FIC: You Can Be a Winner at The Game of Life (G/X, Mature)
Written as a backup fic for drsquidlove for the Giles/Xander ficathon.
Title: You Can Be a Winner at The Game of Life
Pairings: Giles/Xander
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3800
Disclaimer: Not my creations; all gains are purely spiritual.
Summary: Early early Season 4. Giles is in trouble, Xander is weak, Giles is silly, Xander is smart.
Warnings: Kryptonite, Barcalounger, blue pegs in plastic cars
Monday
A persistent knocking drags Xander out of his late morning doze. Yawning, he kicks the sheets from around his ankles and he rolls himself off the sofa bed. He picks a tee shirt up off the floor, but it’s inside out so he doesn’t bother putting it on. He heads for the door in just his sleep pants, tee shirt clutched in one hand while the other lifts in a long stretch then drops down to scratch at his chest.
He opens the door, then staggers backward as the daylight streams in, blinding him.
“Xander! Thank god you’re here.”
He can’t see her, but he’d know Buffy’s voice anywhere.
“The miracle of unemployment,” Xander says, stepping aside and turning to track the dark shape of Buffy as it lets itself into the basement.
It’s not like they’re in the habit of inviting each other in anyway.
Blinking away the bright spots dancing in front of his eyes, Xander turns back to close the door and…yelps.
“Xander,” says a Giles he’d had no idea was standing there.
“Giles.” Xander drops his hold on the doorknob and scrambles to yank the tee shirt over his head, which only results in an embarrassing several seconds spent blinded by not-so-fresh-smelling (as it turns out) cotton. The soft knit clings to his face while Xander clings to the hope that somehow this is all some crazy dream and that when he can see again, he’ll be alone.
Sadly, when his head finally emerges, Giles is still standing there in front of a now-closed door, looking completely out of synch with his surroundings with his ridiculously good posture, general tidiness, and…oh fuck, is that a suitcase?
Buffy is talking - has been for a while now - but Xander’s too caught up in the gist to catch any of the details.
It’s a bad gist.
A terrible gist.
The kind of gist that deserves some kind of interjection or interruption or intervention.
Pronto.
Xander casts a frantic glance in the Giles-ward direction and he can tell Giles is having the exact same thoughts - except possibly in a more organized and British way.
Buffy seems to be wrapping up now and Xander opens his mouth to inter-something, but then she gives him The Look.
The one that’s half slayer determination, half feminine wiles and all Buffy.
The one that’s pretty much Xander kryptonite.
Xander closes his mouth and sneaks another peek at Giles. Giles’ mouth is also closed.
Buffy treats them both to a toothpaste-ad smile on her way out the door.
Xander stares after her for long seconds before letting his gaze skitter over Giles on the way towards his own feet. He takes a deep breath.
God, he’s ripe.
Xander twists his hands in his smelly tee shirt. “Um…make yourself at home, I guess.” He swallows.” I need to…uh…shower and, you know, uh…find a job.”
Xander takes clean clothes with him and dresses in the bathroom.
“Don’t wait up!” he calls as he darts out the door.
Tuesday
The moment Giles wakes up, Xander hears it.
Not only does the sofa bed have a squeaky spring, but the Barcalounger and a sound sleep? Completely incompatible.
He listens to Giles pads into the bathroom, cracking open an eye as the door clicks closed. As soon as the shower starts, Xander springs to his feet and drives for the phone.
He taps impatiently at the handset as it rings, not twice, but five times.
“’Lo?”
“Finally,” Xander hisses. “He needs to go to a hotel.”
“Xander?” Bufffy croaks. She clears her throat. “What time is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, um, maybe the time that Giles gets up in the morning! And I figure, hey, if I get to be awake at this time, why not share the joy with my good friend?”
”Your good friend and her psycho roommate,” Buffy growls. ”I took it out in the hall as soon as I could, but if the phone woke Kathy up, Xander, so help me god…”
“You’re in college, Buff. You are supposed to have a crazy roommate. I, on the other hand, just got back from the road trip to nowhere and moved into my parents basement, for which I am actually paying rent - or will be, at least, as soon as I land myself a crappy minimum wage job. I think that entitles me to what little privacy I have left.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just Giles.”
Easy for her to say.
“Which is exactly why he would probably be way happier in a hotel.”
“I told you - they’d find him there in no time.”
“Well they’re going to find him here eventually. It’s their job and I’m guessing they don’t suck at it.”
“It’ll all be fixed before then, I promise.” Buffy’s tone has turned placating. “No one even knows you know him.”
Xander own tone turns to the measure of last resort - whining. “Please, Buff…”
“It’s like you want him to get deported.” She’s scolding now. “He’s your friend.”
“He’s your Watcher,” Xander snaps. “And he used to be my high school librarian. Right now he’s just...” It’s not until he hears a throat clear, that Xander realizes how loud he’d gotten. “Standing right behind me,” he finishes softly. “Gotta go, Buff.”
Xander hangs up before she can answer. He slowly spins around, prepared for a stiff and shuttered Giles.
