Title: Sleight of Hand 10/14
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
Summary: It's behind the scenes where things get complicated.

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.

"Books, pens, paper, laptop, cup of tea... Do you need anything else? Don't you dare move that foot from that stool." Ethan was arranging things on nearby tables ready for the imminent war council, clucking around Giles, who was ensconced in his easy chair, his bad leg properly elevated.

Several days had passed since Giles had been released from hospital, but this was the first time since they'd made it home from the Heath that Ethan had relented enough to let Giles out of bed without pouting at him.

Not that he was to be allowed to move on his own yet; Ethan had continued to hide his cane and only gave in to Giles coming downstairs if Ethan himself was the support he used. So less than an hour ago, they'd made their slow way down to the living room with Giles leaning heavily on Ethan's shoulder for balance and to hold the weight that his injured leg remained unhappy about taking.

Once down, Ethan had settled him in his favourite chair and then proceeded to scurry around, making sure Giles had everything he needed to work and be comfortable.

Looking up at Ethan, who was now hovering, full of nervous energy, Giles smiled and held out a hand to him as he answered his question. "Just you."

After a slow perusal of the space around Giles, Ethan smiled and said, "I'm afraid there's no room for me." Taking a page from Ethan's book, Giles merely looked at his lover -- and pouted. Ethan laughed. "That really doesn't work for you, dearheart," he insisted, while nonetheless leaning down to kiss him.

"That seems extraordinarily unfair."

"It's a skill one has to master," Ethan told him between small, sweet kisses. "It takes years of practice." He teased briefly with his tongue, darting it through Giles' lips. "You can't expect to just pick it up in a day."

"Hm. Perhaps." Giles reached up and pulled Ethan down for a deeper kiss. "But it does seem to have had the desired effect this time."

Ethan fidgeted before settling on his lap like an overgrown cat, without breaking the kiss. But as their lips parted briefly afterwards, he murmured, "Why on earth would you think I'd want to avoid this?"

"I don't know," Giles murmured in return, leaning in for another kiss, his hand running down Ethan's body as if stroking the aforementioned cat. "But you were looking like a hummingbird -- hovering and flitting about, but never settling."

"Sorry." Ethan seemed genuinely chagrined. "Remember, I've spent most of my life caring for no one. Like you with pouting, I'm not very practised."

"You're doing fine, love," Giles assured him with another kiss. "I feel very cared for."

"Maybe I make up in quantity where I fail in quality," Ethan suggested with a wink, wriggling happily and not a little provocatively.

"Have I made any complaints about the quality?" Giles asked with a smile.

"Only that there's rather too much of it."

"That would be a complaint about the quantity part of the equation," Giles pointed out.

Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, there was a knock on the front door. His face fell, looking almost frightened for a few moments before he recovered and crimped his lips in a wry smile.

Reacting to the fear he'd briefly seen, Giles kissed Ethan lingeringly. "We're all right," he told him when their lips parted. "It's all going to be all right."

Ethan hugged him fiercely before slipping from his lap and heading out for the door. There was a rumble of male voices, then Ethan returned accompanied by Xander. "Someone seems to be having trouble converting from Pacific Standard Time," Ethan announced dryly.

"Hey," Xander complained good-naturedly. "I know I'm early. It's all according to my secret plan." He walked over and pushed away some of the papers Ethan had arranged on the side table beside Giles in order to perch on it. "How's the English Patient doing?"

"English impatient more like." Ethan snorted and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Ethan would be happier if I stayed in bed until my leg was fully healed," Giles explained.

"I am *not* going to talk about you two and beds," Xander asserted, but he was smiling. "How is the leg anyway?" He quickly turned to glance around the otherwise empty room, then added in a whisper, "And how's Ethan?"

"He's doing much better," Giles replied in an equally soft voice, throwing a fond glance in the direction of the kitchen. "He recovered quickly once we'd purged the mage's magic from his system."

Xander nodded and gave a half-smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out folded sheets of white paper, which he handed over. "E-mails from the gang," he explained in his normal voice. "I printed them out for you."

"Thank you," Giles said, unfolding the sheets and glancing through them. "Although I don't remember telling them of my little mishap."

"Now... *one*," Xander started, pointing a finger upwards, "That was no mere mishap. Without Ethan, you'd be just so much squishy wood putty now. And *two*," a second finger rose. "Doesn't family have a right to know when you're hurt?"

