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“Fuck,” Buffy said to her hands clasped in her lap.
She and Giles were talking in her living room, again, seemingly on an endless loop. She tried to express the darkness she felt, how trapped she was, the endless, grating, depressing quality of her life. On the other hand, Giles kept trying to cheer her up. He encouraged her, and that pushed her to try even harder to explain. It didn’t work. They had gone round after round this afternoon, just as they had in the days before.
“I’m miserable,” Buffy said quietly.
“I know,” he replied, just as softly.
“I’m so, so tired of crying. Especially when it doesn’t make me feel better. Or feel anything, to be honest.”
Under his breath, Giles murmured, “me too.” It was so quiet even Buffy barely caught it, but she did and it made her throat tighten.
She pushed forward anyway. “And I don’t know how to get out of it –" here she hit her knee with an open palm and finished loudly. “ERG! How do I get out of it?” Her eyes rose to Giles’ face, searching his gaze for an answer.
Giles rubbed a hand slowly down his face as he sighed. “God, right?” he said mostly to himself. Then, more directly, “I know we’re both tired of feeling awful.”
His hands fell loosely to his sides as he deflated.
Turning suddenly, he gave Buffy a piercing stare as he fiddled his fingers for a moment. She could tell he was furiously thinking, and was too exhausted to do anything but wait. Finally, he gave a bit of a smile and it was almost predatory in nature, reminding Buffy of when he was high on band candy. This must be worth sitting up for.
So she did.
“I have an idea,” Giles said in a small but excited voice.
“Oh? I’m pretty sure we’re all idea-ed out.” Buffy’s mouth formed a pouty grimace that made Giles chuckle for the first time in months.
“I feel like I increasingly know less and less. But this I do know definitively: our problems aren’t going to disappear.”
Buffy’s frown grew as she said, “Soooooo not helping here, Giles.”
A quick flash of mischief showed in his eyes. “Listen, listen. If we know our grievances a-and frustrations are going to wait for us, why shouldn’t we let them rest for a bit?”
Buffy scrunched her mouth up to one side. But she was intently listening, and her eyes were busy trying to read him to figure out what was coming next.
“I say we do a spot of…of meditation - just enough to comfortably put our emotions on the shelf - and then we take the evening off. How does that sound to you?” Giles wasn’t smiling, but his expression was open and almost hopeful.
Buffy tilted her head and asked, “Take the evening off? Like, not having to patrol and watching a movie or something instead?”
Giles nodded several times, then cleared his throat. “Could be, yes. If that’s what sounds good to you. But I had in mind…something a bit more… invigorating.”
“Invigorating?” Buffy gave a groan and flopped back onto the couch. “That sounds exhausting.”
Giles sat down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder, a familiar physical contact that soothed them both.
“Not invigorating in that way. I mean, exciting, lively, fun …maybe RE-invigorating would be a better term for it. When was the last time you just had fun?”
He was relieved to see her consider the idea, and her face relaxed. When she sat there trying to think of the last time she had fun, she kept scrolling back further and further. Certainly not after her resurrection, honestly, not after her Mom died, but then again hadn’t it been when Glory showed up? Her brain froze on her inability to remember even one good time, and she frowned deeply.
“Have you…have you ever been to a concert outside of the Bronze?” He asked to interrupt her frown-inducing silence.
“Nooo,” Buffy replied. “Whatcha thinking?”
Giles sat up rigidly and looked entirely too proper as he said in his most posh accent, “have you ever seen a punk show?”
Buffy’s laugh was so loud and out of her present character that it sounded raucous in the quiet room. She covered her mouth in surprise and whispered, “wait, are you serious? Punk? As in punk music? You?!”
He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose slightly at her. “But of course,” he chastised her. “Good music doesn’t magically belong to Spike. I was at all those shows, too,” he declared. “And you’ve met Ripper, you’d do well to remember the scene I was a part of. Sometimes I was even on the stage back then, I’ll have you know.”
“You want to meditate and then see a punk show with me?” Buffy laughed and her eyes lit up. “Sure, why the hell not?”