Which is exactly what he gets - except damp and wrapped in nothing but a bath towel.
And nothing could have prepared him for that.
“I forgot to bring along shampoo,” Giles says. “And you appear to have run out.”
“Right.” Xander bolts up the basement stairs, returning with more shampoo, but no additional self-composure.
“I placed a number of calls yesterday, on which I shall be following up today,” Giles says. “I will be out of your hair by the end of the week, I assure you. I trust you can forbear until then.”
Xander doesn’t answer.
Giles may trust it, but he has his doubts.
Wednesday
Giles continues to be out of synch with Xander’s apartment.
Xander’s apartment doesn’t like it when people move around too early in the morning, though it does enjoy the smell of coffee in the late mornings. And it never really got into the whole reading thing, though it loves TV.
So naturally, Xander’s apartment is a little irritated to find Giles perched on the already folded-up couch at eight-thirty a.m. sipping a cup of tea as he flips through a heavy leather-bound book whose pages are crammed full of little tiny words.
Xander sits up on the Barcalounger and sighs loudly - on behalf of his apartment, of course.
Giles just flips the page and takes another sip of his tea.
Xander throws off his blanket - which lands on the floor with a completely unsatisfying whomph - and stomps his way into the bathroom.
After a second’s thought, he slams the door behind him for good measure - but only on behalf of the apartment.
Xander gets out of the shower and dresses in the bathroom as usual. Stepping back into the main room, though, he’s at a loss.
After a minute, Giles flips another page, takes another sip and glances over his shoulder. “Off for another day on the job search?”
Xander wishes. He’s half tempted just to go, but…
“I got one yesterday.”
Unfortunately, it doesn’t start until Monday.
“Oh,” Giles looks up for real this time. “Well done.”
Xander shrugs and sits back down on the Barcalounger. “It’s kinda a shithole place, but I guess it’ll pay the rent.”
“Yes , well, nevertheless, I’m sure it will provide valuable work exp-”
“Save it,” Xander says. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I figure, hey, we all have our callings. Some people are born to be the One Girl in All the World, some people are born to help the One Girl in All the World, and others of us are born to be one of the great unwashed masses. It’s still a destiny, right? Not like anyone notices, but the masses can’t be the masses without us.”
Giles closes his book and sighs. “Xander, I hardly think that it’s your destiny to be unnoticed.”
“So, what? It’s my achievement?”
“That not what I…” Giles cuts himself off, shakes his head. “You’re not going to let me win here, are you?”
“Depends. What’re you trying to win?”
He’s going for snotty, but somehow Giles - in his stupid, out-of-synch way - manages to take the question seriously.
“Well,” he says after a long moment, “I’d have hoped to make you see that you are far from unremarkable.”
“Okay, yeah, no.” Xander stands up and reaches for his wallet. “Do not try to convince me you think I’m special - especially since we both know that you really, really don’t.”
“Xander, I never-”
“Forget it. I’m going out.”
This time when Xander slams the door, it has nothing to do with the apartment. It’s one-hundred percent on his own damn behalf.
Thursday
“Seriously,” Xander says as he emerges from the bathroom to find Giles in the exact same place he’s been since Monday, “doesn’t that ever get boring?”
“As a matter of fact…” Giles says, looking up from the day’s book. “But I’m not to leave the premises and it’s not as if I’ve been presented with a lot of alternatives. I assume you’re going out.”
Xander pauses halfway across the room, having intended the ‘boring’ comment to be a parting shot. “I suppose I could stick around.”
Giles snorts. “No need to do me any favors.”
“What? Like letting you stay in my apartment while you sort out your immigration issues?”
“Point taken,” Giles says. “Carry on.”
Xander gets a few steps closer to the door, then turns around. “So what does a wild and crazy Watcher guy like you do for fun?” Xander looks around. “You know - when he’s stuck in a poorly lit basement in the middle of the day.”
Giles thinks for a bit, then slowly removes his glasses and begins to polish them. “Perhaps it’s time we discussed the, um-”
“Eeehnt!” Xander interrupts with a loud buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
They end up digging into the Harris family stash.
Both of them, actually.
The booze and the board games.
Put them together and you get drinking games.
Giles must have a serious case of cabin fever because he only offers a single token protest before setting up the checkers board.
Checkers doesn’t go well for Xander.
It’s no surprise that Scrabble doesn’t either.
After a humiliating round of backgammon, a rapidly drunkening Xander moves to abandon games of strategy in favor of games of chance.
Pure chance.
Slap some pieces of cheap plastic on a colorful tree-lined board and even Xander can be a winner at The Game of Life.
He’s so busy drinking to celebrate Giles’ marriage, Xander almost doesn’t notice when Giles adds a second blue peg to the car.
Xander giggles. “Hey,” he says, “you’re supposed to put in a pink one.”
“And why is that?” Giles sounds even more imperious when drunk, if that’s possible.
Xander wonders where he learned the word imperious.
“Imperious,” he says, letting it roll off his tongue.
