Holiday Request Ficlet #23: Impetuous
Title: Impetuous
Author: viciouswishes
For: sheepfairy
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Anya/Giles
Setting: Post-"Selfless"
Rating: PG
Words: 1291
Prompt: Anya/Giles and the vast exercise of consumerism that is Christmas.
Summary: Every savvy businesswoman knows that the Christmas season starts the day after the After Halloween Sale.
Every savvy businesswoman knows that the Christmas season starts the day after the After Halloween Sale. Anya loves the holidays. From Mabon to well into January, her business is hopping and she does the dance of capitalistic superiority every night in joy.
She doesn't even mind letting her workers go early so they can wrap last minute presents or pester their grandma for the secret family stuffing recipe. They always bring plenty of leftovers for her. And Anya has memorized the lyrics to "Dreidel, Dreidel" right along with "Deck the Halls" and "The Christians and the Pagans."
The truth is that consumerism is Anya's celebration. Her customers are often her link to the outside world as she doesn't have as many friends as she once did. When she walked away from Sunnydale, she left without looking back and headed north. It was time. It was past time. And when the apocalypse didn't happen, again, Anya knew that Buffy had been triumphant. Not to mention a few more Chosen ones that she could pick out of a crowd more easily than she should've.
But Anya has her shop and a small apartment above it. She goes to the little theater down the street for Saturday matinees and cleans on Sunday mornings. Otherworldly creatures know to either leave her alone or peacefully co-exist. Anya's only had a kill one vampire once since she's moved in.
The shop is, however, empty, and Anya changes the music from holiday classics to Regina Spektor, letting the piano notes fill the empty room. She's busy dusting off the fairy corner when the door opens to her shop. "Be right with you," she calls and hums along with the music.
The man standing in front of her window display is tall and dressed in a long black winter coat. He looks familiar.
"Giles?" When he turns around, Anya restrains herself from throwing her arms around him. Surely Giles has heard about her fall, once again, from the demon world and how Buffy put a sword in her.
But Giles, he gives her a friendly smile. "Anya," he says. "Is this your shop?" She nods as he goes on to tell her that a friend recommended the place. "Well, I'm glad to see a familiar face. Though I can't say that I'm surprised."
Anya beams at that. She always ran their shop at peak efficiently, but he so rarely told her. "How can I be of help?"
Giles tells her that he's looking for a combination of rare roots. He's training a local Slayer in the healing arts - she has a natural gift - and there were a few things that he'd forgotten in England. They both know that his one-on-one training means he hopes that she won't take the same path as Willow did with her powers.
Anya locks the front door and puts up the closed sign because she doesn't want a stray customer interrupting her time with him and giving him an excuse to vanish. "How's everyone?" she asks.
"Adapting well to their new lives. Buffy's training in Europe and Faith is working wonderfully with the Slayers in America. And Willow's spending her time making allies with covens and other white witches."
"And how's Xander?" Anya's shoulders stiffen when she asks. Part of her hopes that Xander's been able to put them behind him just as she had him.
Giles touches a jar of mandrake root. "Living in Africa. He's indebted himself to his Slayer's tribe and seems be living perhaps a more interesting life than many of us." Giles is still too polite.
"I'm not going to break if you tell me he's happy, you know." And it's true. Anya tossed her wedding veil in the garbage after she had her powers ripped from her the second time.
She holds a bag open as Giles pours herbs into it. They've gone silent. As she watches him, she thinks that he perhaps looks younger than the last time she saw him since he fought Willow and since hearing all of Buffy's drama. Maybe time does heal all.
"Are you doing anything for dinner?" Anya asks. She's not sure where her question's coming from, maybe it's the slump in his shoulders or the emptiness of her store. But she doesn't want to spend the evening alone.
Giles smiles at her. "That would be lovely, Anya."
"I'm not much of a cook. But-" She holds up a finger signaling for him to wait and reaches behind the register to grab her ever-growing stack of take-out menus. They're well-used and marked all over. "Dishes and services commented about on the side. There are plenty of options."
Giles chuckles. They end up ordering India food from the place that's always open, even on during the Christmas holiday, and she gives him the official tour of her shop and her home while they wait. Her home's not much, just a spray of rich red, oranges, and yellows to brighten her world. But she can see he approves of her reformed ways and what she thinks is a longing for simpler times. Even if Anya's not so sure they actually were simpler.
