Share-A-Braininess (Buffy/Giles, PG)
omg. Unsolicited fic! Wow! Ok, it's pretty corny unsolicited fic, but, um, I seem to have gotten Buffy and Giles dancing on the brain. Thus:
Title: Share-A-Braininess
Author: Trekker (trkkr47)
Pairing: Buffy/Giles
Rating: PG
Summary: Buffy and Giles bond at Willow's wedding.
A/N: Um. Heh. Wow, it's het and it's B/G and it's schmoopy! Um. Did anyone lose a pair of muses? Cause I'm really not sure these are mine...
***
The hall rang with laughter and conversation, and gleamed with strings of white lights. The string octet had just swung into a quicker number. Buffy sat with Giles at a table alongside the dance floor and contemplated finger-food. "Ok, so, what is it about these little hot dogs rolled up in dough that makes them inherently more classy than, say... Doritos?"
Giles, leaning back in his chair with one ankle resting up on his knee, his eyes on the dance floor, laughed.
"I mean," she said, "when you get right down to it, they're pretty funny-looking."
He laughed again, sitting up and turning his attention towards her.
"And what is with the miniature quiche thingies?" she continued.
Still grinning, he said, "Dear Lord, we really are terrible at talking about anything other than work, aren't we?"
Buffy pointed the little hot dog thing in his direction accusingly. "Hey, buddy, at least I'm trying. So, what else is there to talk about?"
"Er--"
"Ok," Buffy said, then popped the hot dog in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and continued. "How about our love lives? Or lack thereof."
"I thought you weren't interested in my love life. Something about me being very very old, and it being gross."
"Oh, please, Giles. I am so past that. Come on, do I *look* sixteen?"
"THAT is a loaded question if I ever heard one."
"What?" Buffy attempted to look offended. "Hey, are you saying I look old? I don't even have the mom-hair tonight!"
Giles just smiled gently. "Buffy, dear, next to me, you will never be old."
"Oh, stop that, Giles. You're not old. You're just mature. And dignified. And for a--"
"If your next words are 'man my age,' you're going to be negating everything you just said. Otherwise, please, feel free to carry on."
"Ok, Mr. Compliment-Fisher, I was going to say, and for a man in such a high-stress job, you look damn fine."
He arched his brow.
"Well, thank you. And I certainly never meant to imply that you yourself are anything but stunning. Especially tonight. Willow's taste in bride's maids gowns is--"
"Downright humane, I know," Buffy said, ducking her head and smiling. "God, Anya's were--" She stopped. "Oh, god, I wasn't even thinking--"
"It's not wrong to talk about her, Buffy," Giles said. "Even... in an affectionately exasperated manner."
"Yeah, I know. It's just... this isn't the place."
He shrugged. "I don't see why not. But certainly not if your uncomfortable."
"Yeah. Maybe... maybe sometime."
She swept her gaze around the room again, stopping at the sight of Willow dancing with her bride. Her eyes were shut and she looked a million miles away.
"Will looks so happy."
"She does."
"I'm glad for her. It's so rare, to find someone that good for you. Someone you just click with like that. That you're just share-a-brainy with."
"There is a word for that, you know." He smirked.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "You have a word for everything, Giles. You probably know what those little plastic things on the ends of shoelaces are called."
"Aglets."
Buffy leveled a Look at him. Giles raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, the very picture of innocence. Then he sobered, slightly, and said, "But you are right. It's an incredibly rare gift."
"Yeah."
They were both silent for a moment, then Buffy said, "And here we are, back at our love lives."
He laughed, one dry, ironic laugh, and said, "Indeed."
The previous number ended, and the octet swept into a slower number. They both watched the dancers for a few bars, then Giles said, "Buffy-- Would you care to dance?"
She glanced at him, he shrugged.
"Sure," she said. "Hey, that'd be nice. I'll try not to step on your *aglets* as long as you don't step on my toes."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He took her hand lightly as they stood, and they walked hand-in-hand onto the floor. As he arranged their arms, her hand on his shoulder, his on her waist, he said, "I'll have you know I took ballroom dance lessons from the time I was five."
The warmth of his hand settled through her gown, and she felt herself flush. Silly reaction. It was just Giles. She tried to tell her body that as she said, "Really?"
"Oh, yes. I remember vividly how horrified I was at the thought of being forced to hold Victoria Mayfield's hand. It was awful."
They shuffled, in a vaguely dance-like manner. Buffy watched their feet and said, "Traumatized you for life, huh?"
"Quite possibly. But I did learn how to waltz, in spite of the pain."
