Title: Charades 10/24
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 Sleight of Hand
Summary: Searching for meaning in the signs and symbols of life.

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.

"We're claiming this room in the name of superior lighting, dearheart. You can either stay and embarrass Megan or do your homework elsewhere." Ethan grinned at Rupert from the doorway to the study, a cup of tea in hand.

Rupert looked up from the books and papers he had spread out over his desk, blinking at Ethan in such a way that he knew his husband had been immersed completely in his research to the exclusion of everything else.

Megan shifted a little nervously beside Ethan, the carrier bags from their shopping trip rustling in her grip. "We can do it somewhere else if you're busy," she told Rupert.

"No, we can't," Ethan argued, and pushed her gently inside the room. "Go and sit at the table, sweetheart." He walked over to the French windows and drew the curtains closed. It had grown dark outside without, apparently, Rupert noticing. "This is the only room with bright lighting bar the bathroom, and I'm not sitting in there for an hour or more."

Rupert blinked again and seemed to get his brain back in synch with reality. "That's quite all right, Megan," he said, smiling at the girl. "I can take this into the living room." He quickly closed and stacked a couple of the books he'd had open, and adding a pad full of notes in his distinctive scrawl to the pile, he stood up and headed for the door.

Ethan watched his husband leave the room and wondered what work it was that had Rupert so consumed. He made a mental note to find out later, but for now his attention had to be all for his Slayer. She was eighteen today, and he had to play fairy godmother and turn pumpkins into carriages.

Megan was looking after Rupert. "I hope we didn't make him lose his place."

"He'll find it again." Ethan herded her over to the table. "Sit down and get comfy while I sort out the lighting."

She sat down and watched him with wide eyes as he angled the lamps. "Putting me in the spotlight?" she asked with a giggle.

"That's right," Ethan agreed, as he moved a side table in to stand a standard lamp upon. "It's what coming of age birthdays are all about, surely? Why don't you go through all the stuff we bought and pick out things that particularly speak to you for tonight."

Megan rummaged through the bag and picked out a few things in shades of blue and purple. "Is this okay?"

He tried not to let his cringe show. "No, dear. We want you to look elegant and refined, not like your average gothic tart on the street corner."

"Oh." She handed the bag over to him. "Maybe I should just leave it up to you then?"

She sounded so meek, and Ethan felt pained that he'd criticised her choice. He didn't let his artistic side out much these days, hardly at all in fact, but he had, as the phrase went, a gay man's sense of colour and style. The stereotype was nonsense of course, but he didn't disprove the rule. He was confident in his opinions and decisions regarding what was right for Megan, but he truly hadn't meant to undermine her confidence.

"The colder shades are good for day to day wear," he told her. "It's just that we've spent a lot of time and money having those highlights put into your hair today, and it would be wise to make the most of them with warmer, more natural shades."

Megan frowned, looking in one of the bags again, then glanced up at Ethan hopefully. "Show me?"

Ethan emptied the various bags carefully on the table. "This top," he said, holding up a silk blouse the colour of old ivory. "It matches one of the shades of highlights in your hair and will therefore accentuate them. It also flatters your skin tone perfectly."

She reached out and touched the blouse with a smile. "Feels nice too. But it isn't too... plain?"

"Don't confuse simplicity with tedium, dear," he told her. "You've heard the phrase concerning gilding the lily?"

"Yeah, just never saw myself as a lily."

"You're beautiful, Megan," he said, simply honest. "You just don't know it." Ethan quickly sorted all the stuff on the table, getting the clothing safely out of the way. He handed her a hair tie. "Now, we need that expensive hair-do off your face."

Megan quickly pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail, then looked expectantly at Ethan, eyes bright with anticipation.

"At the risk of sounding like a camp old theatre queen, one must always maintain a proper skin care regime after one starts using cosmetics." He rummaged around in their purchases and found the trio of stylish white plastic bottles and the bag of cotton wool balls. "First, the cleanser. You can do this yourself." He passed her bottle number one and the cotton wool.

"My mother would have a cow if she saw me doing this," Megan remarked, as she began to cleanse her face. "She'd probably have a whole herd if she knew where I was going tonight."

"Your mother is clearly suffering from a terminal lack of having fun," Ethan said acidly. "Have you heard from them at all with birthday wishes?"

"She sent a card with money."

