Fic: Two men (and their dog) in a boat 6/??

[mythichistorian.livejournal.com]

Disclaimers in Part One




Part Six

It might have been the season – the long days and short nights of summer - or it might have been the  ‘once industrial but now mellowed into rural’ nature of their journeying, but English canals, on the whole, appeared to be more or less demon free.  Xander spotted the occasional sign in the city – hints of what might have been Ferinti prints on the concrete pathways beneath the equally concrete post office tower for instance – but then Giles had pointed out the protective signs cunningly disguised as graffiti cut into the timbers of the lock gates, and both of them had let the matter lie.  There were on vacation – and besides, scavenging Ferinti were going to be far more of a threat to the rat population than they were the human one.  They also tended not to congregate where any of the more dangerous species did, which suggested that the local slayers were doing their job, and the good folk of Birmingham could remain blissfully ignorant and continue to sleep safely in their beds at night. 

They did – almost inevitably - encounter a couple of vampires before they finally left urban environs, but since they were comfortably ensconced in a pub at the time Xander had simply phoned the office and called it in.  Cavalry arrived in the form of the city’s nearest Slayer squad – not Henri’s team, but a bunch of college age girls accompanied by a slightly older goth-style witch and one world weary Watcher.  He promptly delegated the slaying to the experts and took the opportunity to buy his bosses a pint instead.  He was one of the younger old-school mob, who’d welcomed rather than rejected the new management, and he was full of praise for the modernised methodologies, even if they left him run ragged most of the time.  Xander had grinned at his effusiveness but hadn’t felt much like shop talk so he’d left that to Giles and taken Twinkie to meet the now dust covered girls out in the courtyard.  Adding a puppy to a bunch of mini-slayers resulted in a serious overdose of cuteness; by the end of the evening Twink was hopelessly spoiled, and Xander was buzzing from laughter and too many grins.  Giles was also buzzing, although slightly more from drink than laughter; the other Watcher was well under the table, and Xander found himself wondering just when their conversation had slipped from comparing notes and reminiscing into something else entirely.  Whatever the game – or the reason behind it – had been, it was clear that Giles had won hands down.  Especially as he could still stand up, walk out of the pub, and hold a semi-sensible conversation with the girls, who didn’t quite know what to make of him; since most of them had only ever encountered him in senior Watcher mode – all Saville Row suit, serious lecture, and dignity personified.  This slightly giggly, laid back, and decidedly rakish version of him was almost more than they could cope with.  Xander had a vague suspicion that he was … what was the phrase?  Oh yeah – laying it on a bit thick.  Whether he was or not, he was being disarmingly charming with it, showering the girls with distracted compliments and watcherly advice.  Xander sent the oldest two back into the pub to collect their Watcher, charging them with stern authority to make sure that he made it home safely.  The rest of them –  witch included – proudly escorted their distinguished visitors back to their boat.  Twink bounced giddily around all those slender legs, nearly tripped Giles up a couple of times, rushed and rustled through the weeds at the side of the tow path and happily left muddy paw prints all the way up Xander’s jeans.

Xander, just as happily, brushed them off again – well, as much as he could, anyway.  He certainly couldn’t blame the puppy for her good mood, or her enthusiasm for her company, because that was rather how he felt, and that was … that was good.  It was the first time in a long time that he’d felt so relaxed in the company of slayers – possibly because they weren’t his slayers, and they weren’t, strictly speaking, hunting … or even patrolling, but still … They were joking around and laughing, and somehow a lot of the tense knots that he’d been learning to live with over the past couple of years weren’t … knotty, anymore.    He shot a glance in Giles’ direction, and earned himself a warm wink.  One that said it’s okay to be having fun and I know I am – although it also held a promising hint of if you think this is fun, just wait until we’re alone again …

“I’d offer to reinforce your wards,” the witch observed once they’d reached the boat, “but I can see I don’t have too.”  Her bracelet laden arm swept out in a casual gesture, making the air sparkle slightly under her fingertips.  The motion left the faintest of fading trails behind it.  “That’s good work.”

“I should bloody well think so.”  Giles’ grin negated any suggestion of indignation or insult and the witch grinned back, acknowledging a fellow master of her craft.  “You spend as long as I did being hunted by Bringers, and you learn how to weave wards so subtle they fool the evil eye, and so strong that nothing short of a Fyral – or possibly a slayer – could force a way through them.  Of course,” he added thoughtfully, “the slayer would have to be possessed, or turned, or driven by evil intent, or she’d be able to just walk through them anyway, but … these I can practically cast in my sleep.  Think I actually did, once or twice …”

“Hey,” Xander stepped in, needing to deflect that line of thought before it led to lurking memories and the resurgence of the kind of nightmares that no man should be haunted by, “enough of the shop talk, okay?  If I wanted to spend my vacation discussing spells and rituals, I’d be in Rio with Willow.”  He grinned at the idea – which wasn’t such a bad one - and Giles threw him a thoughtful look.

