Title: Curtain's Fall 8/?
Section: I Casting Call (8/11)
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 Charades
Summary: The roles have all been filled and the players move into place.

Author Notes: This is the last story of the Old Mystics Series, sequel to Charades. We expect this to be rather long -- long enough that we've developed it into subsections: I Casting Call, II Dress Rehearsal, III Opening Night, IV Grand Finale, and V Encore. Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) Previous stories in the series can be found http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html. Thanks to all the people who have sent us feedback.

The evening wasn't quite turning out as expected.

Ethan had started by asking Xander to join him on their previously proposed drinking expedition to the village. But Kat discovered what was going on and insisted upon coming too, despite or maybe because of Ethan's claims that she was too young and it was a men-only affair. Perhaps she didn't trust him alone with her boyfriend.

Then just as the three of them had been about to walk down the driveway, Ian had appeared from around the side of the house and casually attached himself to them as if he'd always been invited.

Not that Ethan had minded at all. The more, the merrier really. And although Kat's presence meant he'd have to behave himself, he'd been sure he'd still find something fun to do.

Rupert had been too heavily involved with research to come along. Research which still, Ethan noted, hadn't included Harriet Giles' journals. Sooner or later, his husband was going to have to face that demon. Researching Vaurtain in scavenged Council books seemed pointless when the original notes of the person who'd first brought Vaurtain to their attention were so readily available. Tomorrow, he'd decided, he'd talk to Rupert, push him a bit, but tonight, Ethan needed a break from books and prophecies in a bad way.

Just a few pleasant drinks after arriving at the rather stolid King's Arms, however, Xander had sheepishly announced that he and Kat were going to take a stroll along the riverside. After some much-needed ribbing, the walking advert for young love had left to hold hands and coo, leaving Ethan with his mentor.

He'd decided to get some more pints in before Ian could bugger off too.

Which was why he was currently at the bar trying to decide between amusement and malicious bad temper in reaction to the way people were leaning away from him, as if he stunk of something foul. The landlord was surly and clearly didn't like Ethan's manner, and the pub itself was ramshackle and grubby, stained with several decades of tobacco and filth. Although poorly lit and smoky, which Ethan rather liked, it had little in the way of private nooks to sit in.

But the beer, the beer was bloody wonderful.

While waiting for two pints of a local brewery's ESB to be handed to him, Ethan watched a German shepherd stretched out by one of the tables and licking up beer from a saucer. Skunk would have loved it in here, he realised. But he'd refused to take her, knowing they'd be on roads and that he was likely to be getting drunk. He never had found the time to have the charmed collars made for their dogs.

After paying the grumpy landlord, and possibly being a little bit camp just to live up to the expectations he could clearly see in the man's expression, Ethan carefully carried two heavy glasses back to their table. "Well, this may look like a rural public house full of people who stare like they're cows chewing the cud," he said, smiling at Ian as he put the pints down. "But it feels like freedom nonetheless."

"Still having problems settling in at the in-laws'?" Ian asked, reaching for a glass.

"Yes, I suppose that's what Matthew is," Ethan said thoughtfully, having not quite thought in those terms before. "Well, I like Harriet Giles well enough." He grinned at Ian. "She left me a present."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Aha -- bribery from beyond the grave?"

"Yes. That would have been last Tuesday." Ethan smirked over the lip of his pint glass. "The day you made those comments about our Patterns that caused Rupert to try to clean his contact lenses with his handkerchief."

"Silly thing to get uncomfortable about," Ian chuckled, taking a long drink. "He certainly doesn't think that it's a secret what you two get up to, does he?"

"I don't think he's ever quite forgiven either of us for the day you watched us in the meadow, even though your reasons were thoroughly mentorish and worthy, I'm sure."

"Oh, of course," Ian agreed. "My motives were completely professional." Ethan sniggered into his beer, and Ian grinned. "No, I wouldn't believe me either."

Smiling, Ethan remembered the things Ian had observed. "I liked you being there," he said. "It helped make it all more real, you playing witness. That's aside from any exhibitionist tendencies I may or may not have, of course." He winked.

"May or may not have?" Ian snorted. "Tell the truth -- you'd go at it right here in front of these fine upstanding country folk, if you could convince Rupert to."

That made Ethan laugh aloud, causing more of the already suspicious patrons to look towards their table. He blew a kiss towards a curmudgeonly looking pensioner with a very red face. The old git nearly fell off his bar stool. "I would at that. Care for another pint before they refuse to serve us anymore?"

"Why not? If we're going to get thrown out for drunk and disorderly behaviour, it would behove us to do our best to actually *be* drunk." Ian nodded sagely.

Ethan nodded equally wisely and said, "Your round, old crow."

