Title: Sleight of Hand 13/14
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.

Ethan was seventeen today and looking for a birthday present -- something special, something that would mean something. Something that would last. He'd long since worked out that if he wanted anything good in this life he had to get it for himself, his family apparently considering life itself and some dodgy genes gifts enough. So he'd put on his best shimmering flares; the ones that meant all the old queens couldn't stop staring at his arse. They were part of his hunting gear; part of the get up that changed him from lanky sixteen-year-old to asexual, ageless predator laying claim to the dance floor.

Something like that, anyway. The gear seemed to do the trick usually, and that was what counted.

He knew what he was looking for as he moved through the plebeian crowd, refusing all comers. He was waiting for that moment when he'd look at someone and just *know* that this was the right one. The one who was born for him. The one who could tell Ethan who he was, why he was, as there had to be some reason behind all this futility, surely?

Today was the day.

He'd always known really. That he was destined for, if not greatness, at least for uniqueness -- for the stuff of the modern, urban fairytale. He was Jack with his beans, Aladdin with his lamp. Poor boy about to make it so very good. Somewhere out there was something magical and wonderful, disguised from the eyes of the common crowd. But Ethan would see and recognise this treasure, this magic mirror, and the mirror would recognise him in turn.

The mirror would see that Ethan was the fairest of them all.

Bowie's latest was playing loud, Ethan's body moving instinctively to the sound. He stood in front of the big disco speakers, letting the vibrations play through him, over him. He moved to them as if responding to a lover's hands while his eyes scanned the crowd, searching.

He would never be sure what stopped his gaze where it did. A boy his age or a little older stood at the bar, dressed in skin tight jeans and black leather jacket, his sandy brown hair long enough to brush the collar. Ethan couldn't tell from this distance, but he knew somehow that the boy's eyes would be green.

As he watched, the boy leaned closer to the bloke next to him, obviously in an effort to hear over the music. Whatever the boy heard must have been amusing because he threw his head back and laughed.

Oh.

Ethan felt like he had been hit hard in the gut. He grabbed at his belly and gasped for breath. He'd known that he would recognise his mirror when he found it, but he hadn't realised how... painful the recognition would be.

He felt like crying, like falling to his knees and beseeching the boy to come to him. But what if he went to the boy and the boy just looked through him? What if the boy was straight? What if this was just the last laugh of destiny, that Ethan had spent his life waiting for this moment, and it would turn out to be only the punchline of a sadistic joke.

He had to wait. Wait and watch. And thank God, the intense feelings were abating. He could look at the boy now without feeling as if he would die without immediately tasting his skin, his lips... hearing his voice, feeling his hands... Oh bugger.

Ethan groaned and backed up into the crowd, his eyes never leaving the green-eyed boy.

***

It was with a sense of great satisfaction that Giles put the key into the lock and opened the front door. Home at last. The dragon, if not defeated as such, was at least sent off with her tail between her legs, and several of his key proposals had been accepted for initial implementation. And now Giles was finally going to be able to relax in the comfort of his own home.

He found he was actually looking forward to some of Ethan's pampering, for although he was still somewhat exuberant, he was also very tired and his leg hurt. As he opened the door, he also opened his mouth to call to Ethan and announce his homecoming. The words never left his mouth, however, as standing directly in front of him in the small lobby was the man himself, the door beyond him closed.

"Good evening, dear," Ethan said with his most untrustworthy grin. "Have a nice day? Shall I take your case?"

Giles let his lover take the case from his hand even as he regarded him suspiciously. "It's been a good day. So far. Although with you looking at me with that expression I wonder if that's about to change."

Ethan laughed. Nervously. "Don't you trust me, dearheart?" There was some sort of noise coming from behind the closed door into the living room. Ethan's brow creased. "Hmm, we may need to talk..."

"Did something go wrong with the heist? Did someone get hurt?" His good mood fading as worry took its place, Giles took a limping step towards the living room door.

Ethan moved into his path, standing close and stroking Giles' shoulders and upper chest with his free hand. "Everyone's fine and nothing went wrong. There was just one small and not necessarily unpleasant complication..."

Something started scrabbling at the door.

Years of dealing with demons and werewolves made the sound of claws scratching against wood one that Giles recognised immediately. "Did you conjure something?" he asked, moving to step around Ethan.

"No!" Ethan answered, stung. "And may I say how touching your faith in me truly is? If you must go in without waiting for an explanation, at least let me close the front door first." He squeezed past Giles and shut them into the small space.

