FIC: Isolated Elements, 21/21, NC-17, Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Title: Isolated Elements
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that accompanied each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox. My flist was treated to textrendition of “My Way” when I posted the last part at my LJ. Be happy I let you off the hook.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
Ten hours, fourteen blushing, speculative glances from Nick and eight puzzled frowns from Sara later, Gil pulled into his driveway. Where he sat and thought about his night. Getting back into the rhythm of work had proven to be more difficult than he imagined it would be. As he thought about it, he realized his imagination needed some work.
At least when they returned, the time difference was only five hours, so it was no worse than flying from New York to Hawaii. It was a blessing, since he hadn’t had much sleep the night before - or was it two nights before? A sleepless night followed by sex. Incredible sex. Awkward sex. Incredibly awkward sex. And did he remember to mention the awkwardly incredible sex?
Gil shook his head, hoping to move away from that train of thought before he embarrassed himself once more. Men his age should not be sprouting erections at odd moments the way he’d been doing throughout the evening. He’d found that unless he focused entirely on a conversation, he would start thinking about the way he could almost feel Rupert’s dick sliding in and out of his ass. The only thing that saved him from permanent embarrassment was the pair of baggy cargo shorts he’d been wearing during his sojourn at Wolfram and Hart’s retreat.
He sighed, thinking again about the shift. Eyebrows were raised over his shirt, but the real gossip was about his shorts. Who knew the women at the lab could get so worked up over knees? Gil looked down at them and tried to figure out why they were so interesting. After a few minutes, he gave up. Maybe Rupert could explain it, because Catherine sure as hell couldn’t. She’d been laughing too hard when she broke the news that there was a petition going around to convince Gil to wear shorts more often.
“Enough!” He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, as much to focus on the here and now as to cause enough pain to kill another incipient erection.
Gil got out of his truck and headed to his front door. Once inside, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and put the bundle he’d carried in on the dining table. The bundle had been delivered via courier just before Gil left the lab for the day. Along with their clothing was the sword that had started everything in motion. Gil was happy to sign it back into evidence and happier still that he hadn’t given into the impulse to “lose” it by assigning the wrong bin number to it.
“Rupert?”
He heard quiet footsteps approach, and arms reached around him from behind. Rupert nuzzled his ear, asking softly, “How did your evening go? Are we the talk of your workplace?”
Gil turned within Rupert’s embrace and pulled him down for a kiss. And then a second kiss, because Rupert smelled so damn good. It was a clean scent, neither particularly feminine nor masculine. It reminded Gil of the desert after a wet season, when plants would get whatever growth in that they could before the water went away.
They were well on their way to a fourth and fifth kiss when Gil remembered - “Didn’t you ask me something?”
“Possibly,” Rupert murmured, mouthing his way along Gil’s jawline. “Can’t have been too important.”
“Don’t suppose you went to the store.” Gil unbuttoned Rupert’s jeans and eased the zipper down.
“A former colleague used to say -” Rupert gasped as Gil reached in to hold his dick. “- Used to say a Watcher’s key to success was preparation - just a bit harder - preparation - yes, like that - preparation.”
“Was this a close colleague?”
“Only in his - fuck!”
Gil watched Rupert carefully, gauging his every reaction. “Only in his what?”
“Dreams!” The word was gasped out as Gil changed his grip.
“Glad to hear it.” Gil gave a slightly firmer tug on Rupert’s dick, happy that finally, Rupert was the one losing it. “So, is it safe to assume that you purchased condoms and lubricant?”
“- Yes!” And then Rupert apparently decided that talking was useless, because he brought Gil in for more kissing. It was with a great deal of effort - never mind that he was batting at Rupert’s hands the way girls tended to fight - that Gil convinced those hands to go to the back of his head and leave his nipples alone. If he’d learned nothing else in the last few days, he’d learned that if he wanted to maintain some semblance of control around Rupert, nipples absolutely couldn’t be involved in the proceedings.
His own nipples, that is. Rupert’s nipples were still fair game, and it was with that in mind that he led his own assault on Rupert’s chest. No one had ever accused Gil of being slow-witted, and he used every trick on Rupert that Rupert had used on him. Gil rubbed Rupert’s nipple through his shirt, and when it hardened up nicely, he pinched it. The answering groan was enough to make Gil try to smile around Rupert’s tongue.
