Fic: BtVS: Happy Christmas, Giles/Xander, PG/FRT
Title: Happy Christmas
Author: lostgirlslair
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: PG/FRT
Summary: Christmas Eve found Xander helping Giles through the door after a little too much eggnog.
Spoilers: Set post 'Chosen.' No real spoilers.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
This is for davinci_1985 and the Drunken!Gilesathon! I'm not sure this is exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it! Requests can be found at the end of the story. Big, huge thanks to mireille719, for the wonderful beta magic!
------
Christmas Eve found Xander helping Giles through the door after a little too much eggnog.
Which wasn't entirely Giles' fault. Xander told himself, again, as Giles broke into a giggling fit, unable to get his coat to stay hung up on the coat rack. Someone, probably several different and independent 'someones'--Xander had a few suspects, but he couldn't prove anything--had spiked the eggnog.
"I'll get it," Xander said on a sigh, mostly to keep Giles from falling over while trying to pick his coat up off the floor.
"Thank you," Giles said, chuckling and squinting at him from all of five feet away. "We should exchange presents." Giles' smile grew wider, and Xander tried very hard to turn his grimace into a grin.
He wasn't annoyed that Giles had gotten drunk--well, okay, he was a little annoyed; anyone with a sense of smell should have known that the eggnog was set on kill. But, what was currently getting under Xander's skin was that he should have expected something like this. He'd almost been looking forward to this Christmas, a sure warning sign of impending disaster.
Xander hadn't ever really been a big fan of Christmas. It wasn't that he was a grinch; he didn't hate Christmas, and he didn't want anyone else to hate it or anything. He just didn't get what everyone else got so excited about. Christmas meant family, and Xander hadn't wanted to spend any more time with his than absolutely necessary.
When he was with Anya, Christmas had been all about presents, which wasn't bad, but meant a whole new kind of stress. Gift-giving was a minefield with an ex-demon who read way too much into the gifts you were giving. Xander hadn't minded Christmas much then, but he still hadn't been all that big a fan.
This year, Giles had insisted that they put up a tree, and Xander had actually kinda liked hearing about where the different decorations had come from. Giles had inherited most of them from this relative or that relative, and had stories to go with all of them. Giles had also insisted on stockings, which were now hung--lopsided--from the mantel.
Xander hadn't even had much time to stress over whether or not Giles would like his presents, which was a welcome change.
And now Giles was grinning drunkenly, and so Xander tried to make it look like he was having a good time; as if he hadn't minded waiting out in the cold for a cab because Giles was too drunk to drive and Xander wasn't allowed to drive at night anymore. Or that he wasn't at all upset because the cab driver had assumed they were father and son, and Giles had just broken into giggles instead of correcting him.
Trying to shake off the annoyance, Xander followed Giles over to the tree, wincing when Giles slipped on the tree skirt and fell on his butt. Giles laughed and shook his head. "I don't think I should be allowed near anything combustible just now. Would you light the fire?"
"Sure." Xander gritted his teeth and did it, even though what he wanted was to get Giles safely tucked into bed so that he could take a hot shower and thaw his toes. "Shouldn't we wait on the presents until tomorrow, when everyone's here?" he asked, though he doubted Giles would be put off. He was poking under the tree like an excited five-year-old.
"One tonight shouldn't be untoward." The pine needles muffled Giles' voice. Earlier, Xander might have admitted that it had been worth the trouble to get a real tree, but at the moment the fresh pine scent was tickling his nose. Xander finally got the fire lit and held his hands out to warm them. He'd been wearing gloves when they'd arrived at the Council party, but they hadn't been in his coat pocket at the end of the night. Typical.
"This one," Giles said, and Xander turned to find Giles holding out a present in plain red paper with a green ribbon wrapped around it.
Xander took it and set it aside, going to rummage under the tree until he found something he thought Giles might like. It wasn't anything fancy, but he'd seen it and thought it needed to have a home on Giles' desk. It was probably stupid, but at least Giles was drunk enough that there was a chance he wouldn't notice.
"Open this first," Xander said, moving back to sit in front of the fire. Giles tried to turn around to face him and somehow wound up lying on his back almost next to Xander. He grinned, and Xander really did feel a small tug at his lips. "Go on. It's not huge or anything," Xander said. "It's just, I thought . . . Well, you said you didn't have a picture of us to put in your office--"
"Oh," was all Giles said, but he was staring at the picture--and the frame that had so reminded Xander of him--with a smile on his face. He reached up and rubbed his fingers along the tweed upholstered frame, gently, as if he was worried he'd hurt it somehow. Xander had only seen that particular look on Giles' face when he was ogling a rare book, or . . . sometimes, when he touched Xander. Xander liked that look.
"It's kinda silly," Xander said, though his lips had worked themselves into a smile he didn't think he could get rid of.
