Notes: Written for phaelstya in soft_princess's g/x ficathon. Thank you to swmbo for beta reading.
He's been watching Giles out of the corner of his eye all night. Watching his hands. Giles has nice hands. Xander notices the way Giles spreads a book on the table, the way his fingers lightly caress the page as he scans for something in particular. He's gentle, yet firm as he turns the from one page to the next.
Xander can't look away.
Well, okay, he *can* look away, but it's only for a few seconds. And then he's looking again. Staring, actually. At Giles's hands.
So he thinks that maybe he has a hand fetish. He's actually thought this for a while now, because he's been staring at Giles's hands for a month now. Research, patrol, meetings -- it doesn't matter the setting. He's started thinking about those hands when he's *not* around Giles, too.
Running track during P.E.
Taking a shower.
Lying awake in the dark, at home in his bed, thinking about Giles's hands and the way they look, the way they move.
Xander's starting to think he's going crazy, too.
He glances up. Giles looks annoyed.
"Um, yeah?" Xander nervously runs his hand over his cheek, back down to his throat. Grabs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.
"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes. Really, Xander, try to focus. We need to find this talisman, and your daydreaming isn't helping."
Xander schools his face into what he thinks is chagrin. "Sorry."
Then Giles is getting up, walking back into the stacks again.
So. Hand fetish. He wonders why this has never come up before, in all his seventeen years. Maybe it's just a new development, and he has to just ride it out. Right. He can do that.
He ignores Buffy, who's down at the end of the table. She's got little tanned Slayer hands, but Xander doesn't really find then all that attractive. As an overall package, he thinks she's hot, because she's Buffy. But if he thinks of just her hands, all he can think of is the way she holds a stake or a sword, and while that should be sexy and phallic or something, it really isn't. It's more creepy than anything when he thinks about it, like Death, capital D, so -- he's not thinking about it right now.
Willow is sitting diagonally from him. Her hands are very pale, almost translucent. She's holding a yellow pencil, tapping it against her chin. She looks cute when she concentrates.
But Xander notices something. He's looking at her eyebrows, and the little wrinkle between them. He's seeing the way her hair falls down from where it was tucked behind her ear, and he's noticing the pink fuzz around the collar of her sweater, but he's not really looking at her hands anymore.
Maybe it's not a girl-hand thing. Maybe it's just a boy-hand thing. Or male-hand thing, actually, since Giles most certainly is not a boy.
So Xander turns his attention to Oz. Straight across the table from him, Oz has got his elbows on the table, his hands flat on either side of the giant tome he's staring at. His hands are small, compared to Giles's, compared to Xander's own. His nails are short and black. His skin is pale like Willow's, but his knuckles are bigger. And pinkish. He looks like he's just washed them, maybe scrubbed at them, the way the knuckles are so pink.
Xander thinks about the way Giles's hands are darker, and wonders if it's from sun or just his natural pigment. For a second, he closes his eyes and imagines Giles with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, lightly tanned skin showing through under a light dusting of wiry brownish hair. Maybe standing and leaning on the library table as he reads, the muscles naturally flexing just a bit. He'd look up, over to where Xander sits, and he'd get that quiet, intense look he gets sometimes and--
He opens his eyes to see a very irritated Watcher. He swallows. "Yeah?" he asks. He goes for the innocent look. Shifts in his chair and wonders when his pants got *this* damned tight in the crotch area.
"You look as if you're falling asleep. Is the end of the world not interesting enough for you?"
Oh, yeah, Giles is pissed. Only it's Giles so it's simmering English pissiness, all quiet and hot and hot -- oh great thundering gods of Olympus.
It's not a hand fetish at all.
"Beg pardon?" Giles says. It's just so proper and British and that accent ...
"Oh, shit," Xander repeats, and he's scrambling to get up and maybe grab a book to put in front of his pants, which are very tight because ... "Oh, shit," ... Xander is sporting the hard-on to beat all hard-ons, and it was for Giles, and not just hands or arms or accent.
"Stop!" Giles says, coming forward, and oh god, the man is looking at his crotch, can he see through bound leather and paper and ink? Does Giles have x-ray vision now, why is he coming closer and reaching ...
"That's it, that's what we've been looking for!"
Looking for Xander's hard dick?
Giles pulls the book away from Xander's death-grip, and Xander is mortified, blushing bright red with whatever blood is not in his cock, which really doesn't seem possible at all.
"Fegali's Eye," Giles says, and Xander does a double take.
Giles points to the book he's taken from Xander's crotch. Apparently Xander's little shield was opened to just the right page. It's almost enough to make him believe in Fate.
Fate has a wacky sense of humor.
"Good job, Xander!" Willow chirps. Xander gives her a little bemused smile. She's already getting up and pulling Oz with her, grabbing her bag, ready to get home.
Buffy blinks a little. "So can we go now?"
Giles is a little preoccupied now, reading over the same passage again and again, his eyes darting back and forth over the page. "Yes, yes, that is all," he says distractedly. "I'll make some calls and try to get this as soon as possible. There's really nothing else to do here."
Buffy was out the double doors as soon as she heard the first 'yes', and Willow and Oz are close behind her.
Which leaves Xander. Standing. Hard as a rock. Watching Giles.
Watching Giles walk into his office, carrying Xander's former hard-on hider.
Xander's kind of just standing there, in the middle of the now-empty library. He wants to just yell, "Hey! I've just had a whole big weird sexual epiphany here, doesn't anybody give a shit?" But he doesn't, because ... because well, that would be embarrassing.