The smile didn’t work very well, but it did give him one or two ideas about how to deal with that cultured, sharp, sarcastic British tongue. Gil tightened his lips and sucked it deeper into his mouth before releasing it, only to suck it in again. Rupert responded by thrusting into Gil’s busy hand at roughly the same rhythm.
The thrusting and sucking started speeding up, and things might have ended in the next few minutes if Gil hadn’t chosen that moment to demonstrate that he was, in fact, capable of eventually dishing out revenge - hot and sweaty, not cold. With his free hand, Gil grasped the base of Rupert’s dick and stopped all motion as he broke off the kiss. At Rupert’s look of outraged frustration, Gil smiled and said, “Someone’s in a state.”
“Bastard.” Breathing heavily, Rupert brought his hands back to Gil’s shoulders and let his head drop, trembling slightly as he stood there.
“Payback’s a bitch.” Gil kissed Rupert’s cheek. “Ready to go to my room and get naked for a while?”
~*~*~
They ended up in the guest room, which was where Rupert had left the supplies.
Clothing was shed with an eye to getting naked as quickly as possible rather than trying to arouse - their earlier greeting had accomplished that readily enough. As soon as they were both naked, Rupert pulled Gil to him in a full body embrace, trapping their cocks between them. He pressed his hips forward, groaning, “Yes,” when Gil responded in kind.
Rupert had no idea how he’d managed to forget completely just how absolutely incredible it was to rub his cock along one that was equally hard. He decided that in the future, he would have to remind himself as frequently as possible. Still, as wonderful as it felt, it wasn’t nearly enough. He urgently needed to be inside Gil again, and he was quite prepared to insist that it was a matter of life and death.
They were kissing again, and there wasn’t a damn thing tender about it. Lips and teeth mashed together as they each tried to crawl into the skin of the other. It was only by dint of a series of grunts and nudges that Rupert was finally able to get Gil moving in the direction of the bed. When they fell on it, Gil landed on top of Rupert, his hips working even harder, now that neither was standing.
As soon as Rupert realized his own hips were working just as hard as Gil’s he gave up the notion of being able to fuck him properly. They were worse than randy teenagers, and neither of them would last much longer.
Rupert heard a high, desperate noise and was surprised to find that it was coming from his own throat, not Gil’s. It was the last intelligent thought he had as he moved heedlessly toward his climax. The pressure of imminent release increased with every shift of their hips, but it wasn’t until Gil sucked on Rupert’s neck that he came, shouting incoherently.
He was still jerking helplessly when Gil followed him over the edge.
~*~*~
One nap, two showers and one shared mealtime later, Gil said, “Weren’t we going to talk about something when I got home?”
“I believe so.” Rupert stood up and carried his plate and glass to the kitchen. He hadn’t bothered putting anything on after his shower, so Gil was treated to his own private floor show. “But then someone - you, I believe - turned a simple welcome home into a disgraceful bacchanal.”
“Couldn’t have been a bacchanal. I didn’t open the wine until just before we ate.” Gil finished his Riesling and stood to clear his own place settings. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed either.
“We nearly buggered each other silly in your lounge,” Rupert said, the amusement in his eyes giving lie to the severity in his voice.
“No. You were the one who lost all sense of decency. I was the one who reminded you to control yourself.” Gil put his dish and glass into the sink then yelped when Rupert pinched his bottom.
“I seem to recall you being a bit of a bastard.”
Gil narrowed his eyes as he looked at Rupert. “If you’re trying to play the wounded party, give it up. I’m not buying it.”
Rupert’s response was to look even more wounded and put upon. Gil just laughed.
“Oh well. It was worth a try. What were we talking about?”
“We were talking about the fact that we were going to talk when I got home this morning.” Gil put the leftover stew into the refrigerator and finished wiping down the counter. He could always do dishes before work that night.
“Right.” Rupert sighed. “England.”
“Let’s head to my room. I have a feeling we’ll be more comfortable there.”
~*~*~
Rupert crawled under the covers and Gil rolled onto his side to look at him. It was too much - Gil was entirely too perceptive for Rupert’s comfort, so he put his arm around Gil and pulled him to his chest. At least this way, he could talk about his decision without having to see Gil’s reaction. It didn’t hurt that Gil seemed to fit along his side rather perfectly.