Ian got up and went to the bar. Ethan couldn't hear what he said, but his mentor's smile and the way the landlord seemed to relax just a bit as they talked certainly implied Ian was charming him. When Ian came back over carrying the two pints, his expression was just slightly ever so smug.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "All right, what did you just tell the git behind the bar?"

"Hmm?" Ian sat down and drank deeply.

"Don't hmm me. What yarn were you spinning at the bar?" Ethan paused to savour his drink. "Oh, provincial twerps they may be, but they certainly know a good real ale."

"Quite. It's places like this you have to go to find the good stuff these days. Far too often in the city it seems like quality alcohol is considered less important for a successful establishment than atmosphere."

"And that atmosphere is more often than not wall screens showing football or MTV. Sometimes both in different areas of the bar. Now if they were to show gay porn of course... what did you say to the landlord, Ian?"

Ian smiled mysteriously. "Perhaps I offered him some gay porn."

"And perhaps you didn't." Ethan didn't believe it for a second.

"Perhaps I didn't," Ian agreed affably. "I have to have some secrets still, or what would you need me for?"

"As a *friend*?" Ethan raised his eyebrow at Ian.

"As a teacher."

Ethan frowned. "The point I was trying to make is that I consider you my friend, you rangy old blackbird. *That's* what I need you for. Did you really think it was for the sparse few lines of cryptic 'information' you throw at me once in a while? Oh, don't look like that. We both know I probably wouldn't even be around still if it were not for your guidance. I'm not being ungrateful. I'm trying to tell you why I need you around *now*."

Ian regarded him with sharp blue eyes, the emotion in them unreadable. "Friends, eh? It's been a long while since I met someone that I could simply call 'friend' without any other names making it... messy."

Ethan gave him a gentle, honest smile; he could manage them sometimes, and the moment called for it. "Not even in the Coven?" he asked after a few seconds. "I did notice you kept yourself apart a little, but... well, you all have to work together, don't you?"

"And that's what it is -- working together. Work. Of course, that's not to say there aren't genuine bonds of affection there, but if it wasn't for what I could offer the Coven in the first place..." Ian shrugged. "Tell me, can you honestly see Lucy and me developing a friendship if it were not for the Coven?"

Ethan snorted softly. "No. No, I suppose not. How long have you been with them?"

"Oh, quite a while, a lifetime it feels like. My teacher brought me to Devon after I'd sweated out the Chaos." Ian paused and took another drink, his gaze distant with memories. "It was a good place to recover."

Nodding, Ethan admitted, "I've missed the sea, ever since we left."

Ian nodded also, his expression one of perfect understanding. "I expect that men like us were often sailors in times past. And the most foolhardy and daring among mariners too -- the ones who would ride the waves through the roughest of storms no matter how great the danger."

"Heh." Ethan laughed a little nervously. "That sounds rather exciting actually."

"It does, doesn't it? Standing at the wheel while waves crash over the sides and the wind lashes raindrops against your skin hard enough to sting..."

Ethan finished his pint in a hurry. "If we don't have a storm here soon, I'm going to have to make one. It's been too long. Drink up, I'll get another in." Ian grinned and tilted his head back as he drained the rest of his glass.

The landlord was much more friendly to Ethan than the last time he'd been to the bar, and Ethan's suspicions increased. He bought a couple of pints of something chalked on the blackboard as 'Baddleston's Fine Old Ale', which came out the tap a deep ruddy brown, and a selection of crisps and nuts. Returning to the table, he said, "Look at the colour of this."

"Oh, now that's a lovely shade," Ian said enthusiastically. "Shall we see if it tastes as good as it looks?"

Sitting back down, Ethan raised his glass to his lips and took a good swig. "Ah." He grinned happily. "Now that is what I call warming."

"Drink much of this and one would be positively hot." Ian paused to take another deep swallow. "Keep drinking beyond that point and everyone else would start looking 'hot' as well."

Ethan chuckled and threw a bag of crisps at Ian, choosing pork scratchings for himself. He realised he was getting drunk when he heard himself ask curiously, "Would you? I mean, if there was someone 'hot'?" It was not a necessarily a wise or kind area to take conversation into with Ian.

Ian concentrated on getting the crisps open before answering. "Depends. Maybe." He glanced up to meet Ethan's gaze with a tiny smile. "If circumstances were different, I might even be expecting this night to have an entirely different ending than it is likely to have."

Ethan's answering smile was sad. "In different circumstances," he agreed. "I certainly wouldn't have said no back when." Then he brightened. "But that doesn't mean we can't still have fun together."

"Here, here." Ian raised his glass in a toast before taking another drink. "Just slightly less... naked fun."

Drinking deeply -- the ale was fantastic -- Ethan contemplated clothed fun. A slight inkling of a wicked idea was beginning to form. "It's not the sea, but do you fancy a walk along the river after we've got this round down us?"