"You gonna teach me?" Buffy asked, still worrying over her feet.
He let go of her for a moment, leaving a cold vacancy against her side, and tilted her chin up with one finger. His eyes were soft with affection. "I already have."
"Huh?"
He held his finger in place long enough to make the point that she wasn't to look down anymore, then dropped his hand back to her side. "Dancing is like fencing. And fencing is like dancing. It's all about being in tune with your partner, in sync with his movements. I lead, you follow. The only difference is dancing is set to music. Real music, not that--"
"Noise. Yeah."
She found herself relaxing, as he subtly tapped the one-two-three beat with one finger. It was easier, looking at his eyes, than it had been looking at his feet, and she could feel the familiarity, read his intentions as he turned and stepped, easier even than when they'd fought, because it was cooperative. "Hey. Cool. I think I'm getting it."
He stopped tapping the beat, curled his hand a little further around her back, and she eased a bit nearer.
"You're a natural," he said, softly. "Slayer coordination."
"Maybe I've got a good partner," she murmured, no reason to speak loudly when he was so close.
He ducked his head, smiling.
"You're cute when you blush," she said.
His response was quieter, almost grave, "You're exquisite when you smile."
She could feel him, close enough now that there was no empty air between them. Smell his cologne. His hand spread across her lower back, one finger brushing the bare skin where the dip in the back of her dress ended. Her hand had moved, as well, curled around his shoulder, she could feel his hair tickling the side of her palm.
"Giles..."
"Shh."
Close enough now that it was easiest to just drop her head down to rest on his shoulder, lean her weight into his. She could feel his cheek resting against her hair, feel his slow, deep breaths.
"Mmmm," she said.
He sighed.
She felt warm all over, felt a gathering weight between her legs, felt love and desire and need, and him, holding her close against him, moving with the slow beat. Their hands unclasped, and his moved to meet his other behind her back, holding her even closer. The rhythm of their dance changed to a slow sway. She curled her own arm around his waist, surprised by the strength she could feel in him. It felt good.
He dipped his head down, kissed her bare shoulder, and she shuddered from head to toe.
"Giles..."
She pulled back, just enough to look up, to find his dark eyes looking down into hers.
"Buffy..."
"What is this?"
He smiled, and slid one hand up to press his palm to the bare skin of her back. She arched into his touch.
"Simpatico," he said.
***
The End
Title: Share-A-Braininess
Author: Trekker (trkkr47)
Pairing: Buffy/Giles
Rating: PG
Summary: Buffy and Giles bond at Willow's wedding.
A/N: Um. Heh. Wow, it's het and it's B/G and it's schmoopy! Um. Did anyone lose a pair of muses? Cause I'm really not sure these are mine...
***
The hall rang with laughter and conversation, and gleamed with strings of white lights. The string octet had just swung into a quicker number. Buffy sat with Giles at a table alongside the dance floor and contemplated finger-food. "Ok, so, what is it about these little hot dogs rolled up in dough that makes them inherently more classy than, say... Doritos?"
Giles, leaning back in his chair with one ankle resting up on his knee, his eyes on the dance floor, laughed.
"I mean," she said, "when you get right down to it, they're pretty funny-looking."
He laughed again, sitting up and turning his attention towards her.
"And what is with the miniature quiche thingies?" she continued.
Still grinning, he said, "Dear Lord, we really are terrible at talking about anything other than work, aren't we?"
Buffy pointed the little hot dog thing in his direction accusingly. "Hey, buddy, at least I'm trying. So, what else is there to talk about?"
"Er--"
"Ok," Buffy said, then popped the hot dog in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and continued. "How about our love lives? Or lack thereof."
"I thought you weren't interested in my love life. Something about me being very very old, and it being gross."
"Oh, please, Giles. I am so past that. Come on, do I *look* sixteen?"
"THAT is a loaded question if I ever heard one."
"What?" Buffy attempted to look offended. "Hey, are you saying I look old? I don't even have the mom-hair tonight!"
Giles just smiled gently. "Buffy, dear, next to me, you will never be old."
"Oh, stop that, Giles. You're not old. You're just mature. And dignified. And for a--"
"If your next words are 'man my age,' you're going to be negating everything you just said. Otherwise, please, feel free to carry on."
"Ok, Mr. Compliment-Fisher, I was going to say, and for a man in such a high-stress job, you look damn fine."
He arched his brow.
