Rating/Warnings: R, a kind of drug use
Summary/Notes: 4th season BtVS. What would have happened if Wesley had been along on the demon hunting trip in “A New Man” instead of Willow? What if Ethan had felt less like turning Giles into a monster instead did something more… mischievous? Written for maleslashminis and in particular mireille719 who requested Giles/Wes/ (with the third as either Xander or Ethan) and books. Sorry Mir, Ethan popped in, but then kind of ran away after he'd set his plan in motion. Silly man. Also, some lines taken directly from "A New Man"
Final note: ok, so I accidentally didn't get this as finished as I wanted ... and now I've got two papers that have to take priority. So, the ending... is not quite an ending. In other words, there will be a companion piece to this in the very near future.
Disclaimer: Joss is fairly fabulous, and you can tell I'm not exactly him, I just like to play with his boys from time to time.
Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated. Concrit is valued as well, although preferred in an email.
Thanks: To both elizabuffy and lostgirlslair who betaed this at the last last last minute. All corrections are theirs, all remaining mistakes are mine.
Word Count: 5,406
.: Wesley :.
Giles' call came as quite a surprise. Wesley had left his Los Angeles number with the other watcher, just in case, but he had never, ever expected to be called as backup. Evidently Buffy was nowhere to be found, and there was a demon rising. Wes couldn't stop the warm glow in his chest when he thought about the call – he'd proved himself to someone. Or, at the least, had proved that he could be counted on in an emergency.
But the entire drive up, he'd thought about his time in Sunnydale. It wasn't that long ago, and yet… there were worlds between the man he was now and the man he'd been then. The thought of long hours researching in that atrocious high school library made him sigh with nostalgia. Angel and Cordelia were lovely people, but it was never truly interesting to be the only one searching for something, and he still didn't trust Cordelia's insistence that they could find everything via Google. The sum of human knowledge was not on the internet. Human stupidity, perhaps. But Rupert Giles was a man who knew the value of a good book.
The road stretched in front of him, and his eyes tracked the lines and cars around him mechanically while a memory of Giles' hands played across his inner eye – the way Giles' long fingers would stroke over book covers, each page was turned with a delicate grace. Wesley had spent long hours in that library watching Giles with his books. He never worried that Mr. Giles would notice his obsession; Giles had always been too absorbed in what he was doing. Wesley felt safe watching, quietly wishing the man beside him would show the same interest in him. He spun fantasies about those hands, and then let them go when it came time to engage in another heated debate about the Mayor, the Council, this or that translation. He'd thought nothing of his quiet fantasies. He'd always had them about someone, after all. It had been his way of escape, through years of lessons and college classes, when he'd been too focused on studying to properly fit in. It was locked up in his head, nothing he would act on, just quiet contemplation. Harmless, really.
He'd felt safe in that, at least. Until he'd turned his eyes up after one long afternoon, and been caught by someone else's look. Giles was saying something to Willow about a panel he'd managed to find, unconsciously smoothing the page he was discussing under his fingertips with deft strokes. Wesley was daydreaming about how that soft touch would feel along his shoulder blades, when Giles gestured towards another book, further down the table, and Wesley's eyes had followed his hand to find Xander, across the table, doing the exact same thing. At least until Xander turned back and looked Wesley straight in the eye. There was a moment of recognition, when the knowledge that they were both doing the same thing, watching the same man, thinking about those same hands, reflected in Xander's eyes. Wesley had almost gasped, but had the good sense to stifle it and merely raise his eyebrows as if nothing was wrong. Xander had grinned, though, a feral grin that seemed out of character, and shifted his gaze back to Giles' hands on the books between them.
At the time, Wesley had felt he'd been revealed somehow. He had assumed Xander would say something, would do something to call attention to Wesley's obsession, to embarrass him. But the young man had been uncharacteristically silent.
And that had been that. The Mayor had been vanquished, the town made safe from apocalypse again, Wesley sacked from his job, and Los Angeles on the horizon. Now, he was going back. He wondered what Xander was doing these days.
.: Xander :.