Ian slapped the table. "Excellent idea. Fine night for a stroll."

In the end, it took about ten minutes of ale-finishing, snack-eating, giggling, and visits to the gents before Ian and Ethan were out in the cold air again and making their ever so slightly not-straight way to the river path.

Buckham village straddled the river Thames rather unevenly, with all the village proper being on one side, but a new housing estate now on the other, joined by both traffic and pedestrian bridges. The Thames was only about the width of a major road across at this stage in its journey, but it was still deep and fast flowing. Deep enough for boats, anyway.

It was a clear night, well lit by a gibbous moon. Ethan turned to Ian as they reached the path. "Would you mind terribly if I cloaked us?"

"You have some mischief in mind, my boy?"

"Me? I'm a fully reformed law-abiding citizen now, I'll have you know."

Ian just looked at him and repeated, "So you have some mischief in mind?"

Ethan grinned at him. "Thought you might fancy a boat ride."

Throwing his head back, Ian laughed. "You are a man after my own heart, m'boy."

Ethan's grin became broader still as he took Ian's hand and pulled at the patterns around them, not so much hiding them from view but hazing their presence. People might see them, but they were very unlikely to remember them.

It was only when he had finished that Ethan realised that Ian's hand still felt a little like it had when he'd first taken it back on that Devonshire beach, when Ian had given him a taste of wild magic, reminding Ethan of his true nature. There was a hint of storms, of ozone and brine in the touch. "You taste good for an old bird," he said, and giggled a little drunkenly.

"You're not exactly cod liver oil yourself," Ian replied, looking at the tweaked pattern around them. "You've developed a very deft touch with your magic."

"Thank you!" Pulling Ian by the hand, Ethan took them both over the low wall and down to the small private mooring bay they had been passing. "The thing with boats," he murmured, although there seemed to be no one around but them, "is that they are very hard to secure."

Ian nodded as he listened. "Stole a boat before, have you?"

"We're not stealing; we're borrowing," Ethan insisted. "And yes. Have you?"

"No." Ian considered for a moment. "Well, there was that one time with an oil tanker, but that was more like a pirating than a theft."

Ethan spluttered loudly. "An *oil tanker*?" He boggled at the older man. "Well, that's put my adventures to shame."

"It wasn't anything I had planned, just circumstances running away with me." Ian tilted his head as he thought about it. "Come to think of it, most of my so-called adventures could be explained that way."

"That's the best sort." There were several boats to choose from, some of them relatively posh, but Ethan's eye was taken by a small sailing boat, little more than a skiff, lurking in the shadow of the bigger vessels. "Do you think between us we can twist this breeze into a significant but highly localised wind?"

Ian grinned like a mischievous little boy. "I'd be very disappointed in both of us if we can't manage something as simple as that."

A part of Ethan noticed that Ian was a lot easier to persuade into things than Rupert was, in the sense that no persuasion at all was actually required. This probably meant they were about to get into Very Big Trouble, but to hell with it. They both deserved a bit of fun.

"Come on then." Ethan began to untie the rope holding the boat to the docking ring.

"You do realise that this is quite probably another instance of circumstances running away with us?" Ian jumped agilely across onto the deck of the boat and began investigating the sails.

"Oh, I'm certainly hoping so," Ethan agreed easily, giving up on the knot and using magic to fray the rope instead.

By the time Ethan had freed the boat, Ian had managed to get the sail up and rigged and was looking quite pleased with himself. "If we steer the rudder and the winds just right, we could make it all the way to London."

"Not sure that's the best of destinations for us currently," Ethan replied, which was a far too sober and sensible thing to say. He stepped onto the boat, wobbling ever so slightly as he did, and tried to rectify his misplaced common sense with, "Maybe as far as Windsor. I owe a couple of prats there some mischief."

"Why don't we leave it up to fate? And the wind?" Ian suggested, settling down by the rudder. "Wherever it takes us, that's where we'll go."

Ethan laughed. "We'll end up in France, just you wait." He stood at the prow of the little boat, his legs apart to help him balance. "So..." he started leadingly.

Ian chuckled knowingly. "So I see there are a few things yet I can teach you." He lifted his right hand in a casual come-hither gesture, and Ethan could sense the way the patterns shifted in the air. It was deft and subtle work, so much so that Ethan wasn't sure he was getting it all, but the breeze that suddenly caressed his cheek and filled their boat's sail proved how effective it was.

"Oh, that's nice. Very nice." He grinned back at Ian. "We don't need you on the rudder, you know. One thing I *can* see how to do is tweaking the currents to steer by. Or are you surreptitiously resting old bones?" He sniggered.

