Title: Sleight of Hand 1/14
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 Smoke and Mirrors

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This is the third story in the Of Old Mystics series; previous stories in the series can be found http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html.

Thanks to all the people who have sent feedback; we're always happy to hear that people are liking our series. :)

"Good God, look at them all. There should be a clean cut young bit of thing somewhere singing about linden trees and how tomorrow belongs to her."

Ethan was looking around the small hall full of Slayers in something close to amazement. The girls were in the middle of a synchronised martial arts routine. He'd somehow failed to see the gathered ranks together before now, and it was... impressive, almost frightening.

Rupert stood beside him, watching the girls with a faint smile on his face. "We're not raising an army to conquer the world," he replied, recognising the reference. "Save it every once in a while, perhaps. But the Council's bureaucracy is more than enough for me -- can you imagine the amount of paperwork involved in running the world?"

"If you ran the world, dearheart, you'd have lots of little grey men and women to do the paperwork for you. Hmm, much as you do now." Ethan grinned cheekily at his husband, as it highly amused him to think of Rupert since their exchange of rings. "And yet you still bring home reams of the stuff every night."

"You let the, as you call them, little grey men and women do the paperwork, and pretty soon, you're relying on them for information, instead of having your own contacts and making your own decisions on what is important. Lord knows, I never wanted this job, but if I'm going to run the Council, then that's what I'm going to do."

"Very admirable, I'm sure," Ethan chuckled. As he had a strong tendency to ignore even the small amount of paperwork that his much lesser position in the Council carried with it, Ethan was already fed up with the return of the daily briefcase of dead tree that Rupert chose to wade through every evening. And they'd only been back from Devon a few days.

Ethan caught sight of Megan amongst the thirty or so exercising Slayers in the hall and gave her a little wave. She gave him an exasperated and slightly pained look in return that really couldn't have expressed the sentiment of 'not now, I'm working' more clearly. Ethan sighed. "I'm being an embarrassing parent."

Rupert shot him an amused, affectionate glance. "There's worse things to be."

Ethan snorted quietly. "I suppose I'm not allowed to touch you up in here, am I?"

Another glance. "What do you think?"

Ethan sidled a step closer, smirking. "It could be a tonic for the troops -- a reward for all their hard work."

"Touching me up is a reward for them?" Rupert asked, laughter under the words.

"Our two seem to enjoy it." Ethan was standing very close now, although not touching.

"It doesn't exactly project the proper image," Rupert said. However, while he was speaking, Rupert's hand slid to the small of Ethan's back. Then lower.

Ethan felt the smirk on his face turn to something more intense, and he stared at the other man, breathing slowly and deeply. That Rupert would dare to do this in here... well, it showed how far they'd both come.

Rupert gave a small mischievous smile while his hand squeezed. "Not proper at all," he said, turning back to watch the girls, but leaving his hand in place.

Two could play at that game. Surreptitiously, Ethan moved his hand up behind Rupert, sliding it under the casual jacket to rest on the small of Rupert's back, stroking lightly. Then, as he was close enough to do so, Ethan leant towards Rupert's ear, as if he wanted to say something private, but instead blew softly up his lover's neck.

He felt Rupert shiver ever so slightly, but a moment later the other man stiffened and stepped away from him, staring across the room toward the far entrance. Ethan looked around to see a vaguely familiar man coming into the hall. He wasn't sure why he couldn't put a name, or at least a place to the stranger, as he would have thought the eye patch if nothing else would have stuck in his memory.

The man looked around, spotted him and Rupert -- or more likely just Rupert -- and waved, before starting to make his way around the edge of the room towards them.

Ethan glanced at the Council head. "Expecting company?"

"I wasn't," Rupert said, his eyes on the man coming their way, "but it seems I have it." Rupert smiled as the man got within speaking distance, moving forward to meet him. "Xander, this is a surprise," he greeted, holding out a hand which the other man took, then pulling him into a brief half-embrace.

Xander -- that name rang a bell. Ah, one of the Sunnydale children... only he very much wasn't a child anymore. Well, that explained the lightning-quick removal of hands then. Ethan stuffed his own hands into his pockets and smiled insincerely at the newcomer.