So instead, Xander follows Giles. It might not be the smartest move he's ever made, but hey, Big Weird Sexual Epiphany. He thinks it just like that, all capitalized. It's a thing.
It's not every day you discover you have the hots for your school's librarian.
He stands in the doorway of Giles's office, watches quietly as Giles picks up the phone and dials. It's a very long sequence of numbers, and Xander wonders what the principal thinks of the school's long-distance bills.
"Yes, I wish to acquire a piece, I wondered if you could help? This is Rupert Giles," Giles says into the phone. His self-assured authority voice is pretty damned sexy.
Giles turns. Glances at Xander and raises his eyebrows questioningly.
"Yes, Fegali's Eye, it's an ancient African ritual talisman. I'm looking to purchase it, and I'd heard good things about your procuring services."
Xander wonders how many people over the course of history have been so blatantly turned on by hearing someone talk about artifact theft in such a calm, confident way.
After a few more minutes worth of negotiation, Giles hangs up the phone and looks at Xander.
"Was there something you wanted?" Giles asks, coming closer.
Xander wonders if there's such a thing as a walk fetish.
"I'm sorry," Xander blurts out. The rest of the words just come, he's not even thinking. "For not paying attention tonight. I didn't mean to--"
Giles cocks his head. "It's all right, Xander. I remember what it was like to be a teenaged boy."
"Horny?" Xander asks, then wishes he could melt back into the wall.
"I was thinking more along the lines of distractible," Giles says with an amused smile, "but yes, 'horny' works, too."
Xander can't stop talking. He wants to kill himself, only his mouth would probably still continue to run even as his body grew cold.
"But you call that 'randy' in England, right? So I'd be randy, not horny."
Isn't the hellmouth due to open up at any moment? Now would be a good time. He'd like it to swallow him right about now before he says anything too embarrassing.
"Will you kiss me?"
Too. Fucking. Late.
"I beg your pardon?" Giles asks. His eyebrows are so far up his forehead Xander's amazed they don't fly right into his hairline.
Xander swallows. Tries to speak. Swallows again. He's gone this far, he might as well keep going.
Giles comes a little closer, his gaze looking a bit more intense. It's that *quiet* intensity that Xander was thinking about earlier, and now it's just as hot as when it was just a fantasy. Xander wants to just grab him and pull him close and--
"Mmph!" Giles protests, the sound muffled by Xander's mouth.
"Mmph," Xander agrees. He has no idea what he's doing.
Giles pushes on him, breaks away, and just *gapes*. Okay. So maybe the sneak attack grab-and-kiss plan was a bit flawed.
"Are you going to explain yourself?" Giles asks slowly.
Giles takes a deep breath, watching Xander as if he's afraid another stealth bombing smooch is coming.
"Are you feeling ill?" Giles looks suspicious. Sexy and suspicious.
"No," Xander answers confidently. "Not sick. Maybe a little clammy in the palms, and kinda hot on the back of my neck, but ... not sick. Just ..." Horny. Okay, he's not saying that one.
"Randy?" Giles asks, and he's smirking. That bastard! He's enjoying this!
Xander narrows his eyes. "Yeah."
"I'm flattered, really." He's grinning. Xander's thinking of punching him this time.
"It's not funny," he says instead. He might be smiling a little. Okay, so maybe it is funny.
"Right. Of course it isn't," Giles says, coughing a little to hide his laugh. He doesn't fool Xander at all.
"Right," Xander says. He's so embarrassed that he's silently praying for the next apocalypse to come. Preferably in the next ten seconds or so. "So if you'd just hand my dignity back to me, I'll just be on my way."
Giles's expression softens just a bit, and he steps forward.
He didn't really notice before, but Giles's lips are very warm and insistent against his own, and when he opens his mouth, Giles's tongue is hot and smooth and slow. It's like Giles is tasting him, lazily, before he decides to just pull him closer and devour him.
Xander moans, low and long in the back of his throat. His cock swells, fuller and harder in his pants, and Giles is pressing against him and Giles is hard, too.
And then, he feels Giles's hands -- strong, steady hands -- on his back. Sliding, one up to massage the back of Xander's neck, the other reaching down to cup his ass and pull him even closer. Xander can't even think let alone pull away and ask just what the hell is going on. All he can do is react, and moan, and holyfucking christ Giles can kiss.
But apparently, Giles can pull away, too, and leave Xander panting and nearly swooning and wanting.
"I -- bugger," Giles says. He's blushing. That fact makes Xander feel a lot better.
"You bugger?" Xander can't resist asking.
Giles flushes even darker. It would be funny if Xander wasn't caught up in the whole 'Giles buggering' mental image.
"I'd planned to make you feel better," Giles says.
"Emotionally," Giles clarifies, annoyed again.
"I think I should just go home, before this gets any weirder, okay, G-man?"
"That's probably the best thing," Giles agrees. He pauses, looks as if he's about to back away. Instead, he leans forward, more hesitant this time, and kisses Xander's forehead. Xander can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch.
"We will discuss this," Giles says seriously.
Huh. We will? Xander's face must show his confusion, but he nods. He was a little afraid that it would be one of those 'we will never speak of this again' things, but apparently not. He wonders what 'discussing' this some other time actually means.
He'll just have to wait to find out, though, because Giles is pushing him out the door.
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