"More like staying out of your way so you don't wobble me right off into the water," Ian shot back, eyes bright with humour.

"I have perfect balance," Ethan claimed, tipping his head back to enjoy the gusty caresses of Ian's weather-work. "I just have also had Baddleston's Fine Old Ale among other things."

"Oh, come now. That little bit of admittedly very fine ale isn't enough to affect you now, is it?"

"It is if I want it to be." Ethan cast a happy grin over his shoulder at Ian. "It's been quite a while since I've been drunk and disorderly, and I'm determined to make the most of every second."

Ian nodded in understanding then quite clearly said, "Lightweight."

Ethan turned around and put his hands on his hips. "Perhaps you should be standing up when you say that. Old man."

Obligingly, Ian climbed to his feet, sending their little craft swaying with his movements. "Lightweight," he repeated, adding, "Infant."

To his credit, Ethan didn't stagger as the boat wobbled, but only because he was tweaking patterns wildly. "You have a lower centre of gravity. Shortarse."

"Making excuses now, are we?" The sheer delight in Ian's expression was something that Ethan had never seen on the older man before.

Ethan felt a thrill of wild joy that he was able to do this for Ian. He locked gazes. "Tell you what, let's boost your rather lacklustre breeze, shall we? See who's the first to fall over." Clumsily, he tried to replicate what he'd felt Ian doing with the air currents earlier. A hefty gust appeared from nowhere, and the mast creaked loudly as the sail bulged.

The boat jerked and took off along the river at a rate of, well, not perhaps knots, but getting there, and Ethan staggered. But he didn't, quite, fall.

He felt Ian wrest control back from him, and their movement smoothed out, although they didn't lose any speed. "If you break off the mast we won't be going anywhere," Ian told him primly.

Ethan just grinned, holding his arms out to his sides and relishing the buffeting air. Had there been any clouds in the sky, he would have considered attempting to create rain, despite the wintry temperatures. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself back on that clifftop with Rupert, mastering the storm.

He sensed Ian tweak the wind's patterns, smoothing out the gusts and sending them downriver even faster.

"You're very good at this," Ethan told him, raising his voice to be heard. "So many years living in the wilds, I suspect. One day, when the weather's right for it, we should make a storm together, you and I."

"Now that would be something, wouldn't it?" There was something about Ian's smile and the tone of his voice that sent a frisson of alarm and sadness through Ethan.

He scowled at Ian, folding his arms. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Talking as if you..." Ethan looked down, uncharacteristically afraid to say the words.

Ian moved closer and put a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "We all will, someday. It's nothing I fear."

"Someday," Ethan echoed, looking up and meeting the blue eyes. "It's some day soon for you though, isn't it? At least you believe it is." He snorted very softly. "I don't know how you've found the courage to stay this long. You're a far better man than I."

"I stayed because I knew one day there would be a chance to help get it right. If not for me and Derek, then for another pair like us." He gave Ethan a completely contented smile. "I stayed to help you."

Ethan stared at Ian for a few long seconds, torn between hugging the man tightly and trying to lighten the mood with a cheeky joke. Neither of them seemed to be looking where they were going, but with the 360-degree vision of pattern sense, that wasn't a problem providing they concentrated. Ethan could however see where they were passing and so noticed a couple walking on the riverside, cuddled close together. "Look!" he pointed out to Ian. "It's Kat and Xander."

Ian turned and looked. "So it is. Making the most of the romantic setting too it looks like."

Ethan put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. When the lovebirds looked around, startled, he let the cloaking drop briefly and waved at them.

They both stared; then Xander started laughing, shaking his head, Kat joining in a few seconds later. "Do you even know how to sail?" Xander yelled across the water at them.

"We're expert boatmen, masters of wind and wave," Ethan shouted back, and only half of it was a lie. "Thought we'd check up on you! Put that boy down immediately, Katherine. You don't know where he's been." Somewhere in one of the gardens that backed onto the river, a dog began to bark.

"I'll just have to be extra diligent in looking for clues then," Kat yelled back. Ethan imagined Xander swallowing hard at that news.

They were getting too far away to continue the conversation, so Ethan just made an elaborate bow, wobbling rather dangerously on his feet when the boat rocked. Regaining his balance, he grinned at Ian and re-twisted the patterns that had been hiding them.

Ian was still looking back at the young lovebirds. "We don't seem to have broken the mood for them anyway."

"They're very sweet together. I hope to see Megan in a similar -- if same-sex -- huddle one day."

"I'm sure she will find someone worthy of her," Ian said. "In time."

"She feels her aloneness. Really feels it, I mean. Some people it doesn't bother, others..." This was very dangerous ground. Talking to Ian about loneliness seemed almost cruel. Ethan gave him an apologetic smile. "I think I'm sobering up. Most disappointing."