"Yeah, well, I was supposed to submit a complete overview of the search for North American Slayers. Figured I could finagle a free trip to the land of Gileses out of it, see this side of the operation." Xander grinned at Rupert, then glanced at Ethan, the smile fading. "I see they're letting anyone in, huh?"

"Apparently so," Ethan snarked in kind, looking the large young man up and down pointedly. He made sure he was standing inside what would generally be considered Rupert's personal space.

Rupert cleared his throat, somehow making the sound weary and resigned. "Ethan, you remember Xander Harris. Xander's been tracking down and identifying Slayers for us in the US. He found Kat and Megan both, and convinced their parents to let them come here." He gave Xander a smile of pride, then glanced at Ethan, the warning 'play nice' as clear in his eyes as if he'd actually said the words. "And Xander, I know you remember Ethan Rayne... although you may find he's changed considerably. He's working for the Council now, and he's my... partner."

Ethan's smile immediately became a lot more genuine, although it was more in reaction to Rupert's words than to anything the young American had done. "Hello Xander. So I have you to thank for our Slayer pair. Well done." He couldn't keep the smirk from his tone for all that his gratitude was real.

"Um, yeah," Xander replied, looking at Ethan with a cross between puzzlement and wariness. "Thanks." He turned his gaze back to Rupert. "Partner? Does that mean... partner?"

Ethan said nothing, but if he happened to raise his left hand at that moment, and happened to rub his fingers over his lips in such a way that really drew attention to the gold ring on his wedding finger, no one could prove it was deliberate, could they?

"That means exactly what you think it means," Rupert replied, then lifted one eyebrow and asked sardonically, "Do you really want me to go into details?"

"No!" Xander answered urgently, voice rising in pitch on the word. "No, that's fine. No details necessary. Or demonstrations-- and I didn't just think about demonstrations. Or what would be a demonstration. I'm not thinking about..." Xander winced. "Okay, I just thought and it wasn't pretty."

"Well, that's... insulting," Ethan said with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Ethan," Rupert chided mildly.

Considering all the things Ethan had restrained himself from saying in response to effectively being called ugly, it was a bit much to be told off for what he had uttered. He frowned at Rupert. "I'll just leave you two to it, shall I?"

Rupert reached out and grabbed Ethan's hand, tugging him to his side when he tried to walk off. "Stay," he bade softly. "You can pout at me later."

The firm grip on his hand was enough to soothe Ethan's ruffled feathers, for now at least, so he did what he was told. He could feel that the pout was making a premature appearance, however, so he changed it to his completely false bright smile once again. "Nice flight?" he asked Xander.

Xander was looking at them both, but mostly Rupert, like he wanted to stare but wasn't quite able to bring himself to actually do it. He blinked and focused on Ethan. "What? Oh. Yeah, I guess. Uneventful anyway, which is always of the good."

Before anyone could talk further, there was a shrill squeal of "Xander!" from behind Ethan, and Kat appeared, virtually throwing herself on the one-eyed man. She was closely followed by several other girls, who all seemed delighted to see the American. Ethan felt his bad mood getting worse by the second.

Rupert squeezed his hand and tugged slightly, bringing Ethan's attention back to him. "You're not in competition, love," he said for Ethan's ears only.

Ethan smiled back weakly. It was nice that Rupert understood what was wrong, and indeed that there *was* something wrong, without being told. And to make things better still, Megan appeared at Ethan's other side, slipping her hand into his free one as if she'd sensed he was upset. He looked between the two of them gratefully. He felt... bolstered.

Xander seemed completely at ease, happily chatting with the gathered Slayers surrounding him, managing to actually keep up with a bunch of teenage girls' chatter on excited, fast forward mode. He seemed to remember all of their names -- at least hadn't seemed to hesitate over any of them so far.

Ethan smiled at Megan. "It's alright, dear," he assured her. "You can say hello to him too." He squeezed her hand.

"I don't mind waiting," she replied. "Anyway, he probably doesn't remember me."

Tutting, Ethan pulled his hands from both grips in order to give Megan a loose hug. He whispered in her ear, "No one, having met you, will forget you, my sweet. Now the only person allowed to be insecure here is me, so you just behave and remember what I told you on the Eye."