That didn't work out exactly how it was supposed to, Xander thought. He'd started out the night wondering if he should be sad about Anya. Tonight had been their final fight. After the Gentlemen had come, and he'd punched Spike out, thinking he had saved her, he thought she'd be okay with him not being in love with her. Apparently, the idea that love might develop, but hadn't yet, wasn't good enough. Not that he could really blame her. He just wasn't sure – and he wanted to be sure. After everything with Cordy and Willow, after Faith, he just didn't know if he was built for love. Lust, sure. And even like, with an option on possible love, he could do that too. But for sure love? Happily-ever-after love? He wasn't even sure he wanted that. And even though Anya staggered him every time he saw her, even though he had this little shiver and thought, "That girl is mine? That girl is mine!", whenever she walked into the room, he was pretty sure his mental happy wasn't the kind of thing she was looking for.
She'd left the basement looking sad, and he'd wanted to hug her, but she'd cut him off, saying that she couldn't do that with him right then, that it was too misleading. And he felt like a jerk, because even though he felt sad, he wasn't sad-sad, and he knew it. Which was why the whole conversation had worked out the way it had.
But Giles had called about a demon, and Xander had thanked the forces of evil everywhere for getting him out of his basement before Spike came back and wanted to save the world. Not that it wasn't what he and Giles, and apparently Wesley, were going to do, but something about the vampires' new perky attitude really creeped him out, and he'd rather save the world with human people who weren't quite so bouncy, even if they were British.
He met Giles and Wes at the gates of Restfield. "Hello Watcher guys! Let us make the night safe from evil!"
Giles gave a half laugh and passed Xander a crossbow. Even Wesley smiled. Then Wes turned to Giles, "I thought you said the demon was supposed to rise at sunset?"
Giles frowned, "Of course if I hadn't had to search the globe for our Miss Summers and do battle with that harridan. . . ."
"And if you hadn't gotten lost on campus afterwards . . ." Xander interjected with a grin.
"Never mind." Giles brushed it off, "We'll just have to take care of it ourselves. I've vanquished a few demons in my day without her. Of course, it wouldn't surprise me if we're entirely too late. Demon on the loose, carnage everywhere."
They made their way to the mausoleum. Even though Xander couldn't hear anything, he still stepped through the door with caution. Always better to be careful, right? But inside there was … nothing. A few cobwebs, but other than that, not even displaced dirt.
"Your better demons will clean up after themselves." He grinned.
Giles looked really confused. "I don't understand." He wandered around a minute looking into corners with a flashlight, "Umm, there should be ruptured earth and-and broken stone. Oh, well, apparently it hasn't happened yet. A bit of luck."
He sat his bag down on the floor and pulled out more magical looking supplies. It was then that Xander remembered, "Or, you know what I bet? I bet the Initiative took care of it."
Wesley looked at him with surprise, "Who?"
"Oh, Riley and his guys. Probably all over it. It even has that 'too neat' look. They must've cleaned up the place and everything."
Both Giles and Wesley were looking at him like he'd been speaking in gibberish. But a quick mental check of his last sentence – no, still English.
Giles asked, "What?" and Xander began to feel like he was in a Laurel and Hardy sketch. But he thought Giles at least knew what was going on.
"You know Giles, they read mystical hot spots? They probably picked this place up days ago and wiped it clean."
Giles still had the confused face on. "Uh, what, uh . . . What are you talking about? W-what's the Initiative? What. . . what on earth does it have to do with Buffy's new boyfriend?"
Xander was completely taken by surprise, "You know. Riley? He's one of the commandos." He frowned, "Don't you know?"
Giles totally seemed to fly off the handle with annoyance, "What?! Well that's marvelous, isn't it?" He turned away and started shoving things back into his bag, "Here I am, spent weeks trying, uh, t-to get a single scrap of information about our mysterious demon collectors and no one bothers to tell me that Buffy's dating one of them?!" He turned back to Xander, and Wesley moved in behind him, "Who else knows?!"
Xander, totally surprised, raised his hands in the universal it's-not-me gesture, "No one. No one else knows this." Then he winced, "I mean, Anya, she knows. Oh, and Spike."
Giles got even redder at that, "Ssspike?! Spike knew?"
"Only the basic stuff!" Xander tried to defend himself, but he knew it was a losing battle, "You know, that Riley is a commando and Professor Walsh is in charge."
That seemed to make Giles even madder. Whoops! "Professor Walsh!? That fishwife!?" Xander was tempted to laugh – he'd never heard Giles call anyone a fishwife before, but the expression on the other man's face was not good and heading into nuclear meltdown. But then, as if cutting off a switch, Giles dropped onto the bench and dropped his head into his hands.
