Transformations - Chapter 9

They lay together like spoons in a drawer--well, not really like spoons, because those lay on their backs and she and Giles were on their sides, and anyway, the spoons at her house had chunky handles and just kind of sprawled all over each other instead of stacking up neatly.

Buffy's head rested on Giles's upper arm, and even though, now, she'd seen him in t-shirts, it still surprised her how firm the muscles were, the skin smooth and taut over them. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head, and her back pressed to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, slowing now, though for a while it had beat really fast. Her bottom touched against the lower part of his body and his long legs were tucked up behind hers. Ever so often, she felt his cock move a little bit between their bodies, still excited, though probably not completely ready for anything yet.

She wasn't sure. It occurred to Buffy how little she knew, really, about guys--being with guys, of which Giles was one, although only a few days before she would have sworn on a stack of his big, musty books that that wasn't the case.

All she knew was this: she excited him. She excited Giles, and he loved her. He'd worshiped her with his body. It amazed her how well they fit together, even though he was so much taller. His left hand lay over her stomach, very softly stroking her skin, and even though the huge explosion had come and gone, she still felt little tingling aftershocks.

It's going to be okay, she told herself. Really. Really.

Buffy wanted to sleep, but part of her was afraid to. She'd almost started to hold her breath, waiting for the bad thing to come, words that would send her stumbling from his bed with hot tears coursing down her face, as she tried to clutch something to cover bareness and hide just a little of the shame. No matter what encouraging words she told herself, she half expected it to happen. Her stomach started hurting with the tension.

But after a few minutes more of the silence, Giles said, almost too quietly to hear, "Buffy, I have loved you such a long time." His voice sounded raw, and Buffy realized that his fears were hardly any different from hers--that he really did love her almost more than he could stand, and that he was waiting for her to say something that would break his heart.

She turned back toward him, reaching up for a kiss, and the one he returned to her was gentle but passionate, his tongue parting her lips, a greater warmth slipping into the warmness of her mouth. He drew her in close, turning so that she lay half on top of him, her head on his chest, pressed again to the slow, comforting beat of his heart.

"I was so scared," she whispered, half hoping he wouldn't hear.

Giles stroked her hair, all the comfort in the world in his touch. Buffy could feel him laughing a little, though as usual his laugh didn't make any sound. "As was I," he confessed.

Buffy raised up on her elbow, looking down into his face.

"I never thought..." Giles told her. "I...ah...honestly never thought that we would, and yet..." His eyes met hers, their normal gray-green for almost the first time that day. "You are the most wonderful young woman, and I shall never stop loving you."

She remembered what he'd said to Moira, when he hadn't thought she'd overheard, about neither of them dying of old age, and tears flooded her eyes, spilling over the lower lids to drop onto Giles's chest. He wiped them from her face with his fingertips, and then his hand cupped her cheek.

"Buffy, I ought to have asked you at once," he said, in his familiar, comforting, rational Giles-voice. "You're all right? No worries? No regrets?"

"I..." She started crying again. It was such a relief, to be loved like that, in a way that wouldn't change, in a way that was okay, well, maybe a little weird--how was she going to explain this to her mom, or to the guys?--but really normal underneath that part. To be loved in a way that was so warm, and human, and even if it did change, the change wouldn't happen in a bad way. No one dead because they loved each other, and no souls to be lost. She might not know every last little fact about Giles, but she knew what he was like, maybe even more than he did himself. She knew that, in this, he meant what he'd said.

"It was so...different," she told him.

"Now there's a ringing phrase of approval," he said, but he was still laughing, shaking with it, not offended at all. He knew what she'd meant: that different, this time, equaled good. He dried her eyes again, and Buffy smiled down on him.

"You're not a bad guy, you know," she said, "Down below that tweed."

"No tweed here presently," he answered. "But I make no promises for the future, in that respect, at least."

"I've gotta tell you--" She kissed him again, playfully, tracing his lips with her own tongue-tip. "I always kinda liked the tweed--" Another kiss. "Even if it did hide some interesting...stuff."

"I could hardly say the same for you," he told her. "I kept wondering if there existed, somewhere, a fabric shortage, and for the past six months I've had to keep doing Latin translations in my head, merely to deal with the sight of you."

"What sort of translations?" she asked him. "I hear those Latin guys got pretty raunchy."

"Roman..er...guys, Buffy. And, believe me, nothing in the least bit risque. Philosophical discussions of the nature of good and evil, mainly."

"Oh, boring stuff."

"Indeed," he replied.

"So, in the temporary absence of tweed..." Buffy sent her hand darting low, and Giles gave out a sound that was startled, but in no way displeased. She stroked him slowly, tenderly, marveling at how soft the skin was--almost like baby-skin, but even softer than that, and warmer--and at the way the head and the shaft had different textures. She could feel a vein on the underside, and his balls, cupped in her hand, gently rolled between her fingers, seemed even softer, and heavier than she expected.