They smiled hesitatingly at each other for a moment and Giles gave her shoulder another squeeze.
“Dress for a night of forgetting,” he said, standing. “There will be no limits. And I must warn you, I need this release as much as you do. So when I pick you up at 8, I will be coming as myself, not in my role as Watcher. We’ll be Rupert and Buffy. Are you ready and able to handle that?”
She gave him a look of consternation. “Giles, I’ve always wanted that. I’m so beyond trying to maintain roles and lines and coulds and shoulds right now. Please, let’s just go out and leave everything behind. Even if it can only be for tonight.”
He nodded, gave her a big grin, and she sat and shook her head as she listened to him jog down the stairs and to his car.
***
Buffy had to do a double-take when Giles returned that evening and let himself in without a word. He closed the door and leaned back against it, watching her reaction, biting down, holding his jaw stiff and his chin up. Buffy looked him up and down, realized her mouth was hanging open, and blushed furiously as she closed it. When was the last time she had even blushed? She blinked several times in awareness.
But it’s hardly my fault, she thought. Just look at him.
Giles wasn’t wearing his glasses tonight, which surprised her. He was in a simple black t-shirt and jeans that were so old and worn they were thinned out in the knees but somehow still tight along his ass and thighs. He had a thick hoop earring in. Something about the way the skin stretched around his piercing made her stomach flip. Buffy stared at him through big eyes.
For his part, Giles was waiting for her assessment and judgment with a little nervousness. This was such a departure from how they had ever interacted before. He noticed her pupils slightly dilating and the flush of color on her cheeks. He wondered if Buffy knew she wasn’t breathing normally? Giles internally grinned at himself. But then he looked down at her body, and his mouth ran dry.
She was in a tight-fitting black tank top, something that would resemble a kilt if it hadn’t been cut off unreasonably short, and the Doc Marten boots she sometimes wore on patrol.
Her golden skin and blond hair are set off so beautifully by the dark colors, Giles thought, like the sun suddenly appearing in the night sky. God, I’m a sap.
He audibly swallowed and without thinking held out the black leather jacket he’d brought for himself, figuring that she must be cold. At least that was what he insisted to himself when he eyeballed her tight nipples in that tiny tank top. If it was to keep himself from staring - well, that was for the best as well.
Buffy took the coat from his outstretched hand and slowly, so slowly, smiled at him until her whole face lit up in a grin. This really was going to be fun.
He nodded and exhaled happily. “You ok with this?” he asked.
“Ooooh, yeah,” answered Buffy.
Clearing his throat, he casually sat down on the floor, holding on to one knee and letting the other lay straight in front of him.
“Let’s meditate,” he said.
Buffy carefully arranged herself on the floor. Unlike their meditations during training sessions the year before, she felt out of place and uncertain. What was she supposed to do with her hands? Were she and Giles supposed to touch? It felt like there was an electrical current in the air tonight, and while it felt exciting, it also made her hesitate to touch Giles in any way.
“Just relax,” Giles encouraged her. “We don’t have to do anything specific, just close your eyes and focus on my words. I’ll be doing this exercise right along with you.”
Buffy wiggled in her cross-legged position, got comfortable, and closed her eyes. “Ok,” she said. “Lay it on me, Watcher-mine.”
Giles chuckled and mumbled, “now now, none of that.” He saw Buffy give a tiny smirk and smiled as he too closed his eyes. “Let’s take some deep breaths together.”
Once that was accomplished, and they naturally relaxed and leaned towards each other slightly, Giles continued in a low, even voice. “Now let’s imagine all our emotions - not feeling them, just noticing them - and envision putting them in a big, beautiful box. Nothing will happen to them while they’re in there, it’s just a resting place. Put your sorrow in there. Now breathe as you let it go into the box and off your shoulders. Can you feel it leave you? Breathe. Good - now your grief. Your fears. Even your depression.”
