Title: Charades 22/24
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.

The new door connecting Giles' office to Ethan's opened, the hinges squeaking slightly. Giles looked up from his paperwork, and in his basket, Gwydion raised his head. Ethan walked in, shutting the door behind him. That same little smile Ethan seemed to get every time he used the adjoining door was on his face, although he dropped it for a more serious expression when he met Giles' gaze. "Any news, dear?"

"The third Slayer Keri tracked -- the one in Argentina? -- is safe and accounted for," Giles told him, smiling as he was able to relay this one, small victory.

"Oh, that's good. I'm glad." Ethan walked behind Giles' desk and bent to kiss him. "Any news on the American?"

Giles relished the kiss, letting it linger a little longer than necessary. "Ticket bought and paid for. Actually she should be arriving in England more or less as we speak."

"Xander's meeting her at the airport?"

"Yes." Giles smiled faintly. "He has a real knack for putting the girls at ease."

Ethan's fingers moved over Giles' temples, smoothing them, even though Giles was sure he wasn't frowning. "How are you doing?"

It was still a bit of a novelty to have someone worried about him and his moods enough to ask, even now, but Giles was getting better at answering honestly. "I'll feel better when we have hunted down our faux Watcher, but knowing we've got to those two Slayers in time is a relief."

"I think something's hiding her," Ethan said with a dark expression. "Otherwise between us all we would have found her by now." He perched on the edge of Giles' desk and folded his arms.

"Agreed. Still, we've got our best scryers and investigators on it. Sooner or later we'll find her." Giles didn't let any doubt creep into his voice.

"You slept badly last night." It was a statement, perhaps even an accusation, but certainly not a question.

"I've definitely had more restful nights," Giles agreed softly, looking down at his desk, as he still didn't find it easy to discuss this sort of thing. He'd given up trying to avoid it however; Ethan would just pester him until he gave in. "To be expected, given the circumstances."

"I'll just have to make sure you're limp with exhaustion before you try to sleep tonight." Ethan's expression and tone were deadpan, but Giles knew better.

He smiled and patted Ethan's knee. "I appreciate the sentiment, and I certainly won't say no to any... workout you devise. But I rather fear it won't make much difference." Giles sighed. "Exhaustion doesn't seem like much deterrent to the dreams."

Ethan rubbed his eyes before studying Giles, looking slightly frustrated. "If I ever get physically close enough to Frannie again, I have a quite wondrous curse worked out..."

"Better than the bitch in heat curse?"

"Much." Ethan smirked, looking decidedly evil.

Giles found himself smiling in return and was struck again by how much he loved Ethan. "You are a very bad man."

The smirk broadened into a huge grin. "Thank you, dearheart! Lovely of you to say so." Ethan moved from the desk back to Giles' side, making it clear with his eyes where he wanted to be sitting. Chuckling, Giles pushed his chair back far enough to accommodate a lap full of Ethan, who carefully lowered himself down, settling his weight evenly before wrapping his arms around Giles' neck. "Is it lunchtime yet?" he asked with a quirk of his lips.

"It's barely half past ten," Giles pointed out; Ethan's presence and touch were making him feel better, somehow soothing a bit the worry that had been ever-present since they'd discovered a Slayer was missing.

"Nearly time for elevenses then." Ethan chuckled, and the look he gave Giles from under his brow made it clear that he wasn't hungry for food.

"Greedy as ever," Giles accused, even as he gave in and kissed his lover.

They were interrupted by a frantic scratching sound at the door between their offices. Gwydion, who had been lying quietly in his dog bed in the corner, raised his head again and barked. From the other side of the door, a faint yapping could be heard in reply.

"Bad puppy," Ethan grumbled, pulling back a little. "Can you do your door thing, dear. Save me getting up?"

Gwydion also turned and looked at Giles expectantly. Outnumbered, Giles surrendered with a sigh and reached out with his magic to unlatch the door, letting in a small black and white whirlwind of energy.

Ethan lifted a finger and put a stern expression on his face, stopping Skunk in her tracks before she could jump between them. But then Giles actually saw his lover's fortitude wilt under the gaze of the golden eyes. "Oh, come on then, wretch," Ethan said, resigned, and Skunk's weight joined Ethan's on Giles' lap.

