Title: Bright Christmas
Author: Lostgirl
Pairing: Giles/Willow
Rating: 12
Summary: Willow goes to see Giles on Christmas Eve
Spoilers: Set the Christmas of Season Four BtVS. In this 'verse, Willow and Tara never met.
Feedback and Concrit adored: lostgirlslair @ yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon and various corporate entities. I am neither.
This fic was written for the Drunken!Giles-athon ( master list here ), for mrtwstedwhsprs (yes, the Fiance! :-D ) who wanted Giles/Willow, tacky Christmas lights, and an article of clothing. Well, it has all those things! I hope you like it, sweetheart! Big, huge thanks to meaghann, for the beta magic!
"Wow. How many strands of lights is that?" She was guessing at least ten. They framed the windows, the pass-through to the kitchen and even ran along the top of the wall where it met the ceiling. The smallish tree in the corner blinked with at least three different strands, all out of sequence with one another. Willow's attention snapped back to Giles then. Mostly because she was afraid he was going to topple over. He glanced over his shoulder at the lights and actually swayed a little.
"A lot," he finally said, looking back to her with half-lidded eyes and a small smile. "Felt the need for extra cheer this year. Is something wrong? Has something happened?" Giles looked as if he were trying to pull himself together.
Willow would have thought that the two gift wrapped boxes she was carrying would have negated the need for Giles to ask, but given that he didn't seem to be able to focus on her completely, maybe she was wrong.
"No, no. I just came to give you and Olivia your presents." Willow smiled, but it left her face at the sigh Giles gave.
"Ah. Uh, thank you, but . . . Olivia isn't here." Giles turned to head back into his apartment and Willow followed, shutting the door behind her. It really was bright inside. She glanced to the side and up to find the banister of the stairs wrapped with lights as well, some of them blinking. The contrast of blinking patterns thrown about the walls in vivid colors probably would have thrown her into a seizure had she been epileptic.
"Oh. She couldn't make it?" Willow set the two gifts down on the coffee table, unsurprised to find a half empty bottle of brandy there as well.
Giles, meanwhile, had sunk down onto the couch kind of gratefully and Willow had to smile at his expression. He looked pleased with himself; as if he hadn't been sure the couch would be there for him. He was watching her and when she looked at him he smiled as well. Of course, then he seemed to remember her question and his smile fled.
"No. Couldn't make it. Important art opening. Obvious lie, really. She could have at least been honest and admitted my life is too frightening." At that he leaned forward and poked at the gifts before looking back up at Willow, a waner version of that smile once again lifting his lips. "This was thoughtful of you."
"Oh, please," Willow said, nudging the gifts closer to Giles nervously. "It's not like I didn't get you one last year. And the year before and the year before. It's not like I don't get you stuff. I mean, 'tis the season, right?" Okay, that was probably too fast, too close to babble. She needed to stop being nervous. It was just a gift. Okay, so it probably wasn't the kind of gift you gave your high school librarian, but Giles hadn't been that in a long time and he'd been more than that for a long time, too and . . .
The mental and verbal babble were both all Giles' fault. He was still smiling at her. "I meant bringing something for Olivia. That was thoughtful." Did his voice always sound so warm? Willow ducked her head, smiling.
"It's nothing. I mean, just cookies . . . but, you know, since she's not here . . . We could eat them!" Willow grinned at the way Giles chuckled, then looked up and watched as the smile left his face once again.
"I'd like that, but I'm sure you have . . . somewhere else you're supposed to be."
"No, I don't have to be anywhere," Willow said quickly, though that wasn't exactly true. She had told Xander that she might be over to watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' with him at Anya's place, but . . . Giles needed her more. "And if I stay I get cookies. They're good incentive. Sugar cookies with snowflakes."
Giles snorted and shrugged, "All right, but if I open one of my presents than you must as well."