"Is there an explanation coming?" Giles asked, the words coming out testier than he meant. He took a deep breath. "Sorry, my leg's aching a bit, and I really would like to get off it."

"Oh." Ethan was instantly contrite and concerned. "I'm sorry. Let's go in and get you sat down. You can meet the as yet unnamed complication, and I can attempt to explain the inexplicable." He pushed back past Giles and opened the door into the living room.

A bundle of fur dove through Ethan's legs only to bounce off of Giles. He looked down and found himself meeting a deep brown gaze looking up at him.

"Ethan."

There was that nervous laugh again. "Yes?"

"There's a rather large puppy sitting on my foot."

"Yes." Ethan smiled at him. "Meet, erm... your faithful hound."

Tearing his gaze away from the animal, Giles looked up and sought out his lover's. "You stole a puppy?"

"He rather insisted upon it. Are you going to come and sit down?" Ethan offered his hand.

"There's a puppy sitting on my foot."

"Well, tell him not to?" Ethan suggested. "He is *your* dog."

Giles looked dubiously down at the animal. "Could you get off my foot, please?" he asked politely.

The puppy stood up attentively, panting, watching Giles carefully as if waiting further instructions. Ethan... giggled.

Giles glared at Ethan for a moment then sighed, looking back down at the puppy. "I suppose you might as well come with me into the living room," he told it.

It wagged its tail furiously, yapped once, and scampered back into the main room. Ethan was still holding out his hand. "You need to be thinking about names, dearheart."

"You stole me a puppy," Giles said again, taking Ethan's hand and allowing his lover to slide closer and take some of his weight as they made their slow way into the living room.

"It wasn't quite as... well..." Ethan seemed somewhat at a lost for words. He helped Giles sit down and then gazed down at him. "Look at that dog. *Really* look at it. Then tell me who it belongs to."

Giles looked at Ethan for a long moment then turned all of his senses, including his magic sense, onto the animal who had once again moved to sit on his foot. The dog looked back, its big brown eyes wide and far too solemn for an animal that young.

It was faint, but there was a connection there; the puppy felt familiar, like a distant taste of his own magic.

"You see it, don't you?" Ethan asked quietly, sitting down beside him. "The monster-in-training recognised me as... well, as kin. We both belong to you, dear. Both bear your mark."

"I know what I need you for; not sure what I need a dog for." But Giles leaned down and scratched the animal's ears, which set its tail to thumping.

"It was like he was waiting there for me to find him and take him to you." Giles felt Ethan's hand moving restlessly over his back. "If Frannie calls the Met, he's pretty conclusive evidence of my misdeeds."

"She won't," Giles said with complete assurance. "Not with the information about her accounts we apparently have now." He leaned back in the chair, tilting his head to look up at Ethan, some of his earlier satisfaction coming back now that the mystery of the closed door had been solved. "You should have seen her, love. She lit out of the meeting like someone had set her on fire. It was bloody marvellous."

"I wish I'd been there to see it." Ethan sounded genuinely envious. "I'm no accountant, but those books looked pretty damning of Quentin and the many Travers gits before him. Xander took the ledgers as he said he could drop them into Pammy's tonight. That's after he drove us to Pets-at-Home for a few bits and pieces. Now might be a good time to authorise a raise for one or both of us, by the way." He grinned at Giles.

"Sleeping with the boss isn't enough for you?" Giles teased.

"It's hardly going to pay for the dog food, vet bills etc. Well, unless we set our bed on a stage somewhere."

Giles chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past you to do that." He paused and then added honestly, "I wouldn't put it past me to be talked into it either."

Ethan laughed and cuddled up to Giles, kissing his cheek softly. 'Missed you,' he murmured in Giles' head, and out loud he said, "We found the mutt on the other side of the Door of Heroes, so you may care to name him appropriately."

"I'll give it some thought," Giles promised, tugging on Ethan's arm in an effort to pull his lover into his lap.

Ethan moved obligingly enough, settling happily on Giles' legs and wrapping his arms loosely around Giles' neck. He laughed as the unnamed pup scampered up on the vacated seat of the sofa and sat, gazing attentively at Giles.

Looking at the dog, Giles observed, "It's probably quite a good thing that we're not put off by having an audience."

"Just as long as you remember to use His Master's Voice if he tries to join in. There are limits, you know." Ethan grinned.

"A fox in my bed is enough."