Ian tsked and shook his head. "Can't hold his liquor and can't hold his buzz." He dug into a pocket of his jacket and came out with a small bag. "We'll have to do something about that."

"Oh, Ian." Ethan stared happily at the bag. "Is that what I think it is?"

Ian tossed him the bag with a smile. "There are advantages to living in the wilds, as you put it."

"You have a greenhouse then. Very nice." Ethan sat down on the slat of wood that served as a seat in the front of the boat. "Perhaps a pocket of calm?"

"Good idea. Wouldn't want any of this to go to waste." Ian waved a hand casually, and the patterns of the wind shifted, flowing around them but not touching them at all, although the sail was still billowing.

Fortunately, the grass was already rolled into small 'coffin-nail' joints, tobacco-free unless Ethan missed his guess and densely packed. He took one out and smelled it. "Oh, there's nothing like good home-grown. One each?"

Ian nodded. "It's difficult to smoke more than one at a time without looking like a total git."

Ethan took a second joint from the bag, together with the box of Swan Vesta, and then resealed it. He held both of the slim cigarettes between his index and middle finger, defiantly sucking on them as he lit them. "Total git, eh?" he asked, but then the hit found him and he snorted, starting to chuckle.

"Well, a greedy git at least," Ian replied, reaching over and plucking one of the joints from Ethan's hand.

After pocketing the bag, Ethan stood again and poked Ian on the chest. "You've enhanced this," he accused, talking through one side of his mouth as he didn't want to miss a single inhale. It seemed like a lifetime since he'd done any dope, and this dope had something a little extra to it, if he was right. The buzz was intense and invigorating.

"Yes, yes I did." Ian inhaled deeply on his own joint, his eyes sinking to half-mast in pleasure. "I had many years to experiment while I was waiting for you to come to your senses."

"You should have come to find me." Ethan patted Ian's arm. "We could have had fun."

Ian gave him a smile tinged with sadness. "You weren't ready."

"Could still have had some fun." Ethan realised suddenly that the look he was giving Ian was openly sexual, and he turned away in a hurry. "Damn good stuff this."

"Yes, it is," Ian agreed, chuckling and throwing a companionable arm around Ethan's shoulders. "I'm damned good at this, if I do say so myself."

With a mental shrug, Ethan put his arm around Ian's waist. "Needing support are we now, old man? Getting a little unsteady on your pins?"

Ian snorted indelicately. "Hardly. Just sometimes, it's nice to let the patterns jostle against each other. Contact can be... invigorating."

They both really needed to stop flirting, but ah. What was the harm in it really? Ethan would never betray Rupert in that way, and Ian knew it. So this was just... fun. Yes, fun which they both needed. They'd been wild spirits trapped within order and responsibility for too long. "Invigorating. I see." He took a deep drag and heard his voice slur a little as he added, "Sure that it's not this wonderful stuff?"

"It's certainly not hurting any. I dare say with enough of it, nothing would hurt."

Ethan felt his arm inadvertently tighten around Ian, and he pulled him around a little. A small unworthy part of him wondered if he was being manipulated, his obvious sympathies being played on by Ian. But even if Ian were, under the influence of drink, drugs and loneliness, doing just that, it wouldn't change the painful truth of what he'd just said. Ethan stared sadly at him. "Ian, I..." He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what to say."

Ian smiled back bittersweetly. "There's nothing to say, my boy. Things are the way they are."

Ethan continued to stare, studying Ian's features as he finished the last of his joint. He held out his arm to where the wind still blew and let the air carry the tiny roach away. "I know you said that seeing Rupert and I together doesn't hurt you, but..." He crimped his mouth, realising he was probably going too far here, but going there anyway. "Well, it would me. If I were you, I'd sometimes find myself intensely hating us -- that is, the whole pair -- for having what I couldn't have. The pair's existence would be salt in an open wound that could never scar over. Why don't you hate us, Ian?"

"Hating you," Ian brought a hand up to caress the air beside Ethan's cheek, "would be like hating myself. Possible perhaps, but certainly not healthy. And hating your Rupert..." he sighed and dropped his hand again.

"What?" Ethan prompted. They were standing so close, their arms draped loosely around each other, the boat's motion sometimes rocking them closer still. Ethan thought little of reaching up and cupping Ian's cheek, reflecting and completing Ian's aborted gesture. "What about my Rupert?"

Ian met Ethan's eyes as he admitted slightly ruefully, "My problem with Rupert isn't trying not to hate him. It's rather the complete opposite."

Ah, of course. "That... makes perfect sense. Oh, Ian." Running out of words, Ethan pulled Ian closer to him. Of course Ian was attracted to Rupert. Of course he was. It must be hell for the poor bastard. "I'm so sorry. Really, I am."

