Title: Comfort, ABH
Author: Laura Sichrovsky
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: R or FRT
Warnings: It's an ABH written from a woman's point of view. For the men out there, you might want to put yourself in Giles's place. :)
Season: Any really
Summary: This is an ABH. (Anywhere But Here) It's written in the second person (you) point of view. It's just a short little scene; you and Giles after a day at the park with the gang.
Disclaimer: This is where I put the statement saying that I do not own Buffy, Giles (Heh! I wish!), Sunnydale, or anything relating
to the show. No one is paying me to do this and if you feel the sudden urge to send me gifts, you might want to talk
to someone about that. Joss Whedon owns all things Buffy and has not given me permission to use these characters
as I have so if you have problems with the story, please send the pretzel bombs to me, not him.
Author's Notes: I've always enjoyed the ABH. Might be because this is how my brain works and this is what I see all the time.
Now I get to share with you. Hope you like it! Thanks need to be given, and here is where they go. Thanks to
Joss for creating characters so fun to watch and to borrow for a bit. Thanks to Tony Head for making Giles
so amazing. I tried to fight it, but he was just too remarkable not to fall for. To Janet, and Michelle for the betas.
I appreciate it! You guys are the best to work so hard for me. To Ann for everything. You are the other half of
me, my long lost sister and I love you, dear! To Samuel for being Samuel. Thanks to my amazing husband who
not only doesn't get upset when my writing takes over, but who doesn't freak about the men who live in my head.
I love him so.
Comfort, An ABH
Rupert shivers as the two of you stand outside his apartment. He fumbles with the key, muttering swear words under his breath.
"I'd feel sorry for you," you say. "But you did do this to yourself."
He turns to glare at you as he opens his front door.
"It is not my fault that Xander is an idiot."
"Xander is not an idiot," You say, following him into his apartment. "And it is your fault that you are so competitive."
"Competitive?" Rupert asks incredulously, going up the stairs to his bedroom. "How was I competitive?"
"Did you really have to dive to get Xander's last throw?" You call, wandering around the living room, stopping to look at some books on a shelf.
"Well, if I hadn't the baseball would have gone into the pond."
"And instead, you did. I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling a lot of sympathy for your wet clothes."
"You're my friend, you know," Rupert says, walking back down into the living room, drying his hair with a towel. "Some sympathy wouldn't be out of line."
You look up from the book you are perusing and your breath catches in your throat. In an effort to get out of his wet clothes, Rupert changed into a pair of sweat pants, but he's forgone the shirt and is naked from the waist up. You blink a few times, feeling your face grow warm, then you quickly look back down at the book.
Rupert crosses the room and sits on the couch, still toweling his hair.
"I swear, I smell like fish," he mutters testily. "I should just go and shower."
Okay, now there is an image for your brain to process. Unbidden a picture of Rupert in the shower takes over your thoughts. You can't seem to shake the idea of him wet and soapy. Oh, this is not a good path to go down. You shake your head to clear it.
"Is something wrong?" Rupert asks, looking over at you.
"Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry. Just thinking."
He gives you a strange look, and then shakes his head, muttering about ponds in parks and baseballs. After a minute, he looks back at you.
"Were you going to stand there reading all night? You can take the book home if you really like it that much."
You find you are blushing again. You put the book back on the shelf, and sit on the couch across from Rupert. He makes another unhappy face.
"I really think I smell like fish. Do I smell like fish?"
"How would I know?" You ask, trying not to laugh.
"Well, you could smell my hair."
"Are you joking?"
"No, seriously," Rupert scoots across the couch until he is right next to you. "I do not want to smell like a fish. I would do it for you. Please?"
He leans over, tilting his head towards you and you shake your head, muttering about paranoid Watcher guys as you sniff his hair.
You know this was a very bad idea when the only thing you can smell is his shampoo and his aftershave. You feel your heart beat a little faster and you realize the scent is distinctly Rupert and very sexy. You don't even notice as your hand goes to his hair, gently touching it, feeling its softness.
"Well?" Rupert asks, breaking the moment. "What's the verdict?"
You pull your hand back, not looking at him.
"You smell…fine," Oh yeah. That doesn't sound odd.
"Is everything all right?" Rupert asks, leaning closer. You can feel the bare skin of his chest against your arm and you find yourself breathing harder. Now might just be a good time to make your exit.
But Rupert puts a gentle hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you. Not only does this stop you from leaving, but Rupert realizes you are trembling. Now he's really worried. He moves even closer, his body pressing harder against yours.
"What's wrong?" His voice is almost a whisper and you cannot suppress a shiver. You have got to get this back under control.
You turn to look at him and tell him you are just fine, thank you, but find the words have died in your throat as you look into his deep green eyes. In his eyes, you see concern, caring, friendship. Oh, you could get lost in those amazing eyes. Because you aren't answering him, Rupert worries more, looking into your eyes, hoping for a clue as to what's wrong. His eyes widen and you know you are caught.
The expression on his face changes and you wonder what he's thinking. You are still looking into his eyes when he slowly moves forward, brushing his lips against yours. Feeling no resistance from you, he presses in closer, changing this into a real and deep kiss, his lips sliding slowly across yours. His lips gently part and you lose yourself in this moment.
You run your fingers over his bare skin as his mouth plunders yours and elicit a gasp from him. He pulls you closer, kissing you deeper, with more need. He breaks the kiss, his mouth finding your neck and your hands trace lower, playing with the waistband of his sweatpants.
After a moment, he sits back, looking at you. His face is flushed and his breathing is labored. He stands up and you wonder if you've done something wrong.
"I was just thinking, I should probably take that shower anyway," he says, turning back to look at you. He smiles and holds out his hand. When he speaks his voice is low and husky. "Care to join me?"