Title : Seattle
Author: Laura Smith
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: ABH
Disclaimer: All characters and the concept of "BtVS" belong to Joss Whedon
and other people who are not me. No infringement is intended.
Feedback: I'd love to know what you think! Let me know. Feedback is
encouraged and appreciated!
You look around the airport, hoping to catch the sight of someone who looks remotely like a British librarian. Sighing aloud, you sink down onto one of the plastic seats and pick up your book. "Excuse me?"
Looking up into the most beautiful green eyes you've ever seen, you almost forget how to talk. "Yes?" you squeak.
A ghost of a grin passes over his face. "You wouldn't happen to have the time? I'm supposed to be meeting someone and I'm afraid I have no idea what she looks like."
"You're British."
"Yes." He starts to look concerned. "Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry." You gather your wits from the erotic playground they've ventured off to and smile. "You're Rupert Giles?"
"Yes."
"You're meeting me. I'm meeting you." Giving it up, you stick out your hand and business card. "Hello."
He takes both, and his fingers seem to burn an impression on the flesh of your palm. "You are meeting me. It's a pleasure. Willow has spoken a great deal about the help you've given her over the Internet."
"The pleasure is all mine. It's not every day we get a former curator of the British Museum coming for a visit." You blush, realizing you're letting on that you know an awful lot about him. "Will…Willow mentioned it."
"I'm not surprised. Shall we?" He takes your elbow and guides you to the escalator that will take you to the luggage area. "So, you're a professor of mythology?"
"Yes. At the University of Washington." Could you be more idiotic? "I mean, of course at the University of Washington. You read the card." Perhaps you could pass out from stupidity and pretend to have amnesia and start this damnable conversation all over. "And you're a librarian…at Sunnydale High?"
"Not quite the British Museum." This time he looks a little abashed. Great. Now you're offending him. Hormones are decidedly not conducive to intelligent conversation.
You arrive at the luggage carousel and watch and wait. And wait. And wait. "You would think they wouldn't be able to lose luggage on a non-stop flight that only takes four hours."
"I've seen far more improbable things." He hefts his shoulder bag. "Well, I have a change of clothes here. It should do me for the duration of the stay. I suppose any articles I need we can find somewhere."
"Seattle's a big town. I thought we could stop and get some dinner? Then I'll take you to your hotel to check in."
"And the books?"
"Tomorrow." You shrug. "They'll arrive around two in the afternoon. I'm sorry it will be so long, snow in the passes delayed the shipment. So, I thought I could show you around. Have you ever been to Seattle before?"
"Once. I was following a lead on a missing girl…for a friend."
You pretend not to notice the pause. "So, lunch?"
"I'm starving."
"You like seafood?"
"Love it."
***
You manage to make small talk over lunch without embarrassing yourself too much. You're supposed to be a highly qualified professor and lecturer. Why are you babbling like an adolescent?
"It's delicious."
"One of the city's well-kept secrets." You smile at him and find you're getting lost in those green eyes again. "You have a little…" you raise your hand to catch the small drop of butter from the corner of his lips. Your heart stops for a second before resuming in double time.
"Thank you."
"Hotel?"
"Pardon?" He raises his eyebrows and you blush furiously.
"Shall we get you to your hotel?" You wave the waitress over for the bill, pressing his hand back to the table as he reaches for it. "You're my guest. I'll get it."
"You're doing me a favor."
"So do me one, don't argue."
He concedes with a nod, pulling his hand away. You struggle not to let the disappointment show, the contact had filled you with warmth.
After the bill is paid, he helps you on with your coat and keeps his arm at your shoulders. Breathing is something of an issue as you make your way to your car, but you refuse to mention it. You refuse to do anything that might make him take his arm away.
The hotel parking lot is full and a sense of dread, coupled with one of anticipation, fills you. You both walk in to a lobby filled with assorted people in various stages of dress and undress. His hand slips to your elbow again, guiding you to the concierge.
"Can I help you?"
"We have a reservation. Mr. Rupert Giles."
He said we. Okay, probably just a slip of the tongue…whoa! Hormones!…but still, you can't help but smile.
"I'm sorry, I have no such reservation."
"What?" You snap out of your reverie. "He's staying here as a guest of the University."
"No, I'm afraid he's not."
"But…"
He squeezes your elbow. "Surely you have a room? Any room?"
"Sorry. There are seven different conventions in the city this weekend. I don't have any rooms available."
"This is an outrage!" You're playing indignant for all it's worth, while your mind is quickly processing the information. Seven conventions, lots of booked hotel rooms… The possibilities suddenly seem endless.
"It's all right, let's go," he whispers to you. Shivers course up your spine at the soft tingle of breath. You head for the car. You'd go anywhere he asked. "So, there must be some other hotel?"