"Pushover," Giles teased.

Gwydion whined from the corner. Giles rolled his eyes, but caved as quickly as Ethan had, giving his dog the nod that granted permission to come to him.

Ethan giggled as the wolfhound settled by the chair to have his ears petted. "If anyone comes in now your reputation as a stern and resolute leader is well and truly buggered."

"Luckily, Pamela knows better than to let anyone come in without warning." He smiled, knowing it was a bit wolfish. "I think she's afraid of what she'll see if she does otherwise. Especially with you having your own door now."

Ethan moved his puppy onto his own lap and leant against Giles. "That old bastard in accounts had a go at Skunk earlier."

"Oh?" Giles scratched behind Skunk's ears with the hand that wasn't petting Gwydion.

"Yes. We were in the little fifth floor kitchen making tea, as that stuff from the machine is sodding awful, and Pammie always gives me a look that says in flashing neon lights that Mrs wotsit is not *my* minion whenever I try to cadge one from your staff."

Giles smiled; Ethan's running feud with his office clerk was reaching legendary proportions after the rocky start over a cup of tea the first time he'd brought Ethan here. "I fear that first impressions linger with Mrs. Scott far longer than with most people. I still think she sees a young boy in short trousers visiting headquarters with his father when she looks at me."

"Oh, I don't care about her. But I don't want to make Pammie cross, so I go elsewhere. But now it seems Atkins wants me banned from the kitchen too." There was a look that could easily turn into a pout on Ethan's face.

"Why?"

"Something about hygiene." Ethan waved such considerations away with a quick gesture of his hand. Skunk yapped.

Knowing his lover, as well as knowing Atkins, Giles said carefully, "I think I may need to hear a few more specifics."

Ethan sighed, but reluctantly explained. "Because animals other than working dogs are banned by law from commercial eating establishments, he believes Skunk is somehow going to spread everything from bubonic plague to syphilis simply by sitting on the floor while I make myself a drink."

"And that's all that Skunk was doing?"

"Well, we were having a nice conversation." Ethan ruffled his puppy's ears affectionately. "But barking doesn't carry germs, as far as I know."

Ah, yes, that would do it. Atkins had always been the kind of man to jump at any loud noise. A puppy yapping would send him very quickly around the bend. "Tell you what, if you can save the conversations for places not around Atkins, I'll draw up the paperwork to have Gwydion and Skunk both designated Council working dogs."

Ethan grinned. "Thank you, dear. And while you're at it, perhaps, you could just sign this?" He drew a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Giles. It was a completed requisition request form...

For a luxury tea and coffee station to be installed in Ethan's office.

"Ethan, *I* don't even have a tea and coffee station in my office," Giles pointed out.

"*You* have a secretary to make you tea and coffee whenever you want them," Ethan riposted immediately.

"I could probably see about assigning you a secretary, if you promised not to torment them."

The delighted grin that won him wasn't exactly reassuring. "I get a minion? Of my own?" Picking up on her master's excitement, Skunk yapped loudly and squirmed about.

"Secretary," Giles corrected, putting emphasis on the word. "Not minion. Vampires have minions. Watchers -- at least ones with enough paperwork -- have secretaries. And assistants."

"I have lots of paperwork," Ethan claimed happily. That was probably true being as he had been letting it build up unattended virtually from the moment Giles had first employed him here.

"It would mean you'd actually have to do said paperwork."

"Well, what does the assistant-cum-secretary do then? Other than make me drinks on demand..."

"What does Pamela do for me?" Giles countered, although it wasn't quite a fair question. Pamela had consistently gone above and beyond for him.

"Just about everything?" Ethan asked, putting Skunk down on the floor to commune with Gwydion.

"You make it sound like I don't do anything."

"You make the decisions, dearheart." Ethan kissed him. "You also shuffle a lot of papers of course, but I'm sure Pammie could shuffle them just as well if you let her."

"Yes, but that would make me rather superfluous, wouldn't it? I'll see what I can do in obtaining an assistant for you," Giles promised, kissing him again, while mentally making a note to ensure said assistant was the kind who would make sure Ethan did the paperwork.