Settled in, Gil asked, “You’ve decided to go back to England just to free this Rayne character?”
With his nose just touching Gil’s hair, Rupert answered, “No. I decided to go back to England well before Lilah brought Ethan into the equation.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure, precisely, but it was within a day or two of my little upset.” And Rupert still blushed to think of how spectacularly he’d lost control with Gil that day. He’d very nearly decked the man for calling Buffy’s death a suicide, and never mind that he himself had described in his journal that she’d leapt deliberately. Actually hearing the word said aloud - it had been too much to deal with. And it still was, if he was honest with himself.
Gil pushed himself deeper into Rupert’s embrace. “You didn’t sound to sure of yourself earlier.”
“It was a natural reaction, I think, to realizing that I would no longer have half a world between me and the Council,” he answered lightly.
“Rupert -”
After a pause, he said, “Leaving Sunnydale will be difficult. Buffy’s friends, her sister - they’ve become family of sorts.”
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” was Gil’s soft rejoinder.
“I do, though.” Rupert sighed. “Travers - my supervisor - told me before I came here that it wasn’t healthy for me to remain, and he’s right, loath as I am to admit it. For me, Sunnydale is nothing but a constant reminder that Buffy is dead.”
Gil squeezed Rupert’s hand. “You could stay for a while. You’d still be near the others, but you’d be away from Sunnydale.”
“Believe me, I’ve considered it.” He dropped a kiss on Gil’s head. “The problem is that I have nothing to do in Vegas - aside from you that is.” He laughed quietly when Gil swatted him then continued more seriously, “At least in Sunnydale, I have my shop, and I can patrol. Here, I’d be bored within a day or three.”
Moving restlessly, Gil asked, “What will you do in England?”
Rupert shrugged. “Probably run a seminar at Oxford for Watchers in training. There’s also the British Museum. The Board sent me a letter two weeks ago asking if I’d be interested in working for them as a consultant - Travers’ doing, no doubt.”
At that, Gil craned his head around to look at Rupert. “The British Museum? The British Museum?”
Confused by Gil’s tone, Rupert’s eyebrows drew together. “Well. Yes. I was a curator there before I moved to Sunnydale.”
“You went from being a curator at the British Museum to being a librarian at a public high school?”
Gil’s astonishment finally made sense to Rupert. “No. I went from being an inactive Watcher to being the Slayer’s Watcher. Trust me - it was a promotion.”
“Incredible,” he said softly. “When I read your monographs on ancient blades, all they -”
“You read my monographs?” Rupert pushed himself up, dislodging Gil in the process. “The only ones I wrote were completed whilst I finished my degree at Oxford, and they were never published. Where the hell did you find them?”
Gil sat up. “We recovered them with the sword. That’s how I knew to look for you.”
“You looked for me specifically?” Rupert frowned as he tried to make sense of this latest bit of information. “How did you know how to get in touch?”
“The contact information on the article included a number for the British Society of Antiquities.” Gil cocked his head. “You’re a member, right?”
“Of course I’m a member,” he said distractedly. “It’s one of the foundations run by the Council of Watchers. They use it when it’s necessary to retrieve a potentially dangerous mystical object. That still doesn’t explain how you were able to reach me. At the time I wrote the monographs, I hadn’t yet been accepted back into the fold. And, of course, there’s the matter of them never having been published.”
“They were photocopied articles. The name of the journal was too blurry to read, but they definitely looked like they’d been published.”
“I don’t -” Rupert’s mind moved very quickly, and when the final pieces dropped neatly into the puzzle, he started laughing helplessly.
“Rupert?” Gil’s eyebrow went up. “You want to share the joke?”
“It’s Lilah,” he said, laughing even harder. “I knew she didn’t want me to join Wolfram and Hart, but -”
“I don’t get it.”
“Think about it, Gil.” Rupert shook his head at the woman’s effrontery. “Lilah was determined to make sure I didn’t sign up. If I’d shown up alone and in that particular state of grief, there’s every chance I would have signed with them.”
Gil’s eyebrows drew together as he worked the evidence. “You think she made sure I would end up there with you.”
“And she managed it in such a way to make it look like an accident.” Rupert continued thinking about it, adding, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that she arranged for a compulsion spell to make you touch the sword at the wrong moment.”