He gave her many breaths to envision this. He took the time to complete the exercise himself, imagining and setting aside his mirrored emotions with some additions: grief, fear, uncertainty, desperation, loneliness, and secrets. Without thinking, he reached for her knee and rested his hand there. She immediately covered his hand as they continued breathing deeply.
“Now,” said Giles in that deep, steady voice of his, “imagine tucking in any loose emotions. When you’re ready, close the box. Seal it. Everything inside is perfectly safe and will wait for your return. Until then, you’re free.”
Buffy gave a couple of slow sighs, and Giles removed his hand from her knee. “Before you open your eyes,” he continued, “roll your shoulders. Lift your arms. Stretch your neck. Can you feel lightness in your body? Do you feel freedom from your burdens, if only for a while?”
Buffy did as instructed and noticed that she really did feel lighter. There was a feeling of curiosity, almost of adventure - it felt foreign after drowning in depression for so long. It made her feel hungry; she wanted more of it.
They opened their eyes at the same time, full of mischief, and beamed at each other.
“Let’s go,” said Buffy.
***
The club looked super sketchy to Buffy as they approached. The dull thud of music pulsed from inside the building. It shocked her to discover a club like this just outside of town; she’d never been here and didn’t even know it existed. Giles seemed to know his way around, which was equally surprising. She clutched his hand tightly as they approached the bouncer, but Giles just raised an eyebrow and huffed a laugh at her innocence.
“Just play along, Buffy,” he spoke gently in her ear. “Tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, nothing bothers us. Not the bouncer giving us the hairy eyeball, not the piss in the corner, and certainly not a bit of graffiti outside a punk show.”
Buffy’s eyes widened and Giles pulled her forward, almost under his arm, as the bouncer let them through. The bouncer knew Giles? And he was talking about piss and hairy eyeballs?
Good lord, she thought, what have I gotten myself into?
But then she remembered that she was off for the night - not just as a Slayer, but as a sister, a friend, a newly resurrected outcast…it was almost like she could pretend she wasn’t herself. And this new girl? She didn’t worry about anything. This girl was ready to let loose.
They were immediately hit by several things at once: a wall of loud music, the hot air of a large crowd, and smoke hanging heavy in the air. They pushed their way into the crowd and Giles gave a whoop and started jumping in place. Buffy figured that maybe this was how you dance to punk music? She was carried by the driving beat. It felt almost like the drummer was in her chest, pushing her heart to beat faster and faster to match the rhythm. She jumped too, and let her arms fly up in the air.
They laughed with each other and pounded the air above as the music blasted through them, deafeningly loud in a way that drowned out everything, literally everything else. There was no room for doubt, fear, identity, anything other than the elation of feeling that driving beat and clash of distortion.
After two songs, Buffy shed the leather jacket and tied it as tight as she could around her hips. They were sweating and smiling, and Giles noticed despite himself that her nipples were once again peaked and hard under the tight black tank.
Good, he thought. This really was the best idea.
After four songs, Giles yelled over the music that he was getting them drinks. Buffy threw herself into the mosh pit, careful not to overuse her strength, but kinda liking the hot press of people and the unexpected slamming of bodies into her own. Song after song, she lost herself in the movement. It was almost like fighting, but with no pressure, no goal - just physicality, and she fucking loved it.
Giles signaled her with a drink, which pulled her out of the pit, sweating and smiling. She was surprised when he handed her a glass with at least two shots of some clear liquid. She examined it and let her eyebrows raise higher than she could remember.
Giles slyly grinned, gave her a wink, and mouthed “bottoms up” at her.
Buffy shrugged one shoulder and drank the whole thing down in two gulps.
Giles doubled over laughing, and she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and joined him. “No limits, remember?” she shouted over the noise.
Giles finished off his drink and got rid of the glasses. They danced again, this time facing one another and sometimes putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. A slower song came on ( wait, punk shows have slow songs? thought Buffy), and they found themselves more swaying then dancing, looking into each other’s eyes. Buffy let her palm fall to his chest, and Giles held some of her hair loosely in the hand hanging over her shoulder. Neither one felt any urge to speak. They were just enjoying the dancing, the music, and the way their bodies flowed together.