Ethan wriggled closer, and they settled into a deep and loving kiss. It wasn't overtly sexual, just... nice. And it was a shame when the phone rang. Most calls were filtered through Pamela, but the tone of the ring told Giles that this one was from someone who had his direct number. One of a select few.

With a regretful sigh, Giles pulled back and answered the phone. "Giles speaking."

There was a great deal of background noise at the other end of the line. "Um, Giles?" A voice -- Xander's? -- shouted.

"Xander?" Giles raised his voice, trying to talk over the noise on the line. "Is something wrong?"

"Giles?... fuck, hold on..." There was a brief moment of even more noise and then relative quiet. Xander said, "Better? That you, Giles? I really hope so or else you're someone thinking you're getting one hell of a heavy breather."

"It's me," Giles confirmed, exchanging concerned glances with Ethan. "What's wrong?"

Xander's voice held considerable worry. "Maria Bucetti wasn't on her flight, Giles. But British Airways say that she checked in at JFK, so we lost her somewhere between the check in desk and customs."

Giles frowned, tensing and sitting up in his seat. "Bugger." Another one slipped through their fingers. "See what you can find out from there, Xander. We'll see what we can do from this end."

"I should have flown over and met her."

"You had no reason to think that would be necessary," Giles told Xander. "This is far bolder than we ever predicted Francesca would be."

"It's like the Bringers all over again." Giles heard Xander utter a cut off curse. "Gotta go. The next flight from JFK just arrived. It's a different airline; there's no way she can be on it, but I have to check, you know?"

"I know," Giles said softly. "Keep in touch. And Xander? It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either," Xander said quietly before cutting the line.

Giles hung up the phone. "Bugger."

Ethan had remained on Giles' lap for the brief conversation and must have been able to eavesdrop to a large degree, but nonetheless he asked, "Tell me?" while gently stroking Giles' shoulders and upper chest.

"The Slayer that was coming from the States has vanished."

"On the plane?"

"It looks like she never got on. She disappeared somewhere between checking in and customs as near as Xander could figure." Giles rested his head back against the seat cushions and closed his eyes. Another girl lost. Another weight for him to carry.

"Oh don't, dearheart, please? I hate you doing this to yourself." Ethan's fingers touched Giles' face, and he felt his lover's magic flowing soothingly into him.

Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan and allowed himself to soak up the comfort just for a moment. But no longer than that because another girl, another Slayer, was missing, and while it might not be his fault, it was his responsibility.

"I'm not sure of the difference, Rupert," Ethan said sourly. Giles could only presume that he had thought too loudly.

"There is a difference, Ethan." Giles sighed again. "I'm just not sure I could explain it in words you'd understand. It doesn't matter what threatens them, it's my responsibility to shield these girls from what I can, and prepare them to face what I can't. Responsibility for the Slayer is bred into me, blood and bone." He managed a tiny smile. "There's just more of them now."

Ethan didn't answer, didn't seem able to find an answer. Eventually, after kissing Giles softly, he slid from his lap. "I suspect you'll want to get back to work. Is there anything I can be doing?"

Giles already missed having his lover close, but dutifully turned his mind back to business. "I think, given this new development, we need a war council as it were. Do you want to see about setting up a meeting with all the appropriate parties?"

Ethan smiled slightly. "Am I allowed a little Pammie help? She is the holder of the Big Book of Numbers after all."

"Just as long as you don't abscond too far with my assistant," Giles replied, returning the small smile.

***

Giles sank back into his seat as the meeting adjourned and most of the participants left the conference room, leaving only the core few. He doubted he would ever like this aspect of running things, but as meetings at Council headquarters went, this one had been surprisingly productive.

The problem had been laid out and various courses of action had been suggested, some discarded, some approved and implemented. It did feel... satisfying to finally have the power to get these things done without having to argue until he was blue in the face or beat his head against a bureaucracy that refused to listen to reality.

One advantage to being the one in charge, Giles thought.

"So," Buffy started brightly, still sitting in the chair to his right. While she had initially looked a little intimated by the massed ranks of the slowly recovering Council, that had lasted only as long as it took some poor sod to say something she disagreed with. "I get to choose my own taskforce. Neat. Um...?"

