Title: Near mis-tletoe.
Summary: Willow and Giles get caught under the mistletoe
Type: Holiday ficlet
Word count: 1057
Characters: Willow, Giles.
Disclaimer: I own not rights to Buffy the vampire slayer.
Feedback: Yes please!
"Oof!"Willow uttered as her body slammed into to Giles as she was entering the library and he was exiting. "Oops," she said, "sorry."
"That's quite all right." Giles returned, lowering his arms from the girl's shoulders; he had instinctively put them up to steady her when they collided. He straitened his glasses that had been shifted slightly askew with the impact.
"I didn't think you would be here." Willow ventured, "What with it being Christmas eve and all, I figured you'd probably had plans."
"Uh, no, not as such."
Willow's brow crinkled, "I would have thought that Buffy would have invited you over to spend it with her and her mom."
Giles cleared his throat awkwardly, he hadn't had any contact with Joyce since the band candy incident and had no desire to spend what would no doubt be an extremely uncomfortable evening with his Slayer and her mother. "Erm, no, no she didn't. But it's just as well, I've never been much for the holidays. I'd rather spend the time with my books."
Willow smiled, that she could understand.
"What about you?" Giles asked, "Why are you at home with your family celebrating?"
"Oh, well you know, Jewish?" She reminded.
Giles winced regrettably for his forgetfulness, "Yes, of course you are," he said, "but isn't Chanukah still going on, shouldn't you be with your parents for that?"
"In theory, yes," said Willow, "but there out of town."
"Hmm, I'm sorry to hear that."
"That's okay." Willow said, beaming her signature sanguine smile. "I won't be alone, Oz is coming over." she immediately blushed after telling him that figuring he could probably guess what two teenagers would get up to alone in a house while the adults were away, "Were going to watch some movies." she added trying to make it sound innocent.
Giles gave her a small smile, "Sounds lovely," he said, "so what brings you by here then?"
"Oh, right," she had almost forgot why she was there herself, "I forgot my book bag."
"Ah," Giles remarked and stepped out of the way so she could get by.
"Thanks." She went in and grabbed her bag from behind the counter where she had left it by the computer, Giles stayed in the doorway, still holding the door open.
Willow smiled as she made her way back to the door, seeing the little piece of Viscum album dangling above it, "Hey, Giles?" she ventured when she was standing under it with him again.
"If you're not into the holidays then why did you put up mistletoe?"
"Hmm?" Giles said again, his forehead crinkling. Willow nodded her head up, Giles looked, "Oh, that, Buffy put that up, said the library needed to be more festive." He gave a droll smile.
"Well this is kind of interesting isn't it?" Willow hazarded.
"Well, you know, you and me," she nodded upward again, "and the mistletoe."
Giles still didn't seem to catch her drift.
"You know," she prodded, "the we're standing under it and all, you know?"
"Oh!" Giles exclaimed, understanding finally hitting, "oh, yes, indeed."
"Well you know what the tradition is for when two people are caught under the mistletoe?"
"Yes, I'm aware." He said, his voice going low as his eyes locked onto her lips. Her tongue peaked out, running along the seem of her lips, wetting them. Giles followed the action, tension growing down in his loins. He wanted to swoop down and captured her tongue, suck on it, taste it. He wanted to push his tongue through the velvet ropes of her lips, and go spelunking in the sacred cavern of her mouth to find the hidden pleasures within. He wanted to take her in her arms and press himself against her lissom body, feel her heat rubbing against him.
Willow was breathing rapidly, her mouth had gone dry as she looked up at Giles and saw the way his eyes had darkened. She licked her lips, and as her tongue slid across them, she wondered what Giles' tongue would feel like, his lips. She bet his lips were soft, she always imagined they would be. She bet he was an incredible kisser, with all the experience he must have.
She wondered if he kissed like the reserved librarian/watcher guy he was now, or the wild, passionate Ripper he used to be, she'd bet it was the latter. She wondered what his body would feel like against her-she'd bet it was hard. She imagined, his strong arms going around her, her fingers would twirl in the tweed of his jacket. She had imagined what it would be like to kiss Giles ever since the first time she came into the library and saw him standing there behind the counter, and finally now after four years, her fantasy looked like it was about to come true.
Giles was leaning down toward Willow, like being pulled beyond his control to the magnetic field of her mouth. He was so close he could feel the heat of her breath on him, the heat of her body. Only a few more inches and he'd be able to taste her. He heard a small whimper escape from the girl's throat, she wanted him. God, he wanted her. Never wanted anyone so much. And he could have her. Right now he could. But of course it would be wrong of him, and tomorrow when the cloud of lust cleared he would hate himself for taking advantage.
Somehow this logic managed to wiggle its way into his mind through the haze of wantonness and he pulled himself strait and back from the temptation. He cleared his throat and whipped off his glasses–in part so he wouldn't be able to see the girl's beauty as clearly and because they had become quite fogged up, from all the heavy breathing– and began to wipe them furiously on the tail of his shirt.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing I don't celebrate the holiday and you're Jewish," he said, "we don't have to be a slave to such asinine traditions." He whipped off his glasses and started cleaning them furiously on the tail of his shirt.
Willow slumped dejectedly, "Yeah, right."
"Well, you should be off," Giles dismissed, replacing his glasses on his face, "you wouldn't want to be late for your date with Oz."
"Right, wouldn't want that. See ya." She turned and slogged down the hallway, thinking that once again being Jewish had excluded her from getting in on the fun of the holidays.