Wednesday, April 25th, 2001 ~ Summers Residence ~ Sunnydale, California
Sam followed Buffy up the front walk of an attractive, comfortable looking house. He mentally noted the address and hoped Al would return soon. Ziggy would be able to get a last name for Buffy and probably a lot more information with this valuable clue.
Buffy unlocked the door and entered, leaving the door open for Sam. He hesitated in the entryway to close the door and then moved toward the voices he could hear in the next room.
"Hey G-man," Xander greeted him from the couch where he sat with Anya. "Have a good time on patrol?"
"Don't call me that," Sam remembered to say.
"Giles dusted a vamp that interrupted him while he was..."
"Buffy!" Sam interjected.
"Oooo, I sense a juicy story that may have blackmail or at least teasing potential," Xander enthused as he stood up and offered a hand to Anya. "We'll talk later, Buff," he added with a wink.
Sam gave Buffy a beseeching look that she met for a few moments before giving in.
"Okay, okay," she said, lifting her hands in surrender. "Your secret is safe with me. Sorry, Xand," she said as she escorted them to the door. "Is Dawn asleep?"
"Should be. She said she was tired and went upstairs about an hour ago," Xander replied. "Want a ride back to the Magic Box to get your car?" he asked Sam. When he didn't get a response he tried again. "Hey, Giles; want a ride to your car?"
Sam, who had been trying not to fidget under Anya's silent scrutiny, suddenly realized he was being addressed. "Uh, no, that won't be necessary," he responded, unsure whether or not to broach the subject of his new living arrangements. Buffy saved him from further speculation.
"Giles is going to stay here until we figure out how to deal with Glory," Buffy informed them.
Sam watched Anya's eyes narrow at him before she turned to Buffy. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Sure," Buffy responded with a shrug. "Otherwise I wouldn't have asked him."
"You asked him?" Anya echoed, suspiciously.
Before Buffy could reply, Xander cut in. "Uh, Anya, kinda not our business; if the Buffster wants Giles to stay over it's her, uh, their decision."
Sam held himself as still as possible, as though it would allow him to escape the notice of the woman who might reveal his actual identity if she saw him as a potential threat to her friend. The frozen tableau continued for an uncomfortable length of time until Xander took charge.
"C'mon, honey. Let's go home," Xander suggested, nervously; guiding Anya out the door with a hand on her lower back. They were halfway down the front walk when Sam overheard him continue the conversation. "How come you've been on the G-man's case all night? And it's not like Buffy brought home a stray demon or a complete stranger. This is Giles we're talkin' about."
To Sam's disappointment, Buffy shut the door before he could hear Anya's reply. He turned hesitantly toward Buffy, wondering what to say about Anya's obvious distrust. Surprisingly, Buffy was smiling.
"Well, that's a relief," she said. "Very un-Anyalike and a relief. Feel like a post-patrol snack?" Buffy inquired, turning and walking into the dining room on the opposite side of the entryway.
Sam trailed after her, nonplussed. After passing through the dining room, he caught up with Buffy in the kitchen. He stopped at the center island and watched Buffy lift a tea kettle off the stove and move over to the sink to fill it with water. "Un-Anyalike?" he prompted.
Buffy set the full kettle on the stove and lit the burner. "Well, yes," she responded, opening a cupboard and rooting around among the packages within. "I mean, I was sure she was going to ask us how many orgasms we were planning to give each other."
Startled as he was by this comment, Sam was still sufficiently in control of his thought processes to be grateful that Al was not present at the moment. Unfortunately, the look Buffy gave him after she turned and placed a box of cookies on the table in front of him suggested he hadn't schooled his expression into anything resembling nonchalance.
"Giles, take it easy," Buffy said. "I wasn't... I didn't... You know how Anya is," she finally managed, throwing up her hands dismissively.
"Uh, yes; of course," Sam stuttered, unconvincingly.
"That does it," Buffy stated. "What's with you tonight, Giles? You're all jumpy and distracted. Have you been getting enough sleep?"
"Well..." Sam began, remembering his conclusions when he had considered his host's reflection for the first time.
"I thought so," Buffy cut in. She turned off the burner under the tea kettle. "No caffeine for you, mister. And no sugar, either," she added, snatching up the box of cookies and replacing them in the cupboard. She moved across the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and turned to display a carton of milk. "Warm or cold?" she inquired of him.
