Training Session
Training Session
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Author’s Notes: Written for the maleslashminis Giles challenge. fan_spagel's challenge can be found at the end of the fic. Many, many smootches to darkhavens who gave this one a quick once over for me.
Summary: Something always seems to go wrong with Wesley’s training sessions.
“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing, I…”
How did you manage to knock him completely unconscious? Wesley? Buffy, really; do you have no shame?”
“Giles, I didn’t, I swear, I…”
“You cannot treat your watcher in such a manner! If you intend to kill him, then do so! Don’t try to disguise it during a training session!”
“I didn’t mean to, Giles! He stepped into the punch, I meant to hit the…”
“… Ohhh…”
“Wesley, are you quite alright?”
“Yes, I… Yes, quite.”
“Buffy, apologize. Now.”
“Sorry?”
“Indeed. Wesley?”
“Yes, of course, I…”
“Good. Now, carry on!”
Watching them is actually quite funny. Wesley has absolutely no experience in working with teenage girls, and his mild obsession with Cordelia has made him look the fool. But I can see within him true ability.
He carries himself with confidence and pride, although the later is routinely damaged by his charges. Buffy is beginning to develop an attachment to him, I think. You can see it in her eyes at certain times. He will never know this, of course; she will keep it to herself to maintain his discomfort.
And down he goes again. Lovely.
“Buffy! What did I…”
Today he’s taken my advice and tried something new. I told him that if he challenged the girls, yet allowed them space to move, he might find himself remaining conscious throughout the session.
It appears, however, that my theory was wrong. He and Faith just made it though the door and although she looks as though she’s taken a quiet stroll through the gardens, he looks like he is verging on collapse. His eyes meet mine, then seek out Buffy. I can see hope hovering just below the surface.
Buffy’s expression leads me to believe that that hope is misplaced.
A mistake? Most likely. He’s sitting on my bed, his hands all but tucked underneath his fleece covered thighs as he awaits my arrival. I swirl the glass of whiskey once, twice, before throwing it back and moving to the bathroom to locate the salve I promised.
He’s quiet, his face turned down and away and I feel a surge of something… Some desire to hold, protect, filters through my consciousness. I smile at him, reaching out to tilt back his chin and get a good look at the welt there. He did not fare well on Buffy’s chosen route.
My waking is slow, unhurried and I find myself wondering why. My normal routine includes my eyes popping open as I swing my legs off the bed.
A deep inhalation and I remember. He’s here. His body tucked against mine and that sharp, spicy scent that always surrounds him filling my senses. He’s still asleep, so I pull him closer, burying my nose deep in his hair, my fingers stroking down the dark line of hair underneath his navel.
Memories of the night come to mind, his first shy, tentative kisses and long, timid fingers caressing...
He’s beautiful. He’s mine.
The End
Your name: fan_spagle
Male character you want paired with Giles: Wes
Up to three things you want in your fic: Protective!Giles, Shy!wes, Schmoop
Up to two things you don't want: Kinky dirty!Giles, Dark
Preferred rating: Any
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Author’s Notes: Written for the maleslashminis Giles challenge. fan_spagel's challenge can be found at the end of the fic. Many, many smootches to darkhavens who gave this one a quick once over for me.
Summary: Something always seems to go wrong with Wesley’s training sessions.
“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing, I…”
How did you manage to knock him completely unconscious? Wesley? Buffy, really; do you have no shame?”
“Giles, I didn’t, I swear, I…”
“You cannot treat your watcher in such a manner! If you intend to kill him, then do so! Don’t try to disguise it during a training session!”
“I didn’t mean to, Giles! He stepped into the punch, I meant to hit the…”
“… Ohhh…”
“Wesley, are you quite alright?”
“Yes, I… Yes, quite.”
“Buffy, apologize. Now.”
“Sorry?”
“Indeed. Wesley?”
“Yes, of course, I…”
“Good. Now, carry on!”
Watching them is actually quite funny. Wesley has absolutely no experience in working with teenage girls, and his mild obsession with Cordelia has made him look the fool. But I can see within him true ability.
He carries himself with confidence and pride, although the later is routinely damaged by his charges. Buffy is beginning to develop an attachment to him, I think. You can see it in her eyes at certain times. He will never know this, of course; she will keep it to herself to maintain his discomfort.
And down he goes again. Lovely.
“Buffy! What did I…”
Today he’s taken my advice and tried something new. I told him that if he challenged the girls, yet allowed them space to move, he might find himself remaining conscious throughout the session.
It appears, however, that my theory was wrong. He and Faith just made it though the door and although she looks as though she’s taken a quiet stroll through the gardens, he looks like he is verging on collapse. His eyes meet mine, then seek out Buffy. I can see hope hovering just below the surface.
Buffy’s expression leads me to believe that that hope is misplaced.
A mistake? Most likely. He’s sitting on my bed, his hands all but tucked underneath his fleece covered thighs as he awaits my arrival. I swirl the glass of whiskey once, twice, before throwing it back and moving to the bathroom to locate the salve I promised.
He’s quiet, his face turned down and away and I feel a surge of something… Some desire to hold, protect, filters through my consciousness. I smile at him, reaching out to tilt back his chin and get a good look at the welt there. He did not fare well on Buffy’s chosen route.
My waking is slow, unhurried and I find myself wondering why. My normal routine includes my eyes popping open as I swing my legs off the bed.
A deep inhalation and I remember. He’s here. His body tucked against mine and that sharp, spicy scent that always surrounds him filling my senses. He’s still asleep, so I pull him closer, burying my nose deep in his hair, my fingers stroking down the dark line of hair underneath his navel.
Memories of the night come to mind, his first shy, tentative kisses and long, timid fingers caressing...
He’s beautiful. He’s mine.
The End
Your name: fan_spagle
Male character you want paired with Giles: Wes
Up to three things you want in your fic: Protective!Giles, Shy!wes, Schmoop
Up to two things you don't want: Kinky dirty!Giles, Dark
Preferred rating: Any