Xander felt so bad when he saw the guy's shoulders slump. He knew that things between Giles and Buffy weren't quite the "I see you every day and tell you all" kind of stage. He was sure the Buffster was just a little preoccupied with Riley to remember to call. After all, it wasn't like they had their free study period at the library or anything and could update him on every night's slayage. Heck, Xander hadn't even been out on patrol with Buffy for a couple of weeks, either.
Xander walked over to Giles. He knew this was one of those times when he should keep his thoughts to himself. Instead he patted the guy's shoulder, "She was probably just distracted by her birthday and stuff, Giles. I'm sure she's planning on telling you about it."
"That's such a great comfort." Giles' sarcasm didn't do anything to hide his frustration. Xander looked over at Wesley, the silent guy in the corner, and wished there was something he could do. Wesley looked just as confused about the whole thing.
Giles sighed, and turned to Wesley, "I'm sorry, Wesley, that you had to come all this way for nothing." As Wes made noncommittal noises, Xander realized that his evening prospects were again looking pretty dim.
Until Giles heaved a great sigh, and suggested, "Why don't we all go out for a pint? It's the least I can do for making you drive to the rescue." Giles' lips twisted a bit on that last part, but he looked like he was trying to at least pretend he wasn't bitter. Wesley seemed surprised by the offer, and Xander wondered if Giles meant him too? "And yes, Xander, I meant you too. It's not your fault that Buffy didn't tell me about the commandos, and I dragged you out here as well."
Xander perked up, "Sure." He was thinking maybe that meant Giles was thinking of him as one of the guys. Or, as "one of the guys" as you could get when their group of guys included Wesley and Spike. But, whatever. He had a fake ID. He could have a beer.
So in minutes, he found himself sitting next to Wes in a booth, sipping a beer, watching Giles and Wes be British at each other. He felt like he was back in high school, watching the two of them argue about some text Wes wanted to take with him when he went back to LA.
Well, that's what he thought he was doing, until he realized he wasn't watching their faces or paying attention to their voices, but had switched to concentrating on their hands.
See, this was one of the other reasons why he didn't really think it was a bad thing that he hadn't promised Anya he was in it for the long haul. He didn't know if it was just watcher hands or what, but…
Wes' hand drummed on the table, and Xander watched the precise movement of each finger. Wondered what those fingers would taste like. Yes, he could admit it, he'd wondered for years. Wondered if the tips were as sensitive as they looked. And Giles – both of Giles’ hands were around his pint glass, strong hands, kinda bumpy and weathered, not as long as Wes' but … he thought about them too. About how strong they could grip, about how they knew what they were doing, always knew.
It made him remember that one afternoon when he'd caught Wesley staring at Giles' hands. That had been crazy, recognizing that the other guy was doing the same thing he was. Wes had raised his eyebrows. It was a challenge, and Xander felt a little competitive spark rise in him, and he grinned back. Yeah, so, he was looking at Giles' hands too. They weren't Wesley's property, were they?
He hadn't thought about that in ages, but now, seeing them both gesturing and moving, he wondered again if maybe it was something about watcher hands.
And that was when their waitress brought them the next round
.: Giles :.
Giles looked at the fresh pints and turned to the woman setting them on the table, "Thank you, but we didn't order these."
"Oh, no, don't worry about it. This guy over there…" she turned to the bar to point at a man Giles vaguely remembered rescuing from a vampire attack several weeks ago, "bought 'em. Said the least he could do was say thanks for the jam your friend here helped him out of the other night."
Giles felt his eyebrows rise at that. He turned to look at Wesley and Xander, but both looked as surprised as he did. The waitress had lost interest and moved on already.
Xander grinned, "Look at that! I knew that this hero business was going to come in handy someday!" He finished his own beer and reached for one of the new ones. Wesley put his hand on Xander's, and Giles watched as Xander took a small quick breath, and then looked questioningly at Wesley.
"Do you know that man?" Wesley asked.
"Nah, but I'm guessing that somebody saved him from a fang attack at some point."
"Actually, I think I did." Giles broke in, squinting at the man who'd bought their drinks. Wesley looked at him in surprise, but then reached for one of the remaining glasses. "The other night coming home from the college, I found a single vampire stalking a man who looked very much like our benefactor and I was able to dispatch him."
