Title: Smoke and Mirrors 13/15
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.

"Well, this is unexpectedly cordial of you, old chum." Ethan beamed genially at Rupert, as the other man drunkenly searched his own pockets for the door keys. "I never thought I'd get to see the inside of this Watcherly retreat." Rupert snorted, then put out a hand against the door as even that seemed to be enough to throw him off-balance. "Not a Wa... Watcherly retreat. Not a Watcher."

"And yet here you still are in Sunnydale, watching a Slayer."

"Have to see her in order to watch her." On the third go-round of his pockets, Rupert finally pulled out his keys. "There!" he said triumphantly. "Knew I had them."

"Bravo!" Ethan exclaimed, clapping his hands. It was important to pretend to be as sloshed as Rupert was, although he wasn't exactly having to exaggerate a great deal. His gaze wandered down Rupert's body, wondering exactly how 'cordial' his long time ex-lover was feeling.

Rupert tried to put the key in the keyhole and missed. "Stand still," he growled at the door, then tried again, this time sliding the key home and turning it.

"You once told me that there was something sexually symbolic about keys entering locks," Ethan said, and giggled. "Second time lucky then."

"Is that what this is?" Rupert asked, blinking blearily at him, holding onto the doorknob and swaying slightly. "Chatting up the waitress didn't work -- and since when did you swing that way? -- so decided to try your luck with good ol' pathetic Rupert?"

Ethan blinked. Ignoring the waitress crack -- he'd had his reasons for that, but he had no intention of telling Rupert what they were -- he walked forward and touched the other man's shoulder. "You're hardly an easy alternative, mate," he reassured. "You're more likely to beat the crap out of me than kiss me."

"Your own fault," Rupert told him, finally turning back to the door and opening it, then stumbling inside. "Always asking for it."

"Really?" Ethan asked, amused, as he followed the drunken man in, closing the door behind them. "How do I do that exactly?"

In the middle of trying to take off his jacket, Rupert stopped and gave him a look of disbelief. "You try to kill people. You try to kill *my* Slayer. 'Course I'm going to beat the crap out of you."

"Oh, come now," Ethan pouted, slinking closer to Rupert and helping him with his jacket. "I've never thrown anything at your precious Slayer that she couldn't handle easily enough." He ran light fingers down the back of the other man's shirt. "Let's not fight, Ripper. Not tonight. Plenty of time for that in the morning."

He got another bleary look. "You're not going to be here in the morning."

Ethan didn't argue. "Exactly. Safer that way, don't you think?" Far safer than Rupert realised in fact.

"You're always leaving," Rupert complained. "Makes it difficult to thrash you or anything else."

Ethan frowned and moved his hand, stroking fingertips over Rupert's cheek so lightly that the other man might not even be able to feel them, whisky-numbed as he obviously was. "You only want me to stay so that you can chuck me out on my arse. I suppose I could give you that pleasure, but you'd have to make the sacrifice *very* rewarding."

Rupert moved away from Ethan, heading for the bottles of scotch that were sitting on the half-wall that divided the kitchen from the living room. Ethan moved quickly and got there first, blocking Rupert's access. "Really, my dear. You've had more than enough. How about a nice cup of tea?"

That earned him a glare. "You still here?"

Ethan was so used to disguising the hurt by now that he knew not even a flicker of how he felt inside showed on his face. Still, at least it eased the tiny pangs of guilt he'd been feeling since Rupert had unexpectedly invited Ethan back here. It helped remind him of exactly why Rupert deserved his lot. "Tea?" he asked again, smiling insincerely.

Rupert didn't answer, just stumbled over to the sofa. "Everybody leaves," he said, as he collapsed onto the cushions. "You're no different. You're going to leave too."

"If I believed for one tiny fraction of a moment that you wanted me to stay, Rupert..." Ethan frowned as he stood behind the sofa, realising he was more drunk than he'd thought if he could almost say such things. Quickly changing his intended words, he finished with, "Why, I'd have to assume you weren't Rupert Giles at all. As everyone knows how much we hate each other."

Rubbing his face, Ethan headed into the small kitchenette.

He set about making tea, concentrating on the mundane task. Putting the kettle on, he looked back out into the living room; Rupert was a picture of abject misery. He was slumped back against the cushions, one arm over his eyes, a cloud of depression seeming to hover around him.

