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The air in Bath had been heavy for days, a thick, suffocating heat wave that felt distinctly British. It wasn't the dry, baking heat Buffy remembered from Sunnydale; UK summer heat was a heavy, inescapable weight that seemed to trap the humidity right against your skin. Nobody really understood why a British room at 28°C felt twice as oppressive as a California desert, but it did.
Which was exactly why Buffy had dragged Giles out of his farmhouse.
Usually, his home was a sanctuary. Built with massive, thick stone walls, the farmhouse was notoriously cool, acting like a damp cave that stubbornly locked out the sun even in the dead of July. But after four straight days of the country roasting, even those ancient stones had finally surrendered to the mugginess, turning the inside into a literal sauna.
Now, standing at the absolute furthest edge of his farmland, the world was finally breaking. The sky had turned the colour of a bruised plum. A sudden, sharp breeze whipped through the lush green fields, carrying the unmistakable, electric scent of ozone and dry earth meeting water. Then, the sky split open.
It didn't just rain; the clouds unleashed a torrential, vertical sheet of water. Within seconds, Buffy’s thin tank top was plastered to her skin, and Giles’s linen shirt was entirely translucent. Buffy let out a loud, breathless laugh, throwing her head back to let the cool water wash over her face.
"Oh thank god," she gasped, wiping her eyes. "I felt like I was being baked alive. Seriously, what is it with this country? It’s not even that high on the thermometer, but it feels like you're breathing soup."
"Yes, well, British humidity is a rather inexplicable torment," Giles called out over the sudden roar of the downpour. He pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead, his glasses completely useless and tucked into his pocket. Without them, his dark eyes seemed sharper, more intense. "We should probably head back toward the—"
BOOM.
The sky cracked with a deafening, metallic roar of thunder right above their heads.
Buffy didn’t just jump; her Slayer reflexes kicked in and she practically launched herself sideways, colliding directly with Giles’s chest. Her hands gripped his forearms for balance, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Giles caught her instinctively, his large hands wrapping around her waist to steady her. For a second, neither of them moved.
"Right," Buffy breathed, looking up at him through wet eyelashes, her voice suddenly a little breathless for a completely different reason. "Thunder. Forgot how loud it gets out in the country."
"Are you quite all right?" Giles asked. His voice had dropped an octave, raspy and low. His hands hadn’t left her waist. In fact, his thumbs shifted just a fraction, smoothing against the damp fabric of her shirt.
"Fine. Just... startled," she murmured, her eyes dropping to his lips before darting back up. "But as much as I love a good shower, the lightning is getting a little close. And we are standing in the middle of a very open field."
Giles cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the storm. He guided her toward the edge of the field, where a massive, ancient oak tree spread its dense canopy. It didn't stop the rain entirely, but it muted the deluge into a steady, heavy dripping.
The temperature was dropping fast, the wind kicking up a chill against their soaked clothes. Buffy shivered, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Here," Giles said softly. He stepped in close—closer than strictly necessary—using his broader frame to block the wind.
Buffy didn't hesitate. She stepped into his space, huddling against him. She pressed her back against his chest, looping her arms over his where they rested at his sides. Giles hesitated for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms securely around her, pulling her back against him. The heat radiating off his body was an instant, intoxicating relief against the chill. "Better?" he murmured near her ear, his breath warm against her damp skin.
"Much better," Buffy whispered. "You're like a human hot water bottle, Giles. Very cosy."
They stood in silence for a while, watching the spectacular show. The lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating the lush, rolling hills of Bath in brilliant, jagged flashes of silver, followed by the deep, rolling rumble of thunder that they could feel vibrating in their chests.
With every flash, Buffy could feel the rise and fall of Giles's breathing. She shifted slightly, turning around in his embrace so she was facing him. His arms stayed looped loosely around her waist.
"You know," Buffy said, her voice dripping with a playful, teasing cadence, "if anyone saw the fearsome Slayer hiding under a tree from a little noise, my reputation would be completely ruined."
Giles smiled, a slow, rakish expression that she didn't see often enough. "Your secret is entirely safe with me, Buffy. Though, I must admit, I didn't mind the... sudden arrival."
Buffy raised an eyebrow, a spark of pure mischief in her eyes. She reached up, her cool fingers gently brushing a wet strand of hair away from his forehead. Her touch lingered at his temple, her thumb tracing his cheekbone.
"Oh really? And here I thought you'd be lecturing me about proper storm safety and the dangers of standing under tall trees."
"I am a man of science and lore, yes," Giles whispered, his gaze dropping to her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening just enough to pull her a fraction of an inch closer. The air between them felt thick, charged with the same electricity splitting the sky. "But I think, under the circumstances, I can overlook a few infractions."
Buffy tilted her chin up, her smile softening into something much more intense. "Good to know, Watcher."
Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, catching the sudden, fierce heat in Giles’s eyes as he looked down at her, neither of them moving to break the embrace as the rain continued to pour around them.