Double Date
Rippertish
Chapter 14: A Week at the Magic Box part 3
The bell above the Magic Box door chimed, barely cutting through the rustle of paper bags and the buzz of last-minute Halloween shoppers.
Buffy glanced up from the counter just as a familiar voice floated in. Bright, warm, surprised.
"Hi! Oh—Buffy! I didn't expect to see you here."
She turned.
Christina stood just inside the doorway, visibly pleased but clearly not expecting her. And she wasn't alone.
Aaron hovered just behind her, his gaze sweeping over the shop's chaotic shelves with amused curiosity. His hand brushed Christina's lower back.
That hand on her back wasn't claiming. It was light and comfortable. Like he knew she didn't need him there, but she liked that he was. It was the kind of touch that made Buffy stare.
She hadn't expected to see either of them again, let alone like this.
There was a pause, just a small one, but Giles stepped forward behind her, polite as ever. "Christina. Aaron. Hello."
"Rupert." Christina's face lit up. Not the glossy wine-soaked charm from before, this was calmer. She looked… different. More poised. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ear, lips shaded in a rich burgundy. Confident, warm and still beautiful.
She moved through the shop like she'd done it a dozen times, which, judging by her familiarity with the jars, maybe she had. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Just ease. And Buffy noticed that.
Aaron gave a small wave. "Hey. First time seeing the famous shop."
"Welcome," Giles said, nodding slightly.
"We were nearby," Christina added, "and I dragged him in. I promised it'd be magical. Possibly haunted."
Aaron peered at a bat-shaped candleholder. "Spooky in a classy way. I like it."
Giles smiled. "Halloween does bring out the... creative inventory."
Buffy, still a little thrown, felt herself start to relax. They looked good together. Yeah…
And Christina? Hm, she was different today. No flirtation. No front. Just her.
"We're here for trouble," Christina announced, "and maybe a few costume props."
"We've got some bits," Giles said mildly.
"We're going for the classic pairing," Christina added, motioning to Aaron. "Angel and devil."
Buffy raised a brow. "Matching?"
Aaron nodded. "She says I'm the angel."
Christina gave a look of mock innocence. "Naturally."
Buffy smirked.
"We just need a few finishing touches. Halo, horns, anything pointy and glittery."
Buffy glanced at Giles, who was already reaching for the backroom keys.
"We've got props in the back," she offered. "Come on."
"You don't mind?" Christina asked, tilting her head.
Buffy hesitated. "Not at all."
That made Christina smile again, open and sincere. Something shifted, small but definite.
Buffy tossed over her shoulder, "Venturing into the stockroom of doom. Pray for me."
Giles replied without looking up, "You'll need more therapy than prayers."
Buffy smirked and led the way. Christina followed her through the narrow hallway to the stockroom, the two women disappearing inside. Aaron stayed behind with Giles.
In the Back Room…
"Feels like the attic of an old theatre," Christina said, brushing her fingers across a shelf stacked with crates.
"This is the glamorous section," Buffy replied, crouching by one of the few boxes marked Costume Accessories.
Christina crouched too. "You're good at this."
"What, digging through junk?"
Christina smiled. "No. Just… this. You make chaos feel manageable."
Buffy paused. "Ha. That's not something I usually hear."
Christina tilted her head.
"You're young, sure, but you feel like someone with no patience for high school drama. And I mean that as a compliment."
Buffy blinked. A quiet breath of a laugh.
"I—" She paused, then nodded. "Thanks." She didn't press it. Just tucked the compliment away.
They resumed digging. The silence between them wasn't awkward anymore.
Buffy caught a faint hint of grapefruit as Christina bent to dig through a box, clean, understated. Like everything else about her today. No perfume cloud, no femme fatale. Just... her.
Buffy asked, "You shop here often?"
"For herbs, mostly. Rupert's picky, which I love. But this is my first time doing the Halloween section."
Buffy handed her a red satin choker. "This might go with the devil look."
Christina held it to her neck. "Elegant evil. Nice!"
They shared a look.
"You really like Halloween?" Buffy asked.
"I love it," Christina said. "Especially now. Aaron and I are handing out candy at the community centre."
Buffy blinked. "That's... Uh…"
"Unexpected?" Christina completed. "I'm not just cleavage and wine, I swear," she added with a laugh. "Though we'll balance the wholesomeness with a uni party later."
Buffy smirked. "Of course."
Giles and Aaron had wandered in just moments ago, already absorbed in their own predicament.
Buffy glanced over at Aaron, who was now holding a pair of wings upside down while Giles rotated a strap like it might reveal hidden instructions.
Watching them made something click into place. Aaron's kindness hadn't changed. He still had that gentle, polite charm he'd shown on their own date. And somehow, Christina matched him, different flavour, same elegance. Buffy hadn't pictured it before. But now... it made perfect sense.
Christina picked up a red sequinned cape. "Too much?"
Buffy looked. "Depends. You aiming for 'flirtatious menace' or 'Vegas lounge act'?"
Christina laughed. "Somewhere between."
Buffy passed her a subtler one. "Try this."
They shared a real laugh then. And just like that, the wariness melted.
Buffy lifted a headband with small horns.
Christina accepted, fitting neatly into her hair.
"What do you think?" she asked casually, glancing at Buffy.
Buffy tilted her head. "Surprisingly stylish. Dangerous, but like... in a teen magazine photoshoot kind of way."
Christina laughed. She looked at the horns, then at Buffy. "You'd make a good devil."
Buffy grinned. "Thanks. You make it sound like a compliment."
"It is."
They shared a look, and for a moment, Buffy felt something she hadn't expected, a pull. Not attraction, exactly. But warmth. Familiarity where there shouldn't be any.
They smiled and turned back to the guys.
Aaron was still fighting the straps.
Giles looked every bit his puzzled old-librarian self.
"Do you think they're overthinking it?" Buffy whispered.
"Smart men do that a lot," Christina replied. "They're trying so hard."
"They're terrible at it."
"But in sync. They are adorable."
They both laughed. Then, gently, Christina looped her arm through Buffy's. The touch was casual. Sweet.
Buffy blinked but didn't move away. It felt... fine.
Aaron glanced sideways at Giles, who gave a helpless shrug, holding the tangled strap. They both chuckled under their breath.
"We should help them," Buffy said.
"Give it a minute," Christina replied. "This is too good."
By the time the wings were finally on Aaron, somewhat crooked but holding, everyone had made their peace with "good enough."
Buffy secured a strap. Christina adjusted the collar. Giles stood back like he'd supervised an architectural feat.
"It'll hold," Giles declared. "Probably."
"I'll buy coffee if it survives the Uber ride," Aaron said.
Christina grinned. "You wear it well. Chaos and charm."
Aaron glanced between them. "So me, then."
They began bagging everything.
Aaron caught again how Giles's hand steadied Buffy's back as she reached up to adjust a box.
"You two... together?" he asked suddenly. Not pushing. Just curious.
Buffy looked up. Christina blinked.
Aaron raised his hands. "It's fine. You don't have to answer. I just… noticed," Aaron added. "How you talk. Look at each other. You've got... a rhythm. I've seen it before. It's kinda nice, actually."
Buffy opened her mouth, but Christina spoke first. "It is nice," she said, slowly. "Actually... pretty obvious now that he said it."
Buffy could feel the flush on her cheeks before she glanced at Giles, eyes silent pleading help.
Giles cleared his throat. "Right. Well. Shall we, perhaps we ought to finish this before those wings decide to plot revenge against us."
Christina chuckled, offering them a reprieve. "Fair point. But you're all surprisingly good company for what was meant to be a ten-minute prop stop."
They moved back to the front counter. Bags packed, the holy and the wicked looking far too coordinated for comfort.
Christina grinned. "We now have wings, horns, and just enough glitter to ruin our laundry."
"Thanks again," Aaron said, sincere. "Really."
Christina glanced warmly at Giles. "You always did know how to pick the best bits, Rupert."
She gestured loosely to the props, then tilted her head towards Buffy, with a cheeky knowing wink.
Aaron didn't miss a beat. "And hold onto them, apparently."
Buffy's eyes flicked between them. Oh. They meant her. Her cheeks went pink.
Giles, clearly mortified, adjusted his glasses, twice. "Well, I—no, that's not—I mean… the inventory is rather good, yes."
"I'm just saying you've got good taste." Christina smiled as she slipped her fingers into Aaron's. "And you're very dashing when flustered."
Buffy lips curled as she glanced at Giles. His ears were definitely turning red.
They moved companionably toward the door, morning sun spilling in ahead of them.
"We should do this again," Aaron said.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah."
Christina gave them a final grin. "Next time, we master the wings on the first try."
"Unlikely," Giles muttered, as they shook hands.
Back at the counter, Buffy spotted a stray bag of props: cape, tangled elastic, left behind in the shuffle.
"I'll just toss this in the back," she said casually.