You nod and start driving. Everything is full. There's not a single room in all of the city, except the one inside the scariest building you've ever seen, which you are both sitting in the car staring at, undisguised horror in your eyes.
"I have a spare room."
"I can't impose."
"You're my guest. I can't ask you to stay here. Even if I didn't like you."
He chuckles and you decide you've never heard a sexier sound. "Does that mean you do like me?"
"I have a spare room. I have a spare bed. I have spare towels and spare pillows." You even have spare room in your bed, but you decide its not quite time to mention that.
"All right."
***
He stares in awe at your home, delight clear in his eyes. "It's amazing."
"Thanks. I've done some work, but most of it - the floors, the pipes, almost everything - is original construction."
"It's like something out of New England. I didn't…"
"Expect to find it here on the west coast?" You laugh. "I know, but there are quite a few of them around here. We like to look cultured."
"If you're any indication, it's not just a look." He blushes this time, ducking his head like an embarrassed boy. "Where should I put my things?"
You lead the way into one of the spare bedroom, conveniently close to your own. "The bath's down the hall. There's a spare toothbrush in the holder. Feel free."
"Do you always plan on having luggage-deprived guests? Is this all some sort of plot on your part?"
You smile knowingly. "Well, sort of. Will it lower your opinion of me if I tell you there's a spare robe in your closet in case you don't have any nightclothes?"
"Actually, it might raise it."
You brush past him, deliberately touching his hand with yours, to swing open the closet door. "Ta-da. Like magic."
"That you are." He nods.
"Well then, if you're all set, I'm going to let you get some sleep. I thought if you wanted we could do a little sight-seeing in the morning, before the books come?"
He takes your hand and kisses it. "Until tomorrow then."
***
You're just setting breakfast on the table when he comes down the stairs the next morning. He looks far more casual today and you silently thank the evil airport gods for losing his luggage. He's wearing a light blue oxford shirt, tan slacks and suspenders. He looks good enough to eat, the French toast looks pale by comparison.
"Smells wonderful. Although I'm surprised I'm hungry after dinner last night." He sits down, setting his bag near his feet. His sleeves are rolled up and you notice a tattoo on his arm.
"May I?" You push the sleeve up and tilt your head. "Eyghon?"
"You…you know…of Eyghon?"
"The sleepwalker." Your eyes widen. "You have a mark of Eyghon?" Fright is coursing through you. Obviously he's not just some librarian.
"No…yes. It's all right. He's been…destroyed. There's nothing to worry about, really." He watches you until you calm down. "How do you know about Eyghon?"
"Demonology is something of a hobby."
He reaches up and strokes the furrows from your brow. "Please don't worry?" He gets out of his chair to move closer, knocking over his bag in the process. Wooden stakes spill out and your day just keeps getting weirder.
"Wooden stakes?"
"Oh, um, I…I whittle."
"You whittle. Stakes."
"For fun."
You stand up and walk to the window, wondering about your guest. Pulling back the curtain, you sigh. "Well, I guess you get to experience a typical Seattle day." The rain is drizzling down in its usual gray mist.
"It's quite like home."
"Sunnydale?"
"England."
"I'd understand if you didn't want to go out and do the tourist thing…"
"Nonsense. This is what I expect when I go sight seeing. Unless…?"
"I'm used to the rain. Let's go."
***
Pike Place Market is teeming with people, despite the weather. One of the oldest, operational farmer's markets in the country, it's also a favorite tourist spot. Rupert takes your hand as you walk through the milling crowds, stopping here and there to look items over.
"Would you like a tomato?" You ask as he gazes at a vendor's wares.
"No. I was just wondering if we should pick some things up for dinner?"
"We wouldn't be able to get them home in time. I have another restaurant we can try. If you don't mind?"
He shakes his head, his lips curving into a smile. He squeezes your hand and continues the stroll. You wind your way down through the four levels, browsing through used books stores, candle shops, antique stores, magic shops and the like until you reach the stairs down to the piers.
You glance at your watch and are surprised to realize how late it's getting. You've been having so much fun - talking, laughing, flirting - that time has gotten away from you. "We should head back up. You'll have to come back another time to explore the pier."
"Is that an invitation?"
"Maybe."
"Then maybe I'll say yes." He wraps his arm around your shoulders as you both head up to the top level. Seeing a crowd, you pull him over to the fish vendors.
"Watch."
The lady next to you taps one of the men in white on the shoulder. "A pound of salmon."
"Pound of salmon!" he yells.
"Pound of salmon!" the rest of the crew answers.
The man she'd spoken to picks up the fish and throws it to the man behind the counter. He catches it easily in white butcher paper and the crowd applauds. Rupert turns to you and laughs. "Wonderful."
