Double Date

Rippertish

Chapter 10: Mischief on the Rocks

The refreshing night air hit them as Giles closed the door behind them. For a moment, neither moved, adjusting to the shift from Xander's warm, dim living room to the crisp, quiet streets of Sunnydale. They paused side-by-side, and then slowly turned to look at each other. Buffy's eyes were bright with mischief, and Giles felt a twinge of amused anticipation. With the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in his veins, he found he didn't really mind what she was planning, whatever it was.

Her lips curved into a grin—the sort that promised trouble. Giles raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Buffy?" he asked, trying to sound stern but failing spectacularly. She just gave him a look with a little wink.

Giles watched as she turned towards Xander's door, and before he could question it, Buffy reached for the doorbell. The chime rang out, loud from inside, and Buffy's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oops, run!" she whispered, her voice half-giggled as she turned on her heel and bolted down the walkway.

"Buffy!" Giles hissed, momentarily frozen. He glanced over his shoulder towards the door, half expecting Xander to come storming out. "Absolutely marvellous," he muttered with dry humour, shaking his head. Then, instincts kicking in, he sprinted after her, his long strides quickly closing the distance between them.

Buffy's laughter echoed behind her as she turned the corner, her footsteps light and quick. Giles pushed himself harder, a grin spreading across his face despite the exertion. The prank was absurdly childish, yet quite exhilarating. They reached a quieter street, far out of sight of Xander's place, and only then did Buffy slow down, coming to a stop near a streetlamp.

Giles stumbled to a halt beside her, bracing himself with a hand on his knee, his breaths coming in heavy, amused bursts. "You… are… utterly incorrigible," he panted, shaking his head, but there wasn't a trace of reprimand in his voice—only fondness.

Buffy turned to him, still catching her breath, her face lit by the faint, golden light from above. She grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Giles couldn't help but mirror it—his own boyish grin wide and carefree. It felt fantastic.

Giles straightened, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to collect himself, but his heart was still racing, and not just from the sprint. Buffy was looking at him with an intentness that made his breath catch. It felt so absurdly reckless that it almost didn't feel real, but the look in his eyes told her it was. Their laughter died down. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the world narrowing down to just the two of them, standing in the middle of a quiet suburban street. Why did the way he looked at her feel like he was seeing something more? And why did she suddenly want him to?

Their shared smiles still lingered. Buffy nudged him lightly, and Giles chuckled, starting to walk again. Their steps fell into an easy rhythm, shoulders occasionally brushing, the quiet of the night only lightly disturbed by their relaxed footsteps.

As they strolled, Buffy's eyes lit up at the sight of a low railing running along a garden's edge. Without a word, she veered off and hopped onto it, arms outstretched for balance. The metal was slick with night dew, but she seemed confident. "Relax, Giles," she called, smirking. "Slayer balance, remember?"

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Oh, I'm perfectly relaxed." he replied, folding his arms casually and watching her attempt with open amusement.

The alcohol, making his gaze linger a little longer on her legs as she advanced with surprising grace. He watched the fabric of her skirt brush her thigh with each step.

When she wobbled more dangerously, Giles closed the distance quickly, catching her around the waist. "Steady now," he murmured, his grip firm. "I wouldn't want to risk a sprained ego."

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but being close to him like this felt new. Strange… and not entirely unwelcome. Buffy blinked, catching her breath, and then laughed. "Close call," she muttered, feeling the rush of almost losing her balance added to the mix.

Giles chuckled, but he didn't let go right away, his hand lingering at her waist, as if still prepared to keep her upright. "Think you can make it the rest of the way?"

"Only one way to find out," Buffy replied, a determined look spreading across her face. She straightened herself, giving the rail an intense glare before stepping forward again, more carefully this time.

She reached the end and hopped down with a triumphant flourish. Buffy bowed dramatically, making Giles chuckle again. The confidence that had carried her this far softened under his gaze, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. "A for assistance. Couldn't have done it without you."

"I live to serve," he replied with a mock bow, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made the words feel more genuine than playful.

