[ That careful smile isn't the only fragile thing between them. In the wake of his resurrection and the slow thawing of his being, Giles feels his emotions thrumming in him like an exposed nerve, vulnerable to even the softest touch. The combination of guilt and love as he looks down at Buffy, her hand in his, is almost enough to break his heart into stony pieces and scatter it among the grave markers of his ribcage.
He lets her go with a little reluctance, nodding, and does as he's told as he makes his way carefully to the bathroom, making sure to hold onto the doorway and the back of a chair as he passes.
Bathing is an equally careful process. He leaves the door ajar as requested and peels off his clothes, trying to ignore the stench of death that clings to them, dumping them in a pile in the corner and making a mental note to burn them at some point. As the water runs into the tub, he stands naked before the mirror, reacquainting himself with the mundane reality of his newly remade flesh. Carefully, he touches the scars that ring his throat, evidence of a crime that feels as though it happened to someone else. It's definitely going to take some getting used to.
The hot water helps. Giles lets himself soak in it for a little longer than he usually does, emerging tousled and warm and slightly more human to find clothes laid out for him, a knitted jumper softening his edges, damp hair sticking up. He murmurs gratefully over the sandwiches and falls to without hesitating, putting them away like a teenager. The food helps as much as the bath, but neither are as good as having Buffy there -- he keeps one hand on her knee, even if it makes eating his lunch more difficult.
When she touches the scars, he winces -- but only a little, knowing she's seen worse. ]
Getting there, I think. [ His voice is still a hoarse croak, but the steam from the bath has helped somewhat. He reaches for her hand before she can take it away, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingers as he meets her gaze. ]
( the expression she dons is butter soft, like he's melted her with his sweetness, smile twitching at his kisses. the depth of emotion is still there on her face βΒ yesterday she was sobbing herself to sleep over losing him, which neither she nor the remaining edness in her eyes is soon to forget. there just happens to be hope now too, the way there hasn't been for days. it's like the sun's come out, like everything is new again, the whole world in a new light.
buffy moves slow, not because she's hesitating, but because she wants to move at giles' pace, wherever that is. buffy did want to be touched when she came back to life, but not by just anyone, and not unless it was careful. eventually she leans in enough to press her forehead against his temple, nuzzling his cheek, affectionate puppy love. she twists her nose to the side and sniffs. )
I'm glad you came back. ( glad an understatement. she was devastated without him, almost nonfunctioning. the look she gives him says, i know, just go with it. her voice drops lower into a whisper, like this is for him and just for him. ) I really, really missed you, Giles.
( maybe the only person who knows just how much is him, who already had to live without her once before. he knows what it's like. missing a limb or vital organ β going in for surgery and getting something else removed, something you never got to say goodbye to. slow, buffy leans in and presses her mouth against his, a chaste kiss that turns a little needy. when she opens her mouth, an accidental sob cracks through her breath and she stops, shutting her eyes tightly, shaking her head. ) Sorry. I'm βΒ ( i couldn't protect you. i haven't been able to protect anyone. i'm not good at this. i don't know what i'm doing. ) I'm sorry.
[ It's slow and careful between them, which is good -- for all they've been thrown together over the last couple of months, the ability to choose that slowness, to be able to relish one moment before moving on to the next, feels like a luxury they've earned. And, Giles is pleased to find, it's all no less intoxicating for being gentle.
Giles stays still as Buffy leans into him, smiling to himself and closing his eyes as she nuzzles against his cheek, enjoying the feeling of nearness and sensory awareness of her, the soft warm breaths over his skin. He keeps hold of her hand in his lap, rubbing his thumb over her fingers.
When she moves to kiss him, he pulls in a tiny breath, surprise and gladness just like the first time, just like every time he gets to do this. He knows it'll echo, this feeling; he's never going to get over feeling honoured, and proud, and unutterably glad to have this with her.
As she pulls back, he opens his eyes and raises his free hand, touches her cheek, tucks stray hair behind her ear. He waits until her eyes open again so he can look into them, heart aching with it all. Who knew it was possible to feel so much, still? To feel so alive? ]
Buffy. [ Deeply fond. ] You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad that.. that I can be with you again. If it had been the end, for good -- I would have regretted not being able to tell you, one last time, how much I love you. My sweet girl.
( really, it's the my sweet girl that makes her take a soft, surprised inhale, expression a little alarmed as if realizing she's been observed a little too closely, before it falls back into gratitude for that same reason. her lips twitch into a somewhat bashful smile, but she inclines her head instinctively, nosing open his palm for a place to put her flushed cheek. )
I love you too, Dβ ( from an excess of confidence immediately into embarrassment, she rolls her eyes at herself before turning her head, pressing the word in her mouth against the delicate skin of giles' wrist. ) Daddy.