She didn't look at Giles when she slipped behind the curtain, but she heard his quiet footsteps follow a second later.
Inside, he moved past her, crouching to realign a lopsided shelf of masks. Focused.
Buffy spotted a set of horns still perched on a crate. Smirked. Picked them up and crossed to him.
She set them carefully on his head. "There. Now you look like you belong here."
Giles blinked. "What's this?"
Buffy tilted her head, mock-appraising. "You looked too innocent. Needed a little edge."
"I see." He adjusted his glasses with exaggerated patience. "Well. Thank you. I feel… transformed."
"You're welcome, Lucifer," she quipped, already heading for the curtain.
But then she paused.
"They're a good match," Buffy said, glancing over her shoulder.
He followed her line of thought: Aaron and Christina.
"Yes. Better than our first attempt, certainly."
Buffy chuckled. "To be fair, it wasn't much of an attempt. More like a field diversion."
She turned back to face him, eyes glimmering. "But still. Christina seems… softer now. Less wine. More warmth."
Giles smiled at that. "She is naturally warm. Just— ill-advised with a bottle."
"She likes him," Buffy said, gently fingering the edge of a red cape on the hanger. "And he clearly thinks he won the lottery."
Giles made a soft noise of agreement.
"Did you forget?" Buffy asked, smirking.
"Hmm?"
She stepped forward and tapped one horn gently. "That you're wearing these."
Giles looked up, mildly sheepish. "Maybe."
Buffy gave him a look. "I'm not convinced."
She closed the small distance between them, carrying the red cape over her arm now.
Without asking, she stepped in and slid it around his shoulders.
Giles stood perfectly still as she fastened it at his collar, her fingers brushing against his shirtfront with just enough pressure to linger. He lowered his gaze, watching her hands as they worked.
Buffy tilted her head, watching him with one corner of her mouth curved.
"You know," she said slowly, stepping closer, "it suits you."
"The cape?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No. The whole thing. Horns. Red. Trouble." She took another step. "You play the devil well."
Giles studied her face, the heat in her tone not lost on him. "Funny. Christina said the same about you."
A breath of surprise left her. "You heard that?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, then lifted again. "Hard to miss."
Buffy looked away briefly, cheeks colouring. "She's something," she said softly. "I didn't expect to like her. But she and Aaron... they just treated us like regular people. No weirdness. Just… saw us."
Giles nodded, quietly. He understood how much that meant to her. "Maybe we should keep a few of those around."
Buffy smiled, a touch surprised by how much she agreed. "Yeah. Wouldn't mind that."
Her gaze dipped, then lifted. Somehow sharper now. "Still... I think Christina got it backwards."
"Oh?"
Buffy's hands ghosted over the edge of the cape again. "I think I prefer you as the devil."
His eyes flicked, alert now, focused. "Should I be concerned?"
She didn't move. "Not unless you're afraid of me telling you what I want."
Her voice had dropped, lower, softer. And he heard it. Felt it.
Giles inhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Am I going to hear it now?"
"Not all of it." Her hands were still on his chest, palms flat against the cape. "But you should know… I like when you stop pretending to be the shepherd."
Giles swallowed, his breath catching for a fraction of a second. But his expression didn't change.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his head to hers, their foreheads nearly touching now.
"You like control," he said softly. Not a question. Just an observation.
She met his gaze, open. "Only when I'm the one giving it away."
His hand came up, gentle, cupping the side of her face. His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone, slow and reverent.
"You have no idea," he murmured, "how dangerous that admission is."
Buffy smiled. "Sure I do."
There was a beat. Just the sound of her breath and his.
His other hand came up, sliding gently along her jaw, tilting her face to his. Not rushed. Just a slow claim of space. His thumb stroked her lower lip, parting it slightly.
"This could unravel me," he whispered.
"I know," she breathed. "Same."
He leaned in and kissed her, unhurried, deep, with the kind of affection that came not only from lust but also from trust.
She leaned into it, fingers tightening briefly in the cape.
When they pulled apart, Buffy rested her forehead against his chest, just below his chin. His hands moved up and down her back slowly, until they rested on the small of her back.
Then, near her ear, his voice. Low. Measured.
"We should return before someone comes looking."
She didn't move, just murmured, "Let them look."
He chuckled softly but didn't disagree.
After a beat, she stepped back. Eyes lingering. Breath still shallow.
Then, without another word, they slipped back through the curtain, quiet and composed as they had done that whole week at the Magic Box.
End of A week at the Magic Box part 3