Ethan nipped softly at Giles' lips with his own and seemed to be settling in for some serious canoodling, when he suddenly tensed and straightened up, a fed up look on his face. "Before we get too stuck in, you should know. I found something else in the Travers' safe."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Giles said, faintly put out at the interruption. "A predestined parakeet perhaps?"

"Nothing half so much fun," Ethan said sourly. "And don't ask me to show you. Opening the chest once was nightmare territory. Opening it again would be tantamount to insanity for me."

Instantly forgetting all of their teasing, Giles sat up straighter, his hands running over Ethan's body, searching his lover for signs of damage. "Tell me."

"There was a small Mallon's Chest," Ethan told him. "I took it, as I couldn't see how we wanted Daddy's Girl to have her hands on anything that one of those might contain. And then, once home, and because my middle name might as well be 'Pandora', I opened it."

"What was in it?" Giles asked softly but seriously; Ethan didn't seem to be injured in body or magic that he could detect, but it was obvious that his lover was greatly disturbed.

Ethan looked miserably at him, clearly unwilling to speak, although he did. "I'm pretty certain it's the pouch from that mage who attacked us. The one he took his 'grenades' from. It reeks of Chaos. I imagine one of Frannie's minions was in the clean up crew and nabbed it. I... I... Oh Rupert, I feel like a dry alcoholic offered the best whisky. Disgusted and upset... and hating myself because part of me still wants it." He hunched himself up, burying his face in the crook of Giles' neck.

Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan and let some of his magic wash over them both. "It's all right," he murmured. "If there's anything more to be done with it, I'll do it. You won't have to go near it again."

"But I need to know how to deal with it," Ethan mumbled against his neck. "Otherwise they'll keep using it against me. Bugger it, how can I now be so terrified of the stuff I virtually lived off for forty years?"

"Because you virtually lived off it for forty years," Giles said softly, running light fingers over the nape of Ethan's neck. "You've done an extremely difficult thing fighting free of it. It's only natural that you fear falling back."

The dog whined softly and nosed Ethan's leg. Absent-mindedly, Ethan dropped his hand down to ruffle its ears reassuringly. "It's in the kitchen, closed up tight again," he muttered. "I really don't know what to do with it."

"I'll take care of it," Giles promised. He still had a couple of hiding places from the days of gathering information when the First was beginning to move. The chest would be safe there.

"Which would be the reason, I suppose, that I haven't offered you food or tea yet." Ethan sighed. "I really don't want to deal with it tonight. I just want you. And perhaps a canine observer, if I have to. But mostly just you."

"You've got me." He glanced at the kitchen. "I can go ward it for tonight, and move it somewhere where you won't have to deal with it."

Ethan moved restlessly against him. "There are the videos too. I didn't destroy them as I thought you might want to check what was on them, but we'll need a video camera for that, and I for one don't want to watch whatever film there is of the train."

"It's okay. I'll deal with all of that," Giles told him, feeling suddenly protective. He dropped a kiss on Ethan's temple. "You did your part getting all these things; leave the rest up to me."

Ethan pulled back enough to give him an unhappy look.

"What, love?"

"I want to let you do that. What you said..."

"But...?"

"I... " Ethan fidgeted, disturbing the dog and generally unsettling things. "I don't know," he admitted. "Or maybe I do... It's..." He looked exasperatedly at Giles. "Oh..."

Giles brushed his fingers over Ethan's cheek. "You feel like you have a responsibility?"

Ethan closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, and I'd be avoiding it... I like you in charge. I like you taking care of me. And I don't want to have to deal with these things; really, I don't. But... oh God, I'm still so new at this."

"You're doing fine." Leaning in, Giles kissed him gently. "And if I wasn't already in love with you, I'm fairly certain I would've just fallen."

Ethan kissed him back, not so gently; his lover seemed needy, which was hardly surprising.

"You did so well today," Giles murmured, between kisses.

Giles could feel Ethan's lips grinning against his at the praise, yet his lover just said, "The other two deserve much of the credit."

"Responsibility and humility all in the same conversation," Giles teased, lowering his head to nuzzle at Ethan's jawline.

"You've corrupted me hopelessly," Ethan chuckled. "There's no saving me now. Next thing you know I'll be quoting Council tradition at you."

Giles drew back, putting a hand to his chest in mock horror. "Anything but that."