When he straightened up and let her go, he found Xander staring at them both. Ethan didn't like the look on the man's face and had to bite back a sarcastic comment about his gender preferences.

Xander however had composed his expression by the time Megan looked in his direction, giving the girl a smile. "Hey, Megan," he said, proving he did indeed remember her. "Don't I get a welcome hug from you?"

Megan, bless her, actually looked to Ethan for permission -- which he gave via an encouraging smile -- before going to hug Pirate Pete. Ethan turned to Rupert and gave his lover a beseeching look. What, precisely, he was asking for, he didn't know himself.

"Come on." Rupert tugged on his hand, leading him away from the crowd and out into the hallways, which they followed to Rupert's office.

Ethan didn't say a word as they walked, already feeling guilty for causing Rupert to leave the young man -- his friend -- alone with the Slayers... not that Xander seemed at all unhappy with their company. However, the guilt was nowhere near enough to overwhelm the grateful relief Ethan felt at being away from that scene, so silent he remained.

As they walked through Rupert's outer office, Ethan smiled warmly at Pamela, who he'd been making his very best attempts to befriend since returning from Devon, having finally realised what a good ally she could be. She stood up, obviously wanting to catch Rupert's attention.

"Yes, I know, Pamela," Rupert said. "Mr. Harris is here."

"Ah," she smiled a little guiltily. "I was going to call and warn you that he was on his way, sir, but Ms Travers has been here demanding certain files. Things became rather distracting for a while."

Rupert made a face. "I'll have another talk with Francesca. Later. But if you can give Ethan and me a few minutes now without interruption, Pamela, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, sir." She sat back down.

Once the door was closed behind them, Rupert leaned against it, looking affectionately at Ethan. "Go ahead," he said dryly. "Get it out of your system."

Ethan put his hands over his face and peered at Rupert through parted fingers, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Dropping his hands, he sighed. "Sunnydale..." he said, a little helplessly.

Rupert took the two steps it needed to close the distance between them and wrapped his arms around him. "It doesn't change anything, you know."

Nuzzling the side of his face against Rupert's, Ethan shut his eyes and breathed in the presence of his lover. "I do know. Really, I do. It's just..."

"Facing the past?" Rupert guessed.

"In a way. I... Oh, it's just that god awful little town. It became a symbol of everything that lay between us."

Rupert was quiet for a moment, then offered, "It's my time in Sunnydale, with Buffy, Xander, and the others, that put me on the path back to you. It put me on the path back to myself."

Ethan could see the truth in that, and it helped to consider it. At least it did here, in this nice safe office they were alone in. The fact of their aloneness made him wonder if he could steal a few moments of a more physical kind of reassurance, and he moved his mouth to Rupert's for a needy kiss.

His lover returned it, and even added the bare ghost of his magic to the touch -- more than they had allowed themselves to do on the premises before this. So Ethan released some of his magic in turn, groaning softly into the kiss. He'd had no idea of quite how much he'd required this intimacy until it had started. Under the touch of Rupert's lips, Rupert's power, all the angst and insecurity seemed to dissolve away, replaced with comfort and... desire.

Pressing close to his lover, his husband, Ethan knotted one hand in the hair at the back of Rupert's head, moving the other down to fondle the man's arse.

Rupert growled, turning them so he could push Ethan back against the door, not breaking the kiss or the flow of power between them.

Ethan could feel himself rapidly growing rock hard and breathless. He was whimpering into Rupert's mouth and pushing against his body. He couldn't quite believe they were doing this here, in the heartland of everything orderly and respectable. The surge of... pride, passion, gratitude... any number of emotions that filled him when he realised that, yes, they were, was almost enough to make him come where he stood.

"God, Ripper..." he groaned against his lover's lips.

Rupert ground his hips against him, devouring Ethan's mouth feverishly. "Don't have much time," he muttered.

"Enough. Time enough. Please. God, please..." Ethan was filled with an urgency so insistent it made him helpless. He half-hung from Rupert, letting the other man control every action and responding with writhing or moans to every touch. "Need you, Ripper..."

Rupert kissed him harder, and Ethan felt a hand deftly undoing the fastenings on his trousers. Ethan's own hands were not so deft, as they tried to return the favour, out of control lust making him clumsy.