She asks about his life and he gives her the details about finding new Slayers, living in London, and stepping down from his place at the head of the reorganized council. "Too much paperwork," Giles says. Anya's seen him with a sword and knows that he'd rather be out there fighting the good battle than stuck behind a desk.
"Good for you." Anya pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan as she goes to answer the door. She only orders from places that are prompt in their delivery time, because like any self-respecting businesswoman, she likes to leave a big tip. Besides, it's too cold outside to fuss with change. Anya watches the snow fall out her shop windows as she climbs the stairs again.
"Let me get that," Giles says, taking the food from her as she opens the door to her apartment. Their hands brush. He gets that look on his face, like he's worried about something. Instead of questioning him, Anya leans up and kisses him. It's awkward; he's significantly taller than her and her lips almost miss his.
But then they connect to her relief. Turns out, he's a great kisser, not rough, not too soft, precise enough to show enthusiasm, and loose enough to accommodate hers. Anya grins at him after they break the kiss. "That was better than I was expecting," she says and waits for his glare. Turns out that it's a pretty soft glare, filtered by the lust in his eyes. "Hey, I'm a picky woman."
Giles snorts softly. "You are the most impetuous woman I know."
"Better than aggravating." Anya moves toward the kitchen to grab plates and silverware. There's a tiny bounce in her step.
"Oh, you're that too." Giles moves behind her and grabs her by her waist as soon as her arms are emptied of the plates. "You're very lucky that I happen to like that," he almost growls into her ear, his voice sending a jolt of pleasure down her body.
Anya turns to kiss him again. This time, however, Giles moves just beyond her reach. "Our food's getting cold," he says.
"Let it." Anya clasps his hands in hers. She feels like this has been forever coming, from the times that they fought over his fertility statues to when she watched over him with the pieces of the Magic Box surrounding them. "The food will still be here. And I'm the impetuous one."
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret saying that."
"Probably." Anya pulls Giles toward her bedroom. "But I'm tired of waiting."
Author: viciouswishes
For: sheepfairy
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Anya/Giles
Setting: Post-"Selfless"
Rating: PG
Words: 1291
Prompt: Anya/Giles and the vast exercise of consumerism that is Christmas.
Summary: Every savvy businesswoman knows that the Christmas season starts the day after the After Halloween Sale.
Every savvy businesswoman knows that the Christmas season starts the day after the After Halloween Sale. Anya loves the holidays. From Mabon to well into January, her business is hopping and she does the dance of capitalistic superiority every night in joy.
She doesn't even mind letting her workers go early so they can wrap last minute presents or pester their grandma for the secret family stuffing recipe. They always bring plenty of leftovers for her. And Anya has memorized the lyrics to "Dreidel, Dreidel" right along with "Deck the Halls" and "The Christians and the Pagans."
The truth is that consumerism is Anya's celebration. Her customers are often her link to the outside world as she doesn't have as many friends as she once did. When she walked away from Sunnydale, she left without looking back and headed north. It was time. It was past time. And when the apocalypse didn't happen, again, Anya knew that Buffy had been triumphant. Not to mention a few more Chosen ones that she could pick out of a crowd more easily than she should've.
But Anya has her shop and a small apartment above it. She goes to the little theater down the street for Saturday matinees and cleans on Sunday mornings. Otherworldly creatures know to either leave her alone or peacefully co-exist. Anya's only had a kill one vampire once since she's moved in.
The shop is, however, empty, and Anya changes the music from holiday classics to Regina Spektor, letting the piano notes fill the empty room. She's busy dusting off the fairy corner when the door opens to her shop. "Be right with you," she calls and hums along with the music.
The man standing in front of her window display is tall and dressed in a long black winter coat. He looks familiar.
"Giles?" When he turns around, Anya restrains herself from throwing her arms around him. Surely Giles has heard about her fall, once again, from the demon world and how Buffy put a sword in her.
But Giles, he gives her a friendly smile. "Anya," he says. "Is this your shop?" She nods as he goes on to tell her that a friend recommended the place. "Well, I'm glad to see a familiar face. Though I can't say that I'm surprised."