The family remark took much of the wind from Giles' sails, but he persisted out of sheer stubbornness. "It was making them worry without there being anything they could do."

Xander seemed unrepentant. "Wouldn't you want to know if they were hurt?"

"Of course, but--" He looked at Xander and let the 'that's different' die before he could utter it. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

Xander leant forward and patted Giles' good leg, grinning warmly. "Nope. Admit defeat with good grace and enjoy your nice e-mails." Leaning back again, he continued talking. "So I take it we're gonna be told some eye-widening truths at this top secret meeting. Any chance I can get a sneak preview?"

"As much of the information isn't here yet, I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait." Giles settled back in his chair and reached for his mug of tea, sipping at it before bringing up a subject that had somehow eluded them up to now. "I do want to talk to you about what happened at the hospital however."

"Oh!" Xander exclaimed excitedly, standing up. "Just a sec." He felt in his jacket pocket and pulled out a flattish gift wrapped box, which he handed to Giles. "Open that first."

"What's this?" Giles asked, even as he obediently unwrapped. It was a white linen handkerchief of the sort sold by gentleman's outfitters, folded in the box so that the embroidered corner was displayed. It said, 'for those special occasions'.

Xander's face was all grin. "Now," he said, settling back. "Go ahead with the whole what happened in the hospital speech."

Giles looked at the younger man, bemused. "I get the feeling you're expecting it," he said dryly.

"Guess it wouldn't be tactful to admit I've been kinda looking forward to it, would it?"

Still looking at Xander, Giles sighed and found himself automatically reaching to take his glasses off. He paused for a second when he realised what he was doing, then deliberately picked up the new handkerchief to clean the lenses. "I suppose I will have to find another way to try and deter you from risking yourself foolishly."

"I didn't consider it a foolish risk. I was warned of the dangers, accepted them, and chose to act." Xander's statement was made seriously, with none of his usual deflecting babble, his gaze easily meeting Giles'.

Giles wasn't willing to let it go so quickly. "Your mind could've been permanently damaged. Or worse."

Xander nodded. "My risk to take. See, one of the fun things about being a grown up is you get to make your own decisions... Or is this a senior Watcher to junior Watcher thing?"

"This is me saying I would have been very unhappy -- to put it mildly -- if I'd woken up to find you... damaged for my sake."

"Noted and logged." Xander smiled.

"Good." He met Xander's gaze squarely. "I just want to make sure you value your life as highly as you do others."

Xander looked shifty, then looked down, fidgeted a little, and finally opened his mouth to say something that Giles fully expected to be both humorous and deliberately distracting, but he was saved by Ethan's reappearance.

"Coffee with far too much sugar for you, Xander," Ethan said, putting a mug beside the young man. He flapped his hand at Xander's arse, actually making contact a couple of times to Xander's quickly hidden consternation. "We do have chairs, you know," he pointed out in an annoyed tone, trying to restore Giles' papers to the way he'd had them before they'd been pushed aside.

"He's been a bit..." Giles trailed off, trying to think of a descriptive word for Ethan's attention that wouldn't be taken the wrong way.

"Of an old fusspot," Ethan filled in helpfully, smiling pleasantly at Xander now the lad was moving to a chair.

"Hey, fuss away!" Xander replied, offering Ethan a cheeky grin. "Everyone needs a mother, even Giles."

Giles chuckled. "Ethan is nothing like my mother."

He heard his lover mutter something under his breath. Giles didn't catch what and thought that was probably a very good thing. Xander, closer to Ethan currently, kept his gaze lowered and lips pressed tightly together.

"I suspect that was just proving the point," Giles said dryly, although he sent Ethan a fond look.

Xander settled on the sofa. "So you're determined not to tell me anything in advance? You're a cruel man, Giles. Maybe I should just pump Ethan for it." There was a loud derisive snort from Ethan, who was heading back out into the kitchen, and Giles half-expected to see Xander blushing when he looked back at the lad, but instead saw a broad grin. "Hey, if you can't beat them..." he said, chuckling.

Keeping a totally straight face, Giles replied, "Yes, that could sum up my relationship with Ethan rather well."

Xander was still laughing as the doorbell rang and he stood, raising his voice to tell Ethan that he'd get it.

***

"So," Kat said, settling back on the sofa beside Xander. "Are you going to tell us now why you've called us all here?" She grinned. "I always wanted to say that."