As they continued their stroll, they passed a well-manicured garden dotted with small ceramic figures. Giles slowed down, eyes narrowing at the array of gnomes scattered amidst the flowers. There were at least two dozen of them, each one more absurdly cheerful than the last.

"Good Lord," Giles muttered, his voice dry, "it's like a gnome convention." He squinted at a particularly grumpy-looking gnome, tilting his head as if in deep contemplation. "That one," he pointed, "looks like he's planning a coup."

Buffy stifled a giggle, her fingers lightly touching his forearm to keep herself steady. "You think they're dangerous?" she asked, her voice thick with suppressed laughter.

"Oh, undoubtedly. I hear garden gnomes can be notoriously territorial," he replied, matching her tone.

As Giles continued to eye the gnomes, Buffy slipped away with a glint of mischief in her eyes. She carefully picked up a small gnome and snuck back over, slipping her arm through his with casual ease. Her touch made him pause, his body briefly reacting to the unexpected warmth of her closeness. He glanced at her, feeling a bit of the alcohol-induced haze mix with a growing curiosity.

Before he could question it, he felt a faint shift in weight in his pocket, accompanied by a light clink. He raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket with deliberate slowness. His fingers wrapped around the cool ceramic of a small gnome. He pulled it out, turning it over in his hand with a bemused expression.

"Buffy?" he asked, his voice tinged with incredulity and amusement. She looked at him innocently, but her eyes were twinkling. Giles glanced between the gnome and the garden they had just left, he could not hold back a grin spreading across his face. Buffy snorted with laughter.

"See? He fits right in," she said, giving the gnome an affectionate look. "So cute," she added with a sincere grin.

Giles blinked, momentarily disarmed by the unexpected fondness in her voice. He eyed the gnome once again, then Buffy, finding himself both amused and a bit taken aback. "You do realise we just became accomplices in a miniature criminal activity, right?" he added dryly, but his grin betrayed the scolding tone.

Without breaking eye contact, Giles slipped the gnome back into his pocket, his fingers brushing hers briefly. "Then we'd best make a swift getaway," he added softly, his voice conspiratorial as he leaned in, his breath tickling her ear.

They resumed their walk with a quickened pace for a few steps, the thrill of their little crime still cursing, before settling back into an easy rhythm, arm in arm.

As they wandered further, they came across a quaint house with a small, stone fountain, gently lit by tiny lights. Buffy's eyes widened in delight. "It's so pretty," she breathed, her voice full with wonder.

Giles couldn't help but smile at her reaction. She seemed almost childlike in her appreciation, her face aglow from the soft light. It was captivating, really, to see her like this—free from the crushing burdens of her calling. For once, she wasn't the Slayer, the warrior destined to fight and sacrifice. She was simply Buffy. A young woman lost in the beauty of something remarkably... pure.

By the fountain sat a small ceramic princess, gazing out over the water.

Moved by the moment, Giles knelt down and carefully placed the gnome beside her. Buffy, intrigued, crouched down next to him, studying the scene with a soft grin.

"Perfect," she murmured.

They both moved to stand, but as Buffy pushed herself up, her fingers grazed a sharp stone. She let out a soft yelp, more startled than hurt.

Giles caught her hand automatically. He didn't even realise what he was doing at first, a force of habit taking over. His eyes scanned her fingers, his brow furrowing with vague concentration. "Just a scratch," he muttered, more to himself.

Then, without thinking, he bent his head and pressed a light kiss to the scrape—a brief, almost absent gesture meant to soothe. The faint scent of Giles' aftershave, warm and woodsy, invaded her senses.

The touch of his lips, unexpectedly intimate, sent a quick jolt through Buffy. Her breath hitched—barely perceptible—but enough for him to notice. She glanced up at him, and she suddenly felt unsteady on her feet. Giles seemed to realise what he'd done a second too late; his eyes flicked up to hers, searching, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

He straightened, as the buzz from minutes ago dulled to a low hum. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he stood there, transfixed, his gaze fixed on hers. Questioning, uncertain, unable to tear himself away from her. The night's earlier laughter faded, leaving only the faint rustle of the wind and the delicious exhilarating tension between them.

End of part 10