Ethan sighed. "Maybe they'll call." He knew they wouldn't though, unless it was to berate her. Some parents had no right to the name.

Megan shrugged. "I doubt it. She says it's too difficult to figure out the time difference."

He knew he was frowning at her and made himself stop. He seemed to feel every slight shown to Megan by her parents as if they had insulted him personally. "Pay particular attention to the T-zone," he said, using his own piece of cleanser soaked cotton wool to show her.

"How did you learn to do this?" Megan asked curiously. "The whole makeup gig?"

Ethan chuckled. "I always liked to play with makeup, although as a child, it was more war paint than beautification. Then one of those old theatre queens I just mentioned showed me the basics; after that, I taught myself. Toner now." Bottle number two was passed over.

"Did you... how did you decide you wanted to... do it properly?"

"Well, it was hardly a career choice. I just liked wearing it myself and didn't want to look like a clown. Of course, there were those who said I still did, but ask Rupert one day how he thought I looked then."

"You just want to hear him gush about you," Megan said with a knowing smile. "And you know he will."

He smiled. "And so he should. I was very pretty back then. Much like you in some ways -- tall and thin with good bone structure and enviable hair. I have wasted my looks on dissolute living. I'm sure you'll look after yours more efficiently."

"You say that like you're a troll or something now."

"Just an old man," he said, and moved his chair closer. He used a tissue to dab any spare toner away and began to apply a light moisturiser.

"Not old," Megan countered. "Experienced, maybe."

Megan's skin tone was good apart from the freckles, which Ethan rather liked and didn't want to cover up. So instead of a heavy foundation, he was using a tinted moisturiser, which did little more than provide a surface to build on. "I can see the number fifty not at all far off, you know."

"I know people my age are supposed to think that fifty's ancient, but I look at you and Giles, and it doesn't seem that old at all."

He smiled at her fondly. "Do feel free to repeat that as often as you like. Close your eyes now."

"Old people don't usually wake up other people in the house with their morning... activities," Megan said, with just a hint of teasing as she closed her eyes as requested.

"You're not the only one who has to exercise daily, you know," he told her, completely deadpan.

"Oh, was that what you were doing?"

"Aerobic exercise is very good for the heart, I'm told." Megan's eyebrows had been professionally neatened earlier, Ethan treating her to some pampering in a beautician's salon -- he'd treated himself at the same time, which had been rather pleasant. But he gave her eyebrows another careful look now and removed a couple of strays with quick movements of the tweezers.

"You're good at that," Megan complimented. "Better than the lady at the shop."

"Thank you." He opened a packet of applicator brushes and the eyeshadow compacts he'd selected for tonight. As he applied the main colour to the whole of both lids, he said, "Rupert allowed me to do this to him once."

Megan startled at that, but managed to remember to keep her eyes closed. "Really?"

"On my birthday, a long, long time ago."

"Are there pictures?"

"There were once," Ethan said sadly, carefully applying a darker accentuating shadow. "Some very dodgy Polaroids. I lost them, together with everything else I valued from that time, many years ago and in unpleasant circumstances."

"I'm sorry." She was quiet for a moment then suggested, "Maybe you can get him to let you do it again?"

The idea made him chuckle. "Glamour and glitter are for young faces, my dear. Rupert looks just fine the way he is." The memories of the day Ripper had let Ethan make him up were still powerfully erotic, even now. But that wasn't who they were anymore.

"So do you, but I've seen you wear makeup still."

"Only once, only very little, and look where that ended up." He knew his tone had turned sour at the thought of the night Francesca's lackey had secretly filmed Rupert and himself. He patted her shoulder in reassurance.

"Will you wear some tonight?" Megan asked. "For me?"

He shook his head. "Tonight isn't about me."

"No, it's my birthday. And I want to see you all decked out."

"I'll wear something nice," he promised, applying artful smudges of a soft brown kohl to her outer lashes.

"At least wear some eyeliner?" she begged prettily.

Sighing, he said, "You're a wicked girl, but as it's your birthday, I suppose you'll be getting your own way." He thought he might be able to get away with perhaps a touch of bronzer on his cheekbones too.

"Thank you," Megan said softly, smiling.

A spot of the highlighter pencil in the corner of her eyes and a light brushing of a very expensive mascara, and her eyes were done. "Do you want to see yourself now, or wait until I've finished?"

She hesitated, considering. "I think I want to wait and see the whole thing."