"Pamela will be able to help you with any of the details," Giles told her with a smile.

Buffy gave his assistant a rather fixed grin across the table, and Pamela smiled, saying, "If you come with me now, Miss Summers, I'll help you match your needs with the personnel available."

"Pammie's a wonder worker with this sort of thing, Buffy," Ethan said from where he was looking out of the conference room window. "Sometimes I think she has superpowers of her own."

"She's also really good at the recon for break-ins," Xander put in. "In case you feel like embarking on a career of larceny on the side."

"Um, I'll bear that in mind," Buffy said, standing and walking to the door with Pamela. She turned back before they went out, however. "Giles, I'll call as soon as we touch ground in NYC. Xander, I'm counting on you to keep a close eye on Dawn. She's all on her own in that Cambridge place and..." Buffy frowned.

"No problem," Xander promised. "It's not that far away. I'll drive down and make surprise inspections."

"We'll all make sure Dawn's doing all right," Giles assured her, smiling at his Slayer. "You don't have to worry about that."

"I know." She smiled warmly at him, but then turned back to Xander. "If there's even a hint of a boyfriend, I want to know immediately!" Buffy shut the door behind her before anyone had the chance to react to that.

"I'll just add family spying to my job description," Xander muttered, then gathered his stuff up and stood. "Speaking of spying, I'll go check in with surveillance, make sure they've now got all the Slayers who declined to come in for training covered. We don't want to lose another one because we were slow getting into play."

Ethan turned around from the window, his mouth open to say something to Xander, but then he shut it again and leant back against the sill. He gave the young man a small smile. Xander returned the smile, nodded at both of them and headed out. Which left Giles and Ethan alone in the conference room.

Ethan looked across the table at Giles, his arms folded and a slight frown on his face. Then as Giles was about to ask if anything was wrong, Ethan seemed to shake himself and pushed away from the window. He came and stood by Giles, looking strangely uncertain.

"What is it, love?" Giles asked, reaching out a hand to Ethan.

"I beg permission to approach our fearless leader," Ethan replied with a strongly ironic tone of voice, but he took Giles' hand and moved closer.

Giles tugged on Ethan's hand until his lover took his accustomed spot in his lap. "Talk to me, Ethan."

Ethan wrapped his arms around Giles' neck and nuzzled at his face. "I'm alright," he claimed. "Now. How are you?"

"Better. There is more than a little satisfaction in knowing we've reorganised enough that things can actually get done now."

"Good," Ethan drew back enough to smile gently, then bent again for a kiss.

Giles obliged him, then pulled back to ask, "Do you think we could do a scrying ourselves? I know we have the Council's mages on it, but--"

Ethan nodded. "Of course. But, um, can we do it at home?"

"I'd definitely feel more comfortable trying something like this at home."

Ethan immediately looked a bit brighter. "I'll drive," he offered.

"There's still things I have to do here first," Giles said apologetically. "I know this place isn't your favourite--"

Ethan looked away, but not before Giles saw his disappointment. "I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do."

Inwardly, Giles cursed. This was one of the things that had led him to fight the bond for so long, and even now it made him feel... a lot of things -- guilty, scared, restless, a whole miasma of negativity. "I'm sorry."

"No need." Ethan slipped from Giles' lap. "I'll get out of your hair so that you can get whatever it is done." He started walking to the door, without even a glance back at Giles. "You'll be able to find me easily enough once you're finished, I'm sure."

Giles stared after him for a long moment, feeling torn. He wanted to chase after Ethan and tell him they'd leave right then, but there were things he had to accomplish here before he could in good conscience do so. And part of him was just feeling petulant, resenting that something he'd been assured wouldn't be a problem seemed to be just that.

Swearing quietly to himself, Giles did his best to push all of that out of his mind and get down to work. The sooner he finished organising the new assignments to deal with Francesca, the sooner he could go find Ethan and they could hash this out.

***

"I'm going to put the kettle on," Ethan said immediately they got home and sped to the kitchen, pulling the door to behind him.

Ethan's hair was damp, and despite the car's heater being full on him all the way home, he still felt chilled inside his bones. His body never really had adapted back to the English climate. Of course, this particular chill had more to do with him deciding in a fit of insanity that hanging about on the roof of the Council building for an hour was somehow a good idea.