The moment was lost when someone practically flew into Giles’ shoulder, knocking the two apart.
Narrowing his eyes, Giles turned to take in the interloper - a young man looking chagrined and maybe a little nervous about the width and height of Giles. He offered an apology and handed over the joint that was barely half smoked, then quickly disappeared back into the moshing crowd.
Without sparing a thought, Giles took a deep toke. He paused when he looked up at Buffy, who stared at him in utter shock. He exhaled, smiled, and holding the roach between thumb and forefinger, took another deep inhale. This time when he exhaled he held out the joint and offered it to Buffy.
She shook her hair around as if to settle it and carefully took it from him. Making and holding eye contact, she took an equally relaxed toke and slowly let it out. Giles nodded slowly in appreciation and let her have her fill. They passed the marijuana back and forth until the roach was spent and their eyes were glassy and reddened.
Buffy stumbled into Giles and they both broke into laughter, holding on to each other to keep from collapsing. Tears ran down their faces in their hilarity, and out of that joy Buffy returned to noticing the music and started to fluidly move to the sound. She still felt the drumbeat in her heart. She closed her eyes to better feel that floating sensation, like she was drifting above the guitars and the distortion and the crowd.
Giles stood rooted to the floor, mouth agape, watching her dance.
This was different from their earlier jumping sort of approach; she was practically undulating, letting her arms flow like she was underwater. There was a sheen of sweat covering her skin, and the changing stage lights flickered off her gold hair in brilliant color. But it was her face that caught him; her expression was softened and blissful and so, so serene. He’d never seen her that relaxed and - and - dare he say it, happy? A goofy smile graced his face as he watched her and started to move his body in time with hers.
Buffy opened her eyes, sluggish and dilated, and moved closer to Giles. He brought one hand up to cup her cheek. Just as she had earlier in the night, she immediately brought her hand up to cover his with her own. She let her eyes drift shut and nuzzled into his palm, and he suddenly smelled her, the scent of sweat and vanilla and smoke and Buffy filling his senses. She was so gorgeous he felt himself choke up.
Giles ran his thumb across her lower lip and she slowly looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. He felt himself harden so suddenly it made him gasp and curl forward, but with the alcohol and weed flowing through his system, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching her. He let his hand drift to the nape of her neck and they resumed dancing.
Before long, Buffy righted herself and giggled. “Bathroom,” she yelled as she swayed to the band.
He nodded and reluctantly let her go.
***
Buffy stumbled a bit coming in the bathroom door, and a young woman in an impeccable black minidress chuckled at her entrance. Buffy laughed with her, and they struck up a conversation while she used the bathroom. Her name was Megan and she was here on a date.
As Buffy washed her hands, the other girl continued putting on her makeup and they chatted about the band and their respective evenings. Buffy was amazed at such a perfect cat-eye technique, and when she openly admired the makeup, Megan offered to put some on Buffy. It was easier to keep her eyes closed at that moment anyway, so she leaned forward with perfect trust and let the dark kohl be drawn around her eyes.
“Wow, you seem to have already had some fun tonight?” wagered the young woman.
“Oh, that’s the weed showing, isn’t it?” laughed Buffy. She gazed at herself in the mirror, eyes looking larger and brighter from the dark makeup, and felt a rush at hardly recognizing herself. She felt like someone entirely new. Megan nodded and chuckled. “What about you?”
“I’m mostly rolling on cocaine, darling,” the girl said in a funny old-fashioned voice. Buffy was once again surprised, and it showed on her face. “What?” Megan asked, tossing her long, dark hair over one shoulder. “Haven’t you ever tried it?”
Buffy shook her head. She knew somehow she shouldn’t. Drugs were bad, right? She didn’t do drugs. Oh wait. Then she imagined that closed box in her mind, and Giles’ absolute permission - orders, almost - to have no limits tonight.