"The butler did it," Ethan supplied helpfully.

Their small war council was gathered now, and 'small' was what it was. Two old men, a one-eyed boy, a prim young woman, and two teenage girls -- it seemed precious few to face... whatever it was that they were facing. Something evil and Chaotic and which wanted them dead. Oh, and the wonderful Francesca, of course -- a separate but highly unpleasant problem.

Ethan found he was feeling more than a little embarrassed being back amongst these people who had witnessed his headlong dive off the deep end after Francesca's parcel had arrived. As a result, he suspected he was acting just a little churlishly. All the comfy seats had been taken, and rather than grab a hard chair or even, as Megan was doing, perch on a chair-arm, he was leaning on the frame of the kitchen door, keeping separate from the council.

He wanted to go to Rupert. He wanted to sit on the arm of Rupert's chair, or even better, in Rupert's lap. But he doubted Rupert would want him there while he was trying to chair such an important meeting. It was better Ethan stayed where he was.

"The butler never does it," Megan piped up. "Because everyone suspects he has. It's always who you least expect."

"Which would therefore be the butler," Ethan insisted. "As everyone, sweet thing, thinks the same way you do." Megan grinned and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, since none of us have a butler," Rupert broke in, "I'm fairly certain we can lay to rest any suspicions that he is the culprit in this situation."

Pamela coughed. It seemed an innocent cough, but when Ethan looked at her, sitting primly in the other easy chair as she was, he noticed what he thought of as her Princess Di smile hovering on her lips, as she shuffled the papers on her lap. "Throat lozenge, dear?" he offered dryly.

Rupert shifted in his chair. "To deal with our more immediate and less life threatening problem, I've asked Pamela to see if she could ferret out information on Francesca Travers and the possible location of the... items she has."

Ethan knew Rupert had told everyone the bare bones of the blackmailing when he'd called them about the meeting. They all knew the situation with Francesca, although not yet the Chaos threat.

"Well, actually, sir," Pamela started, that strange smile still hovering about her lips. "I've been making friends with Miss Travers' household staff. In particular, her butler--"

"I knew it!" Ethan interjected. "Didn't I tell you?"

"The exception that proves the rule," Megan dismissed. She turned to Pamela. "What did you find out?"

Pamela was clearly enjoying her moment. "Well, it just so happens that Joseph Franks, the man in question, is not terribly fond of his late employer's daughter, and he intends to be moving on shortly. I was able to put him in the way of an interview for my aunt's household in Shropshire and then took him for a celebratory tipple or two."

Xander chuckled and then looked at Rupert. "Better watch it, Giles, or MI5 is going to steal her away."

Despite himself, Ethan walked a few steps further into the room. "Pammy, I'm impressed. Truly."

She smiled at him, even letting the shortening of her name pass, hackles unraised. "Well, to cut a long evening short, it seems Francesca is in the habit of using her father's study when working at home, and he'd had installed a strong wall safe, which is hidden under a portrait behind his desk. Joe wouldn't tell me the combination, although he obviously knows it, but he did say that the numbers were in full view in the office as Quentin was prone to forgetting them."

"If it was anybody else, I'd say that was too obvious," Rupert said, tenting his fingers in front of him as he spoke. "But Francesca lacks... imagination."

"And just wants to do what dear old daddy would have done," Ethan added. "Sounds promising to me. Will it have magical protection?" he asked Rupert, figuring out where his husband's largely improvised plan was most likely going.

"Quentin was very much into tradition and frowned on going outside the Council for anything. There most likely will be traditional spells of protection on the safe that the Council has used for centuries. I can teach them to you -- although," Rupert smiled at him, "I doubt you'd have much problem bypassing them anyway."

"So the plan's a heist?" Xander asked.

"And I'm the Raffles in question, I believe," Ethan said, smiling back at Rupert and finally walking over to stand by his chair.

"I have a copy of most of Joe's keys," Pamela offered, her helpful tone in no way covering up how smug she clearly felt. "I borrowed some of those handy wax kits from Thackery's department. Joe became rather amorous at one point, and I allowed that to continue long enough to practice a little sleight of hand. While he was in the gents, I made impressions of them all. Thackery himself made them up for me." She produced a largish bunch of shiny new keys and passed them to Ethan. "I've no idea which fits what however."