"There, see Wes, nothing to worry about!" Xander took a sip of his new drink, and smiled at them both. "I wish all slaying came with this kind of reward. But, then again, probably make it hard to get home after said slayage."
"Probably." Wesley agreed, although he looked like he privately didn't think a single beer would affect him that much. He took a sip of his own drink and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "At least he picked something with a taste."
Giles raised his own glass to savor and agreed with Wesley. This was better than the first pint they'd ordered – in fact, he knew for sure this wasn't on the menu. Their mystery benefactor certainly had good taste. He took another, larger sip, and felt the refreshing glide. He turned in the direction the waitress had pointed, intending to thank the man, at least with a small toast, but he was gone.
An hour later and they all had another pint in hand, and they'd moved from talking about books to the Initiative. Giles knew he was being maudlin, but he couldn't help himself.
"You know what gets me? This is what gets me. Twenty years I've been fighting demons. Maggie Walsh and her Nancy-ninja boys come in and six months later, demons are pissing themselves with fear. They never even noticed me."
Wesley drunkenly asked, "Who's Maggie Walsh?"
"Oh, she's awful." Giles screwed up his face in disgust, "She said I was an absent male role model. Absent my ass. I'm twice the man she is."
"Cheer up Giles," Xander slurred, "it's not like Buffy's going to go running off and join the Initiative. She'd hate the uniforms, for one. Besides, what's Maggie Walsh know about you?" Xander reached out and patted Giles' hand across the table.
"That's right, she can't know anything. Who does she think she is, presuming to know what the Slayer needs?" Wesley sounded indignant now. "Let's go over there and tell her a thing or two! Gods man, you've helped Buffy survive two apocalypses and a vampire boyfriend intent on raising indestructible demons and destroying the world!"
Giles grinned at the two men sitting opposite him, both defending him in their own way. He'd felt so frustrated earlier in the evening, but now, with both of them trying to console him, he wondered if it wasn't such a bad thing that the evening had worked out as it had. They'd come a long way from that school library. He liked them both though – respected them – as more than comrades at arms.
.: Xander :.
Just then their waitress appeared at the edge of the table. "Last call – anybody interested?"
Xander frowned. It was time to go? But… he didn't want to leave. Giles was finally in a good mood, and … he frowned again as he realized he'd muttered that whole thing out loud. Wes shoved him a little bit with his shoulder and Giles grinned at him. Ok, fine, maybe he wasn't the soberest of sober people, but he didn't have anything else to do and the thought of the basement was less and less appealing.
Giles cleared his throat, "Well, if Xander doesn't want to go home, and we can't stay here, you'd best both come over. You can get your book, Wesley."
Xander brightened at that. "Okay, but Wes, you gotta let me out before we go. I need to see a man about a horse." Wes looked confused, and Xander pushed a little at him. "Wes, I gotta go." Comprehension dawned – slower than usual, it seemed to Xander, but he didn't really mind, since he was still pushing at a warm shoulder – and Wes scrambled out of the booth. Xander threw some money onto the table for their tab, and half-skipped towards the bathroom, hearing the tale end of Wes' comment as he moved away, "I don't suppose I could impose on you, Giles, for the night? I don't think I'm quite in the best condition to drive at the moment…"
He wandered through the door of the men's room and wondered if Wes was really that much of a lightweight. They'd only had, like, three beers. Xander himself was feeling pretty good, but not in a beery kind of way. Though, as he pulled up to the urinal, he realized that things were kind of soft around the edges. Pretty, really. Not the room, but kind of the light. And his clothes seemed more comfortable than usual. He stroked a hand down the denim and then freed himself, and sighed in relief. Wow, didn't realize I had to go that bad. Man this is kind of fun. It's been a long time since I've had fun peeing. But even sighing was fun, so he kept breathing deep, and felt this silly grin break out. I'm just happy not to be in that crappy basement, and kind of happy to be hanging like one of the guys. That's all.
Finishing his business, he moved over to wash his hands and realized that the water felt really good. Better than usual. Good enough that he wanted to kind of stay there, under the cool. But then he remembered Giles and Wes out in the bar, waiting for him, so they could go back to Giles' place, and he grinned even wider. He dried his hands on his pants mmm… denim and wandered back out.
"Ready to go, gentlemen?" he said as he approached the table. Giles smiled up at him, moving to stand, and Wes slid out from the booth. Yep, just three guys, going back to Giles' place to hang out.
.: Wesley :.