“Jesus.”
“She’s a formidable opponent,” Rupert agreed.
“Did she tell you anything when she called?”
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. “No, she didn’t. And that’s another good reason to return to England. The Council’s library isn’t as extensive as Wolfram and Hart’s, but it’s certainly more comprehensive than my own.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Gil said.
“I’m not sure I do, either, but there may be an answer in the prophecy section.” Rupert looked up just in time to see the look of distaste cross Gil’s face at the mention of prophecies. He decided to say nothing. With his imminent departure, there was no reason to upset Gil anymore than absolutely necessary.
They sat in contemplation for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts, when Gil finally asked, “When are you going back to Sunnydale?”
“Tonight, I think. After you go to work. If I stay here too long, I may never leave.”
Gil lifted his hand, but did nothing with it. Instead, he said softly, “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.”
~*~*~
Rupert was packed and standing near the entryway when Gil emerged from the shower, wrapped only in a towel. “I can get the nine o’clock flight if I leave right now.”
Surprised by how upset he was over the thought of Rupert leaving so quickly, Gil stood still for a moment to collect himself. When he felt reasonably calm again, he said, “I’ll get dressed and drive you.”
“No, no,” Rupert answered, patting his pockets for something. “I’ve already called a taxi, so there’s no need for you to be bothered.”
“It’s not a bother.” Something in Gil’s voice must have caught Rupert’s attention, because he looked up suddenly.
“I know. But I’ve never been one for long goodbyes, and airports seem to bring out the worst maudlin impulses in people.” Rupert patted the left breast of his jacket, and he pulled out a piece of paper with an air of triumph. “Here it is.” He held it out. “Before I left, I wanted to give you this.”
Gil accepted the paper and found a neatly written list of five names and phone numbers. “Who are they?”
“Any one of them should be able to help you with your magic.” When Gil started to protest, Rupert raised his hand. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve already opened Pandora’s Box on this one. You have sufficient natural talent that one of these days, it’s going to start manifesting on its own.”
“But -”
“You need to learn control, Gil.” A car horn sounded outside, and Rupert stammered, “Madame Fong recommended Mrs. Graham as the best teacher, though she did caution that the woman was rather keen on discipline. If she won’t take you as a student, any of the others will be quite effective.”
The horn sounded again, and Gil looked at the door with dismay. “But -” Rupert pulled Gil close for one last, hard kiss then picked up his bags and left without a second glance.
In a way, it was too fast. Gil hadn’t had time to adjust to the idea of Rupert being gone. In another way, it wasn’t nearly fast enough. He almost wished he’d still been in bed when Rupert left, because then he could shove those confusing thoughts and emotions into the back of his mind and claim they were due entirely to Rupert leaving without saying goodbye.
Gil stood there for a long time before looking at the list once more. It took a moment to focus on the names and not on the idea of Rupert leaving Las Vegas. He didn’t know if he would call any of them, but he went to his desk and put a star next to Heather Graham’s name. At least he would remember the recommendation if the time should come when he needed it.
It took his cell phone to get him moving again, and he was grateful for the distraction of Jim’s call. A new case meant he could avoid thinking about magic and Rupert’s discomfiting warnings. Instead, he could focus on the evidence and using science to interpret it.
Still getting the particulars from Jim, Gil headed back to his room to get dressed for his next shift.
Author’s Note: This was a fun little romp, and I want to thank everyone who came along for the ride. There will be more adventures for the boys, but I’m not sure when the sequels to Isolated Elements will come out. Part of the problem is that I was bitten by a rabid plot bunny which suggested, among other things, that I should add an AU CSI to a series of BtVS/Anita Blake crossovers I’ve written over the last couple of years. I’d like to say the sequels to Isolated Elements will come first, but the truth is, I already have the insane story idea half-plotted.
*sigh*
Anyway, if you’re interested in other CSI/BtVS crossovers, the best of the lot were written by Marcus Rowland. You can find an index to his stories here.
Thanks again for reading. As always, feedback is my crack. Enable my addiction.
Love ‘n kisses ‘n happy thoughts of man parts mashing together,
Tara
ETA: I almost forgot - the beta'd version of this story can be found be found here at my Web site. There were moderate changes made to the first half of the fic. The last quarter is as you see it here.