“I beg your pardon?” Giles asks - still working the imperious.
Xander giggles again. “Nevermind. Anyway, the pink ones are the girls.”
Giles’ duh look is imperious too. “Yes, Xander, I had managed to grasp the game’s complex gender symbolism. I had thought, however, that given that this is my tiny plastic car, choosing the person with whom to ride in it ought to be my prerogative.”
Xander considers this for a moment as Bobby Brown sings in his head.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says suddenly, shaking a finger Giles-ward. “I see what you’re doing here. This is your sneaky smart guy’s way of talking about it. But we’re not.” Xander shakes his head, too, for good measure. “No talking. And, hey, is it just me, or is the room spinning?”
Friday
So this is a hangover.
This might have been Xander’s first thought of the morning - if he weren’t so damn hungover.
Instead, his thoughts are focused around vomiting and whether or not he’s going to and if he is going to where he should try to do it. Moving seems both smart and stupid at this point.
Not throwing up in your bed - smart.
Trying to get out of bed and causing self to throw up in process - stupid.
In a pinch, the floor seems like a good compromise. Xander knows these rugs have seen worse. He slowly rolls to the side to scope out a good spot and discovers a bucket resting bedside.
How nice, Xander thinks. Such a good bucket.
“I thought it might come in handy.”
Xander slowly points his eyes in the direction of the voice. Giles is sitting on the Barcalounger with a blanket over his lap.
“I shouldn’t have let you have so much last night. Or at the very least, I ought to have had you drink some water.”
The thought of water makes Xander’s stomach curl up into the fetal position.
“Perhaps some coffee?”
It’s like Giles can read Xander’s mind.
Even before Xander can.
Xander manages a weak smile and an even weaker nod.
“I love you,” he whispers as a steaming cuppa Joe is slipped into his hands.
“About that…”
Xander’s eyes snap up from his coffee cup. (Sadly, the eye-snapping? Not without pain.) “What? That wasn’t a that. There is no that. I mean, geez - ego much? Just because I kissed you - once, like three months ago - does not mean I’m in love with you.”
“I’m well aware.” Giles moves away from the bed, turning his back on Xander as he fixes a cup of tea. “Look, Xander - when I was younger, there was this man…”
Xander groans. “Oh god, it was Ethan Rayne, wasn’t it? I should have known. I mean, who else but an ex would keep travelling so far just to fuck with you? But I mean, still… Well, all I’m saying is I hope he was a lot hotter when he was younger.”
“Well, he definitely had his-” Giles turns around just in time for Xander to catch the last of a wistful smile before Giles schools his expression. “Ethan and I… Well, nevermind. This was well after the time I spent in…” He hesitates.
“An electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove?” Xander supplies.
“London,” Giles says. He perches on the Barcalounger, mug of tea in hand. “It was at Oxford, during my postgraduate work and Watcher training. He was a senior lecturer and the supervisor of my field work. Such things were meant to be tightly controlled, of course - the Council has never been much for unpredictability - but Hayden took a slightly unorthodox approach.”
“Like what? Actually letting you see real vampires and demons?”
“Exactly. He wasn’t foolish or reckless - not like we’d been back in London - but he was brave and bloody well brilliant and he fought on the side of good and made it seem sexy. After three months of rather…well, stimulating fieldwork by his side, I fancied myself quite in love with him.”
“So, what? You waited until you graduated and then you kissed him and he was all, ‘Sorry, no,’ and it really sucked and so you waited all these years and now finally you were on the other end and got do the rejecting and now you feel so much better?”
“No, of course not.” Giles shakes his head, setting down his tea so he can polish his glasses. “I didn’t actually wait until my studies were finished to…er…let him know how I felt.”
“And then he rejected you?”
“Actually, we became involved.”
Xander snorts. (Also not without pain.) “Oh, great. Now I definitely feel better.”
“The point,” Giles says, “is that after the…er…thrill wore off, I discovered I’d been mistaken. I hadn’t ever known him the way I thought I had and what I’d felt for him wasn’t really love. It was just admiration mixed up in the…excitement of our shared experiences.”
Xander gets it now. “So that’s what you think I-“
The phone rings.
Giles moves to answer it - probably encouraged to take the initiative by the fact that Xander’s eyes are squeezed shut and his hands clamped over his ears. It turns out to be for him anyway. He listens for a couple minutes, offering the occasional affirming sound or word.
“Wonderful,” he says at last. “Thank you so much.”
He hangs up the phone and turns back to Xander.
“That was one of my contacts back in England. It’s all been sorted.”
“You can go home now,” Xander says.
It’s only half a question, more of a statement, but Giles nods.
“So that’s what you think? That I’m just confused?”
“It’s perfectly natural,” Giles says.
His tone rankles.
“Well, if that’s all it takes, then why haven’t I-?”
“Had feelings for Buffy or Willow or Cordelia or Faith?” Giles asks. “I can’t imagine.”
“You can go home now,” Xander says.
This time it’s not a question or a statement. It’s an order.