“It’s a bit late for Mardi Gras,” he said, then smiled.  “We can always go next year.  You can dance at the Carnival, and I can visit Machu Picchu.  Always wanted too, you know?  One of the great wonders of the ancient world …”

“Next year?”  Xander hadn’t been thinking much beyond next day, so the suggestion took him a little by surprise.  The implications of it were … revelationary.  He’d just begun to realise that this vacation thing was not just a good thing, but good for him too – and here was Giles, casually talking about the concept as a do-over.  A plan-able, regular, take it for granted repeat … which was what partners did, right?  Lived and worked and vacationed together.  And, okay, in their case, it also included facing down the occasional apocalypse together, but even there it was the together bit that was important.  “Yeah,” he grinned.  “Yeah, we could do that.  Need to – sort out someone to puppy sit, and check the diary for planetary alignments and lurking prophecies and things, but … Mardi Gras would be cool.”

“More like hot,” one of the slayers muttered.

“You can say that again,” a second said, giving Xander a look that earned her any number of points on the Faith-o-meter.  Had it been Faith looking, he might have blushed.  As it wasn’t, he simply snorted.

“Thanks, but –uh - no thanks,” he said. “I’m spoken for.  Remember?”

“Who cares?” the girl said, taking a predatory step forward.  “I see something I like, I like to – give it a spin and see what comes round ….”

Xander’s immediate response to her advance was to take a wary step back.  It put him within reach of his partner, who’d apparently taken a step forward of his own.  He felt  Giles’ arms snake around his waist and he relaxed into the contact as he was tugged up against that warm and familiar frame.  It was a possessive, rather than a protective gesture – a claiming of territory that he was more than happy to acknowledge and accept.  Giles wasn’t really the jealous type, but nor was he hesitant to act when he felt he needed to draw a line; the voice that offered soft words of advice over Xander’s shoulder might have held a hint of Senior Watcher, but the rest of it was pure Ripper, and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Two things you should bear in mind, young lady.  Want, take, have is not the slayer’s creed – and only a foolish kitten hunts in an old tiger’s territory.  Especially when the beast she’s hunting is something of a tiger himself.”

The young lady blinked in astonishment, half opened her mouth to snap out a cocky comeback- and very sensibly snapped it shut again.  The witch threw her a look of amused pity.  The rest of her group exchanged a series of glances, some of them amused, some of them knowing, and some just … wide-eyed.  Xander grinned.

“Too right,” he said.  “But – hey?”  He wrapped his hand over the one at his waist and tilted his head to catch its owner’s eye.  The question was intended as a tease – but there was a touch of genuine curiosity in it, all the same.  “What if this young tiger fancies a little kitten in his diet?”

Giles leant in a little, his grip tightening and his breath whispering across Xander’s ear.  “Then the young tiger would do well to note that the old tiger likes to know what goes on in his territory.”  He held the thought for a moment, then added, in a much softer tone, “feel free to do whatever you like, Xander.  Just – be honest about it.  And remember – one of the things I do best?  Is watch …”

Oh, god.

Everything tightened at the thought – heart, breath, stomach, body, balls … and Xander shivered, automatically pressing himself back, into the warmth that held him.  That had been one of Anya’s treasured fantasies – the idea that they might perform for an appreciative audience – and the memory of it, of the way they had acted out the scenario together came back to him in rush.  He’d known whose eyes she’d been imagining on them in those steamy moments, and – yeah – it hadn’t exactly been hard for him to imagine them too …

“I think we should be leaving Mr Giles and Mr Harris to get back to their holiday.”  The kohl-eyed witch winked at him as she started to chivvy her band of Slayers back down the towpath.  “It’s late, and we’ve taken up far too much of their time as it is.  It was a pleasure meeting you both,” she added warmly, nodding an amused farewell at the two of them.  “You too, Twink.”

Twink barked and wagged her tail, straining a little at her leash as the party departed.  Xander managed a friendly nod and a half promise to join their patrol next time he was in the area; Giles responded in a similarly polite but non-committal fashion – which Xander utterly admired, being acutely conscious of just where most of the man’s concentration was, right there and then.  His own wasn’t far away, aware of the sudden, aching need that was spiralling through him. 

“Come on,” Giles encouraged a little breathily, as soon as the gaggle of young women were safely distant.  “You settle Twink down and I’ll make up the bed …”

Continued in Part Seven