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that accompanied each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox. My flist was treated to textrendition of “My Way” when I posted the last part at my LJ. Be happy I let you off the hook.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
Ten hours, fourteen blushing, speculative glances from Nick and eight puzzled frowns from Sara later, Gil pulled into his driveway. Where he sat and thought about his night. Getting back into the rhythm of work had proven to be more difficult than he imagined it would be. As he thought about it, he realized his imagination needed some work.
At least when they returned, the time difference was only five hours, so it was no worse than flying from New York to Hawaii. It was a blessing, since he hadn’t had much sleep the night before - or was it two nights before? A sleepless night followed by sex. Incredible sex. Awkward sex. Incredibly awkward sex. And did he remember to mention the awkwardly incredible sex?
Gil shook his head, hoping to move away from that train of thought before he embarrassed himself once more. Men his age should not be sprouting erections at odd moments the way he’d been doing throughout the evening. He’d found that unless he focused entirely on a conversation, he would start thinking about the way he could almost feel Rupert’s dick sliding in and out of his ass. The only thing that saved him from permanent embarrassment was the pair of baggy cargo shorts he’d been wearing during his sojourn at Wolfram and Hart’s retreat.
He sighed, thinking again about the shift. Eyebrows were raised over his shirt, but the real gossip was about his shorts. Who knew the women at the lab could get so worked up over knees? Gil looked down at them and tried to figure out why they were so interesting. After a few minutes, he gave up. Maybe Rupert could explain it, because Catherine sure as hell couldn’t. She’d been laughing too hard when she broke the news that there was a petition going around to convince Gil to wear shorts more often.
“Enough!” He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, as much to focus on the here and now as to cause enough pain to kill another incipient erection.
Gil got out of his truck and headed to his front door. Once inside, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and put the bundle he’d carried in on the dining table. The bundle had been delivered via courier just before Gil left the lab for the day. Along with their clothing was the sword that had started everything in motion. Gil was happy to sign it back into evidence and happier still that he hadn’t given into the impulse to “lose” it by assigning the wrong bin number to it.
“Rupert?”
He heard quiet footsteps approach, and arms reached around him from behind. Rupert nuzzled his ear, asking softly, “How did your evening go? Are we the talk of your workplace?”
Gil turned within Rupert’s embrace and pulled him down for a kiss. And then a second kiss, because Rupert smelled so damn good. It was a clean scent, neither particularly feminine nor masculine. It reminded Gil of the desert after a wet season, when plants would get whatever growth in that they could before the water went away.
They were well on their way to a fourth and fifth kiss when Gil remembered - “Didn’t you ask me something?”
“Possibly,” Rupert murmured, mouthing his way along Gil’s jawline. “Can’t have been too important.”
“Don’t suppose you went to the store.” Gil unbuttoned Rupert’s jeans and eased the zipper down.
“A former colleague used to say -” Rupert gasped as Gil reached in to hold his dick. “- Used to say a Watcher’s key to success was preparation - just a bit harder - preparation - yes, like that - preparation.”
“Was this a close colleague?”
“Only in his - fuck!”
Gil watched Rupert carefully, gauging his every reaction. “Only in his what?”
“Dreams!” The word was gasped out as Gil changed his grip.
“Glad to hear it.” Gil gave a slightly firmer tug on Rupert’s dick, happy that finally, Rupert was the one losing it. “So, is it safe to assume that you purchased condoms and lubricant?”
“- Yes!” And then Rupert apparently decided that talking was useless, because he brought Gil in for more kissing. It was with a great deal of effort - never mind that he was batting at Rupert’s hands the way girls tended to fight - that Gil convinced those hands to go to the back of his head and leave his nipples alone. If he’d learned nothing else in the last few days, he’d learned that if he wanted to maintain some semblance of control around Rupert, nipples absolutely couldn’t be involved in the proceedings.
His own nipples, that is. Rupert’s nipples were still fair game, and it was with that in mind that he led his own assault on Rupert’s chest. No one had ever accused Gil of being slow-witted, and he used every trick on Rupert that Rupert had used on him. Gil rubbed Rupert’s nipple through his shirt, and when it hardened up nicely, he pinched it. The answering groan was enough to make Gil try to smile around Rupert’s tongue.
