[ 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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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.
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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.
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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.