Saturday
“What about what he felt for you?”
Given that Xander just burst through the door without knocking, he probably shouldn’t blame Giles for just staring at him in confusion, but Xander doesn’t really care. He’s on a mission today and he’s got no time for fucking around.
“That Hayden guy,” he clarifies. “Thought it was love, it was really admiration, blah, blah, blah. But how did he feel about you?”
Xander crosses his arms over his chest and waits for Giles to answer.
“He was…fond of me.” Giles has the glasses off again, but doesn’t quite make it to the polishing. “Quite fond, I suppose. I’m fairly certain it was he who recommended me for this position, even though we hadn’t spoken in some time. He’d risen quite far in the ranks by the time Merrick… Well, in any case, I was never exactly the Council’s favorite son.”
Xander nods. “So he wasn’t exactly pleased when you called it off.”
Giles replaces his glasses - unpolished - and looks at Xander. “I suppose he was…devastated.”
Xander crosses the room and sits down across the couch from Giles. “So I’m thinking - and boy is it going to be embarrassing if I’ve got this wrong - that it’s not actually that you don’t like me, it’s that you’re afraid you like me too much. And that that I don’t like you enough. You’re convinced that I can’t possibly see or like you for who you are.”
Giles sighs. “You’re so young - you can’t possibly know what you really want. And, no, unlike dear Buffy, it has not escaped my notice that you’re quite…attractive, but it’s not as if we’ve been friends.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t be. I mean, I’m not proposing marriage here, I just think it’s worth a shot. Because, look, in case it’s escaped your notice, things are pretty fucked up here on the mouth of hell and, sure, there’s no one I’d rather have out there trying to keep us and the world safe than Buffy - but nobody’s perfect, you know? And sometimes I do stupid things and sometimes you do really stupid things - I mean considering how smart you are and all - and sometimes life just does stupid things and people get hurt, and I just think I should start living my adult life now instead of waiting around so I can avoid making any mistakes. I mean, come on, it’s me. And, yeah, I realize the whole adult thing would sound a lot more convincing if you hadn’t just spent five days in basement del shithole with me, but I’m kinda hoping to move on up one of these days - you know, live the American dream.”
For a moment, Giles appears a bit stunned. Which, of course, is all part of the patented Xander-babble debate strategy - throw so much at them that they can’t understand it, let alone answer it.
Finally, he sees what looks to be a spark of hope appear behind Giles’ eyes. Sadly, it’s quickly beaten back by what Giles would probably call his better judgment, but Xander decides to call The Stupid Thoughts. He waits to see what they have to say.
“It’s…well…it’s great that you want to…er…seize the day, but there are plenty of boys your own age out there. Really, aside from Buffy, you and I have nothing in common.”
Xander just grins. He totally came prepared for that one.
“Okay, see, I’ve been thinking about that, too. Like you and Hayden - you had a lot in common. He was your role model. You thought you wanted to be with him, but it turned out you just wanted to be him. Easily confused. But here’s the thing - I don’t want to be you. The books you can spend all day reading? Better than Nyquil. Between graphic novels and great literature? I proudly choose the one with the pretty pictures. I don’t like tweed and I know I’ll never be as cool as you were in the seventies or as smart as you are now. But I’m not trying to be. I just wanna be with you.”
Giles starts to open his mouth, but Xander already knows the question.
And the answer.
“Because I think you’re a lot younger and funnier than you let on most of the time. And because I think you need to learn to relax a little - which I’m very good at, by the way. And because if we start going out on dates, maybe you’ll actually start seeing movies filmed after 1975. Plus, I need to be saving money and I figure you’re the kind of guy who picks up the check. Oh, and this one time, you actually wore a pair of button fly jeans and, well, I’m pretty sure I drooled a little on my shirt - which, okay, not the sexiest way I could have put that, but I’ll work on it.”
Xander stops there and smiles.
Giles smiles back - slightly. “It sounds…wonderful in theory, Xander, but-”
Xander can see The Stupid Thoughts mounting their final attack, but he’s had enough.
“Okay, see, no. This is where you’ve got it wrong. It is not the theory that’s wonderful - it’s totally the practice.”
Sunday
It’s totally the practice.
Not that Giles needs any - he’s displaying a high level of expertise - but, hey, no one wants to get rusty.
Of course, they’ve been practicing for a while now.
They might need to stop for food at some point.
He vaguely remembers that they planned to catch a matinee.
He can’t remember which movie he was going to make Giles see.
He suspects this is Giles’ way of getting out of it.
But he totally doesn’t care.
The request:
Scenario they want to see: Giles in trouble with someone. Buffy? Snyder? Tony Harris? Police?
Time period they would most want it to be set in: If restrictions help you, then I'll say season three or four. But really, I'm totally happy with any time frame.
Time period they absolutely do *not* want: I'd rather not comic-canon, but any time is good.
Two things they want included: 1. To learn something new about Giles' past (ie not the Ripper days): maybe something from Giles' life in the years just before Sunnydale. 2. Button-fly jeans.