"Go on. You can make the flying fish joke. Everyone else does."
He doesn't answer, his attention arrested by something behind you. You turn and blush. He's staring at the huge shop across the street. Fantasies, Unlimited.
"It's…it's a…"
"I can imagine what it is. Seattle likes to cater to all sorts of tourists, doesn't it?"
You laugh at his easy acceptance. "Yeah, we aim to please." You pause briefly. "Did you want to go in?"
He shakes his head after a moment of consideration. "No, not right now, thank you though."
"We should…" You try to get your mind out of the gutter and get back to the business at hand. "We should head for the University."
"Actually, I'm rather hungry. And I need to see the Space Needle."
"It's so much prettier at night though."
"I'm not a big night owl."
"Afraid of the dark?"
"Something like that, yes."
***
You manage to get seats in the Emerald Room section of the revolving restaurant, despite a lack of reservations. You're glad you're both wearing something refined. Rupert holds the chair out for you before sitting down.
"Have you eaten here before?"
"No. I've just been to the observation deck."
"We'll hit there next." He takes your hand and rubs your palm. "I'm having a very nice time."
"Me too. I forget so much of my city when I don't have someone new to show it to." Your stomach feels like there's some kind of butterfly ball going on as he continues to stroke your skin, moving from your palm to your wrist. "So, thank you for helping me rediscover it."
"As I said before, my pleasure."
Pleasure. Funny how that's exactly what's on your mind. "Do you know what you want?"
"I'm pretty sure." He hasn't looked away from you since he sat down. "Do you?"
"I'll have whatever you're having."
The waiter approaches and starts his spiel on the specials of the day. Rupert orders for both of you, although you're positive neither of you have any idea of what you'll get. You simply stare at him, conscious on some level that he's doing the same.
The wine steward breaks the spell as Rupert tests the vintage like an expert. He nods and the other man pours. You lift your glass. "To new colleagues."
"And old books." He clinks his glass to yours and you wish you had the guts to say the toast that was really on your mind. He rolls the wine across his tongue and you can't help but lick your lips as you watch him. Catching your gaze, he blushes. "I have another toast."
You raise your glass, "Yes?"
"To possibilities."
***
The observation deck on the top of the needle is empty. Several people are crowded in the gift shop, buying trinkets for friends and family, but for now, you're the only two on the deck. The wind is picking up and you shiver.
"May I?" He comes up behind you and whispers in your ear. His arms wrap around you and you can't help but lean back against his warmth.
"Rupert?"
"Yes?"
"I can't seem to stop shaking."
He turns you around and stares down at you. "Perhaps it's a combination of the heights, the wind and the wine?"
"I don't think so."
"Then do you think, maybe it's this?"
"This?" Your question is cut off as his lips meet yours. It's a tentative kiss, neither of you pressing the advantage. He quickly pulls away and steps back.
"I should get some souvenirs for the…for Willow and her friends." He hurries into the gift shop and you sigh.
"Damn."
***
Your office is buried in the back of one of the buildings down a dark hallway. Unlocking the door with your key, you motion him into the room. "I'll be right back. I just have to go to the mailroom. Make yourself comfortable."
He looks around the cramped room, "I'll do my best."
You mutter curses under your breath all the way to the mailroom and back. How could you have just stood there? He was kissing you and you froze like a deer in headlights. You didn't even respond! What was wrong with you?
You pause outside the door, trying to gather your wits. He's standing by the window reading something. "Rupert?"
He jumps even though you weren't quiet. He slams the book shut. "Yes?"
"Find something interesting?" You take the book from his hand. "Oh, vampire lore. I'm doing a class this semester on fairy tales, folklore and modern mythology. It's focused mainly on the more horrific elements. Do you believe in vampires, Rupert?" You mean the question to be a joke, but the look on his face makes you regret asking it. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"
"No. Not at all. I believe there are things…out there that we cannot explain." He takes the pile of books from your hands and sets them on your desk. "These are the volumes Willow asked for?"
"All seven of them. Take good care of them, won't you?"
He nods and takes off his glasses. Setting them on top of the pile, he reaches up with the other hand to stroke your cheek. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"Sorry?" Your heart sinks. "For kissing me?"
"No. For stopping."
"Office hours start in about fifteen minutes. We should probably leave before I'm overrun with students." You touch his lips with your fingertips. His wet hair is drooping down. "You're all wet. I kept you out on the deck for too long, didn't I? I should get you back to the house so we can throw your clothes in the dryer before you have to catch your plane."
"But I have no luggage." His smile is dancing in his eyes. "What would I wear?"
You can't help but smile as you lead him from the room. "I was thinking you'd look very good in a professor of mythology."