“Nope,” Buffy responded. “But…”
“…you want to try?” asked Megan. Buffy nodded vigorously and the girls giggled. Megan reached into her bra and slowly removed a tiny plastic bag from her cleavage, Buffy watching with fascination and a bit of arousal. Then Megan took out a tiny pinch of white powder and put it on the back of her hand.
“Here,” she instructed, “hold one nostril closed, and sniff this into the other. Trust me, it sounds weird but it’s easy.”
Buffy did exactly that and suddenly her head felt suddenly three times its normal size, bursting with energy and bright colors. She was filled with an elation like never before, even before she died. She felt amazing. With a bust of energy, she grabbed Megan by the hands and shouted “OH MY GOD! I feel great!”
Megan laughed and took a bump herself. They couldn’t stop cracking up for a minute. When they found their voices again, Buffy suddenly thought of Giles.
“Listen,” she said, speaking quickly, “I know this is weird, but I’m here with someone. And he’s - well, he’s really important to me and I don’t know what we’re doing exactly but it’s a really great night and -“
Megan cut her off with a hand on her arm and a knowing smile. “And you want it to be special. Do you wanna take the rest of this with you? There’s only enough for a few hits anyway,” she said.
She gave a few further instructions and wished Buffy well. Then the girls embraced, and Megan spontaneously gave her a peck on the lips before Buffy released her and left the bathroom with a long, grateful gaze.
Buffy ran back to where Giles was waiting with a fresh drink in his hand. He nearly choked when he saw her dark eyeliner and how it made her appear both younger and more mature at the same time. She looked like a punk rock fantasy, and his heart lurched with how much he wanted her. Quickly, Giles finished off his scotch and reached for her shoulders when she gripped his arms.
“Giles!” she yelled. “Giles, Giles, Giles!” and started laughing. At his happy but confused expression, she shouted out with glee “I tried cocaine!”
Giles whooped with laughter and yelled back, “I can see that, luv!” She was practically shooting off sparks of energy and excitement.
She quieted her body and made herself look pretend-serious as she leaned close to his ear and said, “Giles, I have an important question for you.” Then she leaned back and said loud enough to be heard over the music, “do you want some?”
She looked so eager and hopeful Giles felt his pulse stutter. He wondered how they had ever survived so long without seeing each other like this, being like this together, uninhibited and unselfconsciously themselves. His heart beat out: I love you. I love you. I love you.
Without hesitation, he nodded.
To his surprise, Buffy didn’t pinch out a hit, but instead slowly dragged her tongue over the pad of one finger. Giles swallowed hard and watched her tongue in its path along her fingertip. He got lost in wondering if he wished it was his tongue on her finger, or his finger under her tongue. Then Buffy put her wet fingertip in the bag of coke and withdrew it as she stepped close to Giles. He could feel her breasts grazing his chest and he started breathing heavily.
With a sultry smile, Buffy lifted her finger to Giles’ face. She took advantage of his parted lips by slowly inserting her finger right into his mouth. Giles’ brain short circuited even before Buffy gently rubbed his gums with the cocaine, back and forth inside his mouth, under his top lip. Then he gasped and his pupils constricted in a rush of adrenaline and buzzing. It had been decades since he’d done coke. And God, he had forgotten how bloody wonderful it felt.
Buffy smiled and swayed to the music, watching him through half-hooded eyes. She licked her lips and put her hand on his chest, softly this time, letting her nails tickle him through that form-fitting black t-shirt. Giles gently took the bag from her and repeated her actions. He licked his finger as Buffy avidly watched, dipped it in the bag, and reached for her mouth with a slight tremble. She parted her glistening lips and opened for him like a wet dream come to life. Giles felt his heart practically beating out of his chest as he inserted his finger and swiped it along her mouth. She sucked his finger when he withdrew it, then licked her own lips in delight and an obvious buzz.
Giles was lost in her, in the blaring music, in the high of weed and the rush of coke. He let his gaze travel up and down her body. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship the smooth expanse of skin where her tank top had ridden up. He longed to run his hands up her thighs under that ridiculously short skirt. Buffy luxuriated in his gaze, letting her hips sway more deeply to the beat.