Two things they do *not* want included: G-man. Um... G-man.
Title: You Can Be a Winner at The Game of Life
Pairings: Giles/Xander
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3800
Disclaimer: Not my creations; all gains are purely spiritual.
Summary: Early early Season 4. Giles is in trouble, Xander is weak, Giles is silly, Xander is smart.
Warnings: Kryptonite, Barcalounger, blue pegs in plastic cars
Monday
A persistent knocking drags Xander out of his late morning doze. Yawning, he kicks the sheets from around his ankles and he rolls himself off the sofa bed. He picks a tee shirt up off the floor, but it’s inside out so he doesn’t bother putting it on. He heads for the door in just his sleep pants, tee shirt clutched in one hand while the other lifts in a long stretch then drops down to scratch at his chest.
He opens the door, then staggers backward as the daylight streams in, blinding him.
“Xander! Thank god you’re here.”
He can’t see her, but he’d know Buffy’s voice anywhere.
“The miracle of unemployment,” Xander says, stepping aside and turning to track the dark shape of Buffy as it lets itself into the basement.
It’s not like they’re in the habit of inviting each other in anyway.
Blinking away the bright spots dancing in front of his eyes, Xander turns back to close the door and…yelps.
“Xander,” says a Giles he’d had no idea was standing there.
“Giles.” Xander drops his hold on the doorknob and scrambles to yank the tee shirt over his head, which only results in an embarrassing several seconds spent blinded by not-so-fresh-smelling (as it turns out) cotton. The soft knit clings to his face while Xander clings to the hope that somehow this is all some crazy dream and that when he can see again, he’ll be alone.
Sadly, when his head finally emerges, Giles is still standing there in front of a now-closed door, looking completely out of synch with his surroundings with his ridiculously good posture, general tidiness, and…oh fuck, is that a suitcase?
Buffy is talking - has been for a while now - but Xander’s too caught up in the gist to catch any of the details.
It’s a bad gist.
A terrible gist.
The kind of gist that deserves some kind of interjection or interruption or intervention.
Pronto.
Xander casts a frantic glance in the Giles-ward direction and he can tell Giles is having the exact same thoughts - except possibly in a more organized and British way.
Buffy seems to be wrapping up now and Xander opens his mouth to inter-something, but then she gives him The Look.
The one that’s half slayer determination, half feminine wiles and all Buffy.
The one that’s pretty much Xander kryptonite.
Xander closes his mouth and sneaks another peek at Giles. Giles’ mouth is also closed.
Buffy treats them both to a toothpaste-ad smile on her way out the door.
Xander stares after her for long seconds before letting his gaze skitter over Giles on the way towards his own feet. He takes a deep breath.
God, he’s ripe.
Xander twists his hands in his smelly tee shirt. “Um…make yourself at home, I guess.” He swallows.” I need to…uh…shower and, you know, uh…find a job.”
Xander takes clean clothes with him and dresses in the bathroom.
“Don’t wait up!” he calls as he darts out the door.
Tuesday
The moment Giles wakes up, Xander hears it.
Not only does the sofa bed have a squeaky spring, but the Barcalounger and a sound sleep? Completely incompatible.
He listens to Giles pads into the bathroom, cracking open an eye as the door clicks closed. As soon as the shower starts, Xander springs to his feet and drives for the phone.
He taps impatiently at the handset as it rings, not twice, but five times.
“’Lo?”
“Finally,” Xander hisses. “He needs to go to a hotel.”
“Xander?” Bufffy croaks. She clears her throat. “What time is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, um, maybe the time that Giles gets up in the morning! And I figure, hey, if I get to be awake at this time, why not share the joy with my good friend?”
”Your good friend and her psycho roommate,” Buffy growls. ”I took it out in the hall as soon as I could, but if the phone woke Kathy up, Xander, so help me god…”
“You’re in college, Buff. You are supposed to have a crazy roommate. I, on the other hand, just got back from the road trip to nowhere and moved into my parents basement, for which I am actually paying rent - or will be, at least, as soon as I land myself a crappy minimum wage job. I think that entitles me to what little privacy I have left.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just Giles.”
Easy for her to say.
“Which is exactly why he would probably be way happier in a hotel.”
“I told you - they’d find him there in no time.”
“Well they’re going to find him here eventually. It’s their job and I’m guessing they don’t suck at it.”
“It’ll all be fixed before then, I promise.” Buffy’s tone has turned placating. “No one even knows you know him.”
Xander own tone turns to the measure of last resort - whining. “Please, Buff…”
“It’s like you want him to get deported.” She’s scolding now. “He’s your friend.”
“He’s your Watcher,” Xander snaps. “And he used to be my high school librarian. Right now he’s just...” It’s not until he hears a throat clear, that Xander realizes how loud he’d gotten. “Standing right behind me,” he finishes softly. “Gotta go, Buff.”
Xander hangs up before she can answer. He slowly spins around, prepared for a stiff and shuttered Giles.