Rupert chuckled into Ethan's mouth as his hand slid into Ethan's opened trousers and closed around his cock.

Gasping, finally dragging his head back from Rupert's hungry lips, Ethan gave up his struggle to open his lover's fly and just squeezed and rubbed the erection through the cloth. Rupert's magic was travelling through his fingers into Ethan, whose head was spinning with need. "Dearheart..." he pleaded.

"Love you," Rupert murmured, before nuzzling into Ethan's neck, his fingers tightening around Ethan's cock, the stream of magic growing just that much more powerful. Ethan whimpered, thrusting into Rupert's hand and squeezing the other man's cock firmly if without rhythm, and Rupert groaned, the sound muffled against Ethan's neck.

"Please," Ethan begged. "Oh... please. I need..."

Rupert's fingers sped up in their movements on Ethan's cock, and began to vary the amount of magic, showing fine control in sending pulses down through where their skin touched. Ethan tensed and gasped, his balls pulling tight to his body and the sensations rising inexorably inside him.

"Rupert, I'm going to... Oh...."

If anything, Rupert's response was to up the intensity all the more.

With a long, drawn out wail, muted against Rupert's skin, Ethan came into his lover's tight fist. He collapsed against the other man, shuddering and panting. Rupert just held him as Ethan recovered, murmuring words that Ethan couldn't quite make out in a soothing tone under his breath.

"God," Ethan breathed. "I love you so." He kissed Rupert with many soft touches of his lips all over the other man's face and neck, then gracefully dropping to his knees.

This time his fingers had no trouble with Rupert's belt and fly, and he drew out his lover's needy erection. Licking around the tip, Ethan looked up and said throatily, "Use me, dearheart. Take what you need."

Rupert's breath had caught at the first touch. He was watching Ethan with eyes that had wonder in them, and reached down to caress his cheek. "Love you," he said in a voice become husky with arousal, then tangled his fingers in Ethan's hair and began fucking his mouth in earnest.

It had been quite a while since they'd done precisely this, but it was something Ethan loved. It gave him a breath-taking thrill, akin to speeding in a car or certain fairground rides, to have Rupert holding his head rigid while the thick cock plunged in and out of his throat. He groaned encouragingly around his mouthful, pacing his inhalations and maintaining both suction and a supply of tingling magic. His hands grasped his lover's pistoning hips, and his eyes never looked away from Rupert's face.

Rupert was watching him in turn, but his eyes drifted shut as he got close, all of his attention so obviously focusing inward as his climax rushed down on him. Ethan wrapped his arms around his lover's arse as the man shuddered and pulsed within his mouth, holding him tightly.

Rupert's knees seemed to wobble, and he threw out a hand against the door to steady himself. Opening his eyes, he looked down at Ethan, emotions clear in his gaze.

Letting the spent cock go from his lips, Ethan smiled contentedly up at him. "That was a good deal more than pleasant, my dear. Thank you."

A ghost of a smile turned the corners of Rupert's mouth upwards. "It seemed the most... efficient way of calming you down," he teased, holding out a hand to help pull Ethan to his feet.

Wincing only slightly at his damn knees, Ethan stood, and wrapped his arms around Rupert, kissing him lightly and letting him taste himself. "I can't believe we just had sex in the heartland of the Council of Watchers. Do you feel as deliciously naughty as I?"

"Actually, it's not the first time I've had a... dalliance in this building," Rupert admitted, leaning in for another brief kiss. "Though, granted, not in this office..."

"And presumably before this building became the headquarters." Ethan pouted. "I thought you were meant to be bolstering my confidence? Who was this possible slut of indeterminate gender?"

"Jealous?" Rupert asked.

"Of course."

"You have no reason to be, you realise." Rupert lifted his left hand and entwined it with Ethan's left hand, their two rings catching the light. "Of any past... shag partners, or anyone else."

Ethan bent his head to kiss the two rings. "To death?" he asked quietly, as he straightened up.

"Beyond, if we can manage it."

***

A little while later, Ethan emerged from Giles' private bathroom, smoothing his hair back. "There now. No one will ever know what we've been doing in here. On our own. For so long. Under instructions of no interruptions." He smirked over at Giles.