"It's lovely," Giles said. He turned his grin on Xander then, bringing the picture down to rest on his chest. "I love it."
Xander had to duck his head, unsure why his face was heating up, except that Giles was looking at him with that look. It made Xander feel kinda naked, which was strange, because when Xander was naked and Giles looked at him that way, it only made him hard.
"Open yours," Giles said, rolling onto his side and then wobbling into a sitting position, Xander's gift held in his lap as he watched Xander shred the plain red paper.
Xander had thought it was a book, but once he got the paper off, he realized it was a photo album. He shot a confused look at Giles and then opened it to find pictures already inside.
The first was of a little boy, dressed for the snow that lay deep around him. His nose and ears and cheeks were red and his glasses were askew, and Xander found himself grinning as he realized it was Giles: Giles at about eight or nine, but still with that same grin.
Giles' arms came around him from behind, strong and warm. "You said that you wished you'd known me when I was younger and . . . Well, with time travel being such a tricky prospect . . ."
Xander didn't know what to say. He flipped another few pages as Giles rested his chin on Xander's shoulder, pressing a warm kiss against Xander's chilled neck. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah," Xander said, and how much he liked it must have come through in his voice, because Giles didn't seem to need him to say more than that.
Giles' arms tightened around him, and Xander pushed back into the embrace. He flipped another page and found himself staring at a twenty or so year old Giles.
He was sitting in ripped jeans, bare-chested, on a messy bed with his guitar, but he wasn't playing. He was looking up at the camera and smiling. Xander ran his fingertip along the smile, tilting his head back so that his temple brushed Giles'.
"I was much younger then," Giles said.
"Some things get better with age," Xander countered, his fingers brushing lightly over the picture, over Giles' face and chest, tracing Giles' guitar. "I really do love it."
"Happy Christmas," Giles said, a little of that drunken giggle slipping through.
"Yeah." Xander said, pushing back against Giles. He looked up at the twinkling tree, and the lopsided stockings, and the fire that was starting to defrost his toes. "It really is."
----------
Three things wanted:
Hurt/Comfort, Xander, A photograph from Giles' youth: he's wearing torn jeans (and nothing else), sitting on a disarrayed bed, and is playing a guitar (did I mention the just-been-shagged-look?)
Three things I unwanted:
- Giles acting all stuffy and tweedy, Xander getting drunk, Giles dancing the Macarena.
Author: lostgirlslair
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Giles/Xander
Rating: PG/FRT
Summary: Christmas Eve found Xander helping Giles through the door after a little too much eggnog.
Spoilers: Set post 'Chosen.' No real spoilers.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair AT yahoo DOT com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
This is for davinci_1985 and the Drunken!Gilesathon! I'm not sure this is exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it! Requests can be found at the end of the story. Big, huge thanks to mireille719, for the wonderful beta magic!
------
Christmas Eve found Xander helping Giles through the door after a little too much eggnog.
Which wasn't entirely Giles' fault. Xander told himself, again, as Giles broke into a giggling fit, unable to get his coat to stay hung up on the coat rack. Someone, probably several different and independent 'someones'--Xander had a few suspects, but he couldn't prove anything--had spiked the eggnog.
"I'll get it," Xander said on a sigh, mostly to keep Giles from falling over while trying to pick his coat up off the floor.
"Thank you," Giles said, chuckling and squinting at him from all of five feet away. "We should exchange presents." Giles' smile grew wider, and Xander tried very hard to turn his grimace into a grin.
He wasn't annoyed that Giles had gotten drunk--well, okay, he was a little annoyed; anyone with a sense of smell should have known that the eggnog was set on kill. But, what was currently getting under Xander's skin was that he should have expected something like this. He'd almost been looking forward to this Christmas, a sure warning sign of impending disaster.
Xander hadn't ever really been a big fan of Christmas. It wasn't that he was a grinch; he didn't hate Christmas, and he didn't want anyone else to hate it or anything. He just didn't get what everyone else got so excited about. Christmas meant family, and Xander hadn't wanted to spend any more time with his than absolutely necessary.
When he was with Anya, Christmas had been all about presents, which wasn't bad, but meant a whole new kind of stress. Gift-giving was a minefield with an ex-demon who read way too much into the gifts you were giving. Xander hadn't minded Christmas much then, but he still hadn't been all that big a fan.
This year, Giles had insisted that they put up a tree, and Xander had actually kinda liked hearing about where the different decorations had come from. Giles had inherited most of them from this relative or that relative, and had stories to go with all of them. Giles had also insisted on stockings, which were now hung--lopsided--from the mantel.
Xander hadn't even had much time to stress over whether or not Giles would like his presents, which was a welcome change.
