Title: Smoke and Mirrors 9/15
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Series: Of Old Mystics, sequel to Masks
Summary: Sometimes it's difficult to tell what is illusion and what is reality

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This is the sequel to Masks, the second story in the Of Old Mystics series. Masks can be found at http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/masks/masks0.html.

Even walking at a very sedate pace through the forest, Ethan could feel it in his lungs. He wasn't wheezing, but it seemed to take extra effort just to breathe. It didn't help that he had several swollen and throbbing ant bites on his calves and a paranoid sensation that ants were still inside his clothing, crawling around. He was depressed at his failure to grasp Ian's lesson and wracked with the ever-increasing craving for Chaos.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day so far.

Things started to look up, however, as he left the shelter of the trees to find Rupert striding across the meadow towards him. Rupert seemed to have an unerring sense of direction as far as Ethan went; a fact Ethan appreciated a great deal. He stopped and allowed his lover to reach him before smiling and saying, "They should call you Optrex," referring to the drops for sore eyes.

He got a ghost of a smile in return. "I could say the same about you," Rupert said, reaching out to pull Ethan into his arms.

Ethan was instantly aware of two things: firstly that his lover was so tense that he was almost shaking, and secondly, that Rupert was, magically speaking, locked down tighter than he'd been in a very long time. Ethan pushed back enough to look at the other man. "What the hell has she done to you this time?"

"Guided meditation." The tension Ethan had felt in his lover's form was also clearly visible in Rupert's eyes. "It didn't go well." His voice took on a sarcastic edge. "Apparently, I'm not trying hard enough."

Ethan felt a surge of protective anger on behalf of his lover. "She's pushing you too hard." He took Rupert's hand in his and tugged it. "Come on, there's a no longer standing stone in the corner of this field; I found it yesterday. Let's sit down and talk."

Rupert went willingly enough, although the man continued to radiate tension and irritation. Once his lover was sat on the long, rounded stone, Ethan straddled the rock behind Rupert and ignored his own ills in order to try to calm his lover down, massaging his shoulders and kissing his hair. "Tell me what happened?"

Rupert sighed, beginning to relax a little under Ethan's hands. "She thinks I'm doing this for you, rather than because I really want to." There was another sigh, and Rupert admitted in a barely audible voice, "She may not be all wrong."

Ethan sighed softly himself and rested his chin on Rupert's shoulder, wrapping arms around his lover and wishing that Rupert wasn't so closed off magically. Ethan badly needed a salve for the Chaos itch. "Does that mean you really don't want to?" he asked. "I'd thought that... well, didn't we agree that we *both* needed help?" He found the idea that he was somehow obliging Rupert to go through this unpleasantness rather chilling, but Ethan was equally uncomfortable with the idea of doing this alone.

"We did," Rupert said, covering Ethan's hands with his own. "But... I don't know if it's going to be possible. What Lucy is essentially saying is that I can't wholeheartedly embrace my magic because I'm afraid to, which is quite probably accurate as far as it goes. But her solution is that I should stop feeling that way. Just like that. Apparently, I'm being wilfully terrified, and I should be able to turn my emotions off just because she tells me to."

"Well, that's what you did with your magic, isn't it?" As soon as Ethan shut his mouth again after speaking, he realised he'd just walked out onto thin ice.

Rupert pulled away and turned around to face him. The expression on his face was... one that Ethan hadn't seen for a long time. "So you agree with Lucy."

Ethan hated the look his lover was giving him. He drew one folded leg up onto the stone and wrapped his arms around it protectively. "Rupert, don't. I just meant that you have that... strength. You can change huge parts of yourself with a decision. You did it before."

"You think I can just turn my emotions on and off like that."

Miserable, craving his lover's magic like a panacea, Ethan stared at his knee and tried his best to ignore the crawling ants that again seemed everywhere in his clothes. Very quietly, he reiterated, "You did it before."

"I've *never* turned off my emotions," Rupert said fiercely. "I've sometimes been forced to act in spite of my feelings -- which is what I'm *trying* to do now -- but the emotions are still there."

Which meant, presuming Rupert had genuinely loved Ethan when they had been youngsters together, that Ripper hadn't suddenly stopped loving Ethan when he'd turned his back following Randall's death. Rather, Ripper had still loved Ethan, but left him anyway. And what did that make the hate and anger Ethan had been presented with every time he'd haplessly sought out Rupert again after the break up?