"Well, thank you. And I certainly never meant to imply that you yourself are anything but stunning. Especially tonight. Willow's taste in bride's maids gowns is--"
"Downright humane, I know," Buffy said, ducking her head and smiling. "God, Anya's were--" She stopped. "Oh, god, I wasn't even thinking--"
"It's not wrong to talk about her, Buffy," Giles said. "Even... in an affectionately exasperated manner."
"Yeah, I know. It's just... this isn't the place."
He shrugged. "I don't see why not. But certainly not if your uncomfortable."
"Yeah. Maybe... maybe sometime."
She swept her gaze around the room again, stopping at the sight of Willow dancing with her bride. Her eyes were shut and she looked a million miles away.
"Will looks so happy."
"She does."
"I'm glad for her. It's so rare, to find someone that good for you. Someone you just click with like that. That you're just share-a-brainy with."
"There is a word for that, you know." He smirked.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "You have a word for everything, Giles. You probably know what those little plastic things on the ends of shoelaces are called."
"Aglets."
Buffy leveled a Look at him. Giles raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, the very picture of innocence. Then he sobered, slightly, and said, "But you are right. It's an incredibly rare gift."
"Yeah."
They were both silent for a moment, then Buffy said, "And here we are, back at our love lives."
He laughed, one dry, ironic laugh, and said, "Indeed."
The previous number ended, and the octet swept into a slower number. They both watched the dancers for a few bars, then Giles said, "Buffy-- Would you care to dance?"
She glanced at him, he shrugged.
"Sure," she said. "Hey, that'd be nice. I'll try not to step on your *aglets* as long as you don't step on my toes."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He took her hand lightly as they stood, and they walked hand-in-hand onto the floor. As he arranged their arms, her hand on his shoulder, his on her waist, he said, "I'll have you know I took ballroom dance lessons from the time I was five."
The warmth of his hand settled through her gown, and she felt herself flush. Silly reaction. It was just Giles. She tried to tell her body that as she said, "Really?"
"Oh, yes. I remember vividly how horrified I was at the thought of being forced to hold Victoria Mayfield's hand. It was awful."
They shuffled, in a vaguely dance-like manner. Buffy watched their feet and said, "Traumatized you for life, huh?"
"Quite possibly. But I did learn how to waltz, in spite of the pain."
"You gonna teach me?" Buffy asked, still worrying over her feet.
He let go of her for a moment, leaving a cold vacancy against her side, and tilted her chin up with one finger. His eyes were soft with affection. "I already have."
"Huh?"
He held his finger in place long enough to make the point that she wasn't to look down anymore, then dropped his hand back to her side. "Dancing is like fencing. And fencing is like dancing. It's all about being in tune with your partner, in sync with his movements. I lead, you follow. The only difference is dancing is set to music. Real music, not that--"
"Noise. Yeah."
She found herself relaxing, as he subtly tapped the one-two-three beat with one finger. It was easier, looking at his eyes, than it had been looking at his feet, and she could feel the familiarity, read his intentions as he turned and stepped, easier even than when they'd fought, because it was cooperative. "Hey. Cool. I think I'm getting it."
He stopped tapping the beat, curled his hand a little further around her back, and she eased a bit nearer.
"You're a natural," he said, softly. "Slayer coordination."
"Maybe I've got a good partner," she murmured, no reason to speak loudly when he was so close.
He ducked his head, smiling.
"You're cute when you blush," she said.
His response was quieter, almost grave, "You're exquisite when you smile."
She could feel him, close enough now that there was no empty air between them. Smell his cologne. His hand spread across her lower back, one finger brushing the bare skin where the dip in the back of her dress ended. Her hand had moved, as well, curled around his shoulder, she could feel his hair tickling the side of her palm.
"Giles..."
"Shh."
Close enough now that it was easiest to just drop her head down to rest on his shoulder, lean her weight into his. She could feel his cheek resting against her hair, feel his slow, deep breaths.
"Mmmm," she said.
He sighed.
She felt warm all over, felt a gathering weight between her legs, felt love and desire and need, and him, holding her close against him, moving with the slow beat. Their hands unclasped, and his moved to meet his other behind her back, holding her even closer. The rhythm of their dance changed to a slow sway. She curled her own arm around his waist, surprised by the strength she could feel in him. It felt good.
He dipped his head down, kissed her bare shoulder, and she shuddered from head to toe.
"Giles..."
She pulled back, just enough to look up, to find his dark eyes looking down into hers.
"Buffy..."
"What is this?"
He smiled, and slid one hand up to press his palm to the bare skin of her back. She arched into his touch.
"Simpatico," he said.
***
The End