When she sinfully let her hand drift down to scratch longingly at his stomach, Giles grabbed her wrist and pushed her to continue that path until she was cupping his substantial erection. There was no surprise in Buffy’s face, as if she already knew he was hard, as if she was proud of it. There was only a hunger and a pleasure battling in her rapid, panting breaths. This is heaven, thought Giles. Music surrounding him, drugs racing through his body, and Buffy, Buffy, Buffy.
She gave his hardness a drawn-out squeeze and he groaned in pleasure.
He leaned forward to shout over the music, “You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
He traced his middle finger down her cheek and swallowed hard as they gazed deeply at each other.
The band suddenly started up a new song, and the cocaine raged in Giles, pushing him to start jumping and dancing again. He stepped away from her, held out the baggie, and said, “let’s finish this, then come dance with me.” With an enthusiastic nod, they took bumps off each other’s hands and tossed the empty bag on the ground, launching themselves further into the crowd.
***
They danced, laughed, and drank until the early morning hours. When they finally helped each other out of the club, Buffy was amazed to find it was even later than her usual patrolling schedule. They wandered home, sleepy and still mildly intoxicated. Buffy leaned on Giles’ shoulder as they walked and talked.
“No way,” giggled Buffy, “You just let him run off?” Her voice was hoarse from yelling all night.
“Well, by then he was without pants and thoroughly humiliated -“ here Giles paused both speaking and walking for a moment as he chortled. His voice was also graveled and hoarse from their night out. “So there was no point in detaining him.”
Buffy chuckled and pulled them forward. It was taking them forever to walk home, since neither dared drive after the evening they’d had. They continued in comfortable silence for several minutes.
“You know,” she said. “It’s weird to call you Giles when you’re like that.” Giles raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at her, so she continued, “Just…just being yourself. And, you know, when my hand is on your crotch.”
Giles choked and stumbled, just like she knew he would.
Buffy chuckled knowingly.
“‘Giles’ is all Watcher-y and stuff. What should I call you? Jesus, not Rupert. Please don’t make me call you Rupert.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “That’s my name you’re talking about.” She guffawed at his look of pretend insult and wrapped their arms more tightly together.
After a long pause of walking and thinking, he shyly said, “Ru. You can call me Ru. Only my sister has ever called me that.” He looked down at the pavement, suddenly serious.
“Ok,” Buffy said softly. “Ok, Ru.” He kissed the knuckles of her free hand and laced their fingers together.
It was wrapped around each other like this, arm in arm and hand in hand, that they finally made it to Buffy’s house, intact but dazed and exhausted.
“Up to bed now, luv,” Giles nudged as he separated them. With a hand on her back, they went upstairs and he helped tuck her in. He couldn’t think of a time he had felt more tired, or more buoyant.
From her pillow, Buffy made eye contact with him. He rubbed her knuckles slowly with his thumb as he sat on the bed next to her. He was frozen in his joy and longing. All he could do was sit there wanting to touch her. But it was late, or early, and besides, there was no reason to push his luck after such a magical night.
Thank you, Buffy mouthed to him.
You’re welcome, he mouthed back, and firmly kissed the back of her hand.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked. Her eyes were already fighting to stay open and he knew she would be asleep momentarily. He hummed a positive response and caressed her hair. Buffy sighed under his comforting touch. As her eyes slipped closed, she breathed out, “I love you, Ru. I don’t want to go back to how it was.”
Giles felt her sigh and continued to stroke her soft blond hair as she slipped into slumber. He tilted his head while he considered her. So much had happened tonight…and so much hadn’t happened. They hadn’t worried. About anything, he realized with surprise. He kept waiting to feel guilty about their night of debauchery - they’d done COCAINE together, for God’s sake - but all he could feel was satisfaction, gratitude, and a muzzy sense of rightness.
“Me too,” he whispered to her dear, sleeping face.
***
When Buffy woke it was pleasantly quiet. The breeze through her window was cool and crisp, a rarity in Southern California, and she stretched slowly as she breathed it in and let out a sigh. What a night! And a night with Giles, of all people.