Suddenly, Ethan felt angry. He lifted his head and smirked cruelly at Rupert as he said, "Well then, I must congratulate you on your acting ability."

Rupert seemed to know exactly what he was referring to. "You think any of those times were easy for me?"

"How would I know?" Ethan asked, his tone weighted with sarcasm. "I was lucky if you'd even deign to spit at me whenever I tried to come near you." Unable to resist the sensation any longer, he began to rake his nails over his arms and legs.

In a nearby tree, a crow cawed.

"What are you doing?" Rupert asked, alarmed. He reached out and grabbed Ethan by the wrists, stilling his movements.

It was a reminder that, whatever had happened in the past, Rupert loved and cared for him now, and that knowledge had rarely been more welcome. "Ants," Ethan explained with a short humourless laugh. "At least that's what it feels like."

Rupert's expression grew more concerned. "What did Ian have you doing now? Are you all right?"

Ethan wriggled on the rock, twisting so that he could rub his legs together. "No, I'm really not. Could I possibly have my hands back?"

"This isn't-- What did Ian do to you?"

Shaking his head, Ethan started to tug at his wrists. "Nothing. This isn't Ian's work; it's my own. Many happy karmic returns of the day to me. Hands?"

Rupert let him go, watching him with a cross between concern and sick realisation. "Withdrawal," he murmured. "From the Chaos magic."

"Well, that and real ants," Ethan chuckled nervously, pulling up his trouser leg to inspect the bites. "You're going to have to prepare yourself for me being rather ill, I'm afraid. Ian says I have to sweat all the Chaos out before any genuine healing can take place." He began to rake at his flesh again. "I'll more than likely return to how I was when you rescued me. Only hopefully with more hair."

"There's got to be something to be done that will help -- make this easier on you," Rupert said, once again grabbing at Ethan's wrists. "Some kind of... of magical methadone, something that will lessen the effects..." He trailed off, and Ethan saw the moment the knowledge dawned on his lover. "My magic was helping."

Ethan nodded. "You're like calamine lotion for the soul, dearheart," he said, trying to bring humour into the tense situation. He wasn't going to ask for what he needed, not if it was making Rupert so miserable, but there was little point in denying what Rupert knew to be truth. "Ripper, please. You have to let me scratch."

If anything though, Rupert's grip tightened. "I think there's something else I have to do." His eyes looked a bit wild for a few seconds before his face set into his most determined expression. "Act in spite of my feelings," he murmured, and apparently relaxed all the controls he so stringently and obsessively maintained.

As his lover's magic slipped over him, cooling and warming somehow simultaneously, Ethan shuddered and whimpered, falling limply against Rupert. The relief was unremitting bliss. "God, oh God," he heard himself muttering. "Thank you."

Rupert wrapped his arms around him, seeming to take as much comfort as he was giving. "No monster yet," he muttered, more to himself than aloud.

"Monster?" Ethan was squirming against his lover, moving his open mouth across Rupert's face and neck trying to drink the wonderful magic in. It tasted of Ripper. It tasted of everything good in his world.

"The guided mediation was to get me to do, well, this, essentially. Stop controlling and confining my magic. But it didn't feel... I tried anyway, and there was a monster, pulling me under." Rupert sounded almost embarrassed. "Not the most subtle of metaphors."

Ethan paused in his wriggling. "There's nothing to be afraid of; there really isn't. It was never your magic that..." Ethan stopped, shocked by what he was on the verge of admitting. "Heh..."

"What?" Rupert asked, watching Ethan with a strange expression on his face.

He cringed, drawing back from Rupert and the wonderful magic he needed so badly, and looking down at the rock between them. "Well, it's obvious really, isn't it? Your magic is good and orderly, the fruit of a reliable orchard tree. Mine on the other hand is the wild mutant strain. I've been playing with Chaos since I was knee high to a garden gnome, Rupert. Really, if you're looking to place blame for Eyghon, it has to fall on me."

Rupert's fingers gently touched Ethan's face, making him look up. "We're all equally to blame for what happened back then," he said quietly, holding Ethan's gaze. "Don't take it all on yourself. We've all paid a price for our foolhardiness back then."

"Not you," Ethan denied, moving his hands up to cup Rupert's face and kissing him softly, then talking against his lover's lips. "Never your fault. The most you can blame yourself for is not stopping my schemes. Not your magic's fault either. This magic--" He sucked softly on Rupert's lips. "-- is pure."