Which is exactly what he gets - except damp and wrapped in nothing but a bath towel.
And nothing could have prepared him for that.
“I forgot to bring along shampoo,” Giles says. “And you appear to have run out.”
“Right.” Xander bolts up the basement stairs, returning with more shampoo, but no additional self-composure.
“I placed a number of calls yesterday, on which I shall be following up today,” Giles says. “I will be out of your hair by the end of the week, I assure you. I trust you can forbear until then.”
Xander doesn’t answer.
Giles may trust it, but he has his doubts.
Wednesday
Giles continues to be out of synch with Xander’s apartment.
Xander’s apartment doesn’t like it when people move around too early in the morning, though it does enjoy the smell of coffee in the late mornings. And it never really got into the whole reading thing, though it loves TV.
So naturally, Xander’s apartment is a little irritated to find Giles perched on the already folded-up couch at eight-thirty a.m. sipping a cup of tea as he flips through a heavy leather-bound book whose pages are crammed full of little tiny words.
Xander sits up on the Barcalounger and sighs loudly - on behalf of his apartment, of course.
Giles just flips the page and takes another sip of his tea.
Xander throws off his blanket - which lands on the floor with a completely unsatisfying whomph - and stomps his way into the bathroom.
After a second’s thought, he slams the door behind him for good measure - but only on behalf of the apartment.
Xander gets out of the shower and dresses in the bathroom as usual. Stepping back into the main room, though, he’s at a loss.
After a minute, Giles flips another page, takes another sip and glances over his shoulder. “Off for another day on the job search?”
Xander wishes. He’s half tempted just to go, but…
“I got one yesterday.”
Unfortunately, it doesn’t start until Monday.
“Oh,” Giles looks up for real this time. “Well done.”
Xander shrugs and sits back down on the Barcalounger. “It’s kinda a shithole place, but I guess it’ll pay the rent.”
“Yes , well, nevertheless, I’m sure it will provide valuable work exp-”
“Save it,” Xander says. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I figure, hey, we all have our callings. Some people are born to be the One Girl in All the World, some people are born to help the One Girl in All the World, and others of us are born to be one of the great unwashed masses. It’s still a destiny, right? Not like anyone notices, but the masses can’t be the masses without us.”
Giles closes his book and sighs. “Xander, I hardly think that it’s your destiny to be unnoticed.”
“So, what? It’s my achievement?”
“That not what I…” Giles cuts himself off, shakes his head. “You’re not going to let me win here, are you?”
“Depends. What’re you trying to win?”
He’s going for snotty, but somehow Giles - in his stupid, out-of-synch way - manages to take the question seriously.
“Well,” he says after a long moment, “I’d have hoped to make you see that you are far from unremarkable.”
“Okay, yeah, no.” Xander stands up and reaches for his wallet. “Do not try to convince me you think I’m special - especially since we both know that you really, really don’t.”
“Xander, I never-”
“Forget it. I’m going out.”
This time when Xander slams the door, it has nothing to do with the apartment. It’s one-hundred percent on his own damn behalf.
Thursday
“Seriously,” Xander says as he emerges from the bathroom to find Giles in the exact same place he’s been since Monday, “doesn’t that ever get boring?”
“As a matter of fact…” Giles says, looking up from the day’s book. “But I’m not to leave the premises and it’s not as if I’ve been presented with a lot of alternatives. I assume you’re going out.”
Xander pauses halfway across the room, having intended the ‘boring’ comment to be a parting shot. “I suppose I could stick around.”
Giles snorts. “No need to do me any favors.”
“What? Like letting you stay in my apartment while you sort out your immigration issues?”
“Point taken,” Giles says. “Carry on.”
Xander gets a few steps closer to the door, then turns around. “So what does a wild and crazy Watcher guy like you do for fun?” Xander looks around. “You know - when he’s stuck in a poorly lit basement in the middle of the day.”
Giles thinks for a bit, then slowly removes his glasses and begins to polish them. “Perhaps it’s time we discussed the, um-”
“Eeehnt!” Xander interrupts with a loud buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
They end up digging into the Harris family stash.
Both of them, actually.
The booze and the board games.
Put them together and you get drinking games.
Giles must have a serious case of cabin fever because he only offers a single token protest before setting up the checkers board.
Checkers doesn’t go well for Xander.
It’s no surprise that Scrabble doesn’t either.
After a humiliating round of backgammon, a rapidly drunkening Xander moves to abandon games of strategy in favor of games of chance.
Pure chance.
Slap some pieces of cheap plastic on a colorful tree-lined board and even Xander can be a winner at The Game of Life.
He’s so busy drinking to celebrate Giles’ marriage, Xander almost doesn’t notice when Giles adds a second blue peg to the car.
Xander giggles. “Hey,” he says, “you’re supposed to put in a pink one.”
“And why is that?” Giles sounds even more imperious when drunk, if that’s possible.
Xander wonders where he learned the word imperious.
“Imperious,” he says, letting it roll off his tongue.
“I beg your pardon?” Giles asks - still working the imperious.
