Title: Five Gold Rings 2/5
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, takes place between chapters 17 and 18 of Charades
Summary: On the fifthe day of Christmas...

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This was written for Kindkit during the Secret Slasha writing challenge in December and takes place during Charades, the fourth story in the Of Old Mystics series; that and previous stories in the series can be found at
http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html.

Sunday, 21st December

"I must be insane to have suggested this," Giles muttered, as the cab they were in threaded its careful way through the abundance of West End traffic.

Ethan patted Giles' leg encouragingly. "Really, dear, if you are going to brave Harvey Nicks so close to Christmas, you couldn't possibly be in better company." He grinned. "I wonder if they remember me."

In the old days, Harvey Nicks had been one of Ethan's favourite shops to nick stuff from, and there had been more than one close call. "If they do, this is going to be the shortest shopping trip in history," Giles replied dryly, although he dropped his hand on top of Ethan's and squeezed it affectionately while he spoke.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Ethan had a wicked little smile on his face.

"I wasn't planning on this being quite that much a trip down memory lane," Giles warned, but spoiled the effect by not quite keeping a smile from his own lips.

"Don't worry, I won't endanger your sterling reputation," Ethan promised, still looking utterly untrustworthy.

The black cab pulled up outside Harvey Nichols, Knightsbridge side, where busy, well-heeled shoppers were streaming in and out of the doors. Giles paid their driver then followed Ethan out onto the pavement in front of the shop.

Ethan was looking at the entrance with something close to glee, although only someone who knew him as well as Giles would have been able to see the intensity of it. He turned. "Where first? Menswear?"

"I leave the decisions of where we go up to you," Giles replied. "I always did, if I recall correctly."

Chuckling, Ethan took his hand, and smiling, led Giles into the store.

"Place hasn't changed much," Giles observed.

Inside was brightly lit and crowded. Ethan pulled Giles straight to the closest cosmetics counter where he released Giles and started studying quite appallingly expensive little pots and tubes with an expression of intense concentration.

Giles noticed his lover had to hold the items quite far away in order to read them. Was Ethan's perfect 20-20 vision finally becoming less so? "Do I need to make an appointment for you with my optician?" he asked, not looking too closely at his feelings concerning Ethan and ageing. On the one hand, they were growing old *together*; on the other, the last thing Giles felt with Ethan was *old*, and he disliked anything that pushed reality into conflict with that feeling.

Ethan scowled at him. "There's nothing wrong with my vision; they've just used a typeface too small to be read with the naked eye. I suppose there's something that they don't want us to know about--" He paused to turn the tube around. "Pout Bronze Sparkle."

"Do I even want to know what that is?"

"A gift for Kat possibly, although it's not quite her colour," Ethan answered distractedly. "Would you pass us one of those little baskets, please, dear?" Sighing, Giles obediently did so, resigning himself to being here the better part of the afternoon and to leaving with a far lighter bank balance.

Ethan spent some time moving between the cosmetics counters and accessory boutiques, collecting a small fortune's worth of elite little bags by the time he'd finished. He turned to Giles as they stood waiting for the lift up to arrive.

"The girls are going to love us." He smiled at Giles, the expression simple and genuine. "It's nice we have them both for Christmas. I'd felt sure that one or both would head home for the holidays."

"It's their first chance at Christmas here as well," Giles pointed out. "I'm sure they're looking forward to it as much as you are."

The lift doors opened, and they walked in. A pair of snooty women who'd been waiting behind them declined to join them in the lift, one woman waving them away with a dismissive gesture of her gloved hand. Giles felt Ethan bristle beside him, and he squeezed his hand while the doors shut.

Ethan pouted and said sourly, "Congratulate me."

Giles took advantage of their momentary solitude to kiss Ethan, partially as a reward for not pulling a magical prank on the objectionable women and partially, simply, because he always wanted to kiss Ethan. "We'll turn you into a civilised being yet," he teased.

"Not too civilised, I hope. Where would the fun in that be for either of us?" When the lift doors opened again, revealing another two women very similarly dressed to the ones they'd left downstairs, Ethan seemed very unwilling to detach himself from Giles. One of the new women giggled.

Giving in to a mischievous impulse of his own, Giles winked at her as he and Ethan stepped from the lift, still holding hands. She grinned back at him, clearly delighted.

"For every Francesca, there's a Pamela," Ethan murmured, as they headed deep into menswear territory.

"Indeed. And thank all that's holy for that."

Ethan made a small noise that had it been louder would have sounded suspiciously like a girlish squeal. He turned and deposited all his little bags and packages into Giles' arms, then disappeared at speed into the Dolce and Gabbana boutique.

What was that Giles had been thinking earlier -- that Ethan was getting old? His lover was certainly doing his best to disprove that right now. Shaking his head in amusement, Giles followed Ethan at a slower pace.

He found Ethan with an arm full of clothes. "Am I allowed to try stuff on?" he asked, his eyes seeming to hold an almost childlike happiness.

"Do I get to watch?"

"I damn well hope so." Ethan smirked, and after grabbing another couple of garments, strode off towards the changing rooms. There was a short debate with the initially pompous and overly camp lad overseeing the cubicles about how many items Ethan was allowed to take in with him, but it didn't surprise Giles at all that Ethan got things completely his own way in the end.

Giles followed Ethan into the cubicle that the lad had indicated, then leant back against the door after it had been shut. "Now this feels like old times," he said, remembering the days they'd used changing rooms to aid in surreptitious thievery when they'd been young.

The light in Ethan's eyes suggested he was remembering something a little different. He paused halfway through unbuttoning his shirt and pressed himself against Giles for a kiss. "Good times."