"Sensible child." Ethan got together the tools for one of his favourite bits -- face sculpting. Blusher and bronzer -- highlighting and shading to subtly accentuate naturally fine bone structure. "Am I allowed to play with your hair a bit after you're dressed? I'm no stylist, but there's something I'd like to try."

Megan nodded. "I put myself fully in your hands."

"Again, commendable. So tell me about this wonderful girl whom you intend to meet tonight. What does she look like?"

Megan gave a half shrug, although she was careful to hold her head still. "I don't know. Looks don't really matter that much to me. I just want someone I can connect with. Someone with humour and kindness in their eyes."

That sounded like Rupert to Ethan, like Rupert on that night Ethan first saw his face. "When you dream, you must see someone, even if the picture's blurry," he told her. He knew it was unlikely to be for her the way it had been for him, but still, she had to have daydreams.

"I haven't wanted to limit my possibilities by looking for something specific that doesn't really matter in the long run. But..." Megan hesitated.

"But," he prompted, smiling.

"Dark hair," she said. "And dark eyes. Lots of curves. But that's just... surface."

"Yes," he agreed, "It is. But have you ever considered that we are attracted to certain physical types for a reason? I'm not saying we are, you understand. I've no idea. It's just something I've wondered about."

"Were you always attracted to people who looked like Giles?" Megan asked curiously.

He frowned, trying to think back. "I'm not sure. I was young when we met, and I'd been waiting for him. And certainly after he left, I was attracted only to men who reminded me in one way or another of Ripper. Before we met? I really can't remember. There had been boys -- and men -- before him, but I can't recall a single face."

Megan smiled at him, quite sappily. "That's so romantic."

His inner cynic was surprisingly quiet as he grinned back and said, "Isn't it?" After some more rummaging, he told her. "I'm about to do your lips, so say anything you want to say now."

"Do you think... if Giles had looked different, would you still have been attracted to him back when you first met?"

That made him laugh. "Yes, sweetheart. Now relax your lips." As he painted, he explained a little. "Rupert and I, it seems, were pre-destined. So I have to assume that he could look like Barbara Cartland, and I'd still adore him."

Megan giggled, desperately trying not to move her lips as she did so.

***

"Do you think it's possible to harvest Slayer energy?" Ethan asked Rupert. They were sitting at a table as far away from the loudspeakers as they could get, drinking extortionately priced and tasteless lager while their Slayer tackled some pretty intensive dance moves with the grace and efficiency with which Ethan had seen her slay vampires.

"Oh, I don't know if it's Slayer energy," Rupert replied, glancing away from watching Megan to give Ethan a slight smile. "I seem to recall you having the same kind of energy when we were her age."

They were sitting very close, partly to facilitate conversation over the loud music, but mostly because they could do so here without attracting stares or comments. Having said that, their age was drawing inevitable attention. As gay clubs went, this one had a decidedly young crowd.

Ethan kissed Rupert on the cheek in gratitude for the comment, but said, "I don't feel like dancing tonight."

Sadness flashed through Rupert's eyes at that, but all he did was ask, "Don't want to show the children how it's done?"

"The music's wrong for my style," Ethan lied. His 'style' could adjust to any rhythm, but he found it was impossible to forget what had happened the last time they'd gone dancing.

Rupert, of course, didn't buy it for a second. "Not to pull out tired old clichés, but there is some wisdom in the old saying about getting back on the horse."

"I've lost my taste for the saddle," Ethan told him, hoping to end the topic with his sour tone. His gaze wandered across the dance floor. "Oh. Look, Rupert! She's dancing *with* someone."

Rupert glanced over, his smile becoming wider and more genuine. "Good for her."

Ethan's grin was also very genuine. Megan's dance partner was brunette and curvy, Ethan couldn't help but notice. This was going swimmingly. "I'm really quite vicariously excited."

"Yes, I can tell," Rupert replied deadpan, his hand slipping under the table and onto Ethan's inner thigh.

Ethan's reaction to that was very complicated. On the one hand, Rupert was touching him up in public, something that never failed to strongly arouse Ethan. On the other hand, he didn't want to be turned on currently. Not here. Not after what happened last time. He frowned and looked down at his pint.

Rupert didn't move his hand away. "Do you want to give Francesca Travers the victory of having actually changed our behaviour because of what she did?"