That was the most fantastic walk he'd taken in years. He really couldn't believe it. But the Sunnydale night had been without fear – just a sparkling crisp California evening. He knew it had something to do with the company though. Xander had babbled and grinned and joked their way through the streets, Giles laughing outright at some of the worst puns. And the air felt so good! They trooped down Giles' stairs, rather, he and Giles trooped down them and Xander hopped like a bunny, grinning madly all the way, and they had trouble keeping their voices down for the neighbors.
Not that Giles was any help. He turned at his front door with keys in hand and said, with a clear voice and a smile, "Shhhh! I have neighbors, you know, and they like to sleep."
"Sure Giles, you totally have neighbors," Xander grinned back, not bothering to keep his voice down, "but you think they're going to notice us when they didn't even come out for the Chumash attack?"
"Chumash attack?" Wesley wondered aloud.
"Yeah, you must've heard about it from Angel, right Wes?" Xander bumped his shoulder against Wes' again, a sensation Wes was rapidly beginning to enjoy.
They tumbled through Giles' door, and Wesley remembered Angel's trip to Sunnydale. "Oh absolutely. Angel came back complaining about Buffy's new paramour, and … " he grinned and butted Xander's shoulder with his own, "Was that when you got the funny syphilis, Xander?"
Apparently nothing could dampen Xander's mood. He toed his shoes off, plunked down, feet and all, on Giles' couch with a laugh and a strangely nostalgic smile. "Yeah, although it didn't feel exactly great at the time. But at least Giles let me crash on his couch while I was sick." He smiled at the owner of the apartment, who moved the offending socked feet into his lap as he sat on the other end of the couch.
Giles petted Xander's feet and his eyes crinkled, "My furniture is yours anytime, Xander. Especially when you get the mystically induced diseases." That made Xander laugh again and murmur his thanks.
Wesley found himself standing in front of them, unwilling to sit across the room on the other chair and unable to figure out why it seemed so offensively far away. Both men were watching him, both seemed relaxed, and he watched as Giles' hand moved over Xander's foot, and Xander's hand moved to pet his own stomach. Xander closed his eyes, "That feels good, Giles. Wesley, you need to sit down. You're too tall like that."
Wesley nodded, gravely. "It's just that the chair is so far away."
"Then sit on the floor," Giles suggested, pushing the coffee table with his feet so that there was more room for Wesley. Wes settled on the floor between Giles’ legs, leaning against the furthest one so he could turn to see both men above him. He took a deep breath, and then relaxed, and Giles' free hand reached out to pet him. Wes leaned into the touch, and then had a momentary sense of disorientation. This wasn't really how he usually interacted with Giles or Xander, and he was fairly sure this wasn't how they acted with each other, either. He almost said something, but the feel of Giles' hand in his hair, the warmth radiating from the man's legs, and the contentment that settled over him, all served to distract him from that small point.
He closed his eyes and titled his head so it leaned against Giles' knee, felt those fingers sliding through his hair again and smiled.
.: Giles :.
"Something's different" Giles mused aloud, as he scratched at Wesley's hair, loosening the gel and enjoying the rough blunt edges of the ends.
"Yeah, I know. Feels good though." Xander responded from the other end of the couch, his eyes closed to slits.
Wesley butted Giles' hand, almost like a kitten. "We don't usually sit around and pet each other. I wonder if it was the beer?" His voice was soft, a little rougher around the edges.
Giles considered. Of course, while he considered he continued to push his thumb up the arch of Xander's foot, and smiled at the "mmmm" noise the man made. Really, Xander was adorable like this, relaxed and sleepy looking. Giles realized he felt like telling him so. He breathed deeply into the feeling, remembered Wesley leaning against him, and wondered at his own contentment.
"I suspect…" he began, while watching Wes remove his glasses and set them on the coffee table. Wes moved back against Giles’ legs, snuggling between them, and wrapped his arm around one. Giles lost his train of thought when Wesley dropped his head against Giles' knee and nuzzled, just a little. It sent shivers through him, as if Wesley was doing more than simply cuddling around his leg.
He cleared his throat. "I suspect it was the beer. Although I'm wondering if we were somehow given something."
"Something? Like, you mean, a drug?" Xander opened his eyes at that, and Giles noticed his pupils were impossibly large in the soft light.