The smile didn’t work very well, but it did give him one or two ideas about how to deal with that cultured, sharp, sarcastic British tongue. Gil tightened his lips and sucked it deeper into his mouth before releasing it, only to suck it in again. Rupert responded by thrusting into Gil’s busy hand at roughly the same rhythm.
The thrusting and sucking started speeding up, and things might have ended in the next few minutes if Gil hadn’t chosen that moment to demonstrate that he was, in fact, capable of eventually dishing out revenge - hot and sweaty, not cold. With his free hand, Gil grasped the base of Rupert’s dick and stopped all motion as he broke off the kiss. At Rupert’s look of outraged frustration, Gil smiled and said, “Someone’s in a state.”
“Bastard.” Breathing heavily, Rupert brought his hands back to Gil’s shoulders and let his head drop, trembling slightly as he stood there.
“Payback’s a bitch.” Gil kissed Rupert’s cheek. “Ready to go to my room and get naked for a while?”
~*~*~
They ended up in the guest room, which was where Rupert had left the supplies.
Clothing was shed with an eye to getting naked as quickly as possible rather than trying to arouse - their earlier greeting had accomplished that readily enough. As soon as they were both naked, Rupert pulled Gil to him in a full body embrace, trapping their cocks between them. He pressed his hips forward, groaning, “Yes,” when Gil responded in kind.
Rupert had no idea how he’d managed to forget completely just how absolutely incredible it was to rub his cock along one that was equally hard. He decided that in the future, he would have to remind himself as frequently as possible. Still, as wonderful as it felt, it wasn’t nearly enough. He urgently needed to be inside Gil again, and he was quite prepared to insist that it was a matter of life and death.
They were kissing again, and there wasn’t a damn thing tender about it. Lips and teeth mashed together as they each tried to crawl into the skin of the other. It was only by dint of a series of grunts and nudges that Rupert was finally able to get Gil moving in the direction of the bed. When they fell on it, Gil landed on top of Rupert, his hips working even harder, now that neither was standing.
As soon as Rupert realized his own hips were working just as hard as Gil’s he gave up the notion of being able to fuck him properly. They were worse than randy teenagers, and neither of them would last much longer.
Rupert heard a high, desperate noise and was surprised to find that it was coming from his own throat, not Gil’s. It was the last intelligent thought he had as he moved heedlessly toward his climax. The pressure of imminent release increased with every shift of their hips, but it wasn’t until Gil sucked on Rupert’s neck that he came, shouting incoherently.
He was still jerking helplessly when Gil followed him over the edge.
~*~*~
One nap, two showers and one shared mealtime later, Gil said, “Weren’t we going to talk about something when I got home?”
“I believe so.” Rupert stood up and carried his plate and glass to the kitchen. He hadn’t bothered putting anything on after his shower, so Gil was treated to his own private floor show. “But then someone - you, I believe - turned a simple welcome home into a disgraceful bacchanal.”
“Couldn’t have been a bacchanal. I didn’t open the wine until just before we ate.” Gil finished his Riesling and stood to clear his own place settings. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed either.
“We nearly buggered each other silly in your lounge,” Rupert said, the amusement in his eyes giving lie to the severity in his voice.
“No. You were the one who lost all sense of decency. I was the one who reminded you to control yourself.” Gil put his dish and glass into the sink then yelped when Rupert pinched his bottom.
“I seem to recall you being a bit of a bastard.”
Gil narrowed his eyes as he looked at Rupert. “If you’re trying to play the wounded party, give it up. I’m not buying it.”
Rupert’s response was to look even more wounded and put upon. Gil just laughed.
“Oh well. It was worth a try. What were we talking about?”
“We were talking about the fact that we were going to talk when I got home this morning.” Gil put the leftover stew into the refrigerator and finished wiping down the counter. He could always do dishes before work that night.
“Right.” Rupert sighed. “England.”
“Let’s head to my room. I have a feeling we’ll be more comfortable there.”
~*~*~
Rupert crawled under the covers and Gil rolled onto his side to look at him. It was too much - Gil was entirely too perceptive for Rupert’s comfort, so he put his arm around Gil and pulled him to his chest. At least this way, he could talk about his decision without having to see Gil’s reaction. It didn’t hurt that Gil seemed to fit along his side rather perfectly.
