Chapter Text
Rupert had had to leave home early in order to identify some artifact at the Sunnydale Museum, which meant that he couldn’t come to the morning faculty meeting, which meant that Jenny had to sit by herself in the back of the room and take notes on Snyder’s instructions so that Rupert wouldn’t miss out on anything important. The thing was, though, listening for important things was like the auditory version of looking for a needle in a haystack, because the announcements and briefings were all buried under tirades about how useless the students were and how incompetent some teachers here were and how it was lucky that a certain librarian wasn’t here because he and his girlfriend had no concept of decorum or professionalism.
Incidentally, at that point, it took all of Jenny’s willpower not to start hurling writing implements at Snyder from the back of the room. Technically, it was true; Snyder had walked in on them kissing more times than was strictly appropriate. But it wasn’t like Snyder was saving the world, or in constant, life-threatening danger, or trying to make the most of every minute with someone he loved (probably because Snyder was almost certainly incapable of human emotion aside from hatred, but that was beside the point). She felt like she and Rupert deserved a little leeway, and they definitely didn’t deserve to be called out in front of the entire staff.
About two minutes before the meeting ended, Rupert entered the faculty room and sat down next to Jenny, at which point she kissed him on the cheek in order to piss off Snyder. It worked, because he snapped something about “at least attempt to maintain some semblance of decorum, Ms. Calendar,” which Jenny responded to by taking Rupert’s hand on top of the table. Thankfully, the school bell rang two seconds later.
“You seem…what’s the word? Violently angry.” Rupert squeezed her hand as they exited the faculty room.
“That’s two words,” said Jenny. Then, emphatically, “I can’t wait for summer. Maybe something eats Snyder.”
“You sound like Xander,” Rupert commented idly, a small smile playing about his lips. “Yesterday he said he was crossing his fingers for a slow, painful demise.”
“Ew.”
“Snyder aside, I was hoping I could talk to you about what I examined at the museum,” said Rupert more seriously. “Perhaps in the library?”
“Oh,” said Jenny with a sigh. “We putting off the resouling ritual again?”
Rupert gave her a very pointed look as the physics teacher walked by, looking at them both a bit strangely. “Perhaps in the library,” he repeated, and hurried Jenny down the hallway.
“England, how bad are we talking?” Jenny persisted as they walked. She was stumbling a bit; her legs were shorter than his, and it was a bit difficult to match his long strides. “Is it end-of-the-world bad or just plain old demon-stuck-in-an-artifact bad?”
“Frankly, Jenny, demon-stuck-in-an-artifact-bad is still quite horrifying,” Rupert pointed out. “It all really depends on the demon. And I’m still quite unsure as to what’s in it, which is why I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“About what?” Jenny was still thoroughly confused.
“I may need your help with some of the translation,” Rupert explained, pushing the door of the library open and letting go of her hand so that she could step through first. “I would do it myself, but I feel as though an extra pair of eyes might make the job quicker. Besides,” and here he smiled shyly, “I rather like working with you.”
“Aww.” Jenny stood on tiptoe to kiss him as the library doors swung shut.
Someone cleared their throat.
Rupert pulled away very fast. “Buffy!” he half-yelped. “Don’t you have class?”
“The more important question is, will there ever be a time when you guys are able to cool it with the PDA?” Buffy replied with a raised eyebrow. “Willow said Snyder’s on the warpath.”
Jenny decided to ignore this, reluctantly moving away from Rupert and turning to face Buffy. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in on the whole Angel situation,” said Buffy with a casual attitude that was only barely recognizable as feigned. It was clear that she was getting antsy, and Jenny couldn’t blame her; they kept on continually putting off the ritual thanks to every week’s demon-related disaster. “We’re still doing the ritual tomorrow night, right?”
“Jenny and I—”
Jenny cleared her throat pointedly—after all, they were at school, and Jenny wasn’t exactly a name Rupert could use with students—but she couldn’t hide her grin.
“Right. Um. M-Ms. Calendar and I—” (Rupert stumbled over the formality, and Jenny felt a delighted warmth at this; he was no longer used to calling her anything but Jenny, now) “—may have to look into a new development the Sunnydale Museum has brought to our attention, but I don’t foresee our translations making it impossible for us to do the ritual, unless we find something needs imminent action.”
“And if something does?” Buffy had a tired resignation in her voice at this point. It was clear she’d heard this sort of talk too many times.
“Buffy, you must understand that we’re doing our best to find a time to ensoul Angelus,” Rupert persisted with gentle vehemence. “It’s almost definite that we shall still be able to perform the ritual tomorrow night.”
Buffy nodded slowly, still not looking all that convinced. “Yeah,” she said. “See you later for training, then. I gotta get to class.” She hurried past them, leaving a worried Rupert and a somewhat guilty Jenny in her wake.
“I’m sorry,” she said once Buffy had finally left.
“Wh—Jenny,” said Rupert, sounding half fond and half exasperated. “You’ve done the impossible, and you’re sorry because factors you can’t change are interfering with the time we can do the ritual in?”
“A little?” Jenny sighed. “I just—worry.”
“I most certainly understand that,” Rupert quipped. Jenny felt a wonderful flutter of happiness as he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against hers. She reached up, framed his face with her hands, and he moved towards her touch.
“Thanks,” she said. It could be in regards to anything, really.
“Of course,” Rupert replied with a silly little grin, and kissed her sweetly.
Jenny smiled against his mouth, not bothering to wonder whether he could tell. It was sort of amazing, not having to hide anything from him; she didn’t think she ever wanted to give that feeling up.