Giles wondered if his own pupils were that large. He knew he should be worrying, but he didn't really feel the need. The only thing he felt like doing was being exactly where he was.
From below he felt Wesley hum his agreement, "I thought something was funny. I wonder if your friend from the bar did that?" He looked up at Giles, and then at Xander, "Although, I find that I'm not as concerned as I probably should be."
Xander laughed. "Yeah, we're all sitting here calmly discussing this like we were talking about what we ate for dinner. It's probably because we're distracted. That's why I had so much fun in the bathroom though, huh?"
Giles felt the beginnings of an indulgent frown start, "Fun in the bathroom? What were you doing in there Xander?"
"Oh, nothing, the usual, but my jeans felt really comfortable in there. And the water was really soft. Kinda like right now. Your couch is the most comfortable place in the universe." He stopped for a moment, looking speculatively at Giles and Wesley both. Giles noticed Wes still had his eyes closed. He had such a lovely face. Giles couldn't help himself – he ran a single finger down that cheekbone and watched Wesley's lips as they smiled.
"Giles?" Xander asked, and caught his attention away from the man against his knee. Xander sat up, and then moved towards Giles' end of the couch, “Can I snuggle too?"
Giles felt a surge run through him at the question. Oh, it was a lazy surge, a warm rush that tingled from head to toe, then lodged in the back of his throat and made his cheeks feel tight from smiling so much. He didn't want to deny Xander anything at this moment, and so raised his arm, and Xander settled in, stretching his feet in the other direction. Giles heaved a great sigh, and then curled his arm tighter around the younger man. He was a heavy, perfect weight against Giles' side. But Xander kept twisting, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Wesley shifted again on the floor.
"Am I the only one perfectly comfortable here?" Giles asked.
Xander moved a little to grin up at him, and Wesley nodded against his knee. "The floor isn't soft. Is there anywhere else we can all sit?" Wesley asked, a longing tone in his voice.
"Wesley?" Xander said, "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"
Wesley turned his head towards Xander, and in the world's most serene voice said, "I think I am. What do you say Xander? Giles?" Wesley looked towards him, and Giles felt his bones melt under the heat of that heavy lidded stare. He couldn't say no to that, whatever it was Wesley was asking… offering…
He whispered into the shell of Xander's ear, "What do you think, Xander? Should we take him up on his offer?" Xander shuddered, and Giles felt anther surge of want.
"Yeah," came the breathless reply. "Yeah, we definitely should."
.: Wesley :.
They were both grinning down at him, and Wesley didn't want to blink for fear that this was just a dream. It felt like it, like every movement was more dream-like than real, and that the words Xander had just uttered still hung in the air with a caressing weight. But he didn't want to wake up. No, he wanted to dive deeper. And apparently that was fine with the two men above him.
He took Xander's assent as the invitation it was, and stopped resisting that pouting bottom lip on the other man. He leaned across Giles' leg to capture it, eyes closing as he brushed against Xander's mouth. It was succulent, that kiss, and Wesley thought he might just be able to stay there forever, lips against Xander's, feeling the pressure get stronger as Xander's surprise gives way to interest. And then Xander's lips parted, his tongue brushed along Wesley's lips, and he felt as if a live wire hand exploded in his spine as he opened his mouth to the other man. Every movement of their lips together was soft, explorative, as if neither man could quite believe what was happening. Yet Wesley was loath to pull away…until he heard Giles groan above him
That delicious noise was enough to surprise him away from the tender heat of Xander's lips, to look at the watcher above him, and see those green eyes darkening. Wesley realized Giles' hand had slipped to the back of his neck, and had been kneading it throughout his kiss with Xander.
Xander, who’d leaned away from Wes, was panting. Wesley smiled: he'd made Xander pant.
"Oh man. Ok, um… Giles?" Xander seemed to be caught in a long slow blink, "Giles, any way we can get Wes up here? Because that was worth doing again."
Wesley smiled. He liked the sound of that. The thought of kissing Xander over and over, until he was completely breathless.
"I think," Giles responded, "I think we're going to have to move to the loft to do this properly." Wesley glanced upward, remembering that the only thing Giles had in the loft was a bed. He couldn't help himself, he moaned. "I think Wesley's in agreement." Giles chuckled. "Xander?"
Xander slid off the couch and stood, holding out his hands to pull Wesley from the ground. "Bed? Oh, yeah, I think I can get on board with that."
~ the end... for now ~