Settled in, Gil asked, “You’ve decided to go back to England just to free this Rayne character?”
With his nose just touching Gil’s hair, Rupert answered, “No. I decided to go back to England well before Lilah brought Ethan into the equation.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure, precisely, but it was within a day or two of my little upset.” And Rupert still blushed to think of how spectacularly he’d lost control with Gil that day. He’d very nearly decked the man for calling Buffy’s death a suicide, and never mind that he himself had described in his journal that she’d leapt deliberately. Actually hearing the word said aloud - it had been too much to deal with. And it still was, if he was honest with himself.
Gil pushed himself deeper into Rupert’s embrace. “You didn’t sound to sure of yourself earlier.”
“It was a natural reaction, I think, to realizing that I would no longer have half a world between me and the Council,” he answered lightly.
“Rupert -”
After a pause, he said, “Leaving Sunnydale will be difficult. Buffy’s friends, her sister - they’ve become family of sorts.”
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” was Gil’s soft rejoinder.
“I do, though.” Rupert sighed. “Travers - my supervisor - told me before I came here that it wasn’t healthy for me to remain, and he’s right, loath as I am to admit it. For me, Sunnydale is nothing but a constant reminder that Buffy is dead.”
Gil squeezed Rupert’s hand. “You could stay for a while. You’d still be near the others, but you’d be away from Sunnydale.”
“Believe me, I’ve considered it.” He dropped a kiss on Gil’s head. “The problem is that I have nothing to do in Vegas - aside from you that is.” He laughed quietly when Gil swatted him then continued more seriously, “At least in Sunnydale, I have my shop, and I can patrol. Here, I’d be bored within a day or three.”
Moving restlessly, Gil asked, “What will you do in England?”
Rupert shrugged. “Probably run a seminar at Oxford for Watchers in training. There’s also the British Museum. The Board sent me a letter two weeks ago asking if I’d be interested in working for them as a consultant - Travers’ doing, no doubt.”
At that, Gil craned his head around to look at Rupert. “The British Museum? The British Museum?”
Confused by Gil’s tone, Rupert’s eyebrows drew together. “Well. Yes. I was a curator there before I moved to Sunnydale.”
“You went from being a curator at the British Museum to being a librarian at a public high school?”
Gil’s astonishment finally made sense to Rupert. “No. I went from being an inactive Watcher to being the Slayer’s Watcher. Trust me - it was a promotion.”
“Incredible,” he said softly. “When I read your monographs on ancient blades, all they -”
“You read my monographs?” Rupert pushed himself up, dislodging Gil in the process. “The only ones I wrote were completed whilst I finished my degree at Oxford, and they were never published. Where the hell did you find them?”
Gil sat up. “We recovered them with the sword. That’s how I knew to look for you.”
“You looked for me specifically?” Rupert frowned as he tried to make sense of this latest bit of information. “How did you know how to get in touch?”
“The contact information on the article included a number for the British Society of Antiquities.” Gil cocked his head. “You’re a member, right?”
“Of course I’m a member,” he said distractedly. “It’s one of the foundations run by the Council of Watchers. They use it when it’s necessary to retrieve a potentially dangerous mystical object. That still doesn’t explain how you were able to reach me. At the time I wrote the monographs, I hadn’t yet been accepted back into the fold. And, of course, there’s the matter of them never having been published.”
“They were photocopied articles. The name of the journal was too blurry to read, but they definitely looked like they’d been published.”
“I don’t -” Rupert’s mind moved very quickly, and when the final pieces dropped neatly into the puzzle, he started laughing helplessly.
“Rupert?” Gil’s eyebrow went up. “You want to share the joke?”
“It’s Lilah,” he said, laughing even harder. “I knew she didn’t want me to join Wolfram and Hart, but -”
“I don’t get it.”
“Think about it, Gil.” Rupert shook his head at the woman’s effrontery. “Lilah was determined to make sure I didn’t sign up. If I’d shown up alone and in that particular state of grief, there’s every chance I would have signed with them.”
Gil’s eyebrows drew together as he worked the evidence. “You think she made sure I would end up there with you.”
“And she managed it in such a way to make it look like an accident.” Rupert continued thinking about it, adding, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that she arranged for a compulsion spell to make you touch the sword at the wrong moment.”
