It's strange, being able to tell the truth (or most of it) about Oz, but lying about everything else. In Sunnydale, Giles got used to being around people who know he's a Watcher. In London, no one knows but Olivia, Paul, and a few senior people at the British Library whom Giles hasn't seen in years
( ... )
Until now, Oz hadn't realized how weird it was, being separated from Giles like this. He's coming back down to earth, introducing Sophie to Giles and his friend, shaking Meaghan's hand, inching a little closer to Giles all the while, just to feel his familiar bulk for a second or three
( ... )
"Well enough," Giles says. Oz's arm around him feels like a glass of cold water on one of those burning California days--something between comfort and survival. "Although I think I've already had enough small talk. D'you think we could mingle without-"
"Rupert," says a voice to his left, light and charming and more familiar than he'd have thought, after so long. "You know, I didn't quite believe Olivia when she told me you'd be here."
"Paul. How are you? You look well." His hair's gone entirely grey now, fine and silvery, and the good bones of his face show just a little more clearly than they used to. He looks . . . distinguished, but without the faint insulting implication of having outlasted his looks. "And Martin, hello. It's good to see you both." Martin, still as black-haired and shaggy as ever, nods
( ... )
Oz still doesn't have the hang of introductions yet, not when the situation's bigger than one on one. And Paul is...kind of scary, in that intense intellectual kind of way; Xander once described Giles as Mr. Eagle Eyes of the Booksmarts, which never really sounded like *Giles* to Oz, but does kind of capture Paul. But Martin's grasping his hand and smiling widely, so that's cool, and then Paul smiles as well, gaze sliding from Giles down to Oz, and Oz squares his shoulders and shakes his hand in turn
( ... )
"Don't sell yourself short," Giles says. To Oz, but really directed at Meaghan and Paul, at everyone who'll see Oz's face, hear his accent, notice the difference in their ages, and assume that Oz is Giles' plaything. "You were reading Donne and Herbert at se- at a considerably younger age than I was." Paul, at least, doesn't miss what Giles almost said; his eyes narrow and he glances at Giles over Oz's head. "Anyway, there's nothing innately wrong with a paperback." That makes even Oz, who's heard him rant about cheap paper and weak spines, look at him, so Giles shuts up. He lays his hand on the small of Oz's back , stroking lines and squiggles with his fingers, like sigils for love and calm
( ... )
"And, see," Oz says, squeezing Giles' hand and squinting at Martin, "there's a chili dog stand right by the ferry dock and they do a tofu pup with six-bean chili that a family of four could live on for a week. Really amazing
( ... )
"Bungee-jumping!" Martin says, pushing his hair out of his eyes and then ignoring it when it promptly falls back. "I went once, in New Zealand. Amazing. It was off this bridge over a gorge, trees all around, and the river, and it felt like I was falling up into all this green." From his grin, Giles suspects that only politeness is stopping Martin from whisking Oz off to Queenstown at once so he can try it. Martin always was a bit of an overgrown boy
( ... )
For a split second, it occurs to Oz that it's a shame things didn't work out for Giles and Paul; they seem pretty well-suited to each other, and that's not just a common fear of bungee-jumping. That second passes, though, and he straightens up, sliding his hand up to Giles' wrist.
"...medieval cathedral in Europe," Paul is saying and Martin has him by the back of his neck, shaking him lightly. "And the city walls, well -"
"There's also a Ghost Walk," Martin tells Oz. "It's not all dust and masonry and the great and glorious past."
"Stained glass is hardly *boring*," Paul says while Martin scowls.
"Not sure about ghosts, actually," Oz says, liberating the cider from Giles' hand and taking a thirsty sip. "I scare pretty easily when it's not, like, physical danger."
Paul smiles at that, this small, private smile that doesn't seem intended for anyone else; then he meets Oz's eyes and murmurs something about sanity and staying sensible.
Weird, how couples talk to each other through other people. Oz feels almost like an
( ... )
"Hillwalking? Yes, of course." During one of the low points of their visit to Sunnydale, they talked, in a vague way, like prisoners daydreaming past the bars, about a trip to Scotland or Ireland. Fresh air, long walks, quiet. But it hasn't actually come up since they've been back. "Well, Britain's a small island. We'll go everywhere, sooner or later." We've got time, he'd say if they were alone, because that always makes Oz smile. But Oz, who by now can surely read in Giles' face everything he doesn't say, smiles anyway.