Xander giggles again. “Nevermind. Anyway, the pink ones are the girls.”
Giles’ duh look is imperious too. “Yes, Xander, I had managed to grasp the game’s complex gender symbolism. I had thought, however, that given that this is my tiny plastic car, choosing the person with whom to ride in it ought to be my prerogative.”
Xander considers this for a moment as Bobby Brown sings in his head.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says suddenly, shaking a finger Giles-ward. “I see what you’re doing here. This is your sneaky smart guy’s way of talking about it. But we’re not.” Xander shakes his head, too, for good measure. “No talking. And, hey, is it just me, or is the room spinning?”
Friday
So this is a hangover.
This might have been Xander’s first thought of the morning - if he weren’t so damn hungover.
Instead, his thoughts are focused around vomiting and whether or not he’s going to and if he is going to where he should try to do it. Moving seems both smart and stupid at this point.
Not throwing up in your bed - smart.
Trying to get out of bed and causing self to throw up in process - stupid.
In a pinch, the floor seems like a good compromise. Xander knows these rugs have seen worse. He slowly rolls to the side to scope out a good spot and discovers a bucket resting bedside.
How nice, Xander thinks. Such a good bucket.
“I thought it might come in handy.”
Xander slowly points his eyes in the direction of the voice. Giles is sitting on the Barcalounger with a blanket over his lap.
“I shouldn’t have let you have so much last night. Or at the very least, I ought to have had you drink some water.”
The thought of water makes Xander’s stomach curl up into the fetal position.
“Perhaps some coffee?”
It’s like Giles can read Xander’s mind.
Even before Xander can.
Xander manages a weak smile and an even weaker nod.
“I love you,” he whispers as a steaming cuppa Joe is slipped into his hands.
“About that…”
Xander’s eyes snap up from his coffee cup. (Sadly, the eye-snapping? Not without pain.) “What? That wasn’t a that. There is no that. I mean, geez - ego much? Just because I kissed you - once, like three months ago - does not mean I’m in love with you.”
“I’m well aware.” Giles moves away from the bed, turning his back on Xander as he fixes a cup of tea. “Look, Xander - when I was younger, there was this man…”
Xander groans. “Oh god, it was Ethan Rayne, wasn’t it? I should have known. I mean, who else but an ex would keep travelling so far just to fuck with you? But I mean, still… Well, all I’m saying is I hope he was a lot hotter when he was younger.”
“Well, he definitely had his-” Giles turns around just in time for Xander to catch the last of a wistful smile before Giles schools his expression. “Ethan and I… Well, nevermind. This was well after the time I spent in…” He hesitates.
“An electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove?” Xander supplies.
“London,” Giles says. He perches on the Barcalounger, mug of tea in hand. “It was at Oxford, during my postgraduate work and Watcher training. He was a senior lecturer and the supervisor of my field work. Such things were meant to be tightly controlled, of course - the Council has never been much for unpredictability - but Hayden took a slightly unorthodox approach.”
“Like what? Actually letting you see real vampires and demons?”
“Exactly. He wasn’t foolish or reckless - not like we’d been back in London - but he was brave and bloody well brilliant and he fought on the side of good and made it seem sexy. After three months of rather…well, stimulating fieldwork by his side, I fancied myself quite in love with him.”
“So, what? You waited until you graduated and then you kissed him and he was all, ‘Sorry, no,’ and it really sucked and so you waited all these years and now finally you were on the other end and got do the rejecting and now you feel so much better?”
“No, of course not.” Giles shakes his head, setting down his tea so he can polish his glasses. “I didn’t actually wait until my studies were finished to…er…let him know how I felt.”
“And then he rejected you?”
“Actually, we became involved.”
Xander snorts. (Also not without pain.) “Oh, great. Now I definitely feel better.”
“The point,” Giles says, “is that after the…er…thrill wore off, I discovered I’d been mistaken. I hadn’t ever known him the way I thought I had and what I’d felt for him wasn’t really love. It was just admiration mixed up in the…excitement of our shared experiences.”
Xander gets it now. “So that’s what you think I-“
The phone rings.
Giles moves to answer it - probably encouraged to take the initiative by the fact that Xander’s eyes are squeezed shut and his hands clamped over his ears. It turns out to be for him anyway. He listens for a couple minutes, offering the occasional affirming sound or word.
“Wonderful,” he says at last. “Thank you so much.”
He hangs up the phone and turns back to Xander.
“That was one of my contacts back in England. It’s all been sorted.”
“You can go home now,” Xander says.
It’s only half a question, more of a statement, but Giles nods.
“So that’s what you think? That I’m just confused?”
“It’s perfectly natural,” Giles says.
His tone rankles.
“Well, if that’s all it takes, then why haven’t I-?”
“Had feelings for Buffy or Willow or Cordelia or Faith?” Giles asks. “I can’t imagine.”
“You can go home now,” Xander says.
This time it’s not a question or a statement. It’s an order.
Saturday
“What about what he felt for you?”