“Jesus.”
“She’s a formidable opponent,” Rupert agreed.
“Did she tell you anything when she called?”
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. “No, she didn’t. And that’s another good reason to return to England. The Council’s library isn’t as extensive as Wolfram and Hart’s, but it’s certainly more comprehensive than my own.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Gil said.
“I’m not sure I do, either, but there may be an answer in the prophecy section.” Rupert looked up just in time to see the look of distaste cross Gil’s face at the mention of prophecies. He decided to say nothing. With his imminent departure, there was no reason to upset Gil anymore than absolutely necessary.
They sat in contemplation for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts, when Gil finally asked, “When are you going back to Sunnydale?”
“Tonight, I think. After you go to work. If I stay here too long, I may never leave.”
Gil lifted his hand, but did nothing with it. Instead, he said softly, “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.”
~*~*~
Rupert was packed and standing near the entryway when Gil emerged from the shower, wrapped only in a towel. “I can get the nine o’clock flight if I leave right now.”
Surprised by how upset he was over the thought of Rupert leaving so quickly, Gil stood still for a moment to collect himself. When he felt reasonably calm again, he said, “I’ll get dressed and drive you.”
“No, no,” Rupert answered, patting his pockets for something. “I’ve already called a taxi, so there’s no need for you to be bothered.”
“It’s not a bother.” Something in Gil’s voice must have caught Rupert’s attention, because he looked up suddenly.
“I know. But I’ve never been one for long goodbyes, and airports seem to bring out the worst maudlin impulses in people.” Rupert patted the left breast of his jacket, and he pulled out a piece of paper with an air of triumph. “Here it is.” He held it out. “Before I left, I wanted to give you this.”
Gil accepted the paper and found a neatly written list of five names and phone numbers. “Who are they?”
“Any one of them should be able to help you with your magic.” When Gil started to protest, Rupert raised his hand. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve already opened Pandora’s Box on this one. You have sufficient natural talent that one of these days, it’s going to start manifesting on its own.”
“But -”
“You need to learn control, Gil.” A car horn sounded outside, and Rupert stammered, “Madame Fong recommended Mrs. Graham as the best teacher, though she did caution that the woman was rather keen on discipline. If she won’t take you as a student, any of the others will be quite effective.”
The horn sounded again, and Gil looked at the door with dismay. “But -” Rupert pulled Gil close for one last, hard kiss then picked up his bags and left without a second glance.
In a way, it was too fast. Gil hadn’t had time to adjust to the idea of Rupert being gone. In another way, it wasn’t nearly fast enough. He almost wished he’d still been in bed when Rupert left, because then he could shove those confusing thoughts and emotions into the back of his mind and claim they were due entirely to Rupert leaving without saying goodbye.
Gil stood there for a long time before looking at the list once more. It took a moment to focus on the names and not on the idea of Rupert leaving Las Vegas. He didn’t know if he would call any of them, but he went to his desk and put a star next to Heather Graham’s name. At least he would remember the recommendation if the time should come when he needed it.
It took his cell phone to get him moving again, and he was grateful for the distraction of Jim’s call. A new case meant he could avoid thinking about magic and Rupert’s discomfiting warnings. Instead, he could focus on the evidence and using science to interpret it.
Still getting the particulars from Jim, Gil headed back to his room to get dressed for his next shift.
Author’s Note: This was a fun little romp, and I want to thank everyone who came along for the ride. There will be more adventures for the boys, but I’m not sure when the sequels to Isolated Elements will come out. Part of the problem is that I was bitten by a rabid plot bunny which suggested, among other things, that I should add an AU CSI to a series of BtVS/Anita Blake crossovers I’ve written over the last couple of years. I’d like to say the sequels to Isolated Elements will come first, but the truth is, I already have the insane story idea half-plotted.
*sigh*
Anyway, if you’re interested in other CSI/BtVS crossovers, the best of the lot were written by Marcus Rowland. You can find an index to his stories here.
Thanks again for reading. As always, feedback is my crack. Enable my addiction.
Love ‘n kisses ‘n happy thoughts of man parts mashing together,
Tara
ETA: I almost forgot - the beta'd version of this story can be found be found here at my Web site. There were moderate changes made to the first half of the fic. The last quarter is as you see it here.