Lessons
Giles hummed to himself as he puttered about the kitchen, filling the tea kettle with water before placing it on the stove and lighting the burner. Then, he went to the cabinet over the sink, fetching teacups for he and Jenny, knowing she'd be up at any moment.
It had been two weeks since they'd returned to England with Willow in tow, and so far things were going as well as could be expected. Willow was still experiencing exhaustion from her heavy dark-magic use, not to mention she was having bad dreams almost nightly.
And for these first two weeks, Jenny had left things up to the Coven to start Willow's rehabilitation. She hadn't thought it wise to begin teaching her right away... not to mention she was still needing quite a bit of rest. Which was fine with him. Jenny didn't need any added stress given her condition, despite how frequently she insisted that she was fine, and that she was strong enough to handle what she was going through.
Giles had never contested her strength, though he did seize every opportunity to remind her that while she was strong, the life blossoming inside her was still quite fragile, and could be lost at a moment's notice if she wasn't careful. They'd already experienced such a loss once; he was in no mood to have history repeat itself.
"There you are," he heard her smooth alto in the kitchen doorway and spun at the sound.
She looked radiant -- which was nothing new, of course, and yet it somehow managed to render him momentarily breathless every time. She stood leaning against the door frame, clad in nothing but his dress shirt from the day before and a pair of cotton socks, the whiteness of both enhancing the glow she'd acquired over the last week.
"Good morning," he exhaled his smile, eyes roaming over her as he pondered if there'd ever been a time he wasn't completely taken with her very presence.
She hummed softly as she made her way over to him, "Morning," and snaked her hands around his waist, her chest against his back as she stretched up on her toes to kiss his ear.
Giles smiled to himself, head dipped as he poured their tea. "Sleep well, Jenny?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded, hopping up on the counter and letting her bare legs dangle over the edge. She gave him a little grin as she added flirtatiously, "Very well. And you?"
"Splendid," he smiled, returning the devilish little smirk on her lips with one of his own.
"Thanks for, um..." she leaned over a little, her lips just a whisper from his as she met his eyes, "scratching that itch for me last night."
He managed not to outwardly shiver, both at her tone, and the images produced from her words, and volleyed the flirtation back. "Darling, you know I'm... always there to scratch whatever itch you may fall prey to." Arching a brow, he added, "No matter how deep it goes."
Her lips captured his softly as a soft hum escaped, and she pulled away biting her lip gently, a smile not far behind. And, though his body begged him to lean in again and kiss her senses away, Giles allowed the moment to dissipate, instead looking to the breakfast he'd been preparing.
"What're you making?" she asked, still leaned toward him though her eyes were on the mixing bowl on the counter.
"Blueberry pancakes," he replied, passing her the bowl of fresh blueberries from the other side of the stove.
It had been two weeks since they'd returned to England with Willow in tow, and so far things were going as well as could be expected. Willow was still experiencing exhaustion from her heavy dark-magic use, not to mention she was having bad dreams almost nightly.
And for these first two weeks, Jenny had left things up to the Coven to start Willow's rehabilitation. She hadn't thought it wise to begin teaching her right away... not to mention she was still needing quite a bit of rest. Which was fine with him. Jenny didn't need any added stress given her condition, despite how frequently she insisted that she was fine, and that she was strong enough to handle what she was going through.
Giles had never contested her strength, though he did seize every opportunity to remind her that while she was strong, the life blossoming inside her was still quite fragile, and could be lost at a moment's notice if she wasn't careful. They'd already experienced such a loss once; he was in no mood to have history repeat itself.
"There you are," he heard her smooth alto in the kitchen doorway and spun at the sound.
She looked radiant -- which was nothing new, of course, and yet it somehow managed to render him momentarily breathless every time. She stood leaning against the door frame, clad in nothing but his dress shirt from the day before and a pair of cotton socks, the whiteness of both enhancing the glow she'd acquired over the last week.
"Good morning," he exhaled his smile, eyes roaming over her as he pondered if there'd ever been a time he wasn't completely taken with her very presence.
She hummed softly as she made her way over to him, "Morning," and snaked her hands around his waist, her chest against his back as she stretched up on her toes to kiss his ear.
Giles smiled to himself, head dipped as he poured their tea. "Sleep well, Jenny?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded, hopping up on the counter and letting her bare legs dangle over the edge. She gave him a little grin as she added flirtatiously, "Very well. And you?"
"Splendid," he smiled, returning the devilish little smirk on her lips with one of his own.
"Thanks for, um..." she leaned over a little, her lips just a whisper from his as she met his eyes, "scratching that itch for me last night."
He managed not to outwardly shiver, both at her tone, and the images produced from her words, and volleyed the flirtation back. "Darling, you know I'm... always there to scratch whatever itch you may fall prey to." Arching a brow, he added, "No matter how deep it goes."
Her lips captured his softly as a soft hum escaped, and she pulled away biting her lip gently, a smile not far behind. And, though his body begged him to lean in again and kiss her senses away, Giles allowed the moment to dissipate, instead looking to the breakfast he'd been preparing.
"What're you making?" she asked, still leaned toward him though her eyes were on the mixing bowl on the counter.
"Blueberry pancakes," he replied, passing her the bowl of fresh blueberries from the other side of the stove.