The dog yapped in excitement beside him, and Ethan turned to look at it. "Megan says she and Kat will walk him either on their own or with us. He's going to get very big, you know... but I have to say that as guard dogs go, this particular breed is the equivalent of one of those empty house alarm boxes people hang in order to pretend they're wired up."

"Luckily, we've other ways of guarding our space." Giles reached out and petted the dog, the animal wriggling at the attention and pressing close to Giles' side. "He is rather engaging, isn't he?"

"Good thing really. Do you think this sort of thing is likely to happen to us often now?"

"Dog napping?"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Things inexplicably belonging to us; things laying claim to us, finding their way to us; people choosing our side when we didn't even really know we had a side; mystic seers getting over-excited about us... that sort of thing."

"Quite likely." Giles thought back, from meeting Ethan, through his years in Sunnydale, and how so much of it had the same feel of predestiny as he felt when faced with the puppy. "I don't think that's anything new for either of us though. We may be more aware of it now, but it's been happening all along."

Ethan looked pensive and started playing absently with the ring Giles had given him, his 'wedding ring' as Ethan thought of it. "Destiny scares me; it's too much like unseen laws that you obey without even knowing you're obeying them. I much prefer free will."

Giles entwined his hand with Ethan's, their rings brushing against each other as he searched for the words to explain how the whole situation felt to him. "Destiny is just the path that the universe has laid out for us. How we walk it -- or whether we walk it at all -- that's up to us. That's our free will."

"Rupert..." Ethan hesitated, the fingers of his free hand tracing Giles' face.

"Yes, love?" He turned his head enough to drop a kiss on Ethan's wandering fingertips.

Ethan's eyes were dark and troubled. "Without destiny, do you think that you and I would... well, that there would ever have been a you and I?"

"I don't know," Giles replied, tilting his head as he rolled the question over in his mind. "I think," he said slowly, "without destiny we wouldn't have cared."

"Cared about what?" Ethan asked, sounding alarmed. "About each other? That there wasn't an 'us'?"

"Yes." He shifted as he tried to explain. "Destiny made us, shaped us to be what we are, to fit together like we do. If there were no destiny, I don't think we'd be the same people. We wouldn't fit the same way."

Ethan frowned, wriggled uncomfortably, frowned some more, then moved his face back into the crook of Giles' neck. "I suppose," he muttered, sounding sulky, "I better learn to love fate in that case."

Giles wrapped his arms tightly around Ethan. "I thank fate every day for what it's brought me." He smiled wryly. "There's been times in the past where I've heartily cursed it, but I've gained far more from it than I've lost."

He felt Ethan nod against him. "It's just patterns really; I shouldn't let it scare me. Working with destiny is working with the patterns. Fighting it, trying to deny fate, to break the patterns, is... well, Chaos, I suppose. And yet even while I worshiped Chaos, I was fulfilling this destiny. Oh... I'm not sure it's doing me any good to think about this." Ethan looked up, giving Giles a beseeching look. "Make me stop?"

"Make you stop thinking?" Giles ran a hand lightly down Ethan's side, letting a bit of his magic gather around his fingertips. "Now how shall I go about doing that?" he asked, teasingly.

Ethan squirmed into the touch. "I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question."

"Quite thoroughly rhetorical," Giles agreed, taking his lover's mouth in a long passionate kiss.

***

"For the last bleedin' time. Git your scrawny little arse over here, boy, before you make the thrashin' that's comin' to yer worse'n ever!"

The words followed Ethan down the road, chasing behind him as he ran, jeering at him. Laughing at him like the other kids he passed because of the tears streaking his filthy face and the too-short trousers showing his mismatching socks. He wasn't sure what he'd done this time, or why he was so frightened, but something must have happened.

The streets blurred, and before Ethan knew it, he was in front of his nan's house. Empty now since the ambulance had taken her away, but he knew how to get in. He'd liked his nan; she'd held him sometimes, told him stories.

Time jumped again, and he was walking up the stairs inside, heading for Nan's big soft bed where he thought he could lie for a while and cry in peace. But there were voices downstairs, male and threatening; they were looking for him to punish him as he'd done something terrible. He wished he could remember what.

The bed was gone from Nan's bedroom. Her cupboards and carpets too. It was just a big empty room with nowhere to hide, and the angry voices were coming upstairs.

There was a door at the far side of the room that Ethan would swear he'd never seen before, but of course, it had always been there, hadn't it? Just waiting for today.

Very, very slowly, like moving through water, Ethan walked to the door and opened it. Beyond, there was a long room with an arched ceiling, full of junk and shadows. Beams of sunlight shone through cracks in the roof.

