Fic: The Whole Day Down

[allyndra]

A little G/X ficlet in response to antennapedia's Rupertus Domesticus prompt.

Title: The Whole Day Down

Author: Allyndra          

Pairing: Giles/Xander

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: All characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I make no profit from stealing them.

Summary: Giles is having a very bad day. No, a very bad week. Post-Chosen.

 

On Monday, it was altogether too much effort to get out of bed. Besides, they'd all do well enough without him. Probably, they'd be quite happy to solve the world's problems without him forcing his presence down their stubborn little throats. He burrowed under his pillow, blocking out the light. He'd check in with the office tomorrow.

 

Tuesday he got out of bed. He sat about in his dressing gown, but he was out of bed, and he considered that an accomplishment. He glanced at his computer, but the mere thought of email and paperwork was enough to make him tired, so he curled up on the sofa with the Red Fairy Book instead. He snorted at the tales of princesses and scullery maids who sought advice from their mystic advisors. Andrew Lang had never met a Slayer.

 

Wednesday he pottered around in the kitchen, digging out his grandmother's recipes for scones and clotted cream. His maternal grandmother's recipes; his father's mum hadn't had time to cook or knit or read stories. She'd been a Watcher, so her time had been devoted to training and supporting her Slayer. The scones crumbled when he tried to lift them from the pan.

 

Thursday there was a knock at the door, and he found Xander Harris on his front stoop. "Did Buffy send you?" Giles asked. It was the first time he'd spoken in days. When Xander shook his head no, Giles stood aside to let him in. His natural inclination and lifelong training nudged him toward courtesy, but he shoved them right back. He ignored Xander and poured himself a drink.

 

Friday he woke to the smell of bacon and mushrooms and eggs, all cooking together in a pan. He tried to be disgruntled by the sight of Xander in front of the stove, but he failed rather badly. Breakfast looked like a dreadful mess but tasted lovely. He showed Xander his grandmother's recipes and they decided to give the scones another try. They ate them while they were still warm from the oven.

 

Saturday he shaved. He considered it ironic that he cut himself with the razor. It seemed absurd to be shoved away from danger only to bleed on his own sink. There was warm approval in Xander's eyes when he stepped out, though, and it felt good to be clean and dressed. Xander suggested a walk in the park, and Giles let himself be led.

 

On Sunday it rained. Though he'd never admit it, the weather affected his mood. He shook his head in disdain; too many years in California had made him forget about real weather. Xander just grinned at the dark sky. Xander lit candles, turned on the radio, and handed Giles the paper. They listened to radio programmes and did the crossword. The candles were still lit when they ate supper, and the flickering shadows made Xander's eyepatch look like a mask. He pulled it away, and Xander let him.

 

Monday morning, Giles suddenly found the silence too much. He snapped at Xander when the younger man brought him tea. "I don't need to be coddled!"

 

Xander raised his eyebrows, and Giles noticed that he still wasn't wearing the patch. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. He handed Giles the cup.

 

They sipped politely for several minutes. "Buffy told me - in front of a class of trainees no less - to stay away from Slaying and patrolling. To bide at the office where it's safe and do paperwork while the Slayers do their job," Giles' tea cup was in danger of losing its handle to his tight grip. "I am capable of taking care of myself."

 

"You're preaching to the choir, here," Xander told him. "I've been in your shoes, and I found them constricting and stinky. Metaphorically, I mean."

 

Giles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Xander watched him, although a middle aged man breathing could not possibly be that fascinating.

 

"You know," Xander said, "you are kind of the head of the Council. So what you say goes, right? Hypothetically, if you passed a regulation that said all Watchers had to spend time in the field with their Slayers, then Buffy couldn't really stop you."

 

"Or I could assign her back to Rome or off to Hong Kong and patrol while she's gone," Giles said with a speculative gleam in his eyes.

 

"You could do that. Hypothetically, of course," Xander agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He took the empty tea cup back to the kitchen. When he returned, he stood quietly for several minutes. "You know she's only doing it because she loves you," he said softly.

 

"It's a ruddy awful way of showing it," Giles replied.

 

"I know." Then Xander looked at him sharply. "What way would you prefer?"

 

Giles blinked at him. "Well, she might try actually spending some time in my company. Especially if she expects me to stay away from her battles."

 

"Or maybe she could do make you something, like a present or a meal."

 

"She could bloody well come by and show that she cares about my feelings," Giles added, nodding.

 

"She could ... she could go for a walk with you." Xander looked down. "Hypothetically. She could do something like that, just for fun."

 

Giles licked his lips. "Or perhaps bake scones with me?"

 

Xander didn't look up, but the tips of his ears turned red. "Maybe."

 

"Precis-precisely what kind of love would she be showing by doing these things?" Giles asked. His breath was coming quicker.

 

"Um, the kind where," Xander bit his lip, and Giles realized that looked like an entertaining pastime. "The kind where she wants to be around you and make you happy. The kind where I-she thinks you look really cute in a bathrobe."

 

"The kind where it's all right to kiss you?" Giles asked. Xander nodded.

 

Xander looked up and Giles leaned forward. Both of them tilted their heads the same direction, and there was a moment of confusion as they adjusted. It was awkward. It was brilliant. He tried nibbling on Xander's lower lip and found it just as satisfying as he'd supposed.

 

When Giles pulled back, Xander touched his hand, which was resting on Xander's neck and trembling. "Cold?" Xander asked.

 

"No," Giles said ruefully. He was a bit giddy, and felt completely absurd for feeling so.

 

"Can I put my arms around you to keep you warm anyway?" Giles laughed and nodded.

 

"You see," Xander said, wrapping his arms around Giles' waist and pressing against him, "coddling might be bad, but cuddling? Very much a good thing." Giles smiled and kissed him again. He thought perhaps a week ago he'd had the right idea. Staying in bed all day sounded wonderful.

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Note: Title is from the Boomtown Rats "I Don't Like Mondays."