Chapter Text
We’re going on a trip around Europe, Giles had told practically everyone he had come into contact with in the weeks preceding the trip in question. Multiple locations. Meticulously planned. Concerts, museums, fancy restaurants, everything as expensive and ostentatious as possible to celebrate their utterly implausible continued survival after two years on the Hellmouth—both as individuals, and as a couple. There had been more than a few close calls on both accounts. And a trip around Europe did imply a sort of sophistication—a worldly couple, well-equipped for situations like a disappointingly subpar night at a theater in Venice, and nearly getting arrested thanks to a less-than-legal excursion that Jenny had insisted upon in Munich, and. Well. Whatever was happening now. Which Giles was trying to stop from happening before it escalated.
They were at a museum in Madrid. Lovely place, Madrid. Gorgeous art surrounding them, high ceilings, phenomenal architecture, and Giles was processing absolutely none of it, because Jenny was being deliberately provocative. “Jenny,” he said through his teeth, “you need to stop.”
“Stop what?” said Jenny, looking up at him through her lashes. “I’m being normal. You’re the one who is disrupting the museum environment.” Turning back to her guidebook, she paged through it, chewing on her bottom lip. “You know, this thing is really not thorough enough. I feel like I’m not getting the full experience. How would you feel about going for one of the audio tours?”
“Jenny—”
“Baby, if you’re going to spend the entire museum tour trying to get me to have sex with you, I’m going to make you walk behind me and pretend I don’t know you,” said Jenny, in Spanish, because she was a horrible woman who wanted him to suffer. More than a few people turned to stare at them both. “See?” she said in English, smiling sweetly at him. “Don’t fuck with my immersive museum experience or I will humiliate you. In Spanish.”
This was only making matters worse. “Jenny,” Giles persisted. “Do you have any idea—”
“If it’s not about what I’m looking at, I literally do not care,” said Jenny, turning back to the painting and beginning to take notes. Notes. “Go sit on the bench.”
Giles sat on the bench. He stared at Jenny for what felt like a thousand years, but was at best seven minutes, which he found out after checking his watch to see exactly how long she had been looking at that painting. When she finally did turn around, she was, of course, as radiantly beautiful as always, which did not help at all. “That was very good,” she encouraged, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his temple. “Do you want to see my notes?”
“You have to know what you’re doing,” said Giles unhappily.
“…Enjoying a museum?” said Jenny. Off of Giles’s withering look, she pressed her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. “Rupert,” she said. “This is one of those rare times where I am not actually trying to seduce you. I like being here. I’m not usually an art person, which means I get to have a little bit of an adventure outside of my comfort zone, and I want to pay attention to what I’m looking at, because it’s something that you like. But I can’t do that if you’re trying to get my attention every twenty seconds because you are harboring some weird misapprehension about me playing mind games—”
“Exactly!” said Giles, incensed beyond belief.
Jenny blinked. “Exactly what?”
“You aren’t playing mind games!” said Giles indignantly. “You like the museum! You’re—you’re taking notes! And you’re enjoying yourself, even though this isn’t an activity you chose!”
“…Very much not following you,” said Jenny slowly.
“Jenny, do you have any idea how utterly gorgeous you are when you’re expanding your horizons?” said Giles breathlessly.
Jenny had to hide her face behind the notebook. Giles heard a few strangled noises before she finally resurfaced. Voice brimming with stifled laughter, she said, “Rupert, are—do you—is this because I’m not being a total bitch and making things difficult for you?”
“I like it when you’re terrible and make things difficult for me,” said Giles immediately. “Please never stop doing that.”
“Okay, no, you know what, this is vastly more interesting than the museum,” said Jenny, setting down her notebook by her side. “So you like it when I am terrible, to the point where it drives you to distraction, which remains the most Austenian phrase any boyfriend has ever used with me in casual conversation, but you also like it when I’m not terrible and can’t focus on anything else while my not-terribleness is in full swing?”
This felt an utterly pointless and unnecessarily complicated question. Giles decided to emphasize that with his answer. “I adore you,” he said helplessly. “Whenever you’re trying. The nature of your efforts are immaterial—the fact that there is an effort being made is what I find so alluring. You’re so…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re so dedicated, Jenny.”
Jenny’s eyes were sparkling. She seemed visibly torn between laughter and adoration. “You are so cute,” she said, and leaned forward, giving him a proper kiss. Giles chased her mouth when he pulled back. “Rupert, we are in a museum,” she said, mock-scandalized.
“And?” said Giles. “We’ve done worse in the high school library.”
“Shameless,” Jenny pronounced, draping her arms around his neck.