"No one will know unless they have eyes and get a look at you," Giles countered, unable to keep himself from smiling at his lover. "Cats dripping in cream don't look as smug as you do right now."

Ethan grinned more broadly and prowled over to Giles. "I'm proud of you, my dear. Proud of myself because you're mine. It's hard to hide it, and I really don't know if I want to."

Giles didn't think there'd ever be a time he'd get tired of seeing that kind of smile on his lover's face -- completely and totally happy with just a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. It was still a fairly new expression, one that had been gracing Ethan's face only since that night on the cliff. And sappy as it sounded, Giles felt like he fell in love all over again whenever he saw it.

He allowed himself the indulgence of pulling Ethan close enough to kiss him, but moved back before they could get distracted again. "Pride is fine," he said, resuming the conversation after the kiss. "But you might want to tone down the 'just fucked' look a little."

"How would you advise I--" Ethan stopped talking as the intercom buzzed, the noise a rude interruption in the comfortable and intimate atmosphere they'd created between them in the office.

Giving Ethan an apologetic smile, Giles moved over to his desk and keyed the intercom. "Yes, Pamela?"

"I'm sorry, sir." The machine gave Pamela's voice a nasal quality. "I waited as long as I could. It's just he's been out here for so long now..."

Xander. Giles glanced at Ethan, judging his mood before finally telling Pamela, "That's all right. You can let him come in."

"I'll be good," Ethan promised, stepping back from Giles.

"Don't strain yourself," Giles teased. He expected some friction at least in the upcoming conversation. He knew that, barring a miracle, Ethan and Xander were bound to snipe at each other. Not that Giles would be upset if such a miracle did occur, but he wasn't holding his breath.

Xander came in and grinned at Giles. "Wait until I'm distracted by the horde of hyper Slayers and sneak away. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me."

"He had an urgent matter to attend to," Ethan said, with a smug grin that he didn't seem to be able to control. "Any blame is mine."

"Now that I can believe," Xander replied, glancing at Ethan, who laughed.

"It's warming to know someone somewhere still believes in my depravity. Thank you, Xander. Truly. Did the fair Pamela offer you a drink?"

"Yeah, she did. And half her lunch if I wanted it." He looked back at Giles. "You sure she's not a demon? Because I'm almost sure she was flirting with me."

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"Well, she was being very British about it."

Giles wasn't quite sure how one could be very British while flirting, but refused to dwell on it. He'd long ago learn not to put too much energy into figuring out Xander's brain; it just gave him a headache. "As far as I know, she's human," he answered.

"To err is human after all," Ethan said, deadpan.

Xander didn't look in Ethan's direction, apparently deciding to ignore him. "Maybe I should ask her to show me around London."

"Don't let any of the Slayers hear you say that," Giles advised, also judging it best to not encourage Ethan's sniping. "You'll have twenty offers of tours." He smiled at the younger man. "You've made quite an impression on them. There's always quite a bit of 'Xander said this' and 'Xander did that' when they first arrive."

Apparently remembering his promise to be good, albeit belatedly, Ethan smiled and said mildly, "Pamela has shown good taste in the past. You should feel suitably complimented."

"Maybe," Xander replied, acknowledging Ethan's presence once again. "Or maybe she was just trying to distract me from thinking about whatever you two were doing in here. Which, let me now state for the record, I was not thinking about. At all. Ever."

"I'd be happy to clarify for you," Ethan offered with a smirk. He looked Xander up and down. "Demonstrate even." Clearly, the good behaviour had lasted for exactly one comment.

"No, you won't," Giles said mildly, hopefully nipping that particular line of teasing in the bud. There were going to be no demonstrations -- either for Xander or on Xander.

"Oh, apparently I won't," Ethan said dryly. "Sorry, Xander. Do try not to be too disappointed."

Before Xander could answer, which was probably a good thing judging by the expression on his face, two things happened at once -- the intercom buzzed urgently and the door opened. The latter revealed the instantly aggravating figure of Francesca Travers together with one of her toadying followers.

"Mr Giles, you have been avoiding me," she accused, storming over to him.

"I wasn't aware we had an appointment," Giles responded in his most professional and cool tones.

"I have been assured that your assistant told you I wanted to see you. Are you claiming that she lied?"

