Happy Drunken!Giles to you, Happy Drunken!Giles to you!
Title: Propriety and the Green Fairy
Author: Mr. Twisted Whispers
Characters: Giles, Wesley, Faith
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Post chosen
Summary: All work and no play makes Wesley annoy Giles
Disclaimer: These are not my characters; they belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I'm just being silly.
Written for the Drunken!Giles-athon (master list here) for lovesbitca, who wanted Wesley, Faith and absinthe, all of which she's gotten. Happy Holidays!
"Annoying berk!" Giles slammed the door for emphasis, and immediately realized it might not have been a good idea. His balance was not quite up to par and he more fell against the door than slammed it. His plan to combine the festive holiday spirit with a holiday of festive spirits was not working according to plan either. The Christmas Etc. Holiday Extravaganza was a much better party than its name implied, but what was Wesley deciding to do on this festive occasion? Paperwork. It was as if Scrooge and Cratchit had somehow transmogrified into a single person.
"Three strikes, huh?" Faith had pulled a decorative sidebench in front of one of the antique chairs that adorned the hallway, and used it as a makeshift table.
"What?"
"That was the third time you tried to get him to join the fun, and still no luck."
"How did. . ." Giles drained his glass, and almost put it down in the space formerly occupied by the sidebench, but managed to stop his motion, losing only a few ice cubes, but not the glass. "How long have you been sitting there."
"Few minutes. Gossip around the punchbowl says you already been in there twice trying to get the grinch to come out, so I figured that was the third time." Faith held three fingers up unsteadily as if it was a point or rhetoric.
"Yes, yes, I suppose. Not the charm."
"I'm gonna leave that one alone, call it a Christmas present."
"Quite." Giles forgot how he planned to continue his retort, so simply changed subjects, "I think I need another," he motioned with the empty glass. "And by the way, it's called wassail."
"Wassail? Whatever," Faith lifted a square-bottomed bottle, half-full of emerald liquid, "It just makes be glad I brought something of my own. Here, I'll make you the next one. We have to go all over the world, why not pick up a few things."
Giles regarded the bottle. Absinthe, and from the label, most likely quite high-end. He watched as Faith slid a cheap box of sugar cubes from around the leg of her chair, pulled a scorched teaspoon and her lighter from her pocket, and adjusted them clumsily above the glass. She heated the spoon and then quickly dropped the sugar in, before pouring two fingers of the deep green liquid into the glass. She downed it, attempting her best not to shudder. She had probably seen someone prepare a suisesse, wherever she bought it (Amsterdam, he guessed from the writing on the label) but not quite remembered the process. It must have tasted like anise and paint remover the way she was doing.
"So," she said, biting back slightly. "Can I get you a drink, oh high and mighty Watcher?"
"Actually, you've already gotten me an idea," he tried to help her up by her arm, and almost succeeded in toppling them both. "Come with me." He motioned towards the door of Wesley's office.
"But to the lost cause, huh? What do I have to do?"
"Nothing, just drink, while I talk to him."
"Can do."
When they entered the office Giles grabbed a random stack of papers from the desk before positioning Faith in the chair across from Wesley's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her beginning the process of creating another misguided Absinthe suisesse.
"Well," Giles said, attempting his best to sound resigned. "If you're going to give the party a miss and work, we should discuss the Budapest situation. We need to get all of the shipping needs in line by the thirteenth and make sure the altered custom forms are in Tokyo by the twenty-second . . ."
He noticed Wesley wince as Faith downed her drink, then reached around to pour a glass of ice water from his pitcher, and attempted to turn his attention back to Giles, "Sorry, in Tokyo by. . ."
"The twenty-second." Giles had to sound insistent to hide the smile that was attempting to break through. "Now, most of the items can be passed off simply as art pieces, but we have to make sure no one tries to read the Tome of Akravos. . ."
"Shit." Faith mumbled and Wesley started as the tea-spoon slipped, dropping an absinthe-soaked sugar cube on the polished blonde-wood stain teak of his desk. Some stains were appreciated, some not. Faith just glared at him and ignored the water he pushed closer with his fingertips.
"So I'm thinking we can ward the crate. . ." Giles paused for a second to stifle a laugh, then cleared his throat for cover. "Sorry, and we might need a guard. . ." He stopped, realizing Wesley wasn't paying attention, his focus entirely capitalized by the improperly made drink.
As Faith fished out another sugar cube, Wesley grabbed the glass from her hand. "Oh, for the love of God, think Toulouse-LauTrec in Paris, not Bill the frat boy in Tijuana!" He pulled a slotted spoon for the drawer of his desk, and grabbed her sugar and Absinthe as well. He poured a double-measure of Absinthe into the glass, and placed three sugar cubes--"American cubes are too small, you should have bought French ones"--into it, and then expertly fished them out back on top of the slotted spoon. Grabbing her lighter where she dropped it, open-mouthed, he set the alcohol-soaked sugar aflame, waited until it began to melt, and then doused it with the water he had offered her, letting it pour through the slots, the emerald turning to opaque opalescent soapstone, before dropping the spoon in.
He motioned for a second as if handing Faith the drink and then pulled it back towards himself, "No, get your own. This one's mine."
Giles leaned back and allowed himself a quiet chuckle. If all else failed, and it was noticed, he could always point towards Faith's look of surprise. Besides, Absinthe could often do its work quite quickly. Maybe after another round or two with la fee verte, he could actually get Wesley to smile.