Sighing softly, Ethan removed a small vial from his pocket. It contained a powder that magically removed alcohol from one's body, and it was the reason he could drink anyone under the table. He tipped a goodly amount into his own mug, then pondered how much, if any, to give Rupert. He wanted the other man drunk enough to be unwise, but not so drunk that he was incapable of doing the unwise things Ethan was now craving.

There was also the matter of how the powder might interact with the other substance he'd already fed an unknowing Rupert earlier in the night.

In the end, Ethan added a tiny pinch and stirred it in. Carrying the two mugs out and placing them on the coffee table, he sat down beside the other man. He patted Rupert's leg encouragingly. "Buck up, old chum. Things could be a lot worse." Again, Ethan felt a minuscule stab of guilt.

Rupert lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at Ethan. "You still here?" he asked again, although this time his tone of voice was completely different, like he actually wanted the answer to be yes.

"I've made you some tea. Drinking it might help a little." Ethan left his hand on the other man's leg.

Rupert hadn't looked away from Ethan's face. "You're still here," he repeated, this time a statement not a question.

Ethan frowned. "Yes, I'm still, quite evidently, here." The staring continued, and it was beginning to really bother him. He shifted nervously on the sofa and removed his hand from Rupert's leg. "Drink your tea, there's a love." He started to bend forward to pick up his own mug...

He heard Rupert mutter something that could have been "Bugger it," and then Rupert was kissing Ethan breathless.

Pushed back into the couch, Ethan found his body responding automatically to Rupert's embrace, the way it had long ago been accustomed to do so. Yielding control to the other man, Ethan moaned into the kiss. Rupert tasted of whisky and desperation, loneliness and resignation, and he pushed Ethan further into the sofa's cushions, covering him with his body. It had been years, but Rupert's hands unerringly sought out all of Ethan's hot spots.

Ethan had forced himself to forget quite how desperate he was -- had always been -- for this. For Rupert's touches, both hard and gentle, for the taste of him, the weight of him above Ethan, the little noises he'd always made and was making again now... all of it. The whole experience of 'Ripper' that having once had, Ethan had never been able to stop craving. There was no such thing as an ex-alcoholic and no such thing as being over Rupert Giles.

"Ripper," he muttered against the other man's lips. "Oh, my Ripper."

That got him kissed even harder, Rupert's hips pushing against his. "Upstairs," Rupert gasped between kisses, finally, reluctantly, pulling back. "Now."

Ethan stared at Rupert in a way that he realised must look a little desperate. He shook his head briefly, trying to clear his thoughts, then stumbled to his feet, heading for the stairs. The tea with its dose of sobering magic sat forgotten on the table...

...Quite some time later, Rupert chuckled huskily, sounding much more sober than he had before they'd come upstairs. "This is quite probably the last place I would have thought I'd end up tonight."

They were lying together on Rupert's bed, covered in nothing but drying sweat and other fluids. Their clothing, some of it the worse for wear, lay in a pile on the floor. The air was redolent with the scent of sex, and echoes of the cries and groans which had accompanied their lovemaking still seemed to resound in the loft.

"I assume you mean in my arms," Ethan replied, briefly tightening the arm he had thrown over the other man's chest. "As I doubt ending up in your own bed is that unexpected an event." He kissed Rupert's shoulder... and felt sad, as he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he was thrown bodily from this small Eden.

He rolled onto his back. "Are you craving a cigarette as much as I?"

"Don't have any." Rupert stretched, then rolled over and rested his head on Ethan's shoulder, his arm snaking over Ethan's chest, in an exact mirror image of the position they'd just been in. "Haven't smoked since... well, the last time you were in town. Blasted candy."

"You had fun," Ethan pointed out, confident it was the truth. But he knew that if they discussed that time for long, the subject of sacrifices would come up. Ethan honestly hadn't known what the vampire and his boss were after, but the fact was, he hadn't cared. It was just another chance to mess up Rupert's world... empty vengeance, really. The satisfaction never lasted.

Changing the subject just enough, Ethan said, "I gave up tobacco after an unfortunate incident involving an angry witch and a small fortune in illegal botanicals."

"You never learn, do you?" Rupert sighed, though the hostility that Ethan had grown used to hearing was noticeably absent.

Ethan rolled back to his side, unable to keep from touching Rupert while he was still allowed to do so. "On the contrary, I learnt years ago. I simply have no reason to care."

Rupert fell silent, running a hand over Ethan's skin, his expression one of deep thought. Ethan trailed his own fingers over the other man's face, tracing Rupert's cheekbones and his lips.

"Penny for them?" he asked.

"Sometimes I wish I could stop caring too."

Ethan's gaze dropped as he contemplated that this day might be sooner than Rupert realised, fyarls not being known for caring for much beyond what to eat and who to hit. There was still plenty of time to stop the transformation. Perhaps when Rupert finally sobered up enough to realise with whom he was in bed, Ethan would be a good boy for once and do the reversal. After the inevitable expulsion, of course. Rupert would never know how close he'd been to super-strength... and super-stupidity.

Ethan found himself saying, "Not caring is easy. You just need to lose everything you care about." He sighed. Those words had completely by-passed his brain and gone straight to his tongue.

The ghost of a smile that held no humour in it passed over Rupert's features. "I haven't quite managed that knack."

"I don't, in all seriousness, recommend it," Ethan replied, frowning. "Rupert, what is the matter? I thought this was just classic midlife crisis stuff, but you're... worrying me." It was true, more or less.

"I don't... Maybe it is a midlife crisis, but... I've no job, no friends -- well, none that are old enough to drink anyway -- no purpose... Can you have a midlife crisis when you don't have a life?" Rupert shook his head slowly. "Why am I still here?"

"Because you haven't yet decided where you'd rather be, I imagine." Ethan found he was stroking Rupert's hair and made himself stop. "That, and you haven't quite given up on trying to get blood from a stone."

"Hard to give up when all you have is the stone."

Ethan wasn't a stone, no matter how hard he tried to be, but he knew he didn't count. Nonetheless, there was clearly far too much alcohol still in his body, as he lifted his arm up and said, "You want blood, my dear? Just cut, it's yours."

Rupert stared at him for a long moment, then slowly reached for Ethan's arm, bringing it to his lips and dropping a kiss on his pulse point. Ethan shivered and stared back at Rupert, alarmed by the feelings that such a tender action brought immediately to the surface. He opened his mouth to say something that would distract from the intensity of the moment, but he could find no words.

"I don't want your blood, Ethan," Rupert said softly, brushing his thumb over the spot he'd just kissed. He met Ethan's eyes with a rueful smile. "I may have wanted it in the past..." His expression became more serious as he appeared to change subject. "Maybe..."

Ethan gently removed his hand and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, saying nothing immediately. It hurt, being here like this. It wasn't like the other occasions since their London days; those rare times when Rupert had, for reasons of his own, opted for the door marked 'kiss' instead of 'kick'. Those had been brief encounters indeed, Ethan either being told coldly to leave, or disappearing before Rupert had a chance to say it, after the sex was done with.

"Maybe what?" he asked, trying very hard to keep his tone casual and knowing that he'd failed.

But Rupert seemed as afraid to say it as Ethan was to hear it; instead of answering he leaned over and pressed his lips against Ethan's. Maybe that was answer enough. Or would have been, if Ethan could be certain what the question was.

He kissed back for a short while, but the kiss was gentle and almost... loving, and it hurt far worse than any beating he'd ever had at the other man's hands. Ultimately, he pushed Rupert away from him, not hard, but firmly enough to show he meant business. "Don't," Ethan mumbled. "*I'm* meant to be the liar, not you."

Something complicated flashed through Rupert's eyes, and he took the rebuke, rolling onto his side, facing away from Ethan. He still, however, didn't ask Ethan to leave.

It was, nonetheless, undoubtedly time for Ethan to go... but somehow he was still lying there. He knew he should leave now, reverse the spell before it could take effect -- in gratitude for Rupert's sweetness -- and then get the hell out of Dodge for another year or so. Every second he remained in this bed, Ethan was giving the universe permission to hurt him further. He sighed heavily, still not moving.

Rupert, when he finally spoke, did so in a barely audible whisper. "So there's no going back, is there." It was a statement, not a question.

Ethan immediately turned to look at the other man. "Are you talking about us, or some other burnt bridge?"

"Yes." Rupert was still facing away from him.

"Helpful," Ethan commented, rolling his eyes.

"What do you want me to say, Ethan?" Exasperation was beginning to creep into Rupert's tone.

"Well, actually answering my question would be a help, mate." Ethan carefully didn't use an endearment.

"I did. We can't go back, any more than we can change anything else that has happened." Rupert laughed bitterly. "We've made this bed, and now we're forced to lie in it."