He knew how his actions would appear to Rupert and wasn't looking forward to the conversation that he could tell was coming. But he'd had to get out of that place, and the bond and the mutual agreement to not go out on their own meant he had been limited in where he could go to escape.

Rupert didn't follow him into the kitchen, but Ethan could hear the murmur of his voice in the next room as he dealt with the dogs. Despite everything it was a deeply comforting sound. Going through the motions of putting the kettle on, Ethan only then realised that he did rather fancy a warming drink. He nibbled on the last few Christmas biscuits while he waited for it to boil.

He heard Rupert's voice become distant and deduced that Rupert had headed into the study to let the dogs out into the garden.

When the kettle boiled, Ethan lazily used teabags to make a couple of mugs of tea. Almost as an afterthought, he added two spoonfuls of sugar to his, something he normally hated. Then bracing himself, he lifted the mugs, pulled the door open with his foot, and went out to face the music.

Rupert was just coming back in from the study, the two dogs chasing each other ahead of him. "I think they're happy to be home," he said dryly.

As was Ethan, but he resisted saying it; it wasn't as if Rupert didn't already know. He put their mugs on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. "I thought perhaps, as it's late, that we could order a takeaway. Get plenty so that there's still some for Megan when she gets in." Megan was out with a bunch of the other Slayers on a regular patrol mission.

"Sensible," Rupert agreed, coming over and sitting down beside Ethan. "And avoids any possible cooking related emergencies."

"Thai?"

"If you want." Rupert leant over and picked up his mug.

Rupert may have sat down beside Ethan, but he wasn't exactly being affectionate. He didn't seem angry as such, just... distant. Ethan leant forward to pick up his own mug and stayed there with his elbows on his knees so that his face was hidden from his husband. He shut his eyes and breathed in the steam from his mug.

"We need to talk about it," Rupert finally said.

Ethan swallowed a sarcastic comment with a mouthful of hot tea, saying only "Ok" instead, in as mild a tone as he could manage. Skunk had sat down close to his feet and was staring up at him in a way that seemed... sympathetic?

"You said you wouldn't have a problem being at Council Headquarters when I had to be there."

"I did, yes." Again, as mild as mare's milk. He took another sip of his tea and tried not to long quite so hard for Rupert to touch him. He felt his husband's presence behind him like a fire he was too close to... or not close enough.

"You had a problem today." Rupert's voice was still level, calm, the one he used when not letting his emotions out. Ethan noticed Gwydion's forepaws sticking out from Rupert's side of the sofa. The dogs, it seemed, could sense the tension.

"Yes, I did. There's an easy answer to it. I'll simply avoid the more formal meetings from now on." Would he be allowed to leave it at that? Ethan's lips crimped. He doubted it somehow.

"I can't-- Sometimes I *have* to be there. There are things I have to do, and I can't just leave."

"I never asked you to."

"But you wanted to."

"The meeting was... difficult for me." Insufferable more like, but understatement seemed advisable currently. "I became a trifle claustrophobic. Next time, I'll stay in my office and the matter won't arise." The longer he sat in their warm house drinking hot tea, the colder Ethan felt inside. Rupert still wasn't touching him. The bond was starting to ache, and surely Rupert could feel that too, couldn't he?

"I'm sorry." Now emotion had crept into Rupert's voice, and it wasn't one that Ethan liked to hear. "This was why...." Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Rupert shake his head. "I never wanted to make you feel trapped."

Ethan put his mug carefully down on the table and leant back on the sofa. Perhaps if he just let his legs fall open so that their thighs touched, it would be enough. "Rupert, you didn't. The meeting did. There's a difference. Not everything that happens to people is your fault, you know."

"A meeting you were only at because of me." Rupert shifted and rested a hand on Ethan's leg. "Because of the bond. I want to keep you near, but I never wanted to put you on a lead or in a cage."

Ethan shut his eyes and released a heartfelt sigh as he put his hand on top of Rupert's. "You talk like it's something you have control over. You don't, I'm afraid. This isn't up to you, dearheart. The bond is the bond and that, my dear, is that."

