Tabula Rasa
"Okay," Jenny sighed, turning off the light in the closet. "I think that's just about everything on the top shelf."
"Watch your step," Rupert told her, though it was a little belated as she was already backing up.
She yelped in surprise as she tripped on the box sitting on the floor behind her, falling backwards. Rupert managed to catch her around the waist before she could hit her head on the corner of the dresser, and Jenny took a moment to catch her breath, heart still skipping from the close call.
"Are you alright, Jenny?"
"Yeah." She smiled up at him, then arched an eyebrow. "You're not gonna start dancing me around the room, are ya?"
Rupert grinned, pulling her the rest of the way up before releasing her. "Sadly, our song-and-dance numbers are through for the foreseeable future."
"Such a bummer," she smirked. "We had some killer harmonies."
Rupert chuckled thoughtfully, then went back to taping up cardboard boxes of their things. A week had passed since their foray into musical theatre, and in that time they had begun systematically packing up their things for their return to England. Though this time, Jenny knew it'd be much more permanent.
Nearly everything in their bedroom and the upstairs bathroom had been packed, as well as most of their dishes and small appliances. All that was left was the living room, which had yet to be touched.
"We're telling the girls tomorrow?" she asked, quirking a brow.
He nodded, his eyes on the task of labeling the box in front of him with black marker. "Yes. Well... we're telling everyone tomorrow, but I thought it'd be a nice gesture if we made a point of telling the girls ahead of time."
Jenny nodded back, turning over her shoulder again to finish unplugging their small stereo. "I think so too." Ruefully, she shook her head, unhooking a few of the wires in the speakers as she sighed, "Dawn is not gonna take this well."
Rupert chuffed. "And Buffy is going to be a slice of pie?"
Smirking to herself, she corrected him softly, "'Piece of cake,' England."
"Well... whatever dessert you choose, Jenny, Buffy will have none of it. She's going to be quite upset."
"I know. But the whole reason we're doing this is--"
"For her, yes, I'm aware," he sighed. "I just..."
When he trailed off, Jenny turned to find him still crouched by the boxes, marker in one hand as he reached up with the other and pulled off his glasses. He scrubbed that hand over his face wearily. "I just can't bear to cause her any more strife, Jenny." He lifted his eyes to hers. "She's been through so terribly much already."
She frowned sympathetically, kneeling down next to him. "I know this is going to be hard on both of you," she murmured, rubbing his back gently. "But you know... deep in your gut... that this has to be done. As long as we stay, Buffy's gonna lean on you and expect you to take care of all of that 'grownup' stuff."
"I know." Sighing again, he gave her a sideways glance.
Jenny cupped his cheek with one hand, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to the other. "We're doing the right thing," she whispered, and leaned back. Brushing a hand through his hair lightly, she told him, "You've kept your hand on the back of her bicycle seat for almost six years. As much as it's gonna hurt... it's time to let go."
"Watch your step," Rupert told her, though it was a little belated as she was already backing up.
She yelped in surprise as she tripped on the box sitting on the floor behind her, falling backwards. Rupert managed to catch her around the waist before she could hit her head on the corner of the dresser, and Jenny took a moment to catch her breath, heart still skipping from the close call.
"Are you alright, Jenny?"
"Yeah." She smiled up at him, then arched an eyebrow. "You're not gonna start dancing me around the room, are ya?"
Rupert grinned, pulling her the rest of the way up before releasing her. "Sadly, our song-and-dance numbers are through for the foreseeable future."
"Such a bummer," she smirked. "We had some killer harmonies."
Rupert chuckled thoughtfully, then went back to taping up cardboard boxes of their things. A week had passed since their foray into musical theatre, and in that time they had begun systematically packing up their things for their return to England. Though this time, Jenny knew it'd be much more permanent.
Nearly everything in their bedroom and the upstairs bathroom had been packed, as well as most of their dishes and small appliances. All that was left was the living room, which had yet to be touched.
"We're telling the girls tomorrow?" she asked, quirking a brow.
He nodded, his eyes on the task of labeling the box in front of him with black marker. "Yes. Well... we're telling everyone tomorrow, but I thought it'd be a nice gesture if we made a point of telling the girls ahead of time."
Jenny nodded back, turning over her shoulder again to finish unplugging their small stereo. "I think so too." Ruefully, she shook her head, unhooking a few of the wires in the speakers as she sighed, "Dawn is not gonna take this well."
Rupert chuffed. "And Buffy is going to be a slice of pie?"
Smirking to herself, she corrected him softly, "'Piece of cake,' England."
"Well... whatever dessert you choose, Jenny, Buffy will have none of it. She's going to be quite upset."
"I know. But the whole reason we're doing this is--"
"For her, yes, I'm aware," he sighed. "I just..."
When he trailed off, Jenny turned to find him still crouched by the boxes, marker in one hand as he reached up with the other and pulled off his glasses. He scrubbed that hand over his face wearily. "I just can't bear to cause her any more strife, Jenny." He lifted his eyes to hers. "She's been through so terribly much already."
She frowned sympathetically, kneeling down next to him. "I know this is going to be hard on both of you," she murmured, rubbing his back gently. "But you know... deep in your gut... that this has to be done. As long as we stay, Buffy's gonna lean on you and expect you to take care of all of that 'grownup' stuff."
"I know." Sighing again, he gave her a sideways glance.
Jenny cupped his cheek with one hand, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to the other. "We're doing the right thing," she whispered, and leaned back. Brushing a hand through his hair lightly, she told him, "You've kept your hand on the back of her bicycle seat for almost six years. As much as it's gonna hurt... it's time to let go."