Author: Mr. Twisted Whispers
Characters: Giles, Wesley, Faith
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Post chosen
Summary: All work and no play makes Wesley annoy Giles
Disclaimer: These are not my characters; they belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I'm just being silly.
Written for the Drunken!Giles-athon (master list here) for lovesbitca, who wanted Wesley, Faith and absinthe, all of which she's gotten. Happy Holidays!
"Annoying berk!" Giles slammed the door for emphasis, and immediately realized it might not have been a good idea. His balance was not quite up to par and he more fell against the door than slammed it. His plan to combine the festive holiday spirit with a holiday of festive spirits was not working according to plan either. The Christmas Etc. Holiday Extravaganza was a much better party than its name implied, but what was Wesley deciding to do on this festive occasion? Paperwork. It was as if Scrooge and Cratchit had somehow transmogrified into a single person.
"Three strikes, huh?" Faith had pulled a decorative sidebench in front of one of the antique chairs that adorned the hallway, and used it as a makeshift table.
"What?"
"That was the third time you tried to get him to join the fun, and still no luck."
"How did. . ." Giles drained his glass, and almost put it down in the space formerly occupied by the sidebench, but managed to stop his motion, losing only a few ice cubes, but not the glass. "How long have you been sitting there."
"Few minutes. Gossip around the punchbowl says you already been in there twice trying to get the grinch to come out, so I figured that was the third time." Faith held three fingers up unsteadily as if it was a point or rhetoric.
"Yes, yes, I suppose. Not the charm."
"I'm gonna leave that one alone, call it a Christmas present."
"Quite." Giles forgot how he planned to continue his retort, so simply changed subjects, "I think I need another," he motioned with the empty glass. "And by the way, it's called wassail."
"Wassail? Whatever," Faith lifted a square-bottomed bottle, half-full of emerald liquid, "It just makes be glad I brought something of my own. Here, I'll make you the next one. We have to go all over the world, why not pick up a few things."
Giles regarded the bottle. Absinthe, and from the label, most likely quite high-end. He watched as Faith slid a cheap box of sugar cubes from around the leg of her chair, pulled a scorched teaspoon and her lighter from her pocket, and adjusted them clumsily above the glass. She heated the spoon and then quickly dropped the sugar in, before pouring two fingers of the deep green liquid into the glass. She downed it, attempting her best not to shudder. She had probably seen someone prepare a suisesse, wherever she bought it (Amsterdam, he guessed from the writing on the label) but not quite remembered the process. It must have tasted like anise and paint remover the way she was doing.
"So," she said, biting back slightly. "Can I get you a drink, oh high and mighty Watcher?"
"Actually, you've already gotten me an idea," he tried to help her up by her arm, and almost succeeded in toppling them both. "Come with me." He motioned towards the door of Wesley's office.
"But to the lost cause, huh? What do I have to do?"
"Nothing, just drink, while I talk to him."
"Can do."
When they entered the office Giles grabbed a random stack of papers from the desk before positioning Faith in the chair across from Wesley's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her beginning the process of creating another misguided Absinthe suisesse.
"Well," Giles said, attempting his best to sound resigned. "If you're going to give the party a miss and work, we should discuss the Budapest situation. We need to get all of the shipping needs in line by the thirteenth and make sure the altered custom forms are in Tokyo by the twenty-second . . ."
He noticed Wesley wince as Faith downed her drink, then reached around to pour a glass of ice water from his pitcher, and attempted to turn his attention back to Giles, "Sorry, in Tokyo by. . ."
"The twenty-second." Giles had to sound insistent to hide the smile that was attempting to break through. "Now, most of the items can be passed off simply as art pieces, but we have to make sure no one tries to read the Tome of Akravos. . ."
"Shit." Faith mumbled and Wesley started as the tea-spoon slipped, dropping an absinthe-soaked sugar cube on the polished blonde-wood stain teak of his desk. Some stains were appreciated, some not. Faith just glared at him and ignored the water he pushed closer with his fingertips.
"So I'm thinking we can ward the crate. . ." Giles paused for a second to stifle a laugh, then cleared his throat for cover. "Sorry, and we might need a guard. . ." He stopped, realizing Wesley wasn't paying attention, his focus entirely capitalized by the improperly made drink.
As Faith fished out another sugar cube, Wesley grabbed the glass from her hand. "Oh, for the love of God, think Toulouse-LauTrec in Paris, not Bill the frat boy in Tijuana!" He pulled a slotted spoon for the drawer of his desk, and grabbed her sugar and Absinthe as well. He poured a double-measure of Absinthe into the glass, and placed three sugar cubes--"American cubes are too small, you should have bought French ones"--into it, and then expertly fished them out back on top of the slotted spoon. Grabbing her lighter where she dropped it, open-mouthed, he set the alcohol-soaked sugar aflame, waited until it began to melt, and then doused it with the water he had offered her, letting it pour through the slots, the emerald turning to opaque opalescent soapstone, before dropping the spoon in.
He motioned for a second as if handing Faith the drink and then pulled it back towards himself, "No, get your own. This one's mine."
Giles leaned back and allowed himself a quiet chuckle. If all else failed, and it was noticed, he could always point towards Faith's look of surprise. Besides, Absinthe could often do its work quite quickly. Maybe after another round or two with la fee verte, he could actually get Wesley to smile.