"Cold, please," Sam answered, relieved that she was willing to attribute what she considered strange behavior to sleep deprivation.
Buffy poured them each a glass of milk. "Drink up," she suggested. "Then we'll get you settled in."
After finishing their milk and rinsing out the glasses, they went upstairs. Buffy led Sam to the end of the hallway.
"Is it okay if you take my room?" she asked, in a soft voice.
"I don't want to put you out," Sam replied, unsure what she was actually proposing.
"Don't worry about it," Buffy reassured him. "I'll sleep in mo... the master bedroom. Dawn sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night and sneaks in there. I don't think it would do either of you any good to wake up in bed together," she explained.
"Right, good thinking," Sam agreed, hurriedly. He entered the room she had indicated and turned in the doorway. "Good night, Buffy," he whispered.
"Night, Giles."
Sam had just shut the bedroom door when a grating noise behind him signaled Al's return.
"Hey Sam, nice digs; but isn't this a little feminine for... whoa, you're gonna sleep with her?"
Sam grimaced at the sly smile Al was giving him. "No," he hissed. "Buffy is sleeping in the master bedroom."
"That's a shame," Al remarked. "Doesn't Giles get any perks? And if there's another bedroom how come you're not sleeping in there and letting her keep her room?"
"Never mind that," Sam said as sternly as possible while keeping his voice down. He certainly wasn't going to discuss with Al the reason Buffy gave him for the arrangements. Al would be able to do twenty minutes, at least, on the possibility of Sam waking up with a teen-aged girl in his borrowed bed. He allowed himself another moment of gratitude that Al had been absent earlier when Buffy had made the orgasm comment. "I have the address of the house." He rattled off the street address and watched Al enter it dutifully into the hand-link. "Did you get anything more out of Giles or Ziggy?"
Before Al could reply, a soft knock sounded. Sam opened the door to find Buffy holding a stack of bed linen.
"I, uh, changed the bed yesterday but thought you might want fresh sheets and stuff," she explained.
"Thank you," Sam responded, accepting the proffered bedding.
"I put out some extra towels and a washcloth in the bathroom. They're the manly blue ones, distinguishable from the others by their complete lack of pink and/or floral decoration."
Sam nodded and smiled. "Very considerate of you."
"Well, good night, again," Buffy said.
"Good night, Buffy," Sam replied, closing the door. He placed the pile of pillowcases, sheets, blanket and comforter on the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Sam," Al complained. "Are you completely dense or are you just trying to get a rise out of me?"
"What are you talking about?" Sam was tired, grumpy, unsettled and not at all in the proper frame of mind to be harangued by Al.
"Buffy!" Al shot back, as though that was explanation enough.
"What about her?"
"She wanted you to kiss her good night," Al said, confidently.
"No she didn't," Sam objected.
"Oh yes she did!"
Another knock interrupted the argument. Once again, Buffy stood in the doorway; a curious mix of disappointment and apology in her expression.
"Sorry, I forgot, uh..." she sidled past Sam into the room and walked over to the dresser. She pulled open a drawer, removed a set of pajamas, closed the drawer and gestured toward Sam with the hand which held the garments. "I just needed to... uh, I'll get out of your way now." She crossed the room slowly and hesitated briefly before crossing the threshold and disappearing down the hallway.
Sam shut the door and turned reluctantly toward his friend. Al's scowl of disapproval had deepened.
"Sam, you can't just ignore her like that. It's not polite."
"Oh, and throwing her down on the bed and ravaging her would be the gentlemanly thing to do?" Sam rejoined, with as much sarcasm as he could project in a soft tone.
Al chuckled. "Much as I'd like to see that, it wasn't what I suggested. I know your limits."
Sam pulled off his shirt. "I don't think she wanted me to kiss her, either," he murmured.
"You may be a genius; but who knows more about women, you or me?" Al challenged forcefully. "She gave you her bedroom, says good night, you don't kiss her and she leaves, right?"
"Right," Sam allowed grudgingly as he sat down on the bed to remove his shoes.
"You didn't come across with the lip lock, so she has to think of an excuse to come back and give you another chance. Hence, the linen delivery," Al went on.
"She was being hospitable," Sam argued.
"Which is why she also made a point of mentioning your masculinity. You are so clueless," Al responded, rolling his eyes. "If that's all it was she wouldn't have come back again."
