Buffy yelped and jumped back - just as Gunn did, and Gunn scowled at the douse. *Man, get a grip on yourself!* "It's okay, they're friendly - mostly. Hungry little fu- guys but friendly. Go on and feed it some bacon." Gunn coaxed. Buffy took the edge of her plate in her fingertips and pushed it gingerly toward the douse.
"It can have the rest," she said, and the douse righted itself and sat upright, tail sweeping in fast arcs through the spatters of tea, little scaly paws clutching in what looked like a distinctly 'Mr. Burns' manner.
"Oh, no, no, that's entirely too much rich breakfast for you, Wes said, swooping in and rescuing the plate. "Buffy, are you sure you don't want any more?"
"Oh, I'm sure. Wow - look at the little nose!" Buffy made a sort of cooing noise and the douse and Gunn both stared in disbelief. Buffy sat up straighter, pushing her hand back through her hair. "Right, okay - ummm... Wesley? You think Spike and Xander are going to join us?"
"You're kiddin' right?" Gunn slipped a sugar cube out of the bowl and held it out to the douse which snatched it and ran, soggy pink tail flicking tea this way and that. "Those boys ain't gonna make an appearance for hours."
"Charles is right, unfortunately. You're welcome to join us at the shop if you like."
"What, spend the day at the 'Occult and Mystical Supply Depot'?" Buffy made a wry face and shook her head. "I've kind of had my fill of booky, spell-y, funny-smelling shops with things like 'rats eyes' on the shelves. When I was fighting last night I saw some neat stores and stuff - I think I'm just gonna - spend some money. I - have a Platinum card with my name on it." Buffy grinned, arching her brows and tipping her chin in a manner that made Wesley feel a little twinge of nostalgia.
"Besides, Dawn threatened me with actual physical harm if I didn't bring her back some sort of authentic 'witch' thing, and Willow wants me to take pictures - she gave me a list." Buffy fluffed her hair - stood up and brushed a crumb off of her sweater. "And the sun is actually shining and it's not doing that weird ice-rain thing anymore and I have a pair of killer snow boots 'Deus got me in Champery."
"Well if you need to find us - for anything - we'll be in the booky, spell-y, funny-smelling shop on Flint," Wesley said in his best dry, 'Watcher' voice - pulled a key off the hook by the door and passed it to Buffy - like anything could break into this house between the spells, dice and sleeping oversexed vampire. "Try not to find any more fights, though - I'm not sure even a Slayer's constitution could stand up to another night of drinking in a demon bar."
Buffy tucked the key into her purse and flashed Wesley a perky California Girl grin. "A Slayer's constitution can try!"
"It's just above freezing... I wonder if the sidewalks will be slippery? I think I'm going to call a cab," Wesley said, peering out the kitchen window at the ice-sheathed mounds of snow that humped across the yard. The sidewalks between home and work had all been cleared for days but the sleet of the night before might have put a treacherous scrim of ice over everything and he was worried about Charles. "Let me just find the number..."
"Don't you usually walk, Wes? I thought you said it was close?"
"Well, yes, it is but after the storm, I was thinking that perhaps -"
"Walking is therapy, English. I do it every day." Charles looked - stubborn. And maybe a little hurt, and Wesley reached out and touched his arm - rubbed it through shirt and sweater.
"Yes, you do, I know. You did bring some good boots then? Or I can loan you something - we have several pair - Xander seems to enjoy buying boots..."
"That boy spent way too long surrounded by women." Gunn shook his head, shook off Wes' arm, then took his hand. "I'm gonna say this once, English. You don't have to worry about me."
"I'm not worried." Wesley licked his lips, looked at his fingers, pale and skinny trapped in Charles' larger, darker hand. Sturdier hand. Hand that had never looked out of place on an axe.
"It can have the rest," she said, and the douse righted itself and sat upright, tail sweeping in fast arcs through the spatters of tea, little scaly paws clutching in what looked like a distinctly 'Mr. Burns' manner.
"Oh, no, no, that's entirely too much rich breakfast for you, Wes said, swooping in and rescuing the plate. "Buffy, are you sure you don't want any more?"
"Oh, I'm sure. Wow - look at the little nose!" Buffy made a sort of cooing noise and the douse and Gunn both stared in disbelief. Buffy sat up straighter, pushing her hand back through her hair. "Right, okay - ummm... Wesley? You think Spike and Xander are going to join us?"
"You're kiddin' right?" Gunn slipped a sugar cube out of the bowl and held it out to the douse which snatched it and ran, soggy pink tail flicking tea this way and that. "Those boys ain't gonna make an appearance for hours."
"Charles is right, unfortunately. You're welcome to join us at the shop if you like."
"What, spend the day at the 'Occult and Mystical Supply Depot'?" Buffy made a wry face and shook her head. "I've kind of had my fill of booky, spell-y, funny-smelling shops with things like 'rats eyes' on the shelves. When I was fighting last night I saw some neat stores and stuff - I think I'm just gonna - spend some money. I - have a Platinum card with my name on it." Buffy grinned, arching her brows and tipping her chin in a manner that made Wesley feel a little twinge of nostalgia.
"Besides, Dawn threatened me with actual physical harm if I didn't bring her back some sort of authentic 'witch' thing, and Willow wants me to take pictures - she gave me a list." Buffy fluffed her hair - stood up and brushed a crumb off of her sweater. "And the sun is actually shining and it's not doing that weird ice-rain thing anymore and I have a pair of killer snow boots 'Deus got me in Champery."
"Well if you need to find us - for anything - we'll be in the booky, spell-y, funny-smelling shop on Flint," Wesley said in his best dry, 'Watcher' voice - pulled a key off the hook by the door and passed it to Buffy - like anything could break into this house between the spells, dice and sleeping oversexed vampire. "Try not to find any more fights, though - I'm not sure even a Slayer's constitution could stand up to another night of drinking in a demon bar."
Buffy tucked the key into her purse and flashed Wesley a perky California Girl grin. "A Slayer's constitution can try!"
"It's just above freezing... I wonder if the sidewalks will be slippery? I think I'm going to call a cab," Wesley said, peering out the kitchen window at the ice-sheathed mounds of snow that humped across the yard. The sidewalks between home and work had all been cleared for days but the sleet of the night before might have put a treacherous scrim of ice over everything and he was worried about Charles. "Let me just find the number..."
"Don't you usually walk, Wes? I thought you said it was close?"
"Well, yes, it is but after the storm, I was thinking that perhaps -"
"Walking is therapy, English. I do it every day." Charles looked - stubborn. And maybe a little hurt, and Wesley reached out and touched his arm - rubbed it through shirt and sweater.
"Yes, you do, I know. You did bring some good boots then? Or I can loan you something - we have several pair - Xander seems to enjoy buying boots..."
"That boy spent way too long surrounded by women." Gunn shook his head, shook off Wes' arm, then took his hand. "I'm gonna say this once, English. You don't have to worry about me."
"I'm not worried." Wesley licked his lips, looked at his fingers, pale and skinny trapped in Charles' larger, darker hand. Sturdier hand. Hand that had never looked out of place on an axe.
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