"Ready for round two?" she asked--but she could tell he was. His shaft had stiffened almost instantly under her touch.

"Am I likely to survive the week?" Giles asked her, still chuckling.

"Not if it's up to me," Buffy answered, taking her hand away. "Want me to stop?"

"Ah, no, no, please proceed."

"Only you," she told him. "Only you." By which she meant several different things.

They went slowly, exploring one another by touch, not really needing to talk. Now that Buffy knew she didn't have to be afraid, she felt free to relax and enjoy herself--and Giles certainly knew how to help her do that. His hand seemed to find all her spots without even trying, and to excite them in exactly the way she liked, never too rough or too clumsy. She couldn't help but wonder how come he'd been so shy with Ms. Calender, since he obviously knew how to do this kind of stuff better than perfectly well.

After her bout of foot-in-mouth disease that morning, though, she knew better than to ask. Questions like that could come later. Way, way later.

Buffy could only wonder, too, what it would be like when Giles had two good hands. Judging how she felt with only one to pay attention to her, she'd probably explode.

"You laugh," he said reflectively, "Quite a bit."

Astride his body, rising and falling with a gentle motion, his cock filling her beautifully and his thumb just touched to the nub of her clitoris, Buffy couldn't help but smile. "You don't like?" she gasped.

"You haven't laughed enough in so long." Giles looked as adorable in his birthday suit, Buffy thought, as he had in his tux, though a lot more tousled, of course. Watching him grin up at her, she realized that she'd never before seen him look so relaxed, or so entirely happy. "Naturally I like it very much," he told her. "That goes without saying."

"Does it?" Buffy speeded up her motion a little, her walls beginning to pulse around the fullness, Giles's hips rising to meet her every motion, until she had to go faster and faster, riding him with wild abandon, his hand on her breast, her hip, her thigh until at last he held her down to him and both their bodies went rigid, locked together in intense, strobing passion--it was like flying very fast through the air and knowing nothing bad would happen when at last you touched down.

And nothing bad did, except that, utterly spent, Buffy flopped forward on Giles's chest, his cock still inside her, her chin propped up on her crossed arms so that she could see his face. All the little lines remained there, but they'd changed, somehow, until Giles happy looked happier than anyone she'd ever seen. Slowly, his features relaxed even more, and Buffy realized he was doing the guy thing, dropping right into sleep, which was okay by her--he'd had quite a day, after all.

She reached over to grab the quilt, and pull a fold over their bodies, then laid her head flat against him, once more against the wonderful, peaceful beat of his heart.

A few hours later, Buffy felt completely rested, perky and full of life, the way she hadn't in the longest time--maybe all the way back to before her seventeenth birthday. Giles made little grumbling noises when she started moving around--making her think of a woman comedian she'd heard one time, who'd said, "Men are like bears with furniture." Giles reminded her of that with his growling; he appeared to be deep into some sort of off-season hibernation.

She kissed his mouth, making him smile in his sleep, that wonderful Giles-smile that was like no one else's. God, she was getting sappy.

"I'm bringing you some juice," she told him. "And you have to wake up enough to drink it. Moira said."

"Well, by all means, then," he muttered, and having recovered the Oxford cloth shirt and put it on again, Buffy went.

The kitchen was completely trashed, and she'd have to deal with that later, but luckily there was actually some o.j. in the fridge. There didn't seem to be any alcohol at all, which kind of encouraged her--last year around this time there'd been lots, even that annoying little demon-guy Whistler had commented on it, working his way around Giles's apartment, sniffing bottles. Buffy drank some juice herself, and ate one of the muffins, which was bursting with fresh blueberries--it would have been a yummy brunch, if it hadn't gotten ruined.

She poured a big glass of juice for Giles--a little too full, so that she had to be careful carrying, but that was one of the less-publicized Slayer skills. She made it without losing a drop.

"Giles," she said, just inside the bedroom door. "Juice."

He'd rolled over onto his stomach, only a the crown of his head showing over the covers, but he turned again at the sound of her voice, without giving any real sign of waking.

"Giles," Buffy said again. She took a seat on the edge of the mattress and set her glass on the nightstand. It struck her as funny, suddenly, that she was still calling him Giles, since they'd had majorly hot sex not once but twice in as many hours--but she still couldn't get her tongue around "Rupert," and any of those mushy little boyfriend/girlfriend names just struck her as stupid. After all, Giles making passionate love to her was still, after all, Giles. It wasn't like they were going to be sucking face together at The Bronze.