"I should wait until everybody comes over tomorrow." She pretended to pout about that, but she enjoyed opening presents with the gang on Christmas. She did a traditional Hanukkah with her family, when they were all in Sunnydale at the same time, but she liked to be with her friends too. "One more night won't kill me."
Giles shook his head as he wobbled to his feet, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Never can tell around here,' as he headed down the hall to the coat closet. Willow frowned at his retreating back and then stood to follow.
"Oh, it won't matter. It's just, uh, a small second gift. I . . . it's probably better I give it to you now anyway. Wouldn't want Xander to pout."
Willow smiled at the buried fondness in Giles' sarcastic tone. "No, really, Giles. I can wait. I'm good."
Giles didn't even pause, instead opening the coat closet. "Which is why you get a present," he said.
Willow smiled, keeping an eye on Giles. He was steady enough on his feet that he couldn't be too drunk, but the half empty brandy bottle on the coffee table didn't say good things and he was wobbling a little as he moved things around in the closet. She went to help Giles before he caused an avalanche trying to get the presents off the top shelf. "Why didn't you put these out?" She asked as she got to his side and reached up to hold them while Giles got what he was looking for. Her fingers barely brushed the edge of the bottom present, but it was enough to keep them from falling on Giles' head.
"Uh, well, it seemed . . . odd."
"Odd?" Willow glanced over to find Giles looking at her. She smiled and he quickly turned back to what he was doing with a shrug.
"No one would be here until tomorrow, so I didn't see the point, really."
"But, you saw the point in lighting your apartment up like a runway for pilots with bad eyesight?" She gave him a cheerful smile and was surprised to actually see him flinch. "I . . . I didn't mean that in a bad way. I think it's neat that you decorated. 'Cause, you know, the only time I ever saw you do that was for Halloween and that wasn't nearly as fun, because of the whole haunted house and fear demon thing."
"I, uh, put the lights up before, uh, before I knew Olivia wasn't coming and . . . It was too much of a pain in the arse to take them all down, so . . ." Giles shrugged and he was pretending to be very interested in the boxes he was shuffling about.
"Oh. Sorry. I still think it's neat . . . We should put out the presents, though. Lot easier to find what you're looking for." If anything Willow's smile was even brighter than before.
"I've found it," Giles countered, pulling a small box from the closet. "It was pushed to the side." He turned toward her, holding out the little box and Willow smiled up at him, meeting his eyes.
The hallway wasn't huge to begin with, but suddenly it seemed much smaller and Giles was . . . close, really close. Neither of them moved. Willow couldn't seem to bring herself to look away, couldn't move. Giles seemed to be right on the verge of saying something, but nothing came. He stared right back at her and Willow's heart picked up, her brain frantically trying to decide whether that meant anything or whether he was waiting on her and she was making a total dork out of herself by not moving, not getting of his way, not talking, not ending their staring contest.
Then Giles leaned toward her. It wasn't all that slow, really, but Willow could have sworn it took years before Giles' mouth was pressed against hers. She made a soft sound against his lips, her hands pressing against his chest as he leaned in. She let herself fall back against the wall, her hand clenching in Giles' shirt as she parted her lips. He moaned into the kiss and Willow's knees almost gave out and she clung all the harder to Giles' sweater. By the time they pulled away from one another they were both panting. Willow couldn't seem to make herself let go of Giles and his hands were on the wall on either side of her. She wondered if he was having as much trouble standing without its support as she was.
"I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't really look sorry. He was staring at her lips and Willow was hoping he was apologizing for not kissing her again already. "I shouldn't have . . . Uh, that was . . . inappropriate." But he hadn't moved. He didn't look much like he wanted to either.
"We could blame the mistletoe," Willow breathed before she'd really been able to gather enough of her brain to say something real, to tell Giles he didn't have to apologize, that she didn't want him to apologize.
"I didn't hang any mistletoe." His voice was as soft as hers had been, breathless, as if they were both stuck in the moment and speaking any louder would break it. If it broke they'd have to move away from one another.
