FIC: Possible, BTVS, FRT, Giles, Xander
Title: Possible
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing/character: Giles, Xander - preslash
Rating: FRT
Prompt: Day 7 - "Understanding" and loosely on the day's quote "Love you're news to me/ you're a little bit more than I thought you'd be"
Notes/Warnings: for October 13th at the gilesxander Octoberfest and my Giles challenge at 60damnprompts where you write 60 days in the life of a character. You may want to read the previous days before this fic for a better understanding, but it's not necessary.
Set post Chosen, so there are spoilers for it.
Summary: Giles tries to figure out what's going on...
~ * ~
Giles straightened his tie when he walked into the living room of his suite, feet pausing as he caught sight of Xander sleeping on his large, comfortable couch. It wasn't often that the eye-patch was gone even while the younger man slept, but it must have irritated him somehow in the night, the lone odd blemish on his coffee table. The Head Watcher could almost see the fifteen year old boy he'd met during that amazing and frightening first year. So many scars had been awarded since then.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked down at the nest of kittens, counting movements until he was assured they were all alive even as he told himself he didn't care. Eyes sweeping from the hand curled around the kittens and up the line of one strong arm hanging over the edge of the couch to Xander sprawled on his back, and Giles quietly found a soft blanket and wrapped it around the sleeping Watcher before heading over to his office.
Throughout the thankfully uneventful yet paperwork filled day, Giles' thoughts continued to turn back to the previous night and morning. A soft, nagging feeling that he was needed, the remembrance of the dark circles under Xander's eyes even in sleep. He would blink back the odd thoughts, trying not to catalog how often he thought of something he needed to tell the younger man. After the fifth time, however, Giles stopped, pushing away from his desk.
'Since when did it matter whether or not I share some piece of my day?' he asked himself, thinking back even just a few days ago. Xander had taken up so much space in his life since then, amusement and laughter always at the forefront. He hadn't even realized how much space until he compared this week to the prior one of going home alone and the sour disposition he'd tried hard to combat until it had all dissolved into the strange chaos of the Scoobies - of Xander.
He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it, especially with the barely controlled pandemonium of the school and training center. But there was something special about the Scoobies, something that felt like home, and it had been too long since he'd felt that way. Not even Willow's short visit had registered like Xander's homecoming.
Reaching up, he snagged his glasses and contemplatively began cleaning them. They were his family, no matter where they went, but he had not realize how accutely he had missed Xander. The warmth and annoyed amusement constantly present in the last few days was nothing more than happiness to see one of his former students who was now one of his most successful colleagues. Sliding his glasses back onto his nose, he stood abruptly, pushing back any other reasoning even as it slithered under the door, formless twisting thoughts that could not be held at bay.
"That is not possible," he stated out loud, the words ringing back to him in his empty office. It was not possible at all.
~ * ~
Giles came straggling in at eight after completing what felt like the Ninth Circle of Hell's paperwork, aka Andrew is pissed and must share the wealth with his boss, pulling at his tie and ignoring the anticipation he felt at the smell coming from the kitchen.
"G-man?" came the greeting and he winced at the nickname, Xander bounding into view in a splattered apron.
"Xander, must you?" He couldn't guess what had been in his tone, but the younger man took a step back, flash of something that Giles refused to catalog as hurt in his eyes before he barreled forward.
"Sorry, Giles. I made supper." The bright, anxious smile wasn't lost on the Head Watcher and he returned it tiredly.
"It smells heavenly," he admitted softly, earning an grin that stole his breath with its happiness.
"Well, good. It's spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing fancy, but -" Xander shrugged and looked up sheepishly, " - I felt the need to cook something."
That statement surprised Giles more than he cared to admit. "You enjoy cooking?" It irked him that he didn't know this about his friend.
"Yeah. Or at least I used to. Haven't had the urge for a while, you know? Besides there wasn't much chance of the girls trusting me in the kitchen," Xander threw over his shoulder as he walked back to the stove to stir and pulled out the colander that the older man hadn't even realized he'd had. "There's beer in the fridge, and soda if you like."
"I would think wine would be more appropriate," Giles sounded after a moment of watching, standing to look at the wines stored in the suite. "Would you like some?"
"Sure," came the short answer before the hiss of boiling water hitting cool metal sounded and steam rose up as the noodles were drained.
"Did you name the kittens yet?"
"Nah, I thought I'd need to figure their personalities first... no use giving them a name then finding it didn't fit, you know? JJ had some ideas though, but she agreed we should probably wait."
He murmured an agreement as he poured two glasses and set out the silverware on the table, leaning against the counter to watch the younger man work and sipping at the Merlot, mesmerized.
"Giles?" When his eyes focused, he couldn't help the slight flush he felt when he realized it was probably not the first time Xander had called his name. "You okay?"
"Of course," he forced out, ignoring the slight stutter in his words as he smiled, and went to help his friend fix their plates. He felt awkward at first, too large for his seat, fingers clumsy with his fork, and uncertain as to why, unwilling to acknowledge what might be. But it was impossible to remain so stiff in Xander's company.
'Not possible,' he reminded himself when he caught himself laughing at one of Xander's ridiculous stories. 'Not at all.'