Couples all have their own version of telepathy; a look passes between Paul and Martin, and Paul says, "Well, we'd better go and say hello to Olivia, if we can find her in this crush." Before they go, there's the usual We must get together sometime, silly to meet once a year like this, and Yes, let's, absolutely, at which Oz starts to say something about dinner, some night, and then falls silent
( ... )
"Was it awkward?" Oz asks, reaching behind him toward the snacks table and nabbing, blindly, some almond-shaped crackers. He offers the handful to Giles, then nibbles the corner off one himself. Giles starts to smile at him. "I'm not used to this. I can't tell awkward from grown-up party stuff."
Considering how well Giles prepped him on the whole Paul-and-Martin backstory, Oz realizes all too late how nervous he must have been for this encounter. With his uncrackery hand, he rubs Giles' knee briefly, then rests his palm on the fine, soft wool, and sighs.
"We could have them over for dinner, though," he says after a bit. "I like them."
He expected all sorts of things once he came to London - culture shock, and difficulty with accents, and finding his way around a massive, crowded city - but navigating these intricate pathways of emotion and past history never really occurred to him.
"You and Paul would make good friends. Cackling over old stuff and things like that."
He smiles, in case that came out awkwardly, and stops himself
( ... )
As a small boy, Giles was sent every Saturday morning to the dancing and etiquette lessons that Mrs. Matheson gave in the parish hall. He learned to waltz and foxtrot, to bow at just the right angle when asking a lady to dance, to rest his hand lightly ('never clutch, boys,' Mrs. Matheson said) on the small of his partner's back. Although among the other boys he always claimed to hate it, secretly he thought it was fun. He used to practice with his mum, or, on visits, with his grandmother, who was a marvelous dancer
( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Rupert," says a voice to his left, light and charming and more familiar than he'd have thought, after so long. "You know, I didn't quite believe Olivia when she told me you'd be here."
"Paul. How are you? You look well." His hair's gone entirely grey now, fine and silvery, and the good bones of his face show just a little more clearly than they used to. He looks . . . distinguished, but without the faint insulting implication of having outlasted his looks. "And Martin, hello. It's good to see you both." Martin, still as black-haired and shaggy as ever, nods ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
"...medieval cathedral in Europe," Paul is saying and Martin has him by the back of his neck, shaking him lightly. "And the city walls, well -"
"There's also a Ghost Walk," Martin tells Oz. "It's not all dust and masonry and the great and glorious past."
"Stained glass is hardly *boring*," Paul says while Martin scowls.
"Not sure about ghosts, actually," Oz says, liberating the cider from Giles' hand and taking a thirsty sip. "I scare pretty easily when it's not, like, physical danger."
Paul smiles at that, this small, private smile that doesn't seem intended for anyone else; then he meets Oz's eyes and murmurs something about sanity and staying sensible.
Weird, how couples talk to each other through other people. Oz feels almost like an ( ... )
Reply
Couples all have their own version of telepathy; a look passes between Paul and Martin, and Paul says, "Well, we'd better go and say hello to Olivia, if we can find her in this crush." Before they go, there's the usual We must get together sometime, silly to meet once a year like this, and Yes, let's, absolutely, at which Oz starts to say something about dinner, some night, and then falls silent ( ... )
Reply
Considering how well Giles prepped him on the whole Paul-and-Martin backstory, Oz realizes all too late how nervous he must have been for this encounter. With his uncrackery hand, he rubs Giles' knee briefly, then rests his palm on the fine, soft wool, and sighs.
"We could have them over for dinner, though," he says after a bit. "I like them."
He expected all sorts of things once he came to London - culture shock, and difficulty with accents, and finding his way around a massive, crowded city - but navigating these intricate pathways of emotion and past history never really occurred to him.
"You and Paul would make good friends. Cackling over old stuff and things like that."
He smiles, in case that came out awkwardly, and stops himself ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment