Drunken!Giles fic!
Written for the Drunken!Giles ficathon for dawnie1970, who asked for Wesley, a blurted confession of love, and trying to appear sober. Giles/Wesley, rated R-ish, 2600+ words. Takes place in an alternate S4 BtVS where Wesley stays in Sunnydale. A special toast to bethynyc for her invaluable beta skills! *g*
Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Thank goodness that’s the last of the translations. I’m going to be dreaming in Tawarick tonight, I’m sure of it.” He closed his notebook and began packing his things into his satchel.
Giles glanced up from his book and frowned. “Going so soon? It’s Christmas Eve. Thought you might like to join me when I open the Lagavulin my uncle sent me.”
The invitation caught Wesley by surprise. “Lagavulin? Oh, well, that’s very kind of you but, I, er, I have a date tonight.” He grinned sheepishly.
Giles tried to hide the pang of jealousy that twisted his stomach. “Oh? A-anyone I know?”
Wesley busied himself by smoothing out his already smooth trousers. “I don’t think so. I, uh, met her at that little coffee shop downtown, the Espresso Pump, I believe it’s called? Charming young lady, away from home for Christmas for the first time, like myself. I’m meeting her for a drink in--” Wesley checked his watch “-less than half an hour.”
Giles did his best to seem pleased. “That’s nice. It’s good that y-you’re getting out, you know, meeting new people. That’s…nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Wesley agreed. He stood holding his jacket in awkward silence for a moment, before putting it on. “I should be going. Don’t want to keep the lady waiting,” he said cheerily. He held out his hand. “Happy Christmas, Rupert.”
Giles stood and shook hands. “Happy Christmas, Wesley. Don’t forget, you’re expected for Christmas dinner at Buffy’s house tomorrow.” He held onto Wesley’s hand for a moment too long before he begrudgingly let go. “I do hope you’ll come. I-I know Buffy and Joyce will be delighted if you do.”
Wesley smiled warmly. “Thank you. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He picked up his satchel and walked to the door. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Wesley.” The door closed behind him and Giles took a deep breath.
“Get a hold of yourself, old man. You’re not a lovesick schoolgirl,” he muttered. It’s not as if he could blame Wesley for seeking the company of available young women. He’d never revealed to Giles any sign that he was romantically interested in him, or in any man, and Giles had never let his feelings for Wesley show. He had to work with him day in and day out. If Wesley were to reject his attentions he wasn’t sure how he could face seeing him everyday. He believed he had gained Wesley’s friendship, at least. He didn’t want to risk losing that unless he knew that Wesley wanted something more from him.
Giles opened the glass cabinet and retrieved the Scotch he’d wanted to share with Wesley. He opened it and poured a liberal amount into a tumbler.
“Happy Christmas, dear Uncle Clive.” He took a sip and savored the earthy flavor of the fine Islay malt, contemplating the quietness of his empty flat. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. He looked over to where Wesley had been sitting all evening, dutifully scribbling away in his notebook. “Happy Christmas, Wesley.” Giles drained the glass.
---
Wesley felt like a fool. He wanted very badly to go back to Giles’s flat and spend Christmas Eve with him. Why on earth had he agreed to meet this woman? Because you’re a coward who can’t tell the person you really love how you feel, he thought. He certainly hadn’t thought that Giles would want to spend a special evening like this with him. He really wasn’t sure what he thought Giles would want to do. Pity the lonely loser by offering him a token drink, that’s what. Probably would have had me out the door and on my way after one sip. Wesley tried to make himself believe that, but somehow he couldn’t, not completely. Giles was his friend, he was quite sure of that. But Wesley could never believe that Giles could share the same feelings for him. It was both wonderful and painful to be with him, talking to him, sharing their mutual interests of research and demonology, fighting over the last chocolate biscuit, trying to remain genial and cool, all the while wanting to take him into his arms and kiss his-
“Yoo hoo!” An attractive woman called to him from across the street. “Wesley! Over here!”
Wesley forced a grin as he crossed to meet her. “Marjorie! Good evening.”
He had to admit, she was a stunning creature. Any man would be thrilled to be seen with her on his arm. He was rather amazed that she had asked him out at all.
She took his arm before he even had a chance to offer it. “I was hoping I’d run into you before we met at the bar. I wanted to take you someplace else, someplace a little more--intimate.” Wesley stiffened as she ran her hand up and down his arm and leaned in closer. He could smell her undoubtedly expensive perfume and something else too. It was sort of green and earthy. It reminded him of something, he couldn’t quite think what, though.
“Um, ah, w-what did you have in mind?” He asked cautiously.
“Well, there’s a little place not far from here. I think we can take a short cut down this way.” She steered him down a side alley.
Wesley’s mind was otherwise occupied. That scent. It was so familiar. Damn, that was going to bother him all night until he figured it out. And to think, instead he could be sipping that lovely peaty whiskey with-
“Peat!” he exclaimed.
“What?”
“You smell like peat!”
Marjorie gaped at him. “Well, I don’t know who this Pete is, but unless he wears Chanel I most certainly don’t smell like him!”
Wesley leaned closer and smelled her hair. “A-ha!”
He pulled out a small dagger and held it to her throat. “Did you really think you could ensnare an experienced demon hunter like me with feminine Giles--uh, I mean, wiles? You think I don’t know a bog monster when I smell one?”
Marjorie’s brilliant green eyes flashed bright orange. “Do not resist, human. I will devour you.” Her sweet voice had become a raspy growl.
“My dear, I regret that I must cancel our engagement this evening.” Wesley slashed open the demon’s throat. What once was a beautiful woman dissolved into a soggy pile of peat and sludge at his feet. He felt a surge of strength and courage after his quick and cunning disposal of the creature. He kicked a large clump of peat with his foot. “I’ve had a much better offer.”
Wesley turned on his heel and headed in the direction of Giles’s flat.
---
Giles sat on the sofa and stared into the fire. He was feeling very warm, but it was due more to his fourth glass of Scotch, rather than the fire. Visions of Wesley and his “date” danced in his head. Was she a blonde? Brunette? Redhead? What sort of girl did Wesley like? Sweet, delicate, and innocent, or perhaps feisty, statuesque, and sexy? No matter what she was like, Giles knew he didn’t like her--not in the least.
“Meddling cow,” he mumbled before emptying the glass. He hadn’t eaten since afternoon tea, so now he was most decidedly drunk from the whiskey. When he stood up to fetch the bottle from his desk he wobbled a bit, but made it across the room to successfully refill his glass.
He swirled the amber liquid in the glass, gazing at it as if it held the answers to the universe. How long could he go on with this charade? Being with Wesley so much of the time and yet unable to say the things he wanted to say, to do the things he wanted to do. Once, Wesley had taken off his tie when they’d been researching late and forgotten it. When he returned the next day looking for it, Giles had lied and told him he hadn’t seen it. He couldn’t tell Wesley that he’d hidden it away in a drawer as a keepsake. He couldn’t tell him how he’d picked it up that evening after he’d gone and slipped the smooth silk between his fingers. How he’d imagined tying Wesley’s slender wrists with it and fastening them to his headboard. How he’d imagined Wesley naked and trembling with want, his arms over his head, twisting in their bonds but not trying to break free. Wesley’s cock would be hard and wet-tipped as he begged Giles to touch him, to fu-
There was a knock at the door and Giles nearly dropped his drink. He set the glass down and ran a hand over his face a couple of times. He stumbled to the front door and peeked out the peephole to see who was there.
Wesley. Good lord, what’s he doing here? Giles composed himself the best he could, which included adjusting his trousers a bit. Then he opened the door.
“Wesley! This is a surprise. What h-happened to your date?” Giles asked a little overly cheerful.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Um, well, there was a bit of a problem.”
Giles remained standing in the doorway. He held onto the door to keep upright. “Yes?”
Wesley motioned past Giles. “May I come in? It’s a bit chilly out here.”
Giles started to move and then stopped suddenly. “Wait. She wasn’t a vampire was she?”
“Who?”
“Your date.”
“No, but close. Bog monster. Look, can I come in?”
Giles snorted. Then he started giggling; so much so that he doubled over and stumbled back down into a chair. Wesley came inside and shut the door.
“Yes, well, you can laugh all you like. I tell you, she was undetectable surrounded by all the aromas in the coffee shop. It wasn’t until we were out in the open air that I could smell the peat and knew what she was. Otherwise she was quite a delightful person.”
Giles wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. “Of course she was. Right before she tried to make Christmas Eve dinner out of you. You haven’t been taking dating advice from Xander, have you?”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Anyone would have made the same mistake. She was very beguiling.”
Giles’s mood fell. “Yes, well. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” He glanced longingly at his glass of Scotch.
Wesley sighed. “It’s just as well. I only agreed to…that is, I really didn’t want…I would rather have…I say, does your offer of a drink still stand?”
Giles looked up. “Of course. Y-yes, certainly.” He stood and tried not to sway as he walked over to his desk. “Sixteen year old Lagavulin. My Uncle Clive has excellent taste.” He added under his breath, “Unlike some people.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.”
The bottle was already getting low. Giles stood so that Wesley couldn’t see it as he poured the drink. He placed the bottle behind a stack of books on the desk.
“Here you are my good man.” He handed the tumbler to Wesley and went to fetch his drink from the coffee table.
Wesley eyed him suspiciously. “Giles, just how much of this have you already had to drink?”
“J-just the one.” Giles lifted his glass.
“Mmm hmmm.” Wesley narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Wesley moved closer to Giles and lifted his glass. “Here’s to your Uncle Clive and his excellent taste in whiskey.”
Giles grinned and they clinked glasses.
“And nephews.” Wesley muttered as he sipped his drink.
Giles sputtered. “Beg pardon?”
“Nothing.” Wesley smiled.
Giles suddenly felt defensive. “Look, why are you here? Your lovely evening was spoiled, so you come back to keep poor old doddering Mr. Giles company?”
“Giles, you’re drunk.” Wesley scolded.
“No I’m not,” Giles insisted, before hiccupping loudly.
Wesley walked to the desk and found the half empty bottle. He looked over at Giles with concern. “Is everything all right, Rupert?”
Giles laughed. “Of course it is, Wesley. Same as always. Abso-bloody-lutely perfect.” He downed more of his whiskey.
“Have I done something?” Wesley was quite worried now.
“No, of course not.” Giles finished his drink. “You’ve done nothing at all,” he added sadly.
Wesley took Giles’ glass and placed it on the table. “Please, Rupert. Talk to me.” He grasped Giles by the arms and looked into his eyes.
Giles met his gaze. There was such concern in Wesley’s eyes. Or was that pity? No, no, he wouldn’t take Wesley’s pity. He tried to get out of his grasp, but Wesley held his ground.
“Listen to me, if something is wrong I want to know. You can trust me with any--”
“I’m in love with you, you bloody fool!” Giles blurted.
Wesley loosened his grasp and stared at Giles, slack-jawed.
Giles realized what he’d said and all the blood drained from his face. “W-Wesley, I…I-I mean, I’ve wanted to…I--”
He was interrupted by the touch of Wesley’s lips on his. Giles was stunned for a moment before he found himself returning the kiss and falling into Wesley’s arms.
Finally, Wesley pulled back the slightest inch.
“Oh, God.” Giles whispered.
“Rupert,” Wesley murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long--wanted you for so long.”
“Do you? Really?” Giles beamed when Wesley nodded. “So have I. Oh, Wesley, I’ve been the bloody fool, not to have said something all this time.”
Wesley shook his head. “No, no, Rupert, I should have said something. I never should have agreed to that silly date tonight. I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known you wanted me here. This is where I wanted to be all along.”
“Well, it’s good to know I rate above bog monsters.” Giles chuckled.
Wesley nuzzled his neck. “Of course you do. You certainly smell better.”
Giles grinned wickedly. “You know, you could have stood her up and stayed here with me.”
Wesley lifted an eyebrow in disapproval. “As much as I’d like to have done that, you know I couldn’t, and you wouldn’t have either. We’re both English gentlemen. Well, we would be gentlemanly until we’d realized that she was a demon and had to be slain.”
Giles reached down and squeezed Wesley’s ass. “We’d be very ungentlemanly then, which is just the sort of mood I’m in now.”
Wesley groaned and half-heartedly removed Giles’s hand. “And at the moment you’re also quite intoxicated.”
Giles pouted. “So?”
“So,” Wesley said, “before we take this any further, I’d rather you were in full grasp of all your faculties.”
Giles started to giggle. “I’d like to--”
“And before you make a lascivious remark about grasping all my faculties, I’m going to put the kettle on. We’re putting away Uncle Clive’s generous gift and sticking to tea for the rest of the evening.” Wesley smiled and kissed Giles softly before turning to go into the kitchen.
“Wesley,” Giles stopped him.
“Yes, Rupert?”
“I know I’m rather, uh, squiffy right now, but you do know, everything I said, everything about how I feel about you, that’s me, not the whiskey talking,” Giles professed solemnly.
“I know. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you drunk, Rupert. I know that you’re impossibly honest when you’re--squiffy.”
Giles shrugged. His face suddenly brightened with a realization. “Y-you did say ‘rest of the evening’?”
“Yes. And once I’ve got you sobered up, well,” Wesley loosened his tie--a single movement that sent a rush of blood to Giles’s groin. “We’ll just take it from there.” He smiled and went into the kitchen to make the tea.
END
Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Thank goodness that’s the last of the translations. I’m going to be dreaming in Tawarick tonight, I’m sure of it.” He closed his notebook and began packing his things into his satchel.
Giles glanced up from his book and frowned. “Going so soon? It’s Christmas Eve. Thought you might like to join me when I open the Lagavulin my uncle sent me.”
The invitation caught Wesley by surprise. “Lagavulin? Oh, well, that’s very kind of you but, I, er, I have a date tonight.” He grinned sheepishly.
Giles tried to hide the pang of jealousy that twisted his stomach. “Oh? A-anyone I know?”
Wesley busied himself by smoothing out his already smooth trousers. “I don’t think so. I, uh, met her at that little coffee shop downtown, the Espresso Pump, I believe it’s called? Charming young lady, away from home for Christmas for the first time, like myself. I’m meeting her for a drink in--” Wesley checked his watch “-less than half an hour.”
Giles did his best to seem pleased. “That’s nice. It’s good that y-you’re getting out, you know, meeting new people. That’s…nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Wesley agreed. He stood holding his jacket in awkward silence for a moment, before putting it on. “I should be going. Don’t want to keep the lady waiting,” he said cheerily. He held out his hand. “Happy Christmas, Rupert.”
Giles stood and shook hands. “Happy Christmas, Wesley. Don’t forget, you’re expected for Christmas dinner at Buffy’s house tomorrow.” He held onto Wesley’s hand for a moment too long before he begrudgingly let go. “I do hope you’ll come. I-I know Buffy and Joyce will be delighted if you do.”
Wesley smiled warmly. “Thank you. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He picked up his satchel and walked to the door. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Wesley.” The door closed behind him and Giles took a deep breath.
“Get a hold of yourself, old man. You’re not a lovesick schoolgirl,” he muttered. It’s not as if he could blame Wesley for seeking the company of available young women. He’d never revealed to Giles any sign that he was romantically interested in him, or in any man, and Giles had never let his feelings for Wesley show. He had to work with him day in and day out. If Wesley were to reject his attentions he wasn’t sure how he could face seeing him everyday. He believed he had gained Wesley’s friendship, at least. He didn’t want to risk losing that unless he knew that Wesley wanted something more from him.
Giles opened the glass cabinet and retrieved the Scotch he’d wanted to share with Wesley. He opened it and poured a liberal amount into a tumbler.
“Happy Christmas, dear Uncle Clive.” He took a sip and savored the earthy flavor of the fine Islay malt, contemplating the quietness of his empty flat. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. He looked over to where Wesley had been sitting all evening, dutifully scribbling away in his notebook. “Happy Christmas, Wesley.” Giles drained the glass.
---
Wesley felt like a fool. He wanted very badly to go back to Giles’s flat and spend Christmas Eve with him. Why on earth had he agreed to meet this woman? Because you’re a coward who can’t tell the person you really love how you feel, he thought. He certainly hadn’t thought that Giles would want to spend a special evening like this with him. He really wasn’t sure what he thought Giles would want to do. Pity the lonely loser by offering him a token drink, that’s what. Probably would have had me out the door and on my way after one sip. Wesley tried to make himself believe that, but somehow he couldn’t, not completely. Giles was his friend, he was quite sure of that. But Wesley could never believe that Giles could share the same feelings for him. It was both wonderful and painful to be with him, talking to him, sharing their mutual interests of research and demonology, fighting over the last chocolate biscuit, trying to remain genial and cool, all the while wanting to take him into his arms and kiss his-
“Yoo hoo!” An attractive woman called to him from across the street. “Wesley! Over here!”
Wesley forced a grin as he crossed to meet her. “Marjorie! Good evening.”
He had to admit, she was a stunning creature. Any man would be thrilled to be seen with her on his arm. He was rather amazed that she had asked him out at all.
She took his arm before he even had a chance to offer it. “I was hoping I’d run into you before we met at the bar. I wanted to take you someplace else, someplace a little more--intimate.” Wesley stiffened as she ran her hand up and down his arm and leaned in closer. He could smell her undoubtedly expensive perfume and something else too. It was sort of green and earthy. It reminded him of something, he couldn’t quite think what, though.
“Um, ah, w-what did you have in mind?” He asked cautiously.
“Well, there’s a little place not far from here. I think we can take a short cut down this way.” She steered him down a side alley.
Wesley’s mind was otherwise occupied. That scent. It was so familiar. Damn, that was going to bother him all night until he figured it out. And to think, instead he could be sipping that lovely peaty whiskey with-
“Peat!” he exclaimed.
“What?”
“You smell like peat!”
Marjorie gaped at him. “Well, I don’t know who this Pete is, but unless he wears Chanel I most certainly don’t smell like him!”
Wesley leaned closer and smelled her hair. “A-ha!”
He pulled out a small dagger and held it to her throat. “Did you really think you could ensnare an experienced demon hunter like me with feminine Giles--uh, I mean, wiles? You think I don’t know a bog monster when I smell one?”
Marjorie’s brilliant green eyes flashed bright orange. “Do not resist, human. I will devour you.” Her sweet voice had become a raspy growl.
“My dear, I regret that I must cancel our engagement this evening.” Wesley slashed open the demon’s throat. What once was a beautiful woman dissolved into a soggy pile of peat and sludge at his feet. He felt a surge of strength and courage after his quick and cunning disposal of the creature. He kicked a large clump of peat with his foot. “I’ve had a much better offer.”
Wesley turned on his heel and headed in the direction of Giles’s flat.
---
Giles sat on the sofa and stared into the fire. He was feeling very warm, but it was due more to his fourth glass of Scotch, rather than the fire. Visions of Wesley and his “date” danced in his head. Was she a blonde? Brunette? Redhead? What sort of girl did Wesley like? Sweet, delicate, and innocent, or perhaps feisty, statuesque, and sexy? No matter what she was like, Giles knew he didn’t like her--not in the least.
“Meddling cow,” he mumbled before emptying the glass. He hadn’t eaten since afternoon tea, so now he was most decidedly drunk from the whiskey. When he stood up to fetch the bottle from his desk he wobbled a bit, but made it across the room to successfully refill his glass.
He swirled the amber liquid in the glass, gazing at it as if it held the answers to the universe. How long could he go on with this charade? Being with Wesley so much of the time and yet unable to say the things he wanted to say, to do the things he wanted to do. Once, Wesley had taken off his tie when they’d been researching late and forgotten it. When he returned the next day looking for it, Giles had lied and told him he hadn’t seen it. He couldn’t tell Wesley that he’d hidden it away in a drawer as a keepsake. He couldn’t tell him how he’d picked it up that evening after he’d gone and slipped the smooth silk between his fingers. How he’d imagined tying Wesley’s slender wrists with it and fastening them to his headboard. How he’d imagined Wesley naked and trembling with want, his arms over his head, twisting in their bonds but not trying to break free. Wesley’s cock would be hard and wet-tipped as he begged Giles to touch him, to fu-
There was a knock at the door and Giles nearly dropped his drink. He set the glass down and ran a hand over his face a couple of times. He stumbled to the front door and peeked out the peephole to see who was there.
Wesley. Good lord, what’s he doing here? Giles composed himself the best he could, which included adjusting his trousers a bit. Then he opened the door.
“Wesley! This is a surprise. What h-happened to your date?” Giles asked a little overly cheerful.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Um, well, there was a bit of a problem.”
Giles remained standing in the doorway. He held onto the door to keep upright. “Yes?”
Wesley motioned past Giles. “May I come in? It’s a bit chilly out here.”
Giles started to move and then stopped suddenly. “Wait. She wasn’t a vampire was she?”
“Who?”
“Your date.”
“No, but close. Bog monster. Look, can I come in?”
Giles snorted. Then he started giggling; so much so that he doubled over and stumbled back down into a chair. Wesley came inside and shut the door.
“Yes, well, you can laugh all you like. I tell you, she was undetectable surrounded by all the aromas in the coffee shop. It wasn’t until we were out in the open air that I could smell the peat and knew what she was. Otherwise she was quite a delightful person.”
Giles wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. “Of course she was. Right before she tried to make Christmas Eve dinner out of you. You haven’t been taking dating advice from Xander, have you?”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Anyone would have made the same mistake. She was very beguiling.”
Giles’s mood fell. “Yes, well. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” He glanced longingly at his glass of Scotch.
Wesley sighed. “It’s just as well. I only agreed to…that is, I really didn’t want…I would rather have…I say, does your offer of a drink still stand?”
Giles looked up. “Of course. Y-yes, certainly.” He stood and tried not to sway as he walked over to his desk. “Sixteen year old Lagavulin. My Uncle Clive has excellent taste.” He added under his breath, “Unlike some people.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.”
The bottle was already getting low. Giles stood so that Wesley couldn’t see it as he poured the drink. He placed the bottle behind a stack of books on the desk.
“Here you are my good man.” He handed the tumbler to Wesley and went to fetch his drink from the coffee table.
Wesley eyed him suspiciously. “Giles, just how much of this have you already had to drink?”
“J-just the one.” Giles lifted his glass.
“Mmm hmmm.” Wesley narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Wesley moved closer to Giles and lifted his glass. “Here’s to your Uncle Clive and his excellent taste in whiskey.”
Giles grinned and they clinked glasses.
“And nephews.” Wesley muttered as he sipped his drink.
Giles sputtered. “Beg pardon?”
“Nothing.” Wesley smiled.
Giles suddenly felt defensive. “Look, why are you here? Your lovely evening was spoiled, so you come back to keep poor old doddering Mr. Giles company?”
“Giles, you’re drunk.” Wesley scolded.
“No I’m not,” Giles insisted, before hiccupping loudly.
Wesley walked to the desk and found the half empty bottle. He looked over at Giles with concern. “Is everything all right, Rupert?”
Giles laughed. “Of course it is, Wesley. Same as always. Abso-bloody-lutely perfect.” He downed more of his whiskey.
“Have I done something?” Wesley was quite worried now.
“No, of course not.” Giles finished his drink. “You’ve done nothing at all,” he added sadly.
Wesley took Giles’ glass and placed it on the table. “Please, Rupert. Talk to me.” He grasped Giles by the arms and looked into his eyes.
Giles met his gaze. There was such concern in Wesley’s eyes. Or was that pity? No, no, he wouldn’t take Wesley’s pity. He tried to get out of his grasp, but Wesley held his ground.
“Listen to me, if something is wrong I want to know. You can trust me with any--”
“I’m in love with you, you bloody fool!” Giles blurted.
Wesley loosened his grasp and stared at Giles, slack-jawed.
Giles realized what he’d said and all the blood drained from his face. “W-Wesley, I…I-I mean, I’ve wanted to…I--”
He was interrupted by the touch of Wesley’s lips on his. Giles was stunned for a moment before he found himself returning the kiss and falling into Wesley’s arms.
Finally, Wesley pulled back the slightest inch.
“Oh, God.” Giles whispered.
“Rupert,” Wesley murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long--wanted you for so long.”
“Do you? Really?” Giles beamed when Wesley nodded. “So have I. Oh, Wesley, I’ve been the bloody fool, not to have said something all this time.”
Wesley shook his head. “No, no, Rupert, I should have said something. I never should have agreed to that silly date tonight. I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known you wanted me here. This is where I wanted to be all along.”
“Well, it’s good to know I rate above bog monsters.” Giles chuckled.
Wesley nuzzled his neck. “Of course you do. You certainly smell better.”
Giles grinned wickedly. “You know, you could have stood her up and stayed here with me.”
Wesley lifted an eyebrow in disapproval. “As much as I’d like to have done that, you know I couldn’t, and you wouldn’t have either. We’re both English gentlemen. Well, we would be gentlemanly until we’d realized that she was a demon and had to be slain.”
Giles reached down and squeezed Wesley’s ass. “We’d be very ungentlemanly then, which is just the sort of mood I’m in now.”
Wesley groaned and half-heartedly removed Giles’s hand. “And at the moment you’re also quite intoxicated.”
Giles pouted. “So?”
“So,” Wesley said, “before we take this any further, I’d rather you were in full grasp of all your faculties.”
Giles started to giggle. “I’d like to--”
“And before you make a lascivious remark about grasping all my faculties, I’m going to put the kettle on. We’re putting away Uncle Clive’s generous gift and sticking to tea for the rest of the evening.” Wesley smiled and kissed Giles softly before turning to go into the kitchen.
“Wesley,” Giles stopped him.
“Yes, Rupert?”
“I know I’m rather, uh, squiffy right now, but you do know, everything I said, everything about how I feel about you, that’s me, not the whiskey talking,” Giles professed solemnly.
“I know. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you drunk, Rupert. I know that you’re impossibly honest when you’re--squiffy.”
Giles shrugged. His face suddenly brightened with a realization. “Y-you did say ‘rest of the evening’?”
“Yes. And once I’ve got you sobered up, well,” Wesley loosened his tie--a single movement that sent a rush of blood to Giles’s groin. “We’ll just take it from there.” He smiled and went into the kitchen to make the tea.
END