Rupert laughed, the sound more weary than humorous. "That, I fear, is what scares me."

Ethan twisted on the sofa so that he was facing Rupert more or less. "I can't not be who I am," he started as earnestly as he knew how. "Anymore than you can. All both of us can do is compromise. I'm compromising by being in a place that is somewhat anathema to my nature. You're compromising by letting me hang about when we both know I don't really serve any useful purpose there. As far as I'm concerned, the bond, being with you, is easily worth the occasional moment when I feel like a cornered animal."

Rupert took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. "You're wrong about one thing," he said, turning his hand under Ethan's so they could entwine fingers. "You do serve a useful purpose -- even if it's only to anchor me -- and you do a great deal more than that."

Ethan gave Rupert a ragged smile as he squeezed his hand. "Who'd ever have thought I'd turn out be a grounding personality?"

Rupert returned the smile, then moved to pull Ethan into his arms. "I'm still sorry." The hug was pure bliss, and Ethan didn't want to interrupt it to point out that it was rather silly Rupert being sorry when if anyone was at fault it was Ethan. Instead he lifted his head for a kiss. He was obliged immediately, Rupert leisurely tasting his lips before pulling back to remark, "You put sugar in your tea."

"I was cold," Ethan said. Well, it made sense to him. "Warm me up?"

"That's what you get for moping on the roof in January," Rupert told him, but nonetheless directed his magic along Ethan's skin like a warm breeze.

"Oh." Ethan moaned softly and closed his eyes, letting himself bathe in Rupert's magic. "I needed this so badly." In case Rupert too needed such contact, Ethan moved his hands up to cup his husband's face and fed magic through his fingertips.

He felt Rupert's soft exhalation of pleasure as warm breath against his face just before Rupert kissed him again.

The strong need he'd felt for contact with Rupert was now turning inevitably into a more specific need. Ethan moved one of his hands down to Rupert's leg, squeezing and slipping between his thighs. "Rupert..." he murmured as their lips broke momentarily apart.

"I know," Rupert said before devouring Ethan's mouth again, pulling him even closer.

Moaning deep in his throat, Ethan submitted to the hard kiss joyfully, while he moved his hand a little further up to cup Rupert's growing erection, squeezing and rubbing. The moan was echoed by his husband, as Rupert's hand moved to mirror Ethan's, pressing against Ethan's cock through his trousers. Ethan grunted, his hips thrusting awkwardly forward in instinctive response.

Moving suddenly, Ethan clambered up onto the couch, then astride Rupert's legs, breaking the kiss for no more than a second in order to do so. Now that he had both of his hands available, he made quick work of undoing Rupert's trousers.

Rupert growled, his own fingers going to work on Ethan's belt and zip.

Ethan always wanted Rupert. Always. But never more than when there had been even just a hint of tension between them. The urge to reconnect, to soothe both the bond and his own insecurities, translated unnoticeably into a fierce and frequently overwhelming lust. While the long kiss broke into many smaller ones, he took Rupert's cock into both his hands and squeezed gently, rubbing with his thumbs and sending tendrils of power out to stimulate further.

Rupert breathed Ethan's name against his mouth and in his mind, magic swirling out from him to curl around and caress Ethan all over.

Ethan gasped and writhed. "This is your fault," he accused breathlessly, but then had to stop talking for a few seconds as Rupert took hold of his cock.

"How is this my fault?" Rupert's voice was growing husky as his fingers stroked Ethan's erection.

Ethan looked down between them, each of their hands moving slowly, synchronised without conscious decision. "This is what happens when you won't touch me."

"But I am touching you."

"*Now*." Ethan giggled suddenly, moving so that their cocks touched intermittently. "Good way to warm up, this. Rubbing two long hard things together to make fire."

Rupert snorted. "Like you don't throw off sparks every time I look at you." He kissed Ethan again, making a thorough job of it.

Ethan closed his eyes and just concentrated on the sensations of Rupert's hands and lips, Rupert's magic, Rupert's love. He moaned softly. He could willingly lose himself forever in a world that consisted of nothing but Rupert and what his husband gave him.

But Rupert's hands were too clever and his magic too potent, and Ethan could already feel the pressure mounting -- the tightening, the pulling in, ready for the eruption.