"I wear the mark. I said the words and helped cast the spell. The blood is on my hands as much as yours." Rupert sighed, resting his forehead against Ethan's, fingers trailing over his features as if memorising them. "But maybe... I have been throwing the baby out with the bathwater."

Ethan knew Rupert was wrong. It had been Ethan who had found the spell, and Ethan who had nagged and cajoled them all into trying it. And to start with it had been bloody fantastic. The high of having Eyghon inside him had been... transcendental. But Randall hadn't had the strength of the rest of them and had paid the blood price. Ethan's blood price.

Ethan had been living down to that ever since... well, until he had made the mistake of turning Rupert into a fyarl anyway, making the demon that divided them visible... on the wrong man.

"Never you," he said again.

Rupert kissed him gently, magic and love seeming to pour over Ethan. "Sometimes me," he corrected. "But always us, from now on."

Moaning under the touch of all that was essentially Rupert washing over him, Ethan writhed against his lover. He slipped his hands under Rupert's upper clothes, seeking more skin-to-skin contact. "Us," he mumbled in agreement into the other man's mouth. "Love us."

"Us are fairly loveable," Rupert murmured, pulling back and trailing a finger down the front of Ethan's shirt. "Texurum divid," he said, and the shirt fell from Ethan's body. Rupert smiled rather giddily. "Still no monster."

Not quite believing his lover was doing this, but not wanting to dissuade Rupert by asking if he was sure, Ethan whimpered and tried to pull the other man closer again. But his conscience, an ignored little voice from the corner for decades, was much stronger now, and Ethan found himself saying in an admittedly shaky voice, "Only as much as you're comfortable with, dearheart. Don't get drunk on this. That's my job."

"Might be a bit late for that," Rupert admitted, the words carrying the undercurrent of giddy laughter. "It's... I haven't felt like this in... well, a lifetime really." His hands were moving aimlessly over Ethan's bare skin, Rupert's gaze following their movement. "I'd forgotten..."

"I hadn't," Ethan said fervently, and put his own hands behind him on the rock, leaning back on them and arching into Rupert's touch. "Oh dear God, I hadn't..."

Rupert sat back and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "You look..."

"Horny as a field of Highland Cattle?" Ethan suggested, with a breathless laugh. "Please, Ripper, don't stop..."

"I was thinking overdressed," Rupert said, smiling as he slid his hands along Ethan's thighs. "Texurum divid," he repeated. The cries of a crow broke the meadow's stillness.

Finding himself suddenly naked under the noonday sun, Ethan groaned and squirmed on the warm stone, possessed by almost unbearable desire for his lover. "Please," he begged. "Ripper, please. God, I need you."

Rupert leaned in, catching Ethan's mouth in a passionate kiss, made all the more so by the magic that continued to radiate from him.

Feverishly, Ethan sat up and wrapped himself around his lover with arms and legs, so that he was almost sitting in Rupert's lap. Talking into the kiss, he pointed out, "Can't. No magic," as he tugged on the other man's clothing.

Rupert kissed him again, then shifted back just far enough to pull his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Better?"

Oh God, warm skin to warm skin, Rupert's magic radiating through him, feeding his starved cells, Ethan was beside himself with need. "Please... please..."

Another kiss, this one longer and more involved than the last one. "Lean back," Rupert murmured against his lips. Holding onto Rupert's shoulders, Ethan did as he was bid, and was lowered gently down onto the rock from where he gazed beseechingly up at his lover. Rupert pushed Ethan's legs apart and moved down between them. Smiling up at Ethan, Rupert leaned in and pressed light kisses against his stomach, slowly moving lower.

"Oh..." Ethan couldn't stop his hips from trying to rise up to meet the kissing mouth. "God, Ripper..." Rupert's hands gripped his hips, his touch warm and electric. A second later, Rupert's mouth closed around his cock.

Ethan emitted a series of non-words as Rupert moved on him, the parts of his brain controlling language having temporarily closed down under the onslaught of sensation. Ripper's mouth, Ripper's magic... it was too much... not enough... oh God. Rupert brought him to the edge time and again, but never let him fall over.

Eventually, Ethan's writhing caused him to hit the back of his head on the rock hard enough to hurt even through the daze of magic-fuelled lust. "Bugger, this rock's bloody hard," he complained, clutching his skull.