The angry men were outside Nan's bedroom now; Ethan had no choice. He walked into the new room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind him, the angry voices disappeared, locked out as if they'd never existed. Ethan looked at the door for a moment longer, then left its safety and moved deeper into this new room, eyeing the large shrouded forms of covered furniture warily.

He stepped on a board that creaked loudly; a second later, he heard a boy's voice call out, "Who's there?"

Wiping his face free of tears, Ethan straightened, and noted with pleasure that his clothes seemed to be fitting him better now. "It's me," he said, walking carefully to where the voice had seemed to come from.

Ethan caught a glimpse of blond hair on the other side of a pile of boxes and made his way around to the small space where the other boy sat. Green eyes that also showed evidence of recent tears looked up at him. "You're late."

"I had to run away first," Ethan explained, sitting down beside the other boy and offering him a grubby Toffo from a tube. "What are you doing?"

"Hiding." The boy took a Toffo and unwrapped it, popping it into his mouth. And in return, he offered Ethan a napkin full of slightly worse for wear biscuits. "Stole them from the kitchen."

"Oh, they have chocolate on." Ethan happily took several biscuits and started munching. He looked around the... attic. "I like it here. Do you want to play a game with me?"

"What kind of game?"

"Dress-up?" Ethan offered. "We could pretend to be other people."

The other boy tilted his head to the side as he considered. "Shouldn't we know who *we* are first?"

Ethan thought about that. "Maybe we should dress up as ourselves then." He stood up and looked around for suitable costuming.

"There's a trunk of old clothes over here," the boy said, scrambling to his feet and leading the way deeper into the attic. "It was my grandmother's. Which means it's to be mine when I grow up."

"They took my nan away," Ethan told him conversationally. "All her stuff's gone, so I don't think I'll be getting anything from her."

They had to climb over an old mattress to get where they were going. The material it was upholstered with had playing cards, dice and chess pieces printed on it.

"Maybe we can play those games after," the boy said as he helped Ethan down the other side.

"We can make up the rules as we go along," Ethan agreed. They stopped in front of a large wicker chest. "You said you were going to deal with this," he heard himself say, and he didn't know why he'd said that, so he tried again. "Can I open it?"

The boy considered that seriously, then reached for the lid. "I think we need to do it together." Ethan stretched his hands out to oblige.

The chest was full of wonderful costumes -- Ethan could become anything he wanted, from soldier to queen, highwayman to nurse. He reached into the clothes and started pulling them out, looking for the right one, looking for himself.

The other boy quickly sorted through and picked out two costumes for himself. "I'll be different things at different times," he said. "And sometimes I'll mix them up."

Ethan looked at the costumes the other boy had, and nodded. "They're both you." Now he absolutely had to find himself. He threw more and more clothes out of the chest, but never reached the bottom, and nothing he found seemed quite right. He struggled into a dress and then ripped it taking it off again. He tried a prince's crown and cloak, but then chucked them aside.

There was a funny cotton suit with arrows on it and a ball and chain, and for a moment, he considered that one, but when he touched the chain he felt suddenly sick so that put him off. Finally, he decided on a glamorous Wizard's costume with a turban for a hat and a mask made of peacock feathers. That was him, he thought. That felt like him.

So he put it on.

But although it fitted like it was made for him, and although the robes were made of the most beautiful patterned velvet, and although while wearing this costume, Ethan knew he would be both powerful and safe... he also knew it wasn't really him.

And when he looked back in the box, all the costumes had gone and there was nothing left. Ethan began to cry behind the feathered mask because he was never going to find himself. He would never know who he really was.

"It's all right," the other boy said, touching his shoulder. "You're just wearing it wrong." He reached up and untied the mask, pulling it away from Ethan's face. "There," he said with a smile. "That's better."

The costume felt very different with the mask gone. It felt lighter, cooler. Ethan wouldn't have been surprised to find the heavy velvet had turned to Chinese silk. But he didn't look down to find out, as he was too busy staring into the boy's green eyes.

"Oh look, there I am," he said happily, gazing at his own reflection. "You found me."

"Of course." The boy reached out and touched his cheek. "That's what I do. Well, part of it at least."

Ethan mirrored the gesture, bringing his fingers up to touch his friend's face. The boy's eyes were still rimmed with red, so Ethan asked, "Why were you crying?"