"She just forgot her pajamas," Sam groaned softly, wishing he could believe this conversation would end soon. He removed his socks, rolled them up and stuffed them into the discarded shoes.
"Yeah, like it would have been a disaster for her to sleep in her undies or the buff..." Al trailed off.
Sam looked up to see the rapt expression on his friend's face. "Al!" he hissed.
"Yeah, sorry; I just lost my train of thought there for a second." He ignored Sam's disgruntled snort and went on. "I suppose you didn't notice how slowly she moved, giving you every possible chance to intercept her or how disappointed she was that you still had all your clothes on."
Sam rose and unbuttoned the waistband of his jeans before pulling his t-shirt off over his head. He studiously ignored Al while folding the undergarment and placing it on a chair in the corner. Being ignored rarely quenched Al's spirit and this wasn't one of the times it would be successful.
"Take my advice, pal, and leave the jeans on unless you want Buffy to get a good look at you in your skivvies. She'll be back any second now," Al warned.
"She's not coming back," Sam said, hoping he was projecting more confidence than he felt.
"Yes she is," Al countered. "She still hasn't gotten what she came for and if you know what's good for you, and Giles by the way, you'd better deliver the goods. Women don't usually come right out and ask for what they want. They give a guy clues and hints and if he can't learn to interpret them he's in for a world of hurt."
Sam fingered the closure at the waistband of his jeans while considering Al's words and self-assured expression. "Well," he temporized. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to wait a few minutes..."
Al's smile widened significantly in response to the knock on the door.
Sam sighed deeply and reached for the door knob. He swung the door open and watched with trepidation as Buffy's eyes snapped down from his face to his bare chest, then she let her gaze slowly drift down his form. Sam sighed again. Al was insufferable when proved right about anything, let alone women.
"Was there something..." Sam began.
"Oh," was Buffy's startled little exclamation as she recovered her wits. "I, uh, I forgot my lotion..."
Sam stepped aside and let her into the room, shooting a glare at Al who was grinning like a maniac and bouncing on his toes in satisfaction.
"I won't say I told you so but if you expect to get any sleep tonight you'd better kiss her," Al said, with a chuckle.
Sam watched Buffy as she lifted the bottle of lotion from the top of her dressing table, turned slowly and headed back toward the doorway. The surreptitious glances she kept sending his way convinced Sam he might as well bow to the inevitable. "Buffy," he said gently.
She stopped and turned fully toward him. "Yes, Giles?"
Sam took a step forward and rested one hand on her shoulder. He brushed his thumb lightly over her skin a few times. She shivered but didn't move away. Sam met her eyes and slowly leaned forward, giving her every opportunity to get away if it turned out Al was wrong in his assessment of the situation. Instead of bolting for the door, Buffy tipped her head back. Sam's lips descended to smoothly cover her mouth. Although he had intended to make the kiss brief, when he felt Buffy lean into his body slightly he let the contact linger until he sensed a rising heat and tension in both their bodies. He momentarily increased the gentle pressure on her lips before lifting his head and stepping back.
Buffy was a sight to behold. Her eyes were wide open and shining and a blush had traveled over the pale skin of her upper chest, visible above the ivory camisole she wore, to suffuse her face. Sam thought she was the most enchanting thing he had seen in a very long time.
"Good night, Buffy," he said softly, brushing the smooth skin of her shoulder with his thumb one last time before dropping his hand back to his side.
Buffy backed toward the doorway slowly, her trance-like state broken only when she encountered the obstacle of the edge of the door. She sent a little smile of embarrassment his way as she side-stepped the impediment to her progress. "Night, Giles," she whispered back before clearing the threshold and moving down the hallway.
Sam listened for a moment until he heard her close her door, then followed suit. He shook his head bemusedly, realizing that tender kiss and the feeling it evoked in him was more than adequate compensation for having to listen to Al gloat. He met his friend's happy countenance and shrugged his shoulders in a 'go ahead, give it to me' gesture.
For once, Al proved he was capable of subtlety and tact. "Good night, Sam. Sleep well," was all he said before returning through the doorway to the Imaging Room.
Sam let out a surprised chuckle and then moved the pile of new bed linen to the top of the dresser. He decided nothing would be more likely to induce a pleasant night's sleep than if Buffy's light scent happened to be lingering on the pillowcases.
End Part 8