Once in her life she might have cared about that, but she didn't now, not anymore. And she'd just have to practice saying "Rupert" until she could make it sound natural. She reached down and stroked the hair back from his forehead, whispering, "I love you, Rupert," until his eyes opened.

"Thought that would get you," she said.

"I didn't think..." His eyes were actually getting misty--she could tell he was still tired, and almost overwhelmed by this emotional peak. Plus, his blood sugar had to have hit rock bottom.

"C'mon," she told him. "Moira's orders."

"She Who Must Be Obeyed," he murmured, wriggling up against the headboard. Buffy wanted to question him about some things, but again bit her tongue. She didn't need to ask for comparisons, who was better and who was worse. Giles loved her, and that was enough. The look he gave her told her everything she really needed to know

He picked up the glass and drank, thirstily, almost to the bottom.

"Every drop," she commanded.

Giles laughed a little. "And yet another contender for that title." He finished his juice and returned the glass to her. Buffy rolled it between her hands, the condensation wetting her palms.

"Do you think I'm bossy?"

"I adore bossy women," he answered, burrowing back into the covers. "I love strong, opinionated women, who will give me a good argument, and I love warmth--" He reached up behind Buffy's head, pulling her face down to his--kissing her, with his mouth tasting of oranges. "And sweetness." Another kiss. "And I love you, Buffy Summers, light of my life."

"Go back to sleep," she told Giles, rubbing his chest. She just couldn't seem to get enough of touching him. "I'm going out for a little while, to get some clean clothes, and something for dinner, and maybe a movie, if you think there's some chance you might stay awake for five minutes."

"I could sleep on the sofa with my head in your lap," Giles answered, already drifting. "That might be delightful too. Please don't rent anything with monsters."

"I hear you," Buffy said.

"Wallet in the nightstand," he told her.

It was funny, she thought, because usually Giles hated like poison for anyone to fuss, but this time he'd almost seemed to enjoy it. She cuddled up next to him for a few minutes, watching him drift all the way into sleep, glad that he hadn't really been hurt so, so bad--he'd mostly just needed the rest bigtime, and maybe a little TLC from her. With no weird prophecies on the way, and the Hellmouth being quiet for the moment, this was a good time for him to get both. A good time for the two of them to be together, and maybe hammer out all their issues, in the nicest possible way.

Feeling amazingly happy--what Willow called bubbly, fizzy happy--Buffy caught a quick shower, pulled on her track pants under his shirt, shoved his wallet into her zippered pocket and went. She stopped by her friend's house on the way, just on the off-chance that Will might be home.

Willow slouched toward the French doors when Buffy knocked, and let her come through into the bedroom. For once, Oz wasn't there. Willow's face looked puffy, like she had a cold, and she had on the drabbest, frumpiest gray outfit Buffy had ever seen.

"Uh...Will?"

Willow's lower lip quivered. She sniffed, loudly, and dug a tissue out of her pocket. Buffy couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"Is--umn--Oz rehearsing?" she asked.

"Tour. Gone." Willow sniffed again, slumped her way back to the bed and threw herself down. "No Oz."

"Ouch. Sorry. I forgot."

Buffy sat beside her friend on the end of Willow's bed, stroking Willow's soft auburn hair as she watched Amy the rat scurry around her Habitrail.

"Still no luck?" Buffy asked. She wanted to tell Willow so bad she felt like she was getting ready to detonate--she just didn't know how to say the words, and wasn't sure, anyway, that this was the right time.

"I think Amy's resisting me. Oz says she's cool with her rathood. But her dad keeps calling and asking in the saddest little voice, 'Do I have a human daughter yet?'"

"Poor guy."

Amy drank from her water-bottle, whiskers quivering, then took a pellet from the dispenser.

"See?" Willow sat up, cross-legged, brightening at least a little. Will never could stay completely down for too long.

"If you don't mind my asking," she said, "What has Buffy in such a good mood? Where've you been? I tried calling, to see if you were all right. And what's up with that outfit?"

"Like you have any right to ask that one?"

Willow looked down at her gray frump-suit and giggled. "This is my depths-of-despair costume, and I'm sticking with it."

"Every right to do so, Will," Buffy agreed. "But I'm fine. Of the good. Better than of the good. Of the wonderful."

"I'm glad someone is--and I could tell," Willow informed her drily, then her eyes sparkled. "You have a new guy! I sense guyness! Buffy!"

"Not so much new." Buffy giggled too: it felt like being fifteen again. "I guess you could say 'old.'"

All the sparkle left Willow's face, as if it had never been. "It's not that I don't want you to be happy. I do. I want you to be happy. But, oh, Buffy. Not again."

"It's not Angel," she assured her friend. "It's someone you like."