Ethan gave up trying to understand Rupert. He ran fingers slowly down the other man's spine to the tailbone, thinking that tomorrow, if he didn't stop it, Rupert would have an actual tail. "There's no chains, no guns, no reason I can see not to burn the bed and buy a new one."

Rupert looked over his shoulder at Ethan. "Just as easy as that."

Ethan shrugged. "You did it before."

There was another bitter laugh. "That bed burned all on its own."

Anger quickened inside him. "No. It didn't, Ripper. Really, it didn't. I should know. I'm still bloody sleeping in the mess you left, night aft--" It was time to leave. Ethan sat up, rubbing his face with slightly shaking hands. "Well, it's been nice."

Rupert rolled over onto his back. "That's what I thought," he said curtly, staring at the ceiling.

Ethan made the mistake of turning to look at the other man, and like Lot's wife, he was suddenly made motionless. He could almost feel his flesh granulate. "Oh, Ripper," he sighed. "You'd only have to ask, you know."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Rupert glanced sideways, meeting his gaze. "You could ask too, you know."

Ethan slid round on the bed to face Rupert, still more or less sitting. He placed his hand over the other man's breastbone and held it there. "You know I can't ask. That's why I needed you -- to see me, to... *take* what I needed to have ripped from me."

Rupert gave him a troubled look. "I need... some sort of... word. Some sort of evidence that this is -- could be -- real."

Ethan stared at Rupert in disbelief. "*You* need it? What about...? Oh, I see." His expression soured, and he looked away. "This is your little revenge on me, isn't it? Get the silly old Chaos sorcerer to admit how much he still lo--" He swallowed. "Still wants the obedient minion of Order. And then laugh at him." Looking back, Ethan let his mouth smile while his eyes, he was sure, told another story. "Make merry then. I'll be your clown for tonight."

A flicker of anger flashed across Rupert's features. "That's exactly what I mean. Every time I... we... *this* happens, you say or do something to push me away."

Ethan felt his expression harden further. Rupert had apparently completely lost the art of *hearing* Ethan. What use was any of this if Rupert couldn't get beneath the masks anymore? "Don't blame me for your self-hatred," he said coldly. "I've never fought you. I've always let you take whatever you want from me."

He turned and got out of the bed.

"Ethan, wait." Rupert sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. "Look, perhaps we should call it a night. We're both tired and drunk and seemed to have discovered a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing." He dropped his hands and looked up. "But I want to have this conversation again in the morning." Rupert gave him the ghost of a smile. "Try one more time to find the right words."

If Ethan stayed the night, there was no way that Rupert would be able to find the right words in the morning. "I could come back," he offered, picking up his boxers.

"I could make breakfast," Rupert offered in turn, with something like hope in his voice.

"Yes," Ethan nodded. "I miss your porridge. I'll come back for that." He smiled briefly to show that he was joking. Putting the rest of his clothes on quickly, he walked around to Rupert's side of the bed, and perched beside him, kissing him on the forehead. "There's something I have to do, or I'd stay now."

"That's okay. I'm getting used to people having better things to do than talk to me." He smiled, reaching out and pulling Ethan in for one more kiss. "In the morning then?"

"Yes. Be seeing you, dearheart."

Ethan pulled the bedroom door to as he left.

Downstairs, he noticed the mugs and their cold tea. The sobriety powder had left an unpleasant and obvious scum on the surface now the heat was gone, and Ethan decided to quickly wash up, in case Rupert got the wrong idea in the morning.

While he washed, he mused. Rupert really seemed to want... what? To try again? To be lovers again? Whatever scraps of contact it meant, Ethan would agree. How could he not?

If only he could believe that it wasn't just the alcohol talking. Oh, he'd be here tomorrow morning; he was that much of a fool. But he fully expected to be laughed at and sent packing. Perhaps he'd even find the Slayer here waiting to beat him up, and wouldn't that be fun? Although really, that was unlikely, as Ripper had always preferred to handle that side of things himself.

He'd better get a move on; there wasn't that much time left in which to do the reversal spell.

Sighing, Ethan hung up the tea towel and walked back into the living room for his jacket. While donning it, he noticed a small book with a pen beside it on the desk, and it was so obviously a diary that he couldn't resist walking over and picking it up.

One by one, he flicked through the pages, Rupert's pedantic hand like an old friend...

Or enemy.

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan left Rupert's house with no intention of ever returning. The smirk on his face felt as cruel and cold as the acid eating away his heart.