( a multitude of meanings in the word, she thinks, and she thinks giles knows it too β though it's not something she's actually said (not out loud, or at least not where giles could hear) since the month she actually thought she was his daughter. maybe that puts a permanent nasty edge to it, from that time they're not supposed to want to remember. but. she'll always see giles as someone paternal to her, but she'll also always want him in ways that are undeniably romantic in nature. daddy, then, the two sides of it.
it does strike her, belatedly, that maybe now isn't the time to hoist rediscovered aspects of their relationship on giles' shoulders βΒ though, at the same time, there's nothing like near death (or, actual death, the real stuff) to put your priorities back in order. she is a little bit tired of being humiliated by what she wants. still βΒ giles' well being takes the priority. she drops a kiss on the fatty part of his thumb. )
[ The word echoes through him, a seismic throb, low and deep. It's not entirely surprising to hear it from Buffy, not now, which in itself isn't a surprise, and he ends up smiling as much over her little frisson of embarrassment as the pleasure of being acknowledged in a role he realises he's always, on some level, wanted. It feels like something he's needed to hear for a long time -- longer, perhaps, than he's been willing to admit to himself. That strange month had brought them close, but that hadn't been them, not really. Now, though --
Now, there's nothing here but the two of them. Collared and in an odd place and recently resurrected, yes, but that's becoming less and less unusual. They have a little space. A little time. ]
Actually.. [ His voice is a low rasp, warm, as he watches her negotiate the curve of his hand, fingertips brushing soft skin and silky strands of her hair. ] I was rather hoping to not have to talk, for a little while.
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He lets her go with a little reluctance, nodding, and does as he's told as he makes his way carefully to the bathroom, making sure to hold onto the doorway and the back of a chair as he passes.
Bathing is an equally careful process. He leaves the door ajar as requested and peels off his clothes, trying to ignore the stench of death that clings to them, dumping them in a pile in the corner and making a mental note to burn them at some point. As the water runs into the tub, he stands naked before the mirror, reacquainting himself with the mundane reality of his newly remade flesh. Carefully, he touches the scars that ring his throat, evidence of a crime that feels as though it happened to someone else. It's definitely going to take some getting used to.
The hot water helps. Giles lets himself soak in it for a little longer than he usually does, emerging tousled and warm and slightly more human to find clothes laid out for him, a knitted jumper softening his edges, damp hair sticking up. He murmurs gratefully over the sandwiches and falls to without hesitating, putting them away like a teenager. The food helps as much as the bath, but neither are as good as having Buffy there -- he keeps one hand on her knee, even if it makes eating his lunch more difficult.
When she touches the scars, he winces -- but only a little, knowing she's seen worse. ]
Getting there, I think. [ His voice is still a hoarse croak, but the steam from the bath has helped somewhat. He reaches for her hand before she can take it away, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingers as he meets her gaze. ]
Better for having you here.
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buffy moves slow, not because she's hesitating, but because she wants to move at giles' pace, wherever that is. buffy did want to be touched when she came back to life, but not by just anyone, and not unless it was careful. eventually she leans in enough to press her forehead against his temple, nuzzling his cheek, affectionate puppy love. she twists her nose to the side and sniffs. )
I'm glad you came back. ( glad an understatement. she was devastated without him, almost nonfunctioning. the look she gives him says, i know, just go with it. her voice drops lower into a whisper, like this is for him and just for him. ) I really, really missed you, Giles.
( maybe the only person who knows just how much is him, who already had to live without her once before. he knows what it's like. missing a limb or vital organ β going in for surgery and getting something else removed, something you never got to say goodbye to. slow, buffy leans in and presses her mouth against his, a chaste kiss that turns a little needy. when she opens her mouth, an accidental sob cracks through her breath and she stops, shutting her eyes tightly, shaking her head. ) Sorry. I'm βΒ ( i couldn't protect you. i haven't been able to protect anyone. i'm not good at this. i don't know what i'm doing. ) I'm sorry.
no subject
Giles stays still as Buffy leans into him, smiling to himself and closing his eyes as she nuzzles against his cheek, enjoying the feeling of nearness and sensory awareness of her, the soft warm breaths over his skin. He keeps hold of her hand in his lap, rubbing his thumb over her fingers.
When she moves to kiss him, he pulls in a tiny breath, surprise and gladness just like the first time, just like every time he gets to do this. He knows it'll echo, this feeling; he's never going to get over feeling honoured, and proud, and unutterably glad to have this with her.
As she pulls back, he opens his eyes and raises his free hand, touches her cheek, tucks stray hair behind her ear. He waits until her eyes open again so he can look into them, heart aching with it all. Who knew it was possible to feel so much, still? To feel so alive? ]
Buffy. [ Deeply fond. ] You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad that.. that I can be with you again. If it had been the end, for good -- I would have regretted not being able to tell you, one last time, how much I love you. My sweet girl.
no subject
I love you too, Dβ ( from an excess of confidence immediately into embarrassment, she rolls her eyes at herself before turning her head, pressing the word in her mouth against the delicate skin of giles' wrist. ) Daddy.
( a multitude of meanings in the word, she thinks, and she thinks giles knows it too β though it's not something she's actually said (not out loud, or at least not where giles could hear) since the month she actually thought she was his daughter. maybe that puts a permanent nasty edge to it, from that time they're not supposed to want to remember. but. she'll always see giles as someone paternal to her, but she'll also always want him in ways that are undeniably romantic in nature. daddy, then, the two sides of it.
it does strike her, belatedly, that maybe now isn't the time to hoist rediscovered aspects of their relationship on giles' shoulders βΒ though, at the same time, there's nothing like near death (or, actual death, the real stuff) to put your priorities back in order. she is a little bit tired of being humiliated by what she wants. still βΒ giles' well being takes the priority. she drops a kiss on the fatty part of his thumb. )
You wanna talk about it? Your ... what happened.
no subject
Now, there's nothing here but the two of them. Collared and in an odd place and recently resurrected, yes, but that's becoming less and less unusual. They have a little space. A little time. ]
Actually.. [ His voice is a low rasp, warm, as he watches her negotiate the curve of his hand, fingertips brushing soft skin and silky strands of her hair. ] I was rather hoping to not have to talk, for a little while.