"We could go out and get some, hang it, kiss again, and then blame it," Willow suggested with a hopeful smile.
Giles seemed to be fighting a smile of his own. He seemed surprised, but the sparkle in his eye faded and he shook his head. "Uh, I-I'm not sure that would be wise."
"No, it's a good plan," Willow said in a rush. "I like my plan."
"Willow . . ." Giles began to pull away and Willow let go of his sweater, though she couldn't keep herself from letting her hands slide down his chest. "I-I've clearly had too much to drink. I'm sorry."
"Um, okay. Look, I know I was being flip, but . . . it's not like I didn't want you to kiss me," Willow said, forcing herself to meet Giles'--Rupert's?--eyes as she said it. "I kinda wanted you to . . . a lot."
"You did?" Giles looked slightly surprised again, as if he wasn't quite sure of what he was hearing. Of course, beyond the surprise, the way he was looking at her made her feel warm and kinda gooey.
"Yeah. I did." Willow smiled and decided to be bold, because clearly Giles couldn't. She went up to her tiptoes and kissed the corner of Giles' mouth. He didn't move, either toward her or away, just stood there, letting her kiss along his jaw line. She put her hands against his chest, both to support herself and just to feel it beneath her palms. She kissed his throat and he moaned, his hands coming up to grasp her arms.
"Willow, I don't think you understand." Giles tilted his head to one side, as if to give her better access, but before she could do anything he stepped back, his hands still on her arms, which was the only thing to keep her from falling, given that she'd been leaning on him. "When I kiss you, all I can think about is--"
"Giles--Rupert, I'm not twelve, okay?" Willow was starting to get frustrated. His hands on her arms felt good and he clearly wanted to kiss her, liked it when she kissed him. She wasn't seeing the problem here. "Do you think that when you were kissing me I wasn't thinking about sex, too? I mean, what do I have to do? Strip naked and lead you to the loft by your zipper?”
His pupils contracted. Better yet, Willow saw them do it. He swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed and it took a moment before he seemed capable of speaking. "Uh, actually, before you so effortlessly wiped my mind clean of thought, I was going to say that the only thing I could think about is the fact that I'm old enough to be your fa--"
Willow shook her head, putting her hand over Giles' mouth to stop him. "New rule, no mentioning of parental personages while giving or receiving smoochies." Willow sighed and reached up a hand to brush Giles' sweater. "And you're so not my dad. I've got a dad and, sure, he's not here all the time, or, you know, even a lot of the time, but I'm good on the dad front." Willow blurted out, just trying to reassure Giles and get back to the kissing.
"But--" Giles began and Willow put her hand over his mouth again, smiling.
"You think too much," she said and his eyebrows rose to his hairline. When she moved her hand, Giles was smiling.
"I never thought to hear you say that," he said with a laugh and Willow couldn't help but smile wider.
"There were never Giles kisses at stake before," she said. "Besides, I'm tired of not getting what I want because I can't say anything." Willow sighed, reaching out to lay a hand against Giles' chest. "I wanted Xander, but I couldn't tell him that, which is probably for the best, but still. I wanted Oz to stay, but I couldn't . . . I couldn't say the right things and . . . I want you and if I try to think of the right things to say it's only going to come out all wrong. So . . . no thinking, no talking, just more smoochies, please." Willow turned her eyes up to Giles, giving him an expectant look.
"We need to talk about this," Giles said, though his eyes were once again firmly focused on her lips.
"Will we still need to talk about it tomorrow?" Willow let her fingers move over the soft, thick fabric of Giles' sweater.
"Yes, of course."
"Then let's talk about it then." Gripping the fabric and rising up on her tiptoes, Willow pressed her lips to Giles' again. This time, he didn't argue. His arms slipped around her and he made a soft sound as his tongue darted out to lick over her lips. Willow parted them, letting the kiss deepen. Giles' hand moved over her back, one sliding down to her hip and the other up to her neck, warm fingers rubbing gently. When they pulled away from the kiss, neither went far.