"Yes," Giles agreed, kissing Ethan, then kissing him again. "But these are better times."

Ethan nodded, not arguing, and pulled back with obvious reluctance. "I doubt we can afford all this," he warned, as he stripped down to his vest, boxers and socks.

"I told you," Giles said, taking pleasure in watching his lover disrobe. "Don't worry about cost. Consider it another part of your Christmas gift." That won him a quick, happy little smile.

"Oh, these are nice," Ethan enthused, stroking the fabric of a pair of trousers before stepping into them. "Very nouveau Mafiosa."

"Planning on taking up a new profession?"

"I already have, haven't I?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And maybe my wardrobe needs to reflect that a little more."

Giles smiled faintly. "Are you comparing the Council to the Mafia? Does that make me the Don?"

After pulling on a coarse-knit jumper with a loose roll neck, Ethan grinned and prowled the two steps necessary to allow him to rub against Giles again. "Well, you did make me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"I did, didn't I?" Giles allowed just a bit of smugness to creep into his voice as he slid his arms around Ethan's waist.

Ethan kissed him, slowly and sensually, drawing out every touch of his lips. "I'm a willing victim."

"I've noticed," Giles said softly, then tried to bring the subject back to something less likely to lead to shagging in the changing room. "Are you going to get this outfit?"

"It's not complete yet. You need to see the whole ensemble." Ethan made no move however to go back to the clothes, instead running his hands lightly up and down Giles' body under his heavy black coat

"I never used to be able to distract you from clothes," Giles observed, remembering the lengths he used to have to go to in order to recapture Ethan's attention while shopping in their wild past.

Ethan pulled back slightly, his eyebrow raised. "But these are better times?"

Giles smiled, and couldn't resist leaning in and kissing Ethan again. "Yes, these are better times."

Eventually they separated again, and Ethan went back to his hangers, selecting a long well-cut coat jacket and slipping it on over the sweater. "I'll need new shoes, of course. But what do you think?"

If there was one thing that had remained constant through the years that Giles had known Ethan, it was Ethan's sense of style. He'd always been uncannily good at picking outfits that would make anyone stop and take notice. That hadn't changed, even if the type of image that he was trying to project had. "You'll definitely be turning heads with that."

"In the right way, I hope." Ethan chuckled. "I haven't had expensive clothes in so long, Rupert. There wasn't any point in having good things when I might have been forced to run and leave all I had behind at any moment. This feels a little odd."

"Better times," Giles said softly. Which of course brought Ethan back to Giles' lips again.

By the time they'd finished in Dolce and Gabbana, several much larger bags had been added to the substantial number Giles seemed to have ended up carrying, and Ethan was wide-eyed and talking fast. "We have to go out somewhere so I can wear them, Rupert. Somewhere posh and intellectual. Somewhere *you*." He giggled.

"We could go see a West End show maybe," Giles suggested easily enough. Dealing with Ethan in this type of manic happy state was always an adventure, but one that Giles would always be quite glad to undertake. "Perhaps even take the others with us."

"Please God, not a panto," Ethan said, still giggling. "But a show could be quite special, I'll concede. Rupert, we *have* to buy clothes for you too."

Giles blinked. "This shopping spree is supposed to be for you."

"No, well yes, but this will be for me, really. We have to match." Ethan flashed him a brilliant smile.

"But--" Giles began to protest. Watching Ethan shop was one thing; Ethan deciding to shop for him was another matter entirely.

Ethan peered at him. "You're panicking," he accused.

"I am not."

"Yes, you are. You've got that look you get around the eyes. You don't trust me."

"Of course I trust you, Ethan. It's just--"

"I understand." Ethan turned slightly away, his happy expression transformed into an upset pout.

Giles was positive that this was just an attempt to manipulate him, that Ethan wasn't really letting this ruin the day for him. But still... "All right," he gave in with a sigh. "You can dress me."

The speed with which the huge grin appeared on Ethan's face at that, together with the sudden return of the bounce in his step, showed Giles very clearly he'd been right in his suspicions. "You won't regret this," Ethan said happily, tugging Giles towards the Yves St Laurent store-within-a-store.

Giles just sighed and let Ethan pull him along.

To his surprise, they'd no sooner entered the shop, than they were leaving it again, Ethan pulling him almost forcibly across the aisle into an area of leatherwear. "Oh God, Ripper, look." Ethan's tone was reverent, almost as if he were witnessing a holy miracle. The object of his awe was a 'pre-vintaged' leather jacket in the biker style. "It's identical."

Giles recognised exactly what Ethan was referring to; the jacket looked quite remarkably like the one he had owned back in his late teens and early twenties. He'd been wearing it the first time he'd met Ethan. "Old styles must be coming back," he murmured, reaching out to touch a sleeve.

Suddenly urgent, Ethan was taking the jacket from the hanger. "Try it on," he demanded.

Giles obligingly put down the packages and took off the coat he was wearing, handing it to Ethan. He took the leather jacket and slipped it on.

"Oh. Ohh." Ethan seemed almost overcome. He stared at Giles, biting his lip, one hand tracing the seams of the jacket's front.

It fit perfectly, the way the one he'd had in his youth had fit. It made Giles feel more than a little self-conscious though; he'd changed so much since those days.

"Please," Ethan begged. "Please, Ripper. Even if it's only for between us, when we're alone. Please."

"I don't look like someone going through a mid-life crisis trying to recapture his youth?" Giles asked, looking down at the jacket.

Ethan shook his head vigorously. "You look how you always looked, like you were born to wear it."

"I think we do need to make that appointment with my optician," Giles said wryly, but Ethan's words touched him, and he knew that they'd be buying the jacket.

NEXT