"Rocks usually are," Rupert said, surging up to cover Ethan with his body and kiss him, ravaging his mouth like it was impossible for him to get enough. Ethan was sufficiently sensible to keep his hand under his head, but otherwise gave himself up to the consuming kiss, letting Rupert do as he wished. Pushing up with his hips, Ethan ground his cock against the corresponding bulge in his lover's jeans, moaning.

"Want you," Rupert murmured, finally, pulling back with obvious reluctance. "Turn over." It took a few seconds for Ethan's brain to work out what he was being asked to do, but then he slipped from the rock to kneel beside it in the long grass, and he leant over the top of the fallen stone. He heard Rupert groan, felt his lover's hand trail down his spine. "God, you're... "

Ethan arched back into the touch, Rupert's power-charged fingers seeming to drag the curve of Ethan's spine with them as they moved. "What?" he asked huskily. "What am I?"

"Magic," Rupert told him, his hands sliding down lower, gripping Ethan's hips and moving him until Ethan could feel his lover's cock pressed against his opening. "Mine." And with that, Rupert slowly pushed inside.

"God," Ethan breathed, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the other side of the rock. He pushed back with his hips to meet Rupert, wanting all of him. But Rupert refused to be rushed, keeping to the slow movements that were threatening Ethan's sanity. "No," Ethan complained. "More." He thrust his arse back hard and squeezed his muscles tight.

"Greedy," Rupert groaned, his hands grasping tighter as he gave one hard thrust.

"Oh, yes, like that," Ethan encouraged. "More please." Rupert complied, his every movement sending sparks of magic along Ethan's nerves, making him shudder and squirm on the stone. Every thrust from Rupert pushed Ethan further over the rock. His arms were soon dangling over the other side, grasping at the long grass stems and wild flowers gone to seed.

The hands holding his hips tightened their grip as if afraid he was going to squirm away entirely, as the hard, fast pace continued.

Every time Rupert's cock hit home -- and his arse was its home as far as Ethan was concerned -- the combination of prostate stimulation and magic pulse pushed Ethan ever further into a state of needy bliss. He was on the edge of something, and not just of orgasm. It felt like... well, something like it sometimes had when they were younger and sharing magic, and the experience had taken them both out of themselves and into extremely altered states of consciousness. But this time it was different. This time the magic was all Rupert's, and really, Ethan had never felt precisely *this* before.

There was an appalling, cauterising purity to it.

In the nearby tree, a crow hopped excitedly along a branch.

Pushed painfully against the rock, his cock thankfully now protected by Rupert's fist, Ethan stared down unseeing at the waving grasses, and then suddenly, he *was* seeing. He was seeing everything.

It was an experience much like staring at a magic eye picture and suddenly clicking onto the three-dimensional image it contained. Every pattern in the meadow was abruptly obvious to Ethan, from the paths of slugs and snails... through the scent marking nodes of resident animals, the mole tunnels under the soil, and the dispersal of dandelion seeds... to the currents of warmth and late summer pollens in the air. He could see it all.

He suddenly understood all that Ian had tried so hard to teach him. He'd been focusing on... on individual stars or small parts of constellations rather than viewing the whole night sky.

"Oh Ripper," Ethan cried out. "God..."

Rupert's rhythm was becoming increasingly ragged and desperate, his magic seeming to swell even more, and there were patterns Ethan could see even in that. Ethan wasn't just seeing it all in three dimensions, he realised; he was seeing the past and future of patterns too. He could see the shape of Rupert's orgasm and the build up to it, and unable to resist, Ethan did what he'd been unable to do with the ants earlier -- he tweaked the pattern, persuading it onto a different but equally valid path.

The results were immediate; Rupert's entire body jerked and shook; a wordless cry left his lips as his climax suddenly slammed into him.

The triumph of Rupert's pleasure thrilled Ethan, and his own orgasm soon followed, but he hardly felt his body's twitching. His awareness of his lover and the world -- worlds -- was so profound that Ethan's own petty existence seemed just another node within a wild and ever-changing network.

Without Rupert to ground him, Ethan thought he might float away altogether, dispersing like the seeds from the dandelion head below him.

He laughed.

***

Giles fell back into the soft grass, pulling his naked laughing lover with him.

His magic seemed to ebb and surge through him like a living thing. He'd forgotten how it could feel, the way it seemed like another sense, like the five he already had all rolled up together. All these years, even when he had grudgingly used his power, he'd kept it tightly controlled, focusing only on the task at hand, the rest rigidly suppressed and locked away, so he never had the benefit of feeling this.

This... this was like suddenly having blinders removed.

Ethan seemed to find something about it all irrepressibly funny, as he was still laughing when he wriggled around in Giles' arms to lie half on top of him. Dear Lord, his eyes... There were no whites to Ethan's eyes, and the irises were reddy-brown; his pupils were slightly elongated like an animal's... like a fox's...

For a moment the old fears touched Giles again, that he'd relaxed his control on his magic and something bad had happened, however irrational the connection seemed.

"Ethan?" he asked softly, laying a hand against his lover's cheek.

His lover blinked, and his eyes were back to normal. Had Giles imagined the changes? Ethan beamed, happiness radiating from him almost palpably. "God, I love you," he said, his tone adoring and ecstatic. There was a slight catch in Ethan's breathing again, but he seemed utterly unconcerned by it.

The niggling worry remained, however, and Giles found himself reflexively reaching out with his magic, checking for... he wasn't certain what. But he wasn't expecting what he found -- the touch of a brand new magic reaching out to meet his.

Ethan was full of power. Not Giles' magic, and not Chaos, but something new and somehow intrinsically *Ethan*. Something Giles recognised like an old friend, despite being pretty sure he'd never sensed... tasted... known it before.

Ethan laughed again and said, "You really are quite astonishingly beautiful, dearheart."

"So are you," Giles replied, hearing the awe in his own voice, still caught in the new feel of his lover's magic. "It's... you feel like... *you*."

A crow flew overhead, cawing, and Ethan giggled. "After forty years of not being so, it is a little heady, I'll admit. I finally saw what Ian was trying so hard to make me see. But I've been here before, been this person before... I lost him a long, long time ago."

Giles tasted it, rolling it around like a fine wine on his tongue. "It's always been there," he said, tracing a finger along Ethan's lips. "It's been hidden, buried under the Chaos and everything else, but it's been there -- you've been there." He smiled slightly. "This is the you that was hidden behind all the masks."

Ethan nodded seriously, but couldn't maintain the sombre attitude for long and started grinning again. "If I've dropped the masks, you've opened the doors. You look radiant, Rupert... and therefore, I must assume you're pregnant." He sniggered and sent a light throb of magic skimming over Giles' skin. It tickled considerably.

It pulled a giggle from Giles. "Oh dear," he said, trying to compose himself, only to have another giggle escape him. "We both seem to be rather... ah...."

"Stark bollock naked in a public place?" Ethan suggested. "Oh no, that would be just me."

"I was thinking more along the lines of under the influence, but you do have a point." He slid his hands down Ethan's back, cupping his arse. "You *are* stark bollock naked."

"Wonder how that happened." Ethan laughed again, his nudity apparently not bothering him at all. He kissed Giles between chuckles. Giles took his time kissing his lover back, enjoying the way their magics brushed against each other as he languidly explored Ethan's mouth with his tongue. When Ethan pulled back, he had a familiar and very wicked gleam in his eyes.

"I get the feeling I may be in trouble here," Giles said, although he was unable to stop smiling.

"Nice little orgasm you had back there, was it?" Ethan asked, his smirk positively devilish.

Considering that Giles' entire nervous system still seemed to be tingling, he'd have to admit that would be something of an understatement. He had assumed it had just been his own magic adding to the experience. Now he looked at Ethan through narrowed eyes. "You did something."

Ethan winked and moved away from Giles to sit cross-legged in the grass. Giles saw the dark gaze move down to his open trousers and then he felt... something. Something that made him twitch and his breath catch. Something that made his cock start to harden again.

Giles shifted restlessly. "What are you..." he began, breaking off with a gasp as another 'something' went through him.

"I could stop," Ethan offered. "I could make it so much more. Which would you like, Ripper?" He shut his eyes briefly, and Giles felt a thrill strong enough to make him thrust up into the air.

"More?" It came out more question than answer, but Giles was too caught up in the feelings that were suddenly running through him to be paying attention to things like tone of voice.

"Yes, more. It's just a matter of being very persuasive, you see, and I've always had a talent there as I'm sure you'll agree. Think about it, my dear. I can make you come now without ever touching you. Do you trust me with this power?"

The hands-free stimulation was not stopping, and Giles was harder than he had any right to be considering how recent his last orgasm had been. He couldn't tell how or where the invisible, intangible touches were coming, all he knew was that it was one of the most erotic experiences he'd ever had.

But to Giles' mind, the question Ethan asked, despite its teasing tone, required a serious answer. He focused his thoughts with effort long enough to meet his lover's eyes and say, quite clearly, "I trust you with everything."

There was genuine relief and gratitude in Ethan's answering expression. While he was clearly enjoying wielding his power in such a way, Giles could only assume his lover's joking tone had disguised authentic concern.

And then Giles stopped thinking at all for a few moments, as the next touch of magic sparkled from his prostate down to the tip of his cock, tightening his balls and making him groan loudly.

He squirmed under the stimulation, becoming frustrated by his movements being restricted by his open trousers. Lifting his lower body, he pushed them down, then wriggled out of them, kicking them aside, leaving him naked under his lover's gaze.

"Oh..." Ethan breathed, and moved forward onto his hands and knees to get closer, but he still didn't touch Giles with anything physical. Small shocks travelled up Giles' spine and over his skin, teasing and tormenting. His muscles were pulled tight in responses he couldn't control, only to be soothed and petted by the next invisible touch.

His hands closing on fistfuls of grass, Giles writhed under the onslaught, unable to anticipate the next sensation, or the next gentle manipulation. There was nothing he could do to move into or away from Ethan's magic; he truly had no control at all in this situation. All he could do was moan and feel.

Ethan's soft whisper intruded into Giles' hazed awareness. "Do you want to come, Rupert? If you ask nicely, I might let you. Of course, I could keep you like this all afternoon if you prefer..."

"Oh god," Giles groaned at that thought. His lover would too; it was the kind of mischief that had always attracted. "Ethan, please..." he managed, but even he didn't know if he was asking for an end or for this to continue.

There was a little breathy sigh from his lover. Ethan moved closer to Giles' head, bending to almost kiss him, but not letting their lips, or anything else, actually touch. A few more flickering flames of desire were stoked through Giles' body, then Ethan asked, "Please what? Ask for what you want, dearheart."

"You," Giles replied, holding Ethan's gaze. "I want you."

Ethan's brow creased for a few moments, but then he chuckled. And then finally Giles got to feel his lover physically, as lips were pressed firmly to his, and a hard tongue pushed inside his mouth. A jolt of purest pleasure travelled down from the kiss, filling every part of him and stripping him of any form of control...

Giles' scream was muffled by Ethan's mouth as he came harder than he could remember ever experiencing before.

When he came back to himself, Ethan was lying beside him, perched on an elbow and soothing Giles with a gentle hand on his chest. "I got a teensy bit worried there for a few moments," Ethan said softly. "Back with me now?"

"I think so," Giles said slowly, gingerly covering Ethan's hand with his own. "That was rather..."

"Too much?" Ethan asked. He sounded worried and also slightly breathless.

"No," Giles assured him. "But perhaps it's best that we save it for special occasions. That was very intense." Ethan's breathlessness had not escaped his notice. "How about you -- are you all right?"

Ethan nodded. "I've still got quite a bit of the black stuff to burn out. It was good we did this today; things will become trickier for a while soon."

Giles frowned. With what they'd just shared, with his full magic flowing freely through him, it felt even more wrong than it had before that they were to just let Ethan get sicker without providing any treatment. "We'll see about that," he said, pulling Ethan to him. "I'm going to talk to Lucy again."

"There's no need, and no point. I'm fine, Rupert, I promise. I can do this."

You shouldn't have to, Giles thought, but didn't say. Instead, he kissed Ethan gently and said, "I know you can."

That didn't change his plans to see what he could do to help however.

Ethan smiled and suddenly sat up, grabbing for Giles' discarded trousers. "Bagsy me not the dirty old exhibitionist," he said, laughing.

Giles reached them first. "How about I go back to the house and bring you some clothes? My lungs being in better condition and all?"

Ethan nodded agreeably. "I rather suspect the old crow would like a word with me now anyway." Startled, Giles looked at Ethan and opened his mouth to ask, when a large crow fluttered down and landed on the rock that Ethan had been bent over not so much earlier.

"I don't want to know, do I?"

Ethan chuckled. "I strongly suspect not."

NEXT