"That's okay." Rupert reached up and rested a hand on top of Ethan's. "Finding ways into places he shouldn't be in is an old skill of Ethan's."

"Yes, I've seen his rather depleted file," Pamela answered rather archly, but there was a twinkle in her eye. Ethan wondered, not for the first time, if this delightful sense of humour had always been there, and he simply hadn't noticed it because of his Council prejudices. She had seemed so prim and correct when they'd first met. Of course, he'd hardly been at his shining best himself.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "There were a number of discrepancies I found in the file, and so I decided it needed a nice spring clean."

The girls both giggled as Rupert gave a mostly mock-weary sigh. "You will, of course, provide a corrected version to replace it," he said, looking at Ethan. "Which I will double-check."

Ethan had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but he knew he could procrastinate indefinitely providing he appeared willing. "Yes, sir," he said with a smile, before turning back to Pamela. "Do you have anything else for us, Mata Hari?"

"Only what Mr Giles asked me for, Raffles," Pamela replied. She handed him a folder to pass on to Rupert. "That's everything we know about Ms Travers up to and including the names of her dogs."

"Big dogs?" Xander asked.

"The biggest," Pamela supplied. "The Travers' have bred Irish wolfhounds for generations, including several Best of Breed winners at Crufts over the years."

"Do they use them as guard dogs?" Megan asked, and Ethan could practically see the gears turning in the girl's head as she tried to formulate a plan.

Pamela smiled gently at the girl. "Not officially, but the ones Francesca keeps in London with her have free range of the house and aren't likely to welcome intruders."

"So we better pick up some sausages or something before we go," Xander said. "Good thing to know."

"We?" Ethan asked, eyebrow raised.

Xander met his gaze. "What -- you didn't think you were going to do this alone, did you?"

"I thought maybe, Megan?" Ethan offered. Megan straightened up at that, the hint of a smile touching her lips. Ethan looked at Rupert, at last sitting down on the arm of his husband's chair.

Rupert, however, was frowning. "I don't know--"

Ethan frowned in turned. "Rupert, Francesca isn't the only person after us. Not only do I need Megan or Kat with me for this, I want one of them with me *whenever* I go out, and for the other to be with you. At all times when we're not together."

Rupert stirred, and Ethan knew exactly what was going to be said, so quickly pre-empted him, turning to the rest of the room.

"Rupert and I have fallen victim to fate," he revealed. "To vaguely worded prophecy, no less. There is -- as a result of what we are becoming when we're together -- a force of evil wanting to destroy us. That's what was behind the attack on us in the train. More will inevitably come."

This pronouncement was greeted with a long silence.

Finally, Xander stirred and asked, "So, this prophecy... are we talking end of the world type prophecy or just Chosen one type prophecy?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ethan replied, very carefully not turning to look at Rupert, whose reaction to his revelations he wasn't sure he wanted to know about. "The powers that be, who in this case would be a coven of *so*-very-much-wiser-than-thou witches in Devon, are choosing to release information in a thoroughly pinchpenny fashion."

"There is no end of the world imminent," Rupert put in, sounding calm and reasonable. "Although admittedly someone is going to a great deal of trouble to try and get Ethan and myself out of the way. I would guess that we are destined to do something that will annoy them. Other than stubbornly continue breathing."

"What sort of threats do you estimate we can expect, sir?" Pamela asked seriously. "More of the same, or might they vary their tactics?"

"Whatever," Kat interjected. "We're sticking close to our Watchers from now on." Megan nodded determinedly.

"We're perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves," Rupert said with much dignity.

"No, we're not." Ethan immediately refuted. "Having a Slayer with us that night could have made all the difference." Apart from anything else, they wouldn't have had public sex to be blackmailed about had a Slayer been there.

"Yes, one more target to keep those magic... grenades away from." Rupert shook his head, looking stern. "I won't condone putting a Slayer in unnecessary danger."

Ethan stared at his husband. "Rupert, you send them to *hellmouths*."

"Exactly," Rupert replied, looking back steadily. "They have their own destiny and enough of their own dangers to face."

"Hello?" Kat said. "Are you really telling us, Giles, that Buffy never protected you? 'Cause from everything you and Xander have told us, I kinda find that hard to believe."

"Oh, she protected him alright," Ethan said sourly. Rupert had fine and logical thought processes except where they concerned himself.