Ian shook his head and smiled. "It's all right. Really. Watching the two of you is all I could hope for. Seeing you get it right, seeing you bonding in the way Derek and I never got the chance to... I'm satisfied with that."

"Satisfied," Ethan echoed. "Well, it's a word, I suppose." He didn't want to let Ian go just yet, not until the palpable aura of pain between them had lessened. "So," he started, allowing an evil smile to brighten his face. "If hating me would be tantamount to self-loathing, had we met while I was still single, would that have been masturbation?"

He watched as a truly wicked smile transformed Ian's face. "If we had met under different circumstances, I expect that there would have been far too many fireworks to consider it masturbation."

Ethan laughed and didn't fight his body's response to Ian's words. "I'm forced to agree. So much so in fact that --" After giving Ian a deliberately heated if rueful look, Ethan released him and stepped back. "That I'm going to stand over here now."

It was then that Ethan noticed how close to the riverbank they were now moving. He hurriedly tried to tweak the currents to get them back to the centre.

"Yes," Ian agreed wryly, "we wouldn't want people to talk."

"Because, of course, we have so many spectators out here. Ian, do you think we could slow down a little, we're getting a smidgen too close--"

Their boat suddenly came to a sudden violent halt, and Ethan's balance finally failed him. One moment he was standing on the boat's deck, the next he was flying through the air and landing in the ice-cold water with an impressively loud splash.

He spluttered and floundered until his feet found the bottom, and he managed to stand, tweaking the currents in the deep river not to push at him so. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, glaring at Ian. The bastard, who was not even trying not to laugh, was still on his feet in the boat, which had, it seemed, got caught on a projecting tree root.

"Have you any idea how bloody freezing this water is?" Ethan demanded. "I'm lucky my heart didn't stop on the spot."

"Oh come now," Ian said, still chuckling as he leant over the short railing and reached out a hand to Ethan. "There's not even any ice forming. You're perfectly fine."

Ethan didn't mean to do it; he truly didn't. He wasn't even sure quite how it happened. But as he took Ian's hand and tried to scrabble back into the boat, his wet shoe slipped on the side, and he fell forward, rocking the boat significantly. That and the yank his fall obviously gave to Ian's arm was enough to finally unbalance the older man, and there was a second loud splash and a suddenly empty boat. "Oops."

Ian came up sputtering and blistering the air with his cursing.

Ethan was kind enough to grab Ian's arm and help him straighten, as well as making sure the tweaked currents also flowed around him. But Ethan couldn't stop himself giggling helplessly the whole time. "What are you making such a fuss about, old man? Bracing -- that's what this is."

"If this is bracing, I think I'd rather just be allowed to fall over." Ian was visibly shivering.

"Well, it *is* sodding February. Come on, let's get you out of here." Ethan put his arm around Ian and pulled him to the bank, helping him out. That was easier than trying to climb back into the boat. "This is where we need a Rupert to warm us up."

Ian chuckled again, even through his chattering teeth. "While I appreciate the offer of sharing, your Rupert might have something to say about it."

"I *meant* his handy line in spells actually." Not that Ethan found the idea of a threesome exactly off-putting, but like Ian, he couldn't quite imagine Rupert agreeing. Even back in their wild days, Rupert hadn't liked to share all that much; it had taken a lot of persuasion. Ethan clambered out of the water and wondered if he'd ever be able to feel the bottom half of his body again. "We've a long walk home, old crow, and we'll be asking for hypothermia. Shall I call him to come and fetch us?"

"Best do." Ian looked up at the night sky, which had clouded over since the start of their adventures. "Too dark to fly back."

Ethan had never reached for Rupert from so far away before, but it was that or freeze to death. He grabbed Ian's hand in case he needed to borrow power; he couldn't imagine Ian objecting under the circumstances. Closing his eyes, Ethan reached out, finding that place in his mind where he heard Rupert when they spoke telepathically and going deeply into it. 'Ripper? Can you hear me?'

Rupert's response came quickly and far more strongly than Ethan had expected. 'Ethan? What's wrong?'

That was gratifying. 'We rather need rescuing actually, dear. Sorry to disturb.'

'Of course you do.' Ethan could picture the world-weary expression Rupert was sure to be wearing, could sense too the quiet pleasure at being needed under the exasperation. 'What have you got yourself into this time?'

'We fell in the river, a fair way downstream from the village, and, um, it's a trifle nippy.'

'You fell in the-- I can't let you out of my sight for a minute, can I?'

'Feel free to lecture me as much as you like, dear, but please come. I'm worried about Ian. He has less meat on him even than me, and he's shivering violently.' Ethan reached out and pulled Ian close to him, although as he was equally frozen, he wasn't sure how much good it would do. "Come on," he said aloud, "Let's find civilisation and a landmark or two."