***

Ethan was, he had to admit, glum. He was lying on the top of his and Rupert's bed, propped up with extra pillows so as to be almost sitting, and eyeing with extreme prejudice the gas cylinder and accompanying medical gubbins in the corner. It had been delivered this morning by men who'd looked at Ethan as if he'd got the plague... or more likely AIDS, knowing how people's minds worked.

What a wonderful birthday present it was, that ugly monstrosity and its innate promise of lungs that would function even less effectively than they were currently, and that was bad enough. Just the sight of the plastic mask made Ethan feel claustrophobic.

It was sufficiently depressing that Rupert had forgotten what date it was, without that... hulking metal elephant with the chipped black paint in the corner.

Bugger it. And where *was* Rupert? Or at least someone to keep Ethan company. Maybe he could make it downstairs if he took it slowly. He could have, had they been at home, but the stairs in Lucy's farmhouse were long, twisting and over-carpeted, and Ethan had felt unsafe on them just recently.

He pushed his head back into the pillows, knowing there was an ugly pout on his face, but as there was no one here to see it, he couldn't bring himself to care overly much.

There was a soft knock at the door, which almost immediately opened enough for Kat to stick her head in. "Ethan? You awake?"

While he was instantly filled with relief at the thought of company and conversation, Ethan wasn't prepared to let go of a perfectly good sulk immediately. "I must be," he said acidly. "My dreams are considerably more interesting."

Kat ignored his attitude as she came in and went over to examine the equipment that had been delivered. "So they came, huh?"

"Yes, do say hello to Jumbo, won't you?" The hard edge that his bad temper was giving to his voice took its toll, and Ethan began to cough. Which only increased his sense of hard done by anger.

Kat immediately sat on the bed beside him, her arms going around him to help support him through the spasm. When it eased, she pulled back and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small silver flask, which she offered to him. "I don't know how much help this will be, but I was talking to Mary and Jonah -- they're the Coven's healers -- and they taught me how to make some herbal potions and stuff. This one's supposed to be good for helping breathing."

Rupert had told him about how Kat had been showing an interest in the healing arts. Considering what had happened to the girl's brother, Ethan realised why it was important to Kat to try and help him through his illness. Since he'd become bed-bound, or at least upstairs-bound, she'd been with him more than anyone else except Rupert.

So he realised that he couldn't, in fairness, refuse the tincture, no matter how unenthused he was by the prospect of drinking some inevitably disgusting herbal gunk. "How much should I take?" he asked hoarsely.

"Just a swallow or two. It's supposed to be something that you can take a little of whenever you have a coughing attack."

Obligingly, Ethan opened the flask and swigged down a smallish mouthful. Then he licked his lips. "Actually, my dear, that's not bad. Tastes rather like Chartreuse. And I do believe it has already soothed the feeling of roughness a little." He smiled at her. "Clever girl."

Kat beamed. "I worked on the taste -- the recipe that Mary gave me tasted really gross. So I tweaked it."

"I think you may have discovered a previously unknown talent." He looked fondly at her. "Thanks for coming up. I fear Rupert has had rather enough of my miserable company, as he couldn't wait to get about business today."

"Giles is the one who sent me up," Kat informed him. "He's up to his elbows in stuff right now, but you can tell he'd rather be here."

"Very tactful of you, dear," Ethan chuckled. "So... what should we do with ourselves?" He gestured towards the TV and video that had been brought up for him. "I believe I have a tape or two left that I've only watched a mere three or four times so far."

"You could tell me stories of you and Giles in your wicked youth," Kat suggested, eyes bright with mischief.

"I'd love to," he grinned. "But I believe most of them would come under the category of 'bad influence'. To say that we ran wild would be understated." He relaxed against the pillows, smiling at the happy memories.

"I won't tell you're being a bad influence if you don't." Kat grinned at him. "You know you want to."

Ethan looked at her and rubbed the side of his face as he mentally reviewed the London days, trying to find something he could get away with recounting. "It really was just sex, drugs, magic, and rock and roll, I'm afraid... and often all at the same time."

Before Kat could answer, there was another knock at the door, and this time it was Megan who ducked her head in. "Can we join the party?"

"Who's 'we'?" Ethan asked, suddenly suspicious, as there was a lot of muted noise coming from outside in the corridor.

"Just the people who wanted to come to your birthday gathering," Megan said, pushing open the door and coming in. She was followed by Rupert, Ian and Lucy. All of them were carrying brightly wrapped presents except Lucy. She was carrying a cake.

"Oh dear..." Ethan's eyes were wide, and his heart seemed to catch with the disbelief that this was really happening. He felt both embarrassed and hugely touched... or at least he would, as soon as it sank in. The bedroom seemed suddenly very crowded, and Ethan's glance flickered around everyone almost nervously before settling on his lover. "Rupert..."

Rupert smiled at him. "Happy birthday, love."

He really should have known that not only would Rupert not have forgotten, but that he would have inveigled everyone else into this little celebration as well. Ethan held his hand out to Rupert, and looked around the room, grinning happily. He was starting to relax now the initial surprise was fading, and his usual enjoyment of being the centre of attention was returning.

"Thank you. This is... wonderful. Are those presents for me? And cake?"

Lucy chuckled, placing the cake on the dresser. "It's for everyone, but you'll get the first and biggest piece."

"So are you surprised?" Megan asked, perching on the foot of the bed.

"Megan insisted on a surprise party," Rupert explained, as he settled himself on the bed beside Ethan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Yes, I'm surprised," Ethan acknowledged. "I'd thought Rupert had forgotten... it's been rather a long time since the last birthday we spent together." He snuggled a little closer to his lover.

Lucy handed him a paper plate holding a fork and a hefty slice of what looked and smelled like cream-smothered coffee and hazelnut gateau... with small meringues... and possibly Tia Maria.

"Why Lucy," Ethan teased. "I'd never have believed you could be so indulgent." He forked himself up a mouthful and moaned quietly, as rich flavours smothered his tongue.

"Make the most of it," she replied dryly. "It doesn't happen often."

Ian teased her, as he accepted his own plate. "You're just an old softie, admit it,"

"Watch it, unless you want to find your wing feathers mysteriously clipped one night." Lucy answered, as she continued to hand out slices.

Ethan couldn't stop himself looking longingly around at the various gift-wrapped packages that had been brought into the room. Rupert caught the glances and chuckled. "I take it the lure of cake isn't as strong as the lure of gifts?"

Ethan glanced over at his lover. "I've not changed *that* much, you know."

"The gifts!" Megan shoved the last few bites of cake into her mouth and dived for the pile of presents excitedly. It was nice to see her being so comfortably expressive. "You have to open mine first," she said, muffled by the cake still in her mouth. She brought over one of the packages to him.

After carefully putting his plate to one side, Ethan beamed at her and took the present. It's shape and weight immediately told him it was a book. Carefully undoing the wrapping paper, he found tissue underneath. Below that was the book itself -- old and leather-bound, and with a picture of a fox on the front. "Oh..."

Ethan opened it carefully and flicked through, noticing many illustration plates. "Oh," he repeated. He glanced at Megan, smiling warmly; he was very touched by the thought that had clearly gone into the gift. "I had a copy of this -- nowhere near such a nice one -- a long time ago. It was destroyed in..." He looked down, smiling wryly at yet another story he couldn't tell. "In an unfortunate incident. Oh Megan, thank you. It's perfect."

She beamed. "Giles helped me pick it out," she said modestly.

"I did nothing of the sort," Rupert put in. "All I did was look and nod. It was Megan's decision the entire way."

Ethan pulled the girl close and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, sweetheart. I know it was your choice." He got closer to her ear and whispered, "Rupert doesn't know about the fox."

Megan blushed and opened her mouth, but Kat interrupted, handing Ethan another present. "Mine next."

He felt the fat rectangle first, and then shook it. "Hmm, interesting." Grinning at Kat, he pulled off the paper to reveal a double video set of a TV series called 'Queer as Folk'. He read the blurb on the back and then laughed loudly. "It's gay porn! Kat's bought me gay porn!"

"It's supposed to have a plot," Kat said, giggling. "Maybe... gay drama with porny overtones?"

"Oh, let's put it on now and watch the shag... drama." Ethan was aware he was getting just a little bit silly. He'd really never experienced anything like this in his life. This was the sort of birthday he'd fantasised about as a child. Well, not the porn so much, but the rest of it.

"You've still got presents to open," Megan reminded him, handing him another package.

This one was bigger than the ones before, and curiously, was wrapped in Christmas paper. It had no tag on it.