"Ripper," he groaned, dragging himself back far enough to stare at his husband's face. He saw all his own feelings, voiced and unvoiced, echoed in his husband's eyes, and then Rupert was leaning in to kiss him again as their climax overtook them both.

As they recovered together, Ethan slumped forward against Rupert, laughing as their sudden need for a change of shirts became apparent. There was a movement on the couch beside them, and he pulled back to see what had caused it only to be greeted by two pairs of curious doggy eyes. Ethan curled up in helpless giggles.

"Oh lord..." Rupert said, obviously trying to sound mortified, but the smile that kept twitching at the corner of his lips ruined the effect.

"I think," Ethan said, between chortles, "That they're being very... well behaved, all considered." Before Rupert could answer, Gwydion turned around on the sofa and barked towards the lobby.

Then they heard the key in the lock of the front door.

"Bugger!" In the rush to get themselves semi-presentable, Ethan didn't even have a chance to appreciate the comical 'oh shit' expression on his husband's face. Mainly because, in true coward's fashion, Ethan staggered straight to the kitchen to hide while he cleaned himself up, leaving Rupert to face Megan alone.

Through the kitchen door, Ethan heard the murmurs of Megan's and Rupert's voices for a few brief seconds, then that door was opening, revealing his Slayer.

Turning his back fully to her, as paper towels could only do so much, Ethan said weakly, "Hello, dear. Nice day? You're back earlier than expected." *Much* earlier. He rummaged through the drawer in front of him for something... anything...

"Yeah, pretty good day. I'm back earlier because we're so efficient with the patrolling." He could hear the smile in her voice.

From the other room, Rupert called out, "I'm going to go upstairs." Where there was a shower. And clean clothes. Leaving Ethan all alone with paper towels and a curious Slayer.

But salvation of a sort was at hand. Literally, it seemed, as Ethan's fingers closed upon the menu for the Green Dragon, their favourite Thai takeway. Without turning, he held it up for Megan to take. "Well, as you're here now, you can make yourself useful and order tea. Get whatever you fancy; just make sure there's plenty." Then Ethan whistled, summoning his puppy to his side.

The sound of running paws preceded Skunk's appearance, claws skidding on the floor as she tried to avoid colliding with Megan.

Ethan felt the menu being taken from his hand, then turned just enough to bend and lift Skunk into his arms. "Good dog," he praised, turning fully to face Megan now that all possible incriminating evidence was shielded. "Bad Slayer," he told her with a smile.

Megan just stuck her tongue out at him. "Are you going to go upstairs and check on Giles so I can stop pretending I didn't see what I saw?"

Grinning, Ethan moved past her, doing what he was told. "Maybe next time you're coming home early, you'll think to use that nice Council mobile you were allocated."

"Maybe next time, you'll remember you have a bedroom. Or at least a study."

Ethan laughed as he started walking upstairs. "So tea-drinking is an activity banned from the front room now, is it?"

"Is that what they called it in your day?" Megan called after him.

"Oh yes, dear. We had quite prodigious tea parties back then." Sniggering, Ethan put Skunk down at the top of the stairs and headed for the bedroom.

He walked in on Rupert mostly undressed; his husband was just pulling on new underwear when Ethan came in. Seeing that bare arse sticking out was too much to resist, so Ethan slapped it.

"Bad husband," he scolded.

"I'm not the one who ran for it first," Rupert pointed out in his 'I am an eminently logical Watcher' voice. "I just picked a better destination to run to."

Ethan began to strip. "Maybe we should ward the pavement outside for a few yards in either direction," he suggested impracticably.

"Or at least chain the door." With only his underwear on, Rupert leant back against the chest of drawers and watched Ethan undress with an appreciative smile.

Naked, Ethan grinned at him. "She's ordering the grub. Do you still want to do the scrying tonight?"

Rupert nodded. "If you're up to it, yes. I'll feel better if we, personally, were doing something as well."

Ethan walked close to Rupert and placed a flat hand on his t-shirted chest. "When have I ever turned down the chance to work magic with you?"

"Never," Rupert replied with a tiny smile, covering Ethan's hand with his own. "But I didn't want to presume."

NEXT