'I'm on my way. It would help if you could get to a road -- or at least a place I can pull the car in.'

'Trying,' Ethan told him. 'I think we're close to Warlow, although I can't be sure. We, er, fancied a spot of boating.'

'Well, that would explain the falling in the river,' Rupert observed. 'I'm in the car now, I'm sure I can track you when I get close enough.'

'Thank you, dearheart,' Ethan sent meekly. To Ian, he said, "Would you be better off as a crow while we wait for Rupert? I could hold your clothes." He was alarmed at how frail the man felt in his arms as they pushed through the undergrowth.

Ian shook his head, obviously making an effort to control his shivering. "I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly. "A little dunking isn't going to do me any lasting harm."

They found themselves in a small field, but there were lights from houses close by, and Ethan could hear traffic noise. As they walked, Ethan ran his pattern senses over Ian, making sure that he truly was all right, but predictably the man did seem to have his bodily reactions under control, as much as was actually possible under the circumstances. "That wasn't deliberate, you know," he pointed out, feeling guilty nonetheless.

"But you enjoyed it," Ian countered, glancing at him with a tiny smile.

"Well, I did until I started getting worried about you." Ethan's coat was feeling oppressively heavy, but he supposed taking it off would be unwise, despite the amount of water it must have been holding. "Everything before the dunking however, I enjoyed a great deal. Definitely worth the lecture I will no doubt get as a result of it."

"You're not fooling anybody, you know. You relish every lecture he gives you. Because it proves he cares."

"You know me far too well." They came out onto a road, and as luck would have it, there was a signpost a little way ahead. Ethan walked them towards it, still keeping a close hold on Ian. The sign bid them 'Welcome to Misham-upon-Thames'. 'Ah, we're just outside Misham,' he sent to Rupert. 'Are you close? I can't feel my toes.'

'I should be there in a few minutes,' Rupert sent. 'With the car heater going full blast.'

'I love you. Truly. '

'Try not to let any important bits freeze before I get there.'

"We won't have to wait long," he told Ian. "Do you want to see if this village has a pub still open so we can drip on their floor?" He wasn't sure what the time was, but if it was after closing time, he was prepared to knock insistently.

"That does sound like a workable plan," Ian agreed. He had his arms crossed over his chest as if he could hold in his body heat by will alone.

"He says he has the car heaters on full. Come on then, old thing." Ethan tugged on Ian's waist and they made their way into the village. Their progress was slow -- soaking shoes, heavy clothes and violently shivering bodies didn't lend themselves to haste. The occasional car passed them, but none of them stopped. Ethan could feel Rupert getting closer however. "I'm sure Ratty and Mole never had this problem."

Ian let out a mostly silent laugh at that. "I doubt Ratty and Mole ever got up to some of the things that can be laid at our two doorsteps."

"So what, this is punishment? For our many sins?" Ethan laughed. "My dear Ian, sod that. We've both paid our karmic debts by now, surely. Well, some of them. Maybe." Ah, a pub... which looked depressingly closed. Nonetheless, he pulled Ian towards the closed door.

A familiar car pulled up just then, and through a rolled down window, Rupert asked, "Did someone call for a cab?"

"Oh, thank God." Ethan dragged a suddenly strangely stiff Ian to the car. "You better sit in the front; it will be warmer," he told him as he opened the door. "Hello, my shining knight," he said to Rupert, leaning inside to briefly kiss his husband with frozen lips. "Going to sit Ian in the front."

"That's quite all right," Ian said quickly, reaching for the door to the rear seat. "I'll be perfectly fine in the back."

Ethan caught him in a hurry and more or less pushed him into the front seat. "Do as you're damn well told, and stop letting the heat escape; we need it." He knew why Ian was objecting, but the older man was in a worse way than Ethan was and so got the front seat. It was simple. He shut the door on Ian quickly, struggled out of his soaking coat, and got into the back. "Oh, Mrs B better have some soup in the larder we can warm up; that's all I can say."

"I'm sure we can find something for you," Rupert said, then looked over at Ian. "May I...?" he asked politely, reaching out a hand towards the older man.

Ethan could see that Ian was still uncomfortable, but he nodded his permission. Rupert then touched Ian's arm and murmured, " Exhala aquam viduum ," evaporating the moisture from his clothes.

"Oh, yes please," Ethan said, pushing an arm between them. It wasn't just eagerness to be dry, although that was most assuredly present; it was also a desire to take the attention away from Ian quickly. Ethan was feeling protective towards his old mentor.

"By all rights, I should make you wait," Rupert said sternly, even as he repeated the spell on Ethan. "But I've seen you with pneumonia enough for this lifetime."