"I liked Angel--well maybe 'liked' is the wrong word. Didn't dislike? No, that's not right either. Is it Xander? That kind of a Xander outfit. Wait--you said old. The only person you ever call old is..." Willow's jaw dropped. "Buffy!"

"Was that a good 'Buffy!' or a bad 'Buffy!'"

Willow stared at her with a funny look in her big green eyes.

"Okay, got it--it was a bad. I know it seems weird--me and Giles--but I didn't think you'd hate the idea. Maybe you just need to get used to it."

"Giles has been in love with you forever," Will told her, in a voice she'd never heard her friend use before. "Even Xander figured that one out. Why did you think Xander hated Angel so much? Because of you?"

"Well...yeah. I guess. I thought Xander was...you know...jealous, maybe?"

"Nope." Willow shook her head, then looked down, tracing a finger over the pattern in her bedspread. "Xander got over you ages ago."

"And, about Giles, I knew. I mean, I guess I knew. But I was too young, and too--?"

"Obsessive?" Willow asked in the same strange voice.

"I'm not doing this `cause I'm on the rebound, or trying to replace my dad or anything. I want you to believe that, Will."

"And if Angel walked in through that open window right this minute...?"

"Which he couldn't, because he's still uninvited here."

"Say I invited him. Would I be calling Giles tonight and lying to him for you, saying you wouldn't be back, that something came up? I won't do it, Buffy. I won't!" Tears came into her eyes. "I love Giles like...like family...if I loved my family, which I'm really kind of afraid that I don't. But the way I would if I did. And maybe he could take being hurt that way again, but he shouldn't have to." Willow said all that on one breath, and was panting when she got through. "So, if you can't really commit to this, don't go there. Don't get his hopes up. Leave the poor man some dignity."

"Wow," Buffy told her. "I never knew you felt that way."

"Well, that's me. And my feelings. Which aren't always nice feelings. I know this." Willow brightened a little. "But if you're sure sure, then--oh, Buffy!"

"Okay, that one was good. And Will..." Buffy stopped, not exactly sure how to proceed.

Willow's eyes got even wider. "Buffy? No. No! Big, big no." She leaned forward. "You did?"

Buffy nodded. "And it was. Was..."

"Nice?" Willow supplied.

"Mmn...maybe looking for a stronger adjective?"

"I can't get past 'nice' without blushing," Willow told her.

"I tried 'different' with Giles, but that made him laugh."

"Laugh? With sound and everything?"

Buffy nodded again. "And I love him. Maybe I always did. Can you love two people at the same time?"

"Oh yeah," Willow answered, with a funny little explosion of breath "But, oh--oh, not that I'm raining on your parade or anything. Big no on parade raining. But what about the Watcher-lady that Cordy saw Giles kissing?"

"Moira? She's nice--well, nice maybe isn't the best word there, either. They have history, lots and lots of history. Is it okay to be jealous?"

"I think, maybe, in this case--acceptable."

"Giles says she's his Buffy, and he's her Willow, except sometimes the other way around. Anyway, his best friend. So it was more of a 'this is the way we got used to kissing' friend kiss, instead of a big burning love kiss. And, I have to say--and please, please don't go ewww, or start blushing, because I promise you I won't even go into the blushing zone--that Giles is a seriously yummy kisser. Cor was right about that. And a nice cuddler too."

"I always thought he would be."

"And, Will, I desperately need your help. I said I'd pick up dinner and a movie--but I don't know what to get. And I want to wear something that's...I don't know...pretty, and maybe sexy, a little bit--but not slutty. And I'm staying over tonight, so I need stuff for that too."

"Staying over? Buffy, maybe you shouldn't rush--"

"No, it's not that. But what started all this is that Giles cut his hand really bad, and I was supposed to be stopping the bleeding, only I wasn't paying attention and he kinda passed out and hit his head pretty hard on the corner of the sink. So Moira said I should stay with him. Which--okay--I wanted to anyway."

Willow laughed. "Oh, poor Giles, not again! Is he okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. He had kind of a headache earlier, and of course there was the blood loss stuff. Mostly, I'd say, it was just the fallout from being in, like, constant research mode for weeks now. And it's not like afterward we didn't--" Buffy felt herself giving the goofiest grin of her life as she held up two fingers for Willow to see.

"Okay! Blushing! Blushing now!" Willow covered her eyes with her hands, like the "see no evil" monkey..

"So, you'll help me?" Buffy asked. "Please please please?"

"You know I will," Willow told her, smiling. "Wow. You and Giles. Wow."

"Freaky, huh? I don't know how I'm gonna tell my mom. I just keep flashing onto this image of Giles assuring her that his intentions toward her daughter are perfectly honorable--which I'm pretty much totally glad they aren't."

"Buff, you're bad," Willow said.

"The baddest,"Buffy answered.