The boy shrugged, but didn't move away. "My father told me... I have to Watch her. I was crying because I'm going to lose her. And then I'll be alone."

"But I'm here now," Ethan pointed out. "You found me."

"I'm not crying now," the boy pointed out. "But you were late."

Frowning, Ethan tried to recall, but the memories were slippery like the eels his Dad brought home sometimes. "I was in trouble," he said. "I'd done something very naughty. I think they're still after me. They want to punish me." He looked at the other boy with big eyes. "I'm scared."

The boy slung an arm around Ethan's shoulders. "You don't have to be. You're here now."

Suddenly, there was a noise -- a door being rattled hard. Someone or something wanted to come in. "They're here," Ethan whispered, frozen with fear. "I've been bad, and they're going to give me what I deserve."

"You're not bad. You just didn't know better." The boy's arm was still around his shoulders, providing a warmth and comfort that Ethan wasn't used to. "And they're not going to touch you. They can't when you're with me."

The door began to bang; something was trying to break through it.

But the boy was right. Ethan was safe here. Safe in a way he'd never been before. And it didn't matter what was on the other side of that door so long as he was with the boy with green eyes. Ethan wrapped his own arms around his friend, and even though he thought this attic belonged to the other boy and not to him, he asked, "Stay with me?"

The blows falling on the door echoed throughout the attic space. They ignored them.

His friend grinned at him. "I'm not going anywhere. But you have to stay with me too then."

Ethan looked up happily. "May I?"

And at that moment, the door fell in.

"Christ on a crutch," Ethan muttered. "What the hell was that?" The bedroom was bright; it was clearly morning outside. He tried to move, to sit up maybe, only to find he was firmly clasped to his husband's body. "Rupert?"

Rupert shifted and opened his eyes, blinking blearily at Ethan. "I just had the strangest dream..."

"You too?" Ethan sighed. "Attics and banging doors and... oh." He stared into Rupert's green-grey eyes. "You found me."

"You were late," Rupert replied with the faint traces of a smile.

So it had been another of *those* dreams, but very different from the last one. Ethan grinned at his husband. "You had blond hair."

"I did when I was little." Rupert shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling Ethan with him, onto his chest. "You were missing your front teeth."

Ethan chuckled, wriggling a little to get comfortable. "I was a revolting little urchin. Whereas you looked like Oliver Twist, your innate good breeding shining through. That place... was it somewhere real?"

Rupert nodded. "The attic of the house I grew up in. The Giles' Estate." His lips twisted briefly into a slightly self-mocking smile, then faded as he ran fingers over Ethan's face. "And you weren't revolting. If I was Oliver Twist, you were the Artful Dodger. Adorable scamp."

"I'd do anything for you, dear," Ethan said through a huge grin. He bent and kissed Rupert.

Running a hand lightly down Ethan's back, Rupert murmured more seriously, "Consider yourself part of the family."

Ethan appreciated the words and kissed Rupert again, although he was feeling too exuberant to maintain a serious expression. "Part of the Giles' family? Does that mean I get to have an Estate too?"

"My cousin is living at the estate now," Rupert replied, in between more kisses. "But we could go for a visit sometime, if you'd like."

Ethan considered that. "I think I'd like to see the attic for real. I take it it's all very green and uncivilised there. Like Devon?"

He felt Rupert's mouth curved up into a smile against his. "Green, yes, but not quite like Devon. It's a bit more... tamed."

"The crows are just that then, crows?" Ethan licked around Rupert's smile. "I'd like to see where you grew up. I'm sure it's considerably nicer than the dingier areas of Enfield."

"Yes, but the focus on duty and destiny would have driven you quite mad, I'm sure," Rupert told him. "When things have gone back to what passes for normal around here, I'll call my cousin and arrange for a visit."

"Please tell me he or she is neither a rampant homophobe nor a fox-hunter."

"Not the former, but I can't say about the latter; it's been a while since I visited."

"I think I may have to become one of those hunt saboteurs, you know. Yes, I can see a future for myself there." Ethan grinned.

"I'd prefer that I'm the only one who chases your tail," Rupert said mildly.

Ethan wriggled provocatively. "Better catch it quick then, might get away."

Rupert's hands slid down Ethan's back to grab his arse. "You're not going anywhere."

Just for a few moments, Ethan felt not hands on his arse, but a slender arm around his shoulder and a voice saying, "You have to stay with me too."

Ethan smiled softly, looking deeply into Rupert's eyes, and said, "I'll stay."

NEXT