"Run out of the happy birthday wrap, did we?" he smirked, as he opened the rattling gift. When Ethan saw the box inside, he felt momentarily struck dumb. He knew immediately whom it was from, and he had to struggle with a sudden lump in his throat. "Rupert," he murmured. "How ever did you...?"

Opening the box, Ethan lifted out one of the cars. "Oh God. It's exactly the one."

"I stumbled across it at the market in Exeter," Rupert said, smiling at him. "I was going to save it until Christmas, but I didn't think I could keep it hidden that long. The paper was a compromise."

Ethan carefully put the car back in the box, and moved the box to one side, so that he could hug his lover. He nuzzled into Rupert's neck, wanting -- needing -- to stay there until he could calm down a little. He was beginning to feel just a little bit overwhelmed.

Rupert just held him for a moment, then tilted Ethan's head back enough to kiss him. "You can play with the cars while watching your gay porn," he teased softly.

Ethan really didn't want to let go, but he knew he was being a bit of a drama queen. After exchanging a long and fairly intense glance with Rupert, he heaved a deep breath, and turned back to the room, grinning. "What's next then?" he asked, taking the opportunity to grab another forkful of cake.

"This one," Kat said, handing him a heavy rectangular package. It was obviously another book, this one oversized.

"That would be from me," Ian said from the chair he was sitting in, eating cake.

"Thank you, Ian," Ethan smiled over at him. It was truly something when even one's teachers gave birthday gifts. And what a gift. Ethan laughed loudly once the present was unwrapped. "I'm sensing a theme here."

Ian had given him coffee-table gay erotica -- a large book of art photography of pretty men supposedly having sex. Not something that Ethan would have expected as a gift from Ian, except he knew his mentor had a wicked sense of humour, and this book was called 'Male Alfresco'. All the posed sex scenes were taking place outdoors.

"You're a wicked old crow," Ethan commented happily. He didn't dare look at Rupert to see how his lover was taking it.

"For some reason, it made me think of you," Ian replied with a tiny smile. "I wonder why."

"Can I see?" Kat asked, straining to get a good look at the pages that Ethan was flipping through.

"By all means," Ethan giggled, starting to hand the book over.

Rupert intercepted the volume before Kat could get her hands on it. "After I've reviewed it, perhaps," he said mildly.

Ethan winked at Kat. "Never mind, dear."

Megan placed a smaller present on his lap. When Ethan turned to her questioningly, she said, "It's from Miss Harkness."

"I thought the cake was from you, Lucy?" Ethan asked, as he opened the tubular gift. It was an old-fashioned kaleidoscope. "Oh, smashing!" He exclaimed gleefully. "I haven't seen one of these for donkey years."

"Pretty patterns made from randomness," Lucy told him. "It seemed suitable."

"All you need is a mirror to create perfect symmetry." Ethan nodded. "Thank you, Lucy."

"There's just one more," Kat said, sounding a little disappointed about that as she carefully handed over the last package.

This one was a slightly odd shape and had some weight behind it. The tag on it was in Rupert's distinctive handwriting -- 'So you will always see what I see.'

Ethan glanced over to Rupert, meeting his eyes questioningly. Seeing some strong emotion in his lover's gaze, but no answers, Ethan turned back to the gift and opened it. It was a mirror set in mahogany; the carved frame was an interweaving of foxes and badgers.

Ethan realised right away that the badger must be Rupert's animal -- of course it was. Oh God...

It was the most perfect thing. The gift tag now made sense. Through a window formed of their spirits, Ethan could finally see himself. "Rupert... I..."

As his fingers traced the carvings, Ethan could hear his lungs catch, strong emotions worsening his shortness of breath. With hands that were suddenly trembling, he lifted the mirror and looked into it, watching with stunned bemusement as his own eyes filled with tears.

He heard Rupert clear his throat and was aware of the others getting up and quietly leaving, but Ethan found himself unable -- or unwilling -- to look away from his gift and his reflection.

Then his lover was shifting them both, moving Ethan forward and sliding in behind him, and resting his head on Ethan's shoulder so both their reflections were visible in the mirror.

"Have you any idea how completely I love you?" Ethan asked in a low and fractured voice, as he met Rupert's reflected gaze. Together, they watched a tear run slowly down Ethan's cheek.

"A rather good idea, yes." Rupert brushed the tear away with a gentle finger.

Ethan touched the image of his lover's face in the mirror. Meaning more than he could ever verbalise with the two words, he met Rupert's eyes again and whispered, "Thank you."

NEXT