"Of course not." Ethan placed his own hand on top of Rupert's and squeezed. "It's not the videoing, anyway; it's what happened after we left the club, which we had to do early due to my lack of self-control."

"I don't think that mage would have got bored and wandered off if we'd been in the club longer," Rupert pointed out gently.

"I wish I could be sure of that, although I suppose it does make more sense." Suddenly, Ethan's internal conflict seemed ludicrous to him. He looked up at Rupert and laughed. "Since when have I been the one urging caution and you been the foolhardy seducer?"

Rupert smiled at him in that way that had always been for Ethan only. "Dance with me?" he asked simply.

Ethan hesitated a little longer, although he knew he was inevitably going to say yes. He could never resist pleasing Rupert for long. "Promise me you won't let me take control?"

"I'm hardly going to let you shag me on the dance floor when we have Megan with us."

Which was a good point, but for some reason the idea of not only shagging Rupert, for only the third time ever, but doing it in public, seemed impossibly erotic. "Oh God," Ethan moaned. "Keep me in control. Please."

Rupert smiled and lifted Ethan's hand to his lips. "I won't let you fall, love. I promise."

He stared at Rupert for a few seconds, feeling great affection for his husband, then stood. "Right, then. I'm in your hands, dearheart."

"Some parts of you will have to wait until we get home to be in my hands," Rupert replied with a wicked grin as they made their way to the dance floor.

Ethan felt so much better with Rupert's promise keeping him safe. He could relax and not have to worry about his own actions, as Rupert would stop him doing anything unwise. And his husband's last words about waiting now seemed like a delicious challenge.

He was already moving to the music before Rupert even found them a place to stand.

Rupert laughed, resting his hands on Ethan's hips as Ethan moved. "Not your style?" he teased, Ethan as much reading his lips as hearing him.

"Not at all," Ethan confirmed, gyrating closer to kiss Rupert as he danced.

Rupert leant forward to speak by Ethan's ear. "Have I mentioned how... nostalgic seeing you with that makeup on is?"

"It's a present for Megan," Ethan confessed. "It seemed important to her." He'd kept it very discreet; the last thing he wanted was to look like one of those tired old Hollywood starlets who'd had several face lifts too many and on whose old skin make up tended to sit like colour painted on a china doll's face.

"I like it," Rupert told him, kissing him. "Perhaps even better than what you used to wear. This isn't so much hiding behind it as making you more... you."

Sometimes it was truly hard to imagine a way in which Rupert could be any more perfect.

Ethan danced closer still, making sure their bodies rubbed together as he moved. His hands were holding Rupert's head, fingers stroking through hair, as he gazed into his husband's eyes.

"Perhaps mostly because I can kiss you without messing it up the way you have it now," Rupert teased, leaning in to do so.

When he finally drew back from the kiss, Ethan found they had moved around slightly on the dance floor, and he could now spy Megan from where he stood, both of their relative heights giving him an advantage. "She's still with that brown-haired girl," he told Rupert happily.

Rupert smiled. "Brunettes can be quite captivating, I've found."

Ethan kissed Rupert again, a long and lingering affair, but every once in a while he would open his eyes to check on his Slayer. Suddenly, he exclaimed into Rupert's mouth before drawing back a short way. "She kissed her!"

"What?" Rupert started to turn around to look.

Ethan stopped him quickly. "Don't. She'll notice and get all embarrassed." He did a happy little cha cha cha against Rupert. "Our little girl's gonna get--" He stopped himself in time, knowing Rupert wouldn't see things the way he did. "Another kiss!"

Rupert tried to turn them around so he could see as well, which resulted in a very quick circle being turned, as Ethan didn't want to give up his viewpoint. "Ethan..."

"Rupert," Ethan murmured lovingly, as if his husband had meant affection and not censure. He moved his hands down to cup and squeeze Rupert's arse, hoping to distract him from turning again, and dipped in to lick and nibble at his neck.

"The girl better not be doing this to Megan," Rupert said darkly.

Ethan thought about arguing. If necking was what Megan wanted, as far as Ethan was concerned, she should have it. But there was no point in upsetting Rupert. "They're just dancing again now. Relax. Enjoy the dance you said you wanted."

"I am," Rupert insisted. He smiled at Ethan. "I always enjoy dancing with you."

As nothing exciting was happening with Megan for now, Ethan concentrated more on his other project, which was getting Rupert aroused enough to touch certain parts of Ethan while they were still here. It was important not to rush things; he licked up Rupert's neck and began to nibble at his ear lobe.