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing/character: Giles, Xander - preslash
Rating: FRT
Prompt: Day 7 - "Understanding" and loosely on the day's quote "Love you're news to me/ you're a little bit more than I thought you'd be"
Notes/Warnings: for October 13th at the gilesxander Octoberfest and my Giles challenge at 60damnprompts where you write 60 days in the life of a character. You may want to read the previous days before this fic for a better understanding, but it's not necessary.
Set post Chosen, so there are spoilers for it.
Summary: Giles tries to figure out what's going on...
~ * ~
Giles straightened his tie when he walked into the living room of his suite, feet pausing as he caught sight of Xander sleeping on his large, comfortable couch. It wasn't often that the eye-patch was gone even while the younger man slept, but it must have irritated him somehow in the night, the lone odd blemish on his coffee table. The Head Watcher could almost see the fifteen year old boy he'd met during that amazing and frightening first year. So many scars had been awarded since then.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked down at the nest of kittens, counting movements until he was assured they were all alive even as he told himself he didn't care. Eyes sweeping from the hand curled around the kittens and up the line of one strong arm hanging over the edge of the couch to Xander sprawled on his back, and Giles quietly found a soft blanket and wrapped it around the sleeping Watcher before heading over to his office.
Throughout the thankfully uneventful yet paperwork filled day, Giles' thoughts continued to turn back to the previous night and morning. A soft, nagging feeling that he was needed, the remembrance of the dark circles under Xander's eyes even in sleep. He would blink back the odd thoughts, trying not to catalog how often he thought of something he needed to tell the younger man. After the fifth time, however, Giles stopped, pushing away from his desk.
'Since when did it matter whether or not I share some piece of my day?' he asked himself, thinking back even just a few days ago. Xander had taken up so much space in his life since then, amusement and laughter always at the forefront. He hadn't even realized how much space until he compared this week to the prior one of going home alone and the sour disposition he'd tried hard to combat until it had all dissolved into the strange chaos of the Scoobies - of Xander.
He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it, especially with the barely controlled pandemonium of the school and training center. But there was something special about the Scoobies, something that felt like home, and it had been too long since he'd felt that way. Not even Willow's short visit had registered like Xander's homecoming.
Reaching up, he snagged his glasses and contemplatively began cleaning them. They were his family, no matter where they went, but he had not realize how accutely he had missed Xander. The warmth and annoyed amusement constantly present in the last few days was nothing more than happiness to see one of his former students who was now one of his most successful colleagues. Sliding his glasses back onto his nose, he stood abruptly, pushing back any other reasoning even as it slithered under the door, formless twisting thoughts that could not be held at bay.
"That is not possible," he stated out loud, the words ringing back to him in his empty office. It was not possible at all.
~ * ~
Giles came straggling in at eight after completing what felt like the Ninth Circle of Hell's paperwork, aka Andrew is pissed and must share the wealth with his boss, pulling at his tie and ignoring the anticipation he felt at the smell coming from the kitchen.
"G-man?" came the greeting and he winced at the nickname, Xander bounding into view in a splattered apron.
"Xander, must you?" He couldn't guess what had been in his tone, but the younger man took a step back, flash of something that Giles refused to catalog as hurt in his eyes before he barreled forward.
"Sorry, Giles. I made supper." The bright, anxious smile wasn't lost on the Head Watcher and he returned it tiredly.
"It smells heavenly," he admitted softly, earning an grin that stole his breath with its happiness.
"Well, good. It's spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing fancy, but -" Xander shrugged and looked up sheepishly, " - I felt the need to cook something."
That statement surprised Giles more than he cared to admit. "You enjoy cooking?" It irked him that he didn't know this about his friend.
"Yeah. Or at least I used to. Haven't had the urge for a while, you know? Besides there wasn't much chance of the girls trusting me in the kitchen," Xander threw over his shoulder as he walked back to the stove to stir and pulled out the colander that the older man hadn't even realized he'd had. "There's beer in the fridge, and soda if you like."
"I would think wine would be more appropriate," Giles sounded after a moment of watching, standing to look at the wines stored in the suite. "Would you like some?"
"Sure," came the short answer before the hiss of boiling water hitting cool metal sounded and steam rose up as the noodles were drained.
"Did you name the kittens yet?"
"Nah, I thought I'd need to figure their personalities first... no use giving them a name then finding it didn't fit, you know? JJ had some ideas though, but she agreed we should probably wait."
He murmured an agreement as he poured two glasses and set out the silverware on the table, leaning against the counter to watch the younger man work and sipping at the Merlot, mesmerized.
"Giles?" When his eyes focused, he couldn't help the slight flush he felt when he realized it was probably not the first time Xander had called his name. "You okay?"
"Of course," he forced out, ignoring the slight stutter in his words as he smiled, and went to help his friend fix their plates. He felt awkward at first, too large for his seat, fingers clumsy with his fork, and uncertain as to why, unwilling to acknowledge what might be. But it was impossible to remain so stiff in Xander's company.
'Not possible,' he reminded himself when he caught himself laughing at one of Xander's ridiculous stories. 'Not at all.'