Christ, it felt good to be dry. With the water gone, Ethan was starting to feel the heat in the car. He might actually stop shivering soon. "Oh, very well. I'll take all the blame for this," he said theatrically. "I can be magnanimous."

"Actually it was more of a group decision," Ian said. He was holding himself stiffly still after being touched by Rupert's magic, but managed to sound close to normal. "Perhaps a bit influenced by Baddleston's Fine Old Ale, granted..."

"Damn good ale, that," Ethan said happily. He surreptitiously placed a hand on Ian's shoulder and squeezed. "It was a good evening, Rupert, until the end at least. You should have come. Xander and Kat went off to engage in intensive oral investigations someplace, so we were free to misbehave as much as we wanted."

"That much is obvious," Rupert said dryly. "Still, I'm glad you had fun."

'Are you okay?' Ethan sent. He was suddenly wondering exactly how much of the awkwardness and discomfort Ian felt around Rupert was returned.

'Fine.' In the rear-view mirror, Ethan saw Rupert's gaze flick towards Ian. 'It's just a bit disheartening when your very presence causes someone pain.'

'It's not precisely pain, dear,' Ethan told him, as there could be no secrets between them, and Ian surely knew that.

Another glance in Ian's direction. 'Certainly looks like pain.'

'Well, yes, I'm sure it is painful. Frustrated desire often is, after all. Do stop looking at him though. He's very far from stupid, and I don't want to embarrass him on top of everything else.' Ethan squeezed Ian's shoulder again. "Home soon. Hot soup and toast, I think."

"Or a whisky," Ian countered, showing a bit more spirit.

"Isn't that how you two got into this mess in the first place?" Rupert asked aloud. Meanwhile, he sounded amazed when he sent, 'Are you saying that Ian... fancies me?'

'Of course he does,' Ethan sent, although the realisation had earlier taken him by surprise as well. 'And were I not around, you'd fancy him too. Truly, Rupert. It's obvious if you think about it.'

'I suppose looking at it... but still...' Rupert sounded bewildered. 'It's certainly the last thing I expected.'

'All these years, Rupert. So very many, he's been waiting alone for us to be ready for him to help. You knew him before we got back together. Think back. Didn't you feel some attraction for him then?'

He could almost feel Rupert thinking hard about it, turning it over in his mind. 'I was too busy doing my best to forget I even knew how to do magic. And he was doing his best to remain distant. I guess I know why now.'

They were back at Buckham Hall, turning into the driveway. Ethan felt the reassuring touch of the wards as they drove through them. "How are you feeling, Ian?" he asked. "Warmer?"

"Yes. Although also distressingly sober." Ian sighed dramatically. "I suppose one must take the bad with the good."

"Matthew has an ample supply of fine spirits which I'm sure we can happily pilfer." Ethan lifted his still soaking coat, which had missed out on the drying spell, and pulled out a certain plastic bag, still safely sealed. He waved it between Ian and Rupert. "And there's still these..."

Rupert did a bit of a double take, but to his credit sounded perfectly casual when he spoke. "It's been quite a while since I've seen something like that. Longer since I've *done* something like that."

"They're exceptionally good," Ethan told him. "Ian's a bit of a master cultivator."

"A man of many talents," Rupert praised.

Ian smiled at that, seeming a bit more relaxed. "Unfortunately sailor doesn't seem to be among them, hence our need for rescue."

"It was my fault," Ethan admitted as they pulled to a halt. "I was meant to be steering."

"We both lost track of our surroundings," Ian countered. "So the blame is more rightly shared."

"Far be it from me to be a blame-hog," Ethan said with a laugh. As they got out of the car, he sent urgently to Rupert, 'I don't want him to be on his own. Not quite yet. Can you--' Could Rupert what? Ethan realised he didn't know what exactly he was asking for.

"It's other things I'm more concerned about you hogging," Rupert said smoothly, giving the bag Ethan still held a meaningful glance. "Although perhaps I can provide a less perilous place to consume it." He looked at Ian. "If you would like to continue the evening...?"

"Yes, Ian," Ethan encouraged, as they gathered at the front of the car. "Let us old bohemians find somewhere quiet and enjoy the fruits of your disreputable labours together." He winked at Ian, and following instinct, reached out to take his mentor's hand, which he squeezed.

The look Ian gave him made it clear he knew exactly what they were up to, but he acquiesced easily enough. "Why not?" he said with an easy smile. "We certainly wouldn't want it to go to waste."

With a sense of relief, Ethan released Ian's hand and turned to Rupert. "Where to, dear? Only I have no coat, and I'm getting cold again."

"Inside," Rupert said, with a faint smile. "I have a few places I used to sneak off to when I was young and trying to smoke without getting caught."

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