"Not in the way you mean," Rupert argued. "It was my job to teach and watch over her, not the other way around. Watchers don't use Slayers as bodyguards. That's not a precedent I'm willing to set."

"How about friends looking out for friends?" Xander put in.

Ethan was scowling. Rupert had effectively made it so, if Ethan persisted and won the argument, and the Slayers played bodyguard and got themselves hurt, it would be Ethan's fault. And remembering how he'd felt when Megan had been hurt, Ethan really didn't want to ever face that again. But the fact was, he and Rupert *did* need more protection than their own power provided. Maybe they wouldn't when they were more adept at combining their magic, but for now it was essential.

Upset at the idea that he had to choose between his charges' safety and his husband's, Ethan stood, intending to leave the room. Rupert reached out and grabbed his hand, holding him there. Along with his touch, there was the barest ghost of Rupert's magic as well, wrapping around Ethan's hand and sinking into his skin, comforting as well as restraining.

"Friends maybe, but they're still our charges, our students," Rupert replied to Xander, while still holding onto Ethan's hand. "It's not right, Xander."

"You not letting us help isn't right either," Megan spoke up, her voice sharp with denial. "If you came across a prophecy that put someone else at risk, you wouldn't be arguing the point. We'd be guarding them until we knew what was happening. Why is it any different just because it's you?"

"Too right," Kat agreed. "You've got a destiny, ok. But we've got one too. Let us do our jobs, Giles."

Ethan looked between the girls, feeling so grateful it almost hurt. He swore to himself he'd put as much energy into protecting them as they would protecting him if only they could get Rupert to agree to this. Using his strong emotion to fuel the power of his thoughts, he sent to his husband, 'Listen to them, Rupert. They make sense. If you can't value yourself the way we do, try to value this mysterious role we're destined to play. You can't afford to be stubborn here. You can't afford to let the Chaos win.'

Rupert's expression remained his most stubborn, until his face all but crumpled. "Fine," he said sourly. "I can't very well stop you, it seems." The emotion that Ethan thought he could most sense from his husband, however, was guilt.

'I love you,' Ethan sent, trying to reassure. Out loud, he added, "Don't see this as self-serving; see it as world-serving, dearheart. You're an international asset currently; we both are." He was trying his best to find a way of presenting things that would work for Rupert. It was becoming increasingly worrying to Ethan how little Rupert seemed to value his own hide.

Kat left the sofa and came to crouch in front of Rupert. "It'll be alright, Giles," she said almost gently. "Let us look out for you the way you look out for us."

Rupert managed a smile for her, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "I appreciate the determination. And affection."

Pamela gave a little cough. "Perhaps, girls, you'd like to liase with me? I can work out a suitable schedule."

Megan smiled. "Works for me."

Ethan felt guilty -- never his favourite emotion and one he'd spent a great deal of his life trying to eradicate from his repertoire. He'd, yet again, forced his husband into doing something against his will, and it wasn't hard to sense how unhappy Rupert now was. Sitting back down on the chair arm, Ethan freed his hand and rubbed his face, remaining silent.

"So," Kat said, rising to her feet and returning to the sofa. "When do you guys go do the Grand Theft Larceny thing, and what do Giles, Pamela and I do while you're doing it?"

Rupert shifted again, resting a hand on Ethan's leg and visibly yanking his mind back to the matter at hand. "There's an important Council meeting scheduled for four days from now; I'll have to be there. Francesca will be there as well. That will be a perfect time to break into her house."

Ethan nodded, pushing down his uncomfortable emotions. "So I'm taking Megan and Xander then?" He stared hard at Xander. "I'm in charge."

Xander held up his hands. "Like I have any experience with break-ins. I yield to the master."

Ethan couldn't resist smirking evilly at the lad. "I won't be too harsh, promise," he said in his most lecherous voice.

"You can't unnerve me," Xander replied with aplomb. "Megan will protect me from your evil designs."

Kat giggled. "What is he -- a demonic fashion designer?"

Ethan giggled too, suddenly in a much better mood. "There are some who would agree with that assessment of my sartorial style. But considering what they themselves wear, I don't feel obliged to listen."

"Evil designs," Xander repeated. "As in designs on doing evil. Evil plans -- and no I'm not saying he's a demonic architect," he added when Kat opened her mouth again. He shook his head with mock dismay. "What is the younger generation coming to?"