Rupert chuckled, the sound a bit deeper than normal. "Didn't we feed you enough supper?"

"Perhaps not enough protein." Ethan giggled. Half his attention was focused on his magical awareness of his husband's body and the patterns of its arousal. He wasn't tweaking, just watching the natural ebbs and flows and the responses to the things he was doing to Rupert's neck and arse.

Moving to the slow heavy beat of the current track, Ethan rocked his hips against Rupert to add another notch of interest.

Rupert laughed again. "I see you've got over your reticence."

Ethan scraped his teeth down Rupert's neck in reply, then starting to gnaw gently where neck met shoulder. Everything he did, whether it was his biting teeth, squeezing hands or gyrating hips, was all done in perfect counterpoint to the music.

"You are far too good at his," Rupert murmured, his own hands sliding down to cup Ethan's arse as they moved.

That made him smile. "Can there be 'too good'?" he asked. "Really?"

"Sometimes. When I have to be the responsible one."

"You promised," Ethan reminded him, before starting to suck on his neck.

"And you're doing your best to test my promise, I see." It was said with affection and a bit of humour.

"Is it working?" Ethan asked innocently, knowing perfectly well that it was. His mouth had left a small mark on Rupert's neck. He was contemplating making something a little less ephemeral. He hadn't bitten Rupert in that way in a very long time.

"You'll know that when I drag you out of here early."

"We can't leave Megan behind." Ethan bent his head again and sealed his mouth over the side of Rupert's neck, sucking hard.

A cross between a groan and a growl rumbled in Rupert's chest. "You're not making it easy."

No, he wasn't, and it was time to step up the pace before Rupert put a stop to his fun. Using his teeth now to break the blood vessels below the surface of the skin, Ethan used Rupert's circulatory system to send sparkling magic cascading throughout his husband's body. It pulsed in time with the music.

Rupert growled loudly and after several seconds, pushed Ethan away from him. "Behave," he ordered, voice still a growl.

Ethan smirked seductively at him from under his brow. The music was too loud to do anything but shout unless they were close together, so instead he thought, 'You know, I really don't want to,' at Rupert.

'But you will,' Rupert thought back. 'Or I won't shag you when we get home.'

And the trouble was, when Rupert said things like that, he meant them.

Admitting defeat for the time being, Ethan began to dance again where he was, his gaze moving restlessly across the crowd, searching for Megan. To start with he couldn't spot her, and the beginnings of worry stirred within him. Then, with the help of a little pattern awareness, he spotted her against the far wall. Being kissed. Hard.

He let his gaze wander on, as if he'd seen nothing. The last thing Megan needed was an angry Rupert interrupting her first ever decent snog.

He found himself gazing at a young, rather muscular man -- hardly more than a boy -- who was staring at Ethan as if he'd lost a fuck buddy and found a sugar daddy. Amused, Ethan smiled at him and winked slowly.

Rupert's voice was back in his head again. 'And what are you going to do with him if you reel him in?'

'Drop him back and exaggerate his size when I tell the story afterwards?' Ethan giggled, his gaze returning to Rupert, who slid his arms around Ethan's waist again and glared over at the boy, menacingly enough to send him looking for safer pastures.

Chuckling, Ethan danced very close to his husband again. "You've got a smashing lovebite," he told him, licking it.

"Behave," Rupert reminded him.

Ethan pulled back enough to give him a mock-glare. "So licking's not allowed now?"

"It's what the licking tends to lead to."

He pouted. "Can we sit down then please? You're taking all the fun out of dancing."

Rupert grinned at him, then turned him around and placed his hands on Ethan's hips, pressing up against him from behind. "Dance," he murmured up against Ethan's ear.

Oh. Now this was more like it. Ethan did exactly as he was bid, swaying his hips and rubbing backwards against Rupert. He raised his arms in the air and let the music lead him.

"So where has our Megan got to?" Rupert asked, his breath warm against Ethan's ear.

He couldn't see her anymore, but he'd kept tabs on her with his other senses. She was still against the wall. Still, presumably, being kissed. Or perhaps she was the aggressor now, as Ethan was sure that all Megan needed was confidence. "She's having a great birthday," he told Rupert.

"Good," Rupert replied. "Just as long as she doesn't get in over her head."

"I'm watching. She's doing just fine."

NEXT