Title: Certain Needs 1/2
Author: Ruth
Pairing: Non-ship, though canon ships are mentioned. B & G friendship
Rating: R; sexual situation and language. Buffy and Giles friendship only.
Setting: Set in early season 5. Giles owns the Magic Box. Riley hasn't gone yet.
Disclaimer: Giles, Buffy and the other characters of BtVS belong to Joss, ME and sundry folk who never let Giles get a happy. Meanies.
Summary: Buffy has to face up to the fact that her Watcher has certain needs.
Many thanks to Cyberwulf for the challenge, to Rari and Gail for beta. Hugs, guys, or should that be guyesses?

Cyberwulf's The Lonely, Single Man Challenge on bgzone: Buffy accidentally barges in on Giles, erm, enjoying some pornography. >:D She's mortified and barges straight back out. When she's had a little time to think about it, she's either completely freaked, embarrassed, or angry, and things are strained between Giles and Buffy. After a few days of Buffy avoiding Giles (if she's freaked or embarrassed) or making snippy comments (if she's angry) they have a talk to try and clear the air. What happens after that is up to you.

Rules:
1) Obviously, this fic must be rated R to NC-17.

2) The ending doesn't have to be B/G, but Buffy must realise and come to terms with the fact that Giles is actually a man, with all the sexual feelings and urges that entails.

3) Must be set in either season 4 or season 5. Buffy can be with Riley if you like.

4) The porno that Giles is "enjoying" doesn't have to be a dirty video or a copy of Playboy; it can be an erotic novel, an episode of Baywatch, a music video, Anne Robinson berating a contestant on "The Weakest Link" - whatever you like, as long as it doesn't involve children, animals, rape, violence or any other nastiness. And it absolutely CANNOT be a picture of Buffy or any other Scooby, because that's just creepy.

5) Reference should be made to a similar incident between Willow and Xander, which happened years ago.

6) Give Giles the line, "What's a lonely, single man to do?"

"But it'll take *too much time*, Giles."

Buffy Summers put her hands on her slender, leather-clad hips, thrust her chin forward and glared at her Watcher.

"I don't see the point of this anyway. I thought the new training was all one-armed meditation and really, really old books that you have to explain to me why they take five pages to say 'Vampires are the root of all evil: go kill'. If you want to break into the Magic Box, you could put on your jeans, eat some Band Candy and do it yourself. Better yet, don't forget your keys in the first place."

She smirked at her own wit, and then tried the 'winning smile approach' in case the glare only increased Giles' stubbornness, which it often did these days. Giles remained unmoved by either expression. He folded his arms and looked down at her over the top of his glasses

"Since I've no access to any other property except this and my flat, the shop will have to do as a training ground. I've locked all the doors and windows, put in a few…extra security measures, and hidden a mystical object somewhere for you to find. As well as the physical barriers you will need to use your Slayer senses to locate it. I've primed it to resonate to your presence; reach out with your mind and track it down."

"But…but I have a term paper to research! And Riley's home from Iowa tomorrow, so I won't be able to do it then. He'll want to spend the *whole evening* catching up and…" She broke off, a warm, dreamy look in her eye. Giles coughed pointedly. "Sorry. Been… missing him."

"I'm sure. But you still have your calling. You did agree that you would try to commit to regular and increased training sessions, and that you trusted me to devise appropriate ones. This is a logical follow-on from the work on whole body dexterity and mental focus."

Buffy pouted. "Appropriate in the sense of totally pointless," she grumbled under her breath. "I'm a Slayer, not a burglar." She smirked again. "Beam me up, Mister Spock." She looked sidelong at Giles.

"Look, just have a go, won't you?" Giles' snapping tone surprised her a little. Normally so patient, he sounded pissed at her, and was looking skyward as if to ask the heavens how much longer he was going to have to wait for her to stop arguing and get on with it. He sighed and gave an apologetic shrug in her direction.

"Crabby-pants," she murmured even more quietly, and bent to inspect the lock on the shop door, jingling through the assortment of lock-picks Giles had loaned her. She made short work of the main lock, but then discovered that the door was double-bolted from the inside, and was none too happy with Giles' "You should have thought of that."

She left him at the front of the shop and slunk into the alley at the rear. The new training room had both a door and a window here, and she approached them in turn, looking for booby-traps before trying to gain access. In the end it was the window through which she squeezed, disarming the trigger that would have slapped a sopping wet sponge in her face, landing lightly on the floor and expanding her senses until just the faintest trace of white noise made itself heard. Cocking her head, Buffy turned this way and that, pinpointed the direction of the source, and skirted the room, hugging the wall like a mouse, until she came to the door through to the shop floor. Recoiling from the rancid, mauve demon saliva smeared all over the handle, she managed to manoeuvre it open with a shod foot, making a mental note *not* to step inside her dorm until she'd wiped the mess off her boot.

The noise in her head was getting louder and, distracted by its formless fizzing, she failed to notice the monofilament fish line stretched across the narrow gap between two bookcases. She stumbled, cursed and put out a hand to steady herself, grabbed the edge of a shelf and a domino run of leaning books tilted in series until the last one fell right off. Once down, it seemed to have a life of its own, flapping and hopping ludicrously about the tiled floor and emitting high-pitched shrieks.

"Giles!" Buffy yelled through the door. "I think something's gone wrong!" The book had followed her to the door like a puppy wanting to be let out. As soon as she had drawn back the bolts and Giles stepped into the shop, it leapt into his arms and was silent.

"Guess I get an "F" then, huh?" Buffy asked her Watcher wryly, as he tidied up the books.

"Actually, you were nearly there. The artefact is here," he told her, producing a greenish crystal from the back of a nearby cabinet filled with dried vegetables resembling severed human body parts. "But don't forget the whole-body awareness; where your feet are in relation to space is important."