"Oh, like you're so old," Kat countered.

"Old in experience," Xander assured her. "I was helping to fight the forces of evil when you were still wearing your hair in pigtails."

"That was yesterday," Megan pointed out.

Smiling beatifically around the room, Ethan squeezed Rupert's hand on his leg, feeling warm and, despite everything, spontaneously happy. These people were his friends. Yes, even Xander, and somehow he didn't think the American would disagree with any seriousness. Their time together with Rupert's unconscious body seemed to have bonded them.

The last time Ethan had anything even approaching a group of friends like this had been back during his London days with Ripper. But they'd all been so shallow then, so out for thrills and fun. He'd been fond enough of them, but frankly, Ripper aside, he never really missed any of them. It hadn't been like this.

This was both terrifying and wonderful. Terrifying because the thought of losing any part of this bothered him hugely; wonderful because... because he never thought such acceptance from anyone but Rupert would be possible.

"It's all going to be all right, you know," he announced warmly. "Really, it is." And then froze as everyone was staring at him, and he realised that had probably sounded rather odd coming from him of all people. "Er, I've been working on improving the Pollyanna aspects of my personality?" he offered with an embarrassed grin.

"I suppose that means I have to work on being the jaded cynic," Rupert said with another mock-weary sigh. But the look he gave Ethan was warm and affectionate and completely understanding.

As Ethan stared into his husband's eyes in a way that was quite possibly doting, he heard Pamela shift in her chair. "Um, sir? Would you like me to attempt to research this threat against you both? The non-Travers threat, that is."

Rupert blinked, seeming startled by the question, perhaps by the idea that someone other than himself would do the necessary research. "I... uh... Sure. If you... Of course."

"Do you think the coven in Devon could be convinced to liase with me about this?" she asked. "Or am I incorrect in my assumption that they know something about it all?"

The question seemed to jumpstart Rupert's brain from the standstill it had gone into. "They certainly do know something, and I'm sure they'll talk to you. Whether you can get any relevant information out of them... well, that's something Ethan and I are still working on. But it would certainly be worth contacting them."

Pamela made a note in her PDA, then tutted quietly. "So many irreplaceable books lost," she said sadly, clearly thinking about the destruction of the old Council headquarters. "It's a very good thing that not everyone on the Council was as against the new technology as the old guard or we would have lost everything."

"Things just aren't the same on a computer," Rupert grumped.

"Yeah, which is why you had Willow transfer all your books onto her hard drive before you left Sunnydale a few years ago," Xander put in.

"Some of Rupert's best friends are computers." Ethan smirked down at his husband. "Really, he has nothing against them."

"Yes, thank you, Pollyanna," Rupert replied mildly.

"Permission to kiss the Head of the Council?" Ethan asked, still smirking.

"Like you've ever asked before." Rupert smiled and reached up, pulling Ethan down with a hand grasping his shirt.

Ethan kissed Rupert softly, but then pulled away, putting a finger to his husband's lips. "I think someone needs to say 'meeting adjourned'," he said casually, without looking around.

One of the girls, Megan he thought, giggled.

"No need," Xander said, standing up. "You don't have to throw us out; we know when we're superfluous. Come on girls, let's get out of the way before they start doing things I'm trying really hard not to think about."

"I'm staying right here." That was Kat.

"Yeah," Megan agreed in a softer voice. "It's really nice to see them like this again. You know, after everything that's happened."

Ethan frowned, sighed, and turned around. "Girls, can you call around again this time tomorrow? I... There's something I want to talk to you both about."

"Sure, Ethan," Megan said, smiling. Kat also nodded agreeably.

"Good." Ethan grinned. "Now bugger off, sweet things. Rupert's tired and needs to be tended to." He winked at them.

"Oh yes, I'm a complete invalid, about ready to keel over," Rupert said dryly.

"See?" Ethan added, as if Rupert's words had been sincere. "It was lovely to have you, especially *you*, Xander. See you again soon. Door's that way. Goodbye now."

One by one, they all filed out. As Pamela, the last to leave after collecting her papers together, moved into the lobby, she glanced over at Ethan, who was settling onto Rupert's lap. "You'd better get him straight to bed with something warm," she suggested, with a completely straight face, before shutting the door.

"You've been a bad influence on her," Rupert observed even as he wrapped his arms around Ethan and leaned in for a kiss.

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