And now Giles was grinning drunkenly, and so Xander tried to make it look like he was having a good time; as if he hadn't minded waiting out in the cold for a cab because Giles was too drunk to drive and Xander wasn't allowed to drive at night anymore. Or that he wasn't at all upset because the cab driver had assumed they were father and son, and Giles had just broken into giggles instead of correcting him.
Trying to shake off the annoyance, Xander followed Giles over to the tree, wincing when Giles slipped on the tree skirt and fell on his butt. Giles laughed and shook his head. "I don't think I should be allowed near anything combustible just now. Would you light the fire?"
"Sure." Xander gritted his teeth and did it, even though what he wanted was to get Giles safely tucked into bed so that he could take a hot shower and thaw his toes. "Shouldn't we wait on the presents until tomorrow, when everyone's here?" he asked, though he doubted Giles would be put off. He was poking under the tree like an excited five-year-old.
"One tonight shouldn't be untoward." The pine needles muffled Giles' voice. Earlier, Xander might have admitted that it had been worth the trouble to get a real tree, but at the moment the fresh pine scent was tickling his nose. Xander finally got the fire lit and held his hands out to warm them. He'd been wearing gloves when they'd arrived at the Council party, but they hadn't been in his coat pocket at the end of the night. Typical.
"This one," Giles said, and Xander turned to find Giles holding out a present in plain red paper with a green ribbon wrapped around it.
Xander took it and set it aside, going to rummage under the tree until he found something he thought Giles might like. It wasn't anything fancy, but he'd seen it and thought it needed to have a home on Giles' desk. It was probably stupid, but at least Giles was drunk enough that there was a chance he wouldn't notice.
"Open this first," Xander said, moving back to sit in front of the fire. Giles tried to turn around to face him and somehow wound up lying on his back almost next to Xander. He grinned, and Xander really did feel a small tug at his lips. "Go on. It's not huge or anything," Xander said. "It's just, I thought . . . Well, you said you didn't have a picture of us to put in your office--"
"Oh," was all Giles said, but he was staring at the picture--and the frame that had so reminded Xander of him--with a smile on his face. He reached up and rubbed his fingers along the tweed upholstered frame, gently, as if he was worried he'd hurt it somehow. Xander had only seen that particular look on Giles' face when he was ogling a rare book, or . . . sometimes, when he touched Xander. Xander liked that look.
"It's kinda silly," Xander said, though his lips had worked themselves into a smile he didn't think he could get rid of.
"It's lovely," Giles said. He turned his grin on Xander then, bringing the picture down to rest on his chest. "I love it."
Xander had to duck his head, unsure why his face was heating up, except that Giles was looking at him with that look. It made Xander feel kinda naked, which was strange, because when Xander was naked and Giles looked at him that way, it only made him hard.
"Open yours," Giles said, rolling onto his side and then wobbling into a sitting position, Xander's gift held in his lap as he watched Xander shred the plain red paper.
Xander had thought it was a book, but once he got the paper off, he realized it was a photo album. He shot a confused look at Giles and then opened it to find pictures already inside.
The first was of a little boy, dressed for the snow that lay deep around him. His nose and ears and cheeks were red and his glasses were askew, and Xander found himself grinning as he realized it was Giles: Giles at about eight or nine, but still with that same grin.
Giles' arms came around him from behind, strong and warm. "You said that you wished you'd known me when I was younger and . . . Well, with time travel being such a tricky prospect . . ."
Xander didn't know what to say. He flipped another few pages as Giles rested his chin on Xander's shoulder, pressing a warm kiss against Xander's chilled neck. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah," Xander said, and how much he liked it must have come through in his voice, because Giles didn't seem to need him to say more than that.
Giles' arms tightened around him, and Xander pushed back into the embrace. He flipped another page and found himself staring at a twenty or so year old Giles.
He was sitting in ripped jeans, bare-chested, on a messy bed with his guitar, but he wasn't playing. He was looking up at the camera and smiling. Xander ran his fingertip along the smile, tilting his head back so that his temple brushed Giles'.
"I was much younger then," Giles said.
"Some things get better with age," Xander countered, his fingers brushing lightly over the picture, over Giles' face and chest, tracing Giles' guitar. "I really do love it."
"Happy Christmas," Giles said, a little of that drunken giggle slipping through.
"Yeah." Xander said, pushing back against Giles. He looked up at the twinkling tree, and the lopsided stockings, and the fire that was starting to defrost his toes. "It really is."
----------
Three things wanted:
Hurt/Comfort, Xander, A photograph from Giles' youth: he's wearing torn jeans (and nothing else), sitting on a disarrayed bed, and is playing a guitar (did I mention the just-been-shagged-look?)
Three things I unwanted:
- Giles acting all stuffy and tweedy, Xander getting drunk, Giles dancing the Macarena.