"Firmly on the ground, thanks. Or I suppose not, if I fell on my face," Buffy quipped, though she was a little disappointed with herself. "Can we try again? Or is Lassie the Wonder Book your only pet?"

A little grin flitted across Giles' face. Then it was gone, as he shifted into proper instructional gravity. "Well, I did anticipate this, and if you're not in too much of a hurry to be gone…"

"OK, now I've started, might as well finish; second time lucky," began Buffy, looking and listening out to the far corners, before she turned on her heel and glared at him. "Hey! You *prepared* another obstacle course? Like you thought I wouldn't pass first go?"

"You know what the secret to good Slaying is; preparation, preparation…"

"Preparation, " Buffy grinned. Wesley's pompous little axiom had become one of their shared in-jokes in the time since.

"Applies to good Watching even more," Giles reminded her. He watched proudly as she tracked down the second hiding place swiftly and carefully, and held up the prize triumphantly. He was both relieved and pleased that they had slipped back into their old partnership so smoothly over the past few weeks; the awful feelings of uselessness and drift of the past year were already fading into memory. He had a purpose again, meaningful work, a structure to his life. He should count his blessings…

"Very good, Buffy. You can put some more work in on these skills another time."

"But I did it already!" Buffy protested. Giles looked at her over his glasses again.

"All right, all right, don't say it: 'practice makes perfect'. You'll sound like one of those inspirational pocket paperbacks. And now, I have a date."

"D-date? But you said Riley's not home until tomorrow."

"Date with a stranger. Big, black, butch; military type. Married, though; but I hear that's all gonna change soon."

She giggled at the mixture of mystification and horror on Giles' face and relented.

"'Othello', Giles. My term paper, remember? We have to "analyse the gender politics" or something. Maybe once I've found the time to actually read it, what with patrol, training, shelf filling…"

"It was only while Anya was unwell. You didn't have to say yes."

"Relax. It was no troub, really. Happy to help out. Seeya Sunday."

**************************************

Willow greeted her friend eagerly, bouncing out of her chair in the busy College cafeteria and waving both arms to signal Buffy to come over.

"Hey! Riley get back OK?"

Buffy's answer, as she slid into the seat opposite, was merely a smug grin that promised the sharing of best-friend secrets and spoke of romantic - and other - satisfactions.

"He did," she confirmed, "*and* I handed in my term paper only a day late. The professor said she'll see if the quality lets me off the hook about that."

"So tell me the juicy, juicy details. Was Riley *real* pleased to see you again? Did you sleep over at his place? Did you sleep at all?"

"Willow! You are so shameless these days! And why do you want to know?"

"What can I say; I'm a rebel. A lesbian audeur of the 'het' mysteries. That's like a voyeur, only not,'cause *ick* to that. I just want to hear suitably edited highlights…"

****************************************************************

<< OK, stealth girl, let's see you get one over on the spymaster. Lights are on; 'The Watcher is *In*'. Will he hear my cat like footsteps; see my shadow on the wall; notice when I lift his Watcher's diary from off his desk? I don't think so, Mr. Bond. >>

The Slayer crept closer to Giles' front door. Chances are it wasn't locked; he was oddly trusting that way. But the handle rattled when turned, and she didn't know if Giles was standing in the living room looking straight at it, so she peered through the small side window first. Apparently empty. It was early evening; he couldn't have turned in. He might be in the shower, which would kinda make it too easy, less fun, but since this had been just a spur of the moment idea, not her plan for the rest of Saturday, Buffy decided to push ahead with it.

Step one, the door, passed off without a hitch. She even managed to close it behind her with barely a sound. Casing the joint, there was no sign of Giles yet, nor any sound of running water. Buffy thought she heard a noise from the loft and froze. Yes, there it was again. Harsh breathing, a male voice…someone in pain?

Maybe Giles was sick! She was about to call up to him, but reflected that the last thing he needed in that case was a fright. She had on rubber-soled sneakers, and they were noiseless on the tiled steps.

As she reached the loft, she could see him kneeling at the side of his bed; on the coverlet was an open book that he was holding down with his right hand, while with his left…

Giles wasn't sick.

His eyes were screwed shut, his whole face had a cast to it she'd never seen before, at once anguished and ecstatic. He knelt on a plush rug, shirtsleeves rolled up, pants unfastened and pushed down his thighs together with his under shorts. Lost in whatever fantasy scene the book had taken him to, he was stroking his erect member firmly and quickly with oiled fingers, panting in time to the rhythm and groaning softly as the tension mounted throughout his body.

Buffy just stood there, rooted in place, utterly shocked and unsure what to do. She didn't want to look but she didn't know how not to. Putting both hands over her mouth, she only waited and tried to get her frozen brain to send a message to her feet that said ' get outta here, fast.' Trouble was, her brain was too occupied with the extraordinary sight of her cerebral and reserved Watcher urgently and desperately working to bring himself off.

He didn't take too much longer. His rocking form stiffened momentarily and shuddered into completion with a hoarse grunt from deep in his throat. He bent over the edge of the bed, still panting, but slower now, head bowed, bracing himself with both hands on the mattress. The book flopped closed slowly, the spine reasserting its integrity over the effort to keep the place.

Gradually Giles returned to full awareness. He was just about to set about cleaning up with the towel he'd draped in front of him to save the bedclothes, when a tiny sound made him start and turn his head towards the stairs.

"Christ!"

He hastily rearranged his clothing and was about to open his mouth to say something, *anything* else, when Buffy's brain at last succeeded in sending the overdue message. Eyes almost comically wide, she backed a few steps and stumbled down the stairs, opening the door and fleeing without shutting it behind her.

Up in the loft, Giles sat down on his bed with a thump and put his head in his hands.

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