Author: Flurblewig
Pairing: Giles/Willow
Rating/Warnings: G - Schmoop Alert!
Timeline/Spoilers: Post Chosen
Length: 1,000 words
Written for: maybedarkpink
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to take them out and play with them sometimes.
Feedback: Yes please! Email me or leave an LJ comment at the end of the fic
It wasn't that he had anything against Christmas itself, of course. It was just the way that it caused everyone to become so distracted that disturbed him. Well, that and Andrew's incessant off-key renditions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He rather suspected prolonged exposure to that would have made an Ebenezeer Scrooge out of Saint Nick himself.
The real problem was that the others didn't seem to understand that evil didn't take time off for the holidays. Demons and vampires didn't decide to kick back in front of the television, stuffed full of mince pies and goodwill to all mankind. In the demon world, it was business as usual.
So it wasn't that he was trying to dampen their spirits, or be a deliberate wet blanket. If he came across as a little distant, maybe harsh, even, it was only because he was trying to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation. They couldn't afford to get sloppy just because it was December 24th.
"Oh, ignore him," said Andrew airily to the trainee Slayer - Emma? Emily? - that he'd trying to instruct in the proper defence against a Rynak demon. "He's been like that all day. He's just sore because he didn't get a present from Willow. Come and have some mince pies, I've got another batch due out of the oven in a minute."
And off Emma/Emily went, without so much as a by-your-leave. It seemed like the days when he'd been able to instil a sense of Sacred Responsibility in his Slayer with a single glare were fading rapidly.
He jumped slightly as a hand rested briefly on his shoulder and a paper hat was plonked unceremoniously on his head.
"Lighten up, Giles," said Buffy. "You need to get a bit more festive-y. Here, this should help."
He gave her the glare, and just received a perky grin in return. Perhaps the hat was dulling its effect. Or perhaps it had never really worked that well in the first place.
Really, this absurd idea that he was bothered by presents was becoming quite annoying. If he had checked the name tags on the pile of brightly-wrapped boxes under the tree - which he hadn't, obviously - it would have been for purely scientific purposes, to ensure that no demon eggs or other nasty surprises were lurking in wait. He had no personal interest in the situation at all, and if it were indeed the case that there was no gift for him from Willow - which, of course, he wasn't sure of, as he hadn't looked - then it would be because she understood that there were far more important things for them to be thinking about. She would be doing him the courtesy of appreciating that he had long since passed the age when he needed to have his worth validated by presents.
He had gathered them all here because it made good tactical sense to have annual meetings, to review strategies and share information. This one just happened to coincide with Christmas, and it had nothing to do with wanting to spend it with Willow, or get presents from her. Nothing at all.
He opened his mouth to explain this, or at least some of it, to Buffy and Andrew, but they had already disappeared into the brightly-lit living room. He heard Dawn shriek, followed by a loud burst of laughter from Xander and other sounds that seemed to be connected with the game of Blind Man's Buff that always seemed to be going on in there. Sighing, he turned away and walked out of the house towards the stables. At least horses didn't constantly exhort you to be more festive-y, however
such a thing was meant to be done.He smiled as he entered the stable, enjoying the comforting smells of warm horse and fresh hay. And something else, something with tones of citrus and jasmine. Perfume. Willow's perfume.
She turned her head as he walked in, but continued applying the curry comb to the mare's flank in long, slow strokes.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "You come out to get some peace too?"
He moved closer and ruffled the horse's mane affectionately, trying not to think about how different Willow's hair would feel in his hands. How much softer, silkier.
"The gaiety is a little - overwhelming," he admitted.
She nodded. "It's great seeing everyone, but sometimes is also kinda great to, you know, not see them."
He stepped back, stung. "I'm sorry. I'm disturbing you. I'll go."
She shook her head quickly. "No. No, Giles. Don't go. The whole point of the not seeing everyone thing was so that I could see you. Just you."
He watched her silently, bitterly regretting that he'd put his contact lenses in that morning, and thereby deprived himself of glasses to busy himself with. He was afraid the rather embarrassing flush of pleasure her words had generated was all too obvious in his eyes.
He lowered his gaze, but she reached out a hand and tilted his face back towards her.
"No," she said. "Look at me, Giles." She smiled at him, and the hand on his face began to caress his cheek. "How can I tell if you like your present if you're not looking at it?"
"Willow, I - you mean - you -" He stopped, finding himself completely unable to articulate the impossible hope making itself felt in his heart.
While he gazed at her in confusion, she moved closer and then somehow her arms were around him and her mouth was on his. Her tongue flicked delicately across his lips, seeking access. He opened to her, and matched her exploration with his own. Her breath was sweet and tasted faintly of mince pies. He smiled into the kiss.
"Well?" she asked, when he finally pulled back, out of breath and feeling slightly dazed. "Did I choose good?"
"You did," he said, pulling her close again. "It's just what I've always wanted."
-end-
FEEDBACK!
If you read this fic, I would dearly, DEARLY love to know! Please pick one of the following options:
No time to write detailed feedback? Click here to send an 'I read it and liked it' notification!
Send me an email
Add an LJ comment
Return to Main Story Index