyce prompted, “with the babysitting?”
“Babysitting!” Giles latched onto this with relief. “Yes! Joyce, I-I-I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. Something’s come up.”
“I’ll say it has,” said Jenny.
“Stop that,” said Giles.
Joyce, thank God, did not seem to have heard this interchange. “Nothing apocalyptic, I hope,” she quipped.
“No, no, just—” Jenny, showing the limited amount of mercy that she was capable of bestowing upon him, had settled for simply resting her chin on Giles’s shoulder, her cheek pressed lightly against his neck as she waited for the call to end. Unfortunately for Giles, this meant that all he could possibly think about was how sweet she was for not trying to tease him any longer, and how much he really did need a break, and how nice it would be to just spend the night with his wonderful, beautiful treasure of a partner, whose corset he should very much like to remove with his teeth in a good few minutes.
“I have an appointment with my Calendar,” said Giles, realized what he’d said, and almost choked.
“Oh?” said Joyce.
Giles fumbled to save face. “Um—in my Cal—” No, that was absolutely worse. “On,” he said. Jenny had now fallen over, cackling so loudly that he was convinced Joyce could hear her. “On my calendar. There is an appointment on my calendar and I forgot about it and I have to—go to it.”
With a suspiciously amused wobble to her voice, Joyce said, “An appointment. At eight PM?”
“It’s—” Giles glanced helplessly over his shoulder towards Jenny, who was being no help at all. “Jenny,” he hissed.
“Yes, Rupert,” said Joyce. “We’re all aware that it’s Jenny. You know, I was wondering whether you needed a break. Buffy’s been saying you’ve been working nonstop on some complicated prophecy that—”
Giles had completely stopped listening to whatever it was Joyce was saying. Still giggling, Jenny had rolled onto her side, staring at him with those beautiful, bright eyes, one hand in her hair, and that smile— “I have to go now,” he said, cutting Joyce off mid-sentence.
“To your…appointment?” said Joyce, in a strangled tone of voice that suggested she might be trying very hard not to laugh.
“Yes,” said Giles, satisfied that he had successfully obfuscated his intended plans for the night. “That. Goodbye.” Hanging up the phone, he turned to the bed, having already entirely forgotten anything outside of the way that Jenny was smiling at him. He was in her arms in a heartbeat.
It was only when Joyce heard the dial tone that she collapsed into giggles, the phone tumbling from her hands and bouncing merrily on the cord as she attempted to collect herself. Buffy, who had been busily and loudly making herself a sandwich so as to not have to hear Joyce’s conversation, set down the plate and turned around, her own mouth twitching reluctantly. “Yes, fine,” she said. “They are kind of cute. But Giles did just stick me with babysitting, so I don’t think it’s that funny this time around—”
“In his calendar,” Joyce wheezed.
Buffy’s expression dropped into one of abject horror. “Mo-om!”