Anya beams at that. She always ran their shop at peak efficiently, but he so rarely told her. "How can I be of help?"
Giles tells her that he's looking for a combination of rare roots. He's training a local Slayer in the healing arts - she has a natural gift - and there were a few things that he'd forgotten in England. They both know that his one-on-one training means he hopes that she won't take the same path as Willow did with her powers.
Anya locks the front door and puts up the closed sign because she doesn't want a stray customer interrupting her time with him and giving him an excuse to vanish. "How's everyone?" she asks.
"Adapting well to their new lives. Buffy's training in Europe and Faith is working wonderfully with the Slayers in America. And Willow's spending her time making allies with covens and other white witches."
"And how's Xander?" Anya's shoulders stiffen when she asks. Part of her hopes that Xander's been able to put them behind him just as she had him.
Giles touches a jar of mandrake root. "Living in Africa. He's indebted himself to his Slayer's tribe and seems be living perhaps a more interesting life than many of us." Giles is still too polite.
"I'm not going to break if you tell me he's happy, you know." And it's true. Anya tossed her wedding veil in the garbage after she had her powers ripped from her the second time.
She holds a bag open as Giles pours herbs into it. They've gone silent. As she watches him, she thinks that he perhaps looks younger than the last time she saw him since he fought Willow and since hearing all of Buffy's drama. Maybe time does heal all.
"Are you doing anything for dinner?" Anya asks. She's not sure where her question's coming from, maybe it's the slump in his shoulders or the emptiness of her store. But she doesn't want to spend the evening alone.
Giles smiles at her. "That would be lovely, Anya."
"I'm not much of a cook. But-" She holds up a finger signaling for him to wait and reaches behind the register to grab her ever-growing stack of take-out menus. They're well-used and marked all over. "Dishes and services commented about on the side. There are plenty of options."
Giles chuckles. They end up ordering India food from the place that's always open, even on during the Christmas holiday, and she gives him the official tour of her shop and her home while they wait. Her home's not much, just a spray of rich red, oranges, and yellows to brighten her world. But she can see he approves of her reformed ways and what she thinks is a longing for simpler times. Even if Anya's not so sure they actually were simpler.
She asks about his life and he gives her the details about finding new Slayers, living in London, and stepping down from his place at the head of the reorganized council. "Too much paperwork," Giles says. Anya's seen him with a sword and knows that he'd rather be out there fighting the good battle than stuck behind a desk.
"Good for you." Anya pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan as she goes to answer the door. She only orders from places that are prompt in their delivery time, because like any self-respecting businesswoman, she likes to leave a big tip. Besides, it's too cold outside to fuss with change. Anya watches the snow fall out her shop windows as she climbs the stairs again.
"Let me get that," Giles says, taking the food from her as she opens the door to her apartment. Their hands brush. He gets that look on his face, like he's worried about something. Instead of questioning him, Anya leans up and kisses him. It's awkward; he's significantly taller than her and her lips almost miss his.
But then they connect to her relief. Turns out, he's a great kisser, not rough, not too soft, precise enough to show enthusiasm, and loose enough to accommodate hers. Anya grins at him after they break the kiss. "That was better than I was expecting," she says and waits for his glare. Turns out that it's a pretty soft glare, filtered by the lust in his eyes. "Hey, I'm a picky woman."
Giles snorts softly. "You are the most impetuous woman I know."
"Better than aggravating." Anya moves toward the kitchen to grab plates and silverware. There's a tiny bounce in her step.
"Oh, you're that too." Giles moves behind her and grabs her by her waist as soon as her arms are emptied of the plates. "You're very lucky that I happen to like that," he almost growls into her ear, his voice sending a jolt of pleasure down her body.
Anya turns to kiss him again. This time, however, Giles moves just beyond her reach. "Our food's getting cold," he says.
"Let it." Anya clasps his hands in hers. She feels like this has been forever coming, from the times that they fought over his fertility statues to when she watched over him with the pieces of the Magic Box surrounding them. "The food will still be here. And I'm the impetuous one."
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret saying that."
"Probably." Anya pulls Giles toward her bedroom. "But I'm tired of waiting."