Giles
Perhaps I was a bit hard on the pair of them this evening. Well, evidently I was or they wouldn't have ended up seeking solace with each other. This night just couldn't get any better. Then the knock comes: Xander, lovely to see you again.
Angel is alive once more.
I think this calls for a gentle chorus of the oh dear lords.
Xander
"Hey!"
Since when is it my job to mastermind the attack on the latest monster-sized monster problemo?
"You're not the Watcher of me."
That was a very British look, Giles. Kinda unfair, don't ya think? It's not like I'm usually big-brain guy.
"Then go home. But if you choose to stay, then work.
Jeez, what was his deal?
Xander looked up at Willow for a bit of Scooby solidarity. She was standing on the balcony above him.
Looking really – no, looking exactly like a girl who he was best friends with, and whose friendship he in no way wanted to lose and that was the important thing, not the shape of her lips or her white earlo... Nevermind.
Shrugging and sighing, Xander climbed up the steps to Willow.
I'm really honestly trying not to think about, well, all those things that it's wrong to think about.
"It's late, I'm tired." She groans in that soft, why-is-he-picking-on-me voice. "What does he want from us anyway?"
Xander shrugged and sank backwards against the bookcases. "The name of a qualified surgeon to remove the British flag from his butt?"
She gave him that look she always gave him when he made cracks about Giles. Xander shrugged again, "Just a suggestion."
"Well, he's tired, and cranky - we all are, y'know, from the lack of success in the demony research department?"
"Yeah," he said, relenting. She was so cute when she was tired.
Xander felt his heart skip and his eyes lock onto her as she started, sitting cross-legged, red hair flowing over her shoulders, to massage her head.
Oh, you're doing it all wrong, Will...
Reaching out gently, first with a soft touch to her arm, then the slightest of movement, just brushing her hair past his fingers - oh, wow, Will - to find her temples beneath his hands.
Willow
At first it's all pain and noise in my head - too much caffeine and not enough result - and Giles' face all tweed and disapproval, and then suddenly, there's Xander. I can feel him in one fluttery sensation down my back. What's he doing? Oh, right, the head massage thing, coz that's not dangerous...
Oh, wow, Xand...
That feels good, feels so good, this is really...
It's so noisy in here again, though it's more a soothing, ocean-wavy kinda deal but with all these new whispers and images of guilt and wrongness in my head. Cordelia? Sharp eyes and a broken-off gasp, oh god, I'm the other woman...And Oz, oh god, Oz...
"Stop."
"Right, yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't ha-"
Oh, that was quick, and now there are lips, Xander lips. He's so soft, I knew he'd be a good kisser, right back in the eighth grade and he was only kissing my hand then and Jesse made such a big deal, I tried real hard to not think about this...
...is so perfect, so lovely. Now it really is quiet. All there is now are his hands in my hair and his breathing, heavy and wanting, wanting me, my hands in his hair, his black hair like the stubble on his upper lip, on his mouth. Oh, his mouth...soft and warm, and not drooly at all...did I really just think that? Ok, thinking too much...
"Willow? Xander?"
Giles?
Giles?!
"You can stop your, uh, studying. I've got what I need."
Giles
I saw them, of course I saw them. All over each other. Naturally I wasn't going to say so, no need to upset them even further, judging by Willow's face - don't look - all the censure they need is within themselves. But I wish I hadn't seen it.
I'm afraid I couldn't quite keep the...disappointment, from my voice. And I couldn't stop replaying that tiny sigh of contentment that I heard from her.
I'm glad it was Xander who spoke, even though I could not bear to look up at him, at both of them, just kept my attention on the text in front of me, on the task at hand.
"What have you got?" he asked, his voice giving away his discomfort.
"The probable location of the Glove of Myhnegon." I managed to raise my eyes to them - saw the darkness of arousal in Xander's eyes and the way her hair was slightly dishevelled by the touch of his hands - oh lord. "It's housed at the von Hauptman family crypt."
Xander offers to go. He taps my arms as he leaves, and I can feel the nervous, guilty energy in his fingers. I try not to flinch. He's gone, and I'm glad. But I still can't look at her.
"And, I'll just keep on studying." Her voice is shaking. Is she ashamed? "I think we're on the verge of a big Lagos breakthrough."
I drag my eyes up to hers. They're huge, so expressive, and a part of me can't bear to speak harshly to her, or even hint that I'm displeased. But my voice comes out with the sound of my real feelings.
"No, I'd say we're done."
Her face falls and her brows come together in that lovely expression of her guilt. She's so beautiful, she... No. Enough.
I have to walk away, and when I finally reach my office chair I rest my head in my hands and fight back the knowledge of the grief that could tighten its grasp on me all over again. If I pretend that it didn't happen, if I resort to, as Buffy might express it, 'the stiff upper lip defence' of my motherland, then perhaps she won't be able to break my heart.
End.