Given that Xander just burst through the door without knocking, he probably shouldn’t blame Giles for just staring at him in confusion, but Xander doesn’t really care. He’s on a mission today and he’s got no time for fucking around.
“That Hayden guy,” he clarifies. “Thought it was love, it was really admiration, blah, blah, blah. But how did he feel about you?”
Xander crosses his arms over his chest and waits for Giles to answer.
“He was…fond of me.” Giles has the glasses off again, but doesn’t quite make it to the polishing. “Quite fond, I suppose. I’m fairly certain it was he who recommended me for this position, even though we hadn’t spoken in some time. He’d risen quite far in the ranks by the time Merrick… Well, in any case, I was never exactly the Council’s favorite son.”
Xander nods. “So he wasn’t exactly pleased when you called it off.”
Giles replaces his glasses - unpolished - and looks at Xander. “I suppose he was…devastated.”
Xander crosses the room and sits down across the couch from Giles. “So I’m thinking - and boy is it going to be embarrassing if I’ve got this wrong - that it’s not actually that you don’t like me, it’s that you’re afraid you like me too much. And that that I don’t like you enough. You’re convinced that I can’t possibly see or like you for who you are.”
Giles sighs. “You’re so young - you can’t possibly know what you really want. And, no, unlike dear Buffy, it has not escaped my notice that you’re quite…attractive, but it’s not as if we’ve been friends.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t be. I mean, I’m not proposing marriage here, I just think it’s worth a shot. Because, look, in case it’s escaped your notice, things are pretty fucked up here on the mouth of hell and, sure, there’s no one I’d rather have out there trying to keep us and the world safe than Buffy - but nobody’s perfect, you know? And sometimes I do stupid things and sometimes you do really stupid things - I mean considering how smart you are and all - and sometimes life just does stupid things and people get hurt, and I just think I should start living my adult life now instead of waiting around so I can avoid making any mistakes. I mean, come on, it’s me. And, yeah, I realize the whole adult thing would sound a lot more convincing if you hadn’t just spent five days in basement del shithole with me, but I’m kinda hoping to move on up one of these days - you know, live the American dream.”
For a moment, Giles appears a bit stunned. Which, of course, is all part of the patented Xander-babble debate strategy - throw so much at them that they can’t understand it, let alone answer it.
Finally, he sees what looks to be a spark of hope appear behind Giles’ eyes. Sadly, it’s quickly beaten back by what Giles would probably call his better judgment, but Xander decides to call The Stupid Thoughts. He waits to see what they have to say.
“It’s…well…it’s great that you want to…er…seize the day, but there are plenty of boys your own age out there. Really, aside from Buffy, you and I have nothing in common.”
Xander just grins. He totally came prepared for that one.
“Okay, see, I’ve been thinking about that, too. Like you and Hayden - you had a lot in common. He was your role model. You thought you wanted to be with him, but it turned out you just wanted to be him. Easily confused. But here’s the thing - I don’t want to be you. The books you can spend all day reading? Better than Nyquil. Between graphic novels and great literature? I proudly choose the one with the pretty pictures. I don’t like tweed and I know I’ll never be as cool as you were in the seventies or as smart as you are now. But I’m not trying to be. I just wanna be with you.”
Giles starts to open his mouth, but Xander already knows the question.
And the answer.
“Because I think you’re a lot younger and funnier than you let on most of the time. And because I think you need to learn to relax a little - which I’m very good at, by the way. And because if we start going out on dates, maybe you’ll actually start seeing movies filmed after 1975. Plus, I need to be saving money and I figure you’re the kind of guy who picks up the check. Oh, and this one time, you actually wore a pair of button fly jeans and, well, I’m pretty sure I drooled a little on my shirt - which, okay, not the sexiest way I could have put that, but I’ll work on it.”
Xander stops there and smiles.
Giles smiles back - slightly. “It sounds…wonderful in theory, Xander, but-”
Xander can see The Stupid Thoughts mounting their final attack, but he’s had enough.
“Okay, see, no. This is where you’ve got it wrong. It is not the theory that’s wonderful - it’s totally the practice.”
Sunday
It’s totally the practice.
Not that Giles needs any - he’s displaying a high level of expertise - but, hey, no one wants to get rusty.
Of course, they’ve been practicing for a while now.
They might need to stop for food at some point.
He vaguely remembers that they planned to catch a matinee.
He can’t remember which movie he was going to make Giles see.
He suspects this is Giles’ way of getting out of it.
But he totally doesn’t care.
The request:
Scenario they want to see: Giles in trouble with someone. Buffy? Snyder? Tony Harris? Police?
Time period they would most want it to be set in: If restrictions help you, then I'll say season three or four. But really, I'm totally happy with any time frame.
Time period they absolutely do *not* want: I'd rather not comic-canon, but any time is good.
Two things they want included: 1. To learn something new about Giles' past (ie not the Ripper days): maybe something from Giles' life in the years just before Sunnydale. 2. Button-fly jeans.
Two things they do *not* want included: G-man. Um... G-man.