Wait, no, she thought with a secret smile; a night with Ru.
She liked feeling the way she had. She liked jumping and dancing, passing a joint, that intense stare as they shared cocaine. The sense of freedom, of fully being in her body. She remembered with a touch of pride how she had gripped his cock in her hand. The memory warmed her from head to toe and flushed her cheeks and neck.
Wow. I didn’t know I had that in me.
Somehow she was less surprised about Giles having it in him.
Slowly, feeling a bit light-headed, Buffy washed the smoke and kohl from her face and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. She yawned as she came down the stairs, but stopped dead in her tracks when she found a sleeping Giles on the couch. He had stayed? But Buffy realized that of course he stayed, they were worn out and got home only a few short hours ago.
She quietly sat on the coffee table across from the couch and considered him carefully. When was the last time she really looked at her Watcher? The morning sun filtered through his hair (such soft hair, she now knew). His face was easy in slumber, lips gently parted, eyebrows at rest. She noticed the gray hairs more dominant than before her death, the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His face, scars and lines and all, was infinitely precious to her.
Buffy was overflowing with love for him. It was a love of gratitude, of knowing, of comfort, of hope. She wanted to be as close to him as possible for as long as possible.
She leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair, letting the occasional tear run down her face. Her crying wasn’t like the breakdowns over the past few weeks; these tears were driven by affection, by devotion, and by a solid feeling of goodness. She felt overwhelmed, and in love, and alive, alive, alive.
Giles woke to the beautiful feeling of being cherished. He enjoyed a comforting hand in his hair, cooling and grounding. When his eyes blinked open to find Buffy leaning towards him, affection shining from her eyes, he smiled and reached a hand out to cup her knee.
Buffy smiled back and wiped her eyes.“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” she gently said. And then she kissed him.
Giles felt like he’d taken every drug in the world. It was every dream, every secret, every punk show and display of magic and the darkest fear and brightest joy brought into his one very small life. Her soft lips on his, careful but sure, made him feel like he was floating away. With a swallowed groan, he pushed forward and captured her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his hand reaching around her neck to draw her closer.
When the kiss tapered off, they paused with their foreheads touching, panting and eyes closed. Giles leaned back and took her face in both hands.
“I don’t want to go back, either,” he said.
Buffy traced his mouth with her trembling fingertips. “Let’s not,” she replied. “I feel…well, I feel. Lots of things. Feeling things is huge and new and I’m overwhelmed, but I know I love you, Ru. So, so much.” She had teared up again by the end of her speech.
Giles nodded in agreement. “I’ve loved you for so long. So long. I tried to hide it, but I just love you so bloody much. I’ve missed you desperately.”
Buffy nodded too and then they were kissing again.
They were so lost in each other, neither noticed Dawn sneaking down the stairs until a dramatic gasp filled the room. The couple quickly pulled away and Buffy accidentally fell off the coffee table. Dawn cringed, knowing how grumpy her sister was these days. She figured she’d be in trouble for surprising Buffy, even if Buffy was being gross with Giles.
But Buffy only rolled onto her side and laughed. She laughed loud, and free, and long, and in her amazement, Dawn started laughing too. Giles rubbed his face and snorted loudly as he broke into laughter himself, which threw the girls into hysterics.
By the time they had all recovered, Giles’ arousal had waned so that he was in suitable condition to stand up and join them in the kitchen. They gave Dawn the PG version of their night out.
Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement as she listened. “So, are you two like together now?”
Buffy looked at Giles, who turned his head to stare at her and swallowed audibly. They reached for each other’s hands and held on tight. Dawn looked back and forth between them, wondering if they were about to cry or jump each other right there in the kitchen.
Without breaking eye contact, Buffy said, “yeah. We are. I think we’ve always been together,” and at this her breath hitched, “but we’re even more together now.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
Giles breathed rapidly through his nose for a moment and then wiped a few tears from his eyes. He turned to Dawn, still clutching Buffy’s hand. His response was simple and heartfelt.
“Yes.”