"I'm claiming that you didn't have an appointment, Francesca. Did you make one with Pamela?"

"You don't require anyone else to make appointments, Mr Giles. This is a policy you use only to block me. Did this American need to book a time in your apparently empty schedule?" She gestured carelessly at Xander. "I strongly doubt it."

"Um, actually," Xander spoke up, "I called Pamela before I left the States and had her work me into Giles' schedule." Which was the first Giles had heard of this, but he didn't let his surprise show.

"Rupert's schedule being rather... tight and hard to get into," Ethan added. >From his lover's expression, it was hard for Giles to tell if Ethan had meant the innuendo or not.

Francesca clearly felt Ethan had, as the look she gave him now was full of disgust and hatred. "Please, do not bother yourself to address me. It's not as if you can have anything pertinent to say. You are as much a true Watcher as I am a repulsive old homosexual sorcerer."

"Less of the 'old', Frannie," Ethan answered immediately, smiling one of those completely false grins of his.

"Speaking as someone who's worked with a Slayer or two for the last seven years," Xander began, his voice oh so casual, "and who's met and dealt with more than one 'true' Watcher, it's the people with actual field experience who do the best at the job. Ethan's got that at least. And how many vampires have you killed, Ms Travers?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she answered Xander with a voice that almost crackled the air with frost. "A true Watcher, one who had received the requisite training, would understand that we have the Slayers to kill vampires, Mr..." Giles didn't believe for an instant that she'd really forgotten Xander's surname, but she continued on as if she had. "Not of course that someone like you could ever hope to get through the degree course at Oxford."

Ethan turned to Xander and explained to him in a voice dripping with fake sympathy, "Poor Francesca was denied field experience by her father. He didn't think she was good enough to be a Watcher, despite her excellent academic qualifications. Aren't some fathers bastards?" He tutted, his mouth forming a moue, as he looked back at Francesca, who seemed about ready to attack Ethan physically.

"Was there something you wanted, Francesca?" Giles asked, distracting her from the impending violence.

"I have no intention of discussing important Council business in front of this man," Francesca asserted, waving insultingly at Ethan. "What you choose to tell him is your failing, but I will not contribute to the dissemination of Council secrets to evil riffraff."

Ethan sniggered loudly. "Oh, nice. I must add that to my resume."

Giles was fast losing patience with the woman. "Fine. Then you can talk with Pamela about making an appointment to discuss... whatever it is you want to discuss in private. Good afternoon, Francesca."

Francesca's face hardened further, and she seemed about to rant some more before the lackey at her side patted nervously on her sleeve to gain her attention, then whispered in her ear.

When she looked up at Giles again, she smiled. "I do hope, for your sake, Mr Giles, that you remember your responsibilities before it's too late for you. I'm not worried for the Council, of course. No true Watcher will ever let you destroy our great institution with your... misguided egalitarianism and hormonally charged nepotism." She turned and headed for the door. "Good afternoon."

"Gentlemen and gentlemen, there goes a prime example of a woman who ate a dictionary and is painfully regurgitating it word by word," Xander said, gesturing at the closed door after Francesca had disappeared through it.

"I think you'll find the dictionary entered her body through a different orifice," Ethan said dryly, smiling at Xander. "Which would nicely explain the pinched expression she tends to wear."

Xander winced at the image. "That's *gotta* hurt." He grinned back at Ethan, then glanced at Giles. "You ever thought of assigning her to Buffy for a month or so? She'd put Ms Dictionary-where-the-sun-don't-shine in her place fast enough."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Giles admitted, glancing at the door himself. "But Buffy hasn't done anything lately to deserve such a fate."

"Unlike myself," Ethan commented dryly. "I'm clearly working through a lot of my karma shortfall by having the unexcellent Frannie riding my back like a deranged jockey, convinced I'm public enemy number one."

"All right, that image would be enough to strike me blind in my other eye," Xander complained, shuddering theatrically.

"Best not to think about it then, I imagine," Ethan chuckled. "One eye-patch has a certain style, two would be overdoing it a tad. Of course, you might find it had its advantages." He turned and kissed Giles sensually on the lips.

"Oh, holy Gandalf the Grey!" Xander exclaimed, sounding dismayed. "You are so not wrong."

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