Halloween
You are browsing in a *reputable* costume shop in downtown Sunnydale. Halloween is two days away and since the undead have graciously given the Watcher the night off, you intend to make sure he takes full advantage of it.
"I can't possibly wear this!" Rupert storms out of the back room. He is wearing the tight hugging black pants of the costume you picked for him but is carrying the coat and frilled shirt on a hanger in front of him as he replaces his glasses on his nose and tries to straighten his untucked shirt.
"Calm down, what's wrong?"
"This...this get up. I'm sorry, I just can't. And you don't even want to know what that woman wants to do to my hair!"
"Oh Rupert come on, just try it!"
"No." He is pouting. He's gone into petulant little boy mode. You gulp. No good can come of this.
"Will you wear it if I let you pick out *my* costume?"
He smiles brightly. Damn him. You walked right into that one. Rupert hands you the hanger and makes his way to the rack in front of you. He flips through a few and then his eyes light up. Oh man, what did you get yourself into? You move forward and he pulls out his find. It is a floor-length, deep red, lace dress. It is very low cut and the only places it isn't see through is where satin underskirt will barely obscure your ...assets.
You blush and look into his twinkling eyes. You snatch the dress from him and shove his costume back into his hands. He makes his way back to the dressing room.
You stop the owner, a girlfriend of yours. "What were you going to do to his hair?"
"Oh, not much, just put a little gel in it."
"Scratch that. If I have to wear this outfit, he's going all out. He gets Gary Oldman hair, okay?"
She smiles. "Sure thing."
Fifteen minutes later, you hear Rupert clear his throat and you turn around. "Oh wow." He is...stunning. The form fitting black pants are tucked into tall black suede boots, crisp white shirt with lace frills at the sleeves and collar, red velvet ankle-length coat, silver jewelry, black sparkly nail polish, and spiky gelled hair.
You take the glasses from his face and tuck them safely into your purse. He takes your hand and kisses the palm slowly. "Your turn." He takes your purse, sits it on the counter, picks the dress up and hands it to you. You sigh and make your way back to the dressing room.
You emerge not long after. Your friend has fixed your hair in ringlets. You push aside the curtains to the main section of the store. You hear a sharp gasp and turn to see Rupert gazing at you. "You like?" He nods his head silently. "Why thank you." You curtsey giving him a full view of your ample cleavage. He wanted this dress and you intend to make full use of its features.
Rupert clears his throat and extends his hand to you. "Shall we?"
You smile and accept his arm as he leads you out of the shop.
As he pulls up to the high school, you turn to him, rather perplexed. "There's a faculty dance here for the holiday. Oh sorry, I must have accidentally taken the notice out of your box."
"You picked this out for me knowing we..." You glare at him as he smiles. You psych yourself into not dying of embarrassment when you walk in amongst your colleagues in such a revealing outfit.
You enter on Rupert's arm and Mr. Drew, the freshman history teacher, makes his way over. "May I have this dance?"
"Well actually..." Rupert begins.
"Actually, I'd love to." You release Rupert's arm and move onto the floor with Mr. Drew. You don't look back but see Rupert make his way over to Miss Coltrane, the senior English teacher with a wicked crush on your favorite librarian.
After about an hour, this little game has worn thin for you. Drew is cute, and sweet...but damn boring. And if you have to watch Coltraine giggle, bat her lashes and twirl her hair at Rupert one more time, you just may have to toss. You excuse yourself from Drew's side and cross the room to reclaim your date. As you near, Coltraine pulls Rupert into a full lip-lock. You don't even slow down, walking straight past them and out the doors.
You are crying as you walk back to the costume shop. The streets are bare save for the occasional band of trick-or-treaters. You half-wonder what you'll do if the vampires change their mind about tonight and half-wonder if you'd really care right now if they did.
When you get to the costume store, you unlock the door with the keys your friend gave you. You flip on the radio as you enter, something to fill the emptiness of the room as you collect your street clothes and start to fold them into a bag. It is an oldies station that is on. Maxwell Silverhammer by the Beatles is finishing up and they begin to play Unchained Melody. There is no way you can handle that song right now. You turn to switch the radio off and jump and gasp when you realize Rupert is standing at the door. You look at him briefly, then turn away, remembering you've been crying.
Soon you feel his hand lightly upon your shoulder. Your pride instructs you to pull away but the rest of you disobeys, needing to feel his touch. He slowly spins you to face him. You bow your head, still not wanting him to see your tears. He puts a finger under your chin to tilt you to look at him. You resist and when he tries a little more forcefully you can't hold back any longer and you begin crying anew. He takes his hand from your face and pulls you gently against him, rocking you to the music and humming in your ear as he strokes your hair.
When the song finishes, you feel you can finally look at him. He smiles down at you and wipes the wetness from your cheeks. "I'm so sorry Love. I never meant to hurt you. Our little game got a bit out of control yes?"
"Yes. I'm sorry too."
"Shh." He presses his lips to yours and walks you backwards to the store's back room.
"What are you doing," you say, breaking the kiss.
"We look far too good tonight to feel this bad." You feel his hand on your hip. "I intend to remedy that." He kisses you again, pulling you into the dressing room and snagging the curtain shut behind you.
|
|
| The character of Rupert Giles and the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer were created by Joss Whedon and are © Fox. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |