Bad Hunting
You are forcing yourself to stay seated on the sofa. For the last hour, you've been pacing a groove into the floor in front of Rupert's windows. He left armed to the teeth. Tonight is the night the prophecy he's been researching for months is to come about. He wouldn't give you many details so as not to worry you, just something about a portal opening, a cyclone, and the appearance of a terrible demon. You pull your satiny sleep shirt over your bare legs and lay your head against the pillows.
In another two hours, you are dozing on the couch when you hear loud British cursing and the door open. You hop to your feet and embrace him tightly as soon as he is through the door.
"Bloody stupid damn..."
You pull back and look at him in the eyes. "Well hello to you too."
He seems to see you there for the first time. "Sorry." He kisses you quickly.
"Are you okay?" He nods. "Is everyone safe?"
Rupert scoffs and sits in his chair. "Like babies in their mother's arms. Bloody typical."
"Where are the weapons?"
"In the boot of my car. I'll get them in the morning."
"What if someone steals them?"
"Let them. It's not as if we actually needed the damn things."
You come behind him and begin massaging his shoulders. "Tell me what happened."
"Nothing."
"Please?"
His hand comes up and grasps your wrist. He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the palm. "I am telling you Love. A lot of nothing. I spent six months researching for smoke and mirrors."
You nudge him into leaning forward and help him out of his jacket. You kneel at his side, undoing his cuffs and unbuttoning his shirt. "The portal?"
He holds his finger three inches away from his thumb. "About that big."
You slip his shirt from his body, hanging it over the back of the couch. You move to sit at his feet, removing his shoes and socks. "The cyclone?" You start to rub his feet.
"Approximately a foot and a half tall."
You stand in front of him and help him to his feet. You undo his trousers and send them and his boxers to the floor. "And the demon?"
Rupert tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Turned out to be a rather large tarantula."
"But...with plans for world domination right?"
He steps out of his clothes pile on the floor. "Didn't get a chance to ask. Buffy's boot heel more than conquered our arachnid foe."
"Well it's just a good thing that everyone's all right yes?" Rupert nods. You tilt your head up and kiss him. "Let's just go to bed?"
He nods wearily. "Yes all right."
You take his hand and lead him to the stairs. You stop and turn around again when you feel his hand leave your own.
"It just frustrates the hell out of me. I mean most of the time we have a couple of days...sometimes only hours to prepare for these doom prophecies and here we have months and months, are completely ready. What does it turn out to be? A problem for an exterminator, not a Slayer. Sometimes this town is just so bloody aggravating is all!" He sighs loudly. "You go on up to bed. I'm going to go get the weapons in."
Before you can say a word, he is out the door. You quirk a smile and sit on the landing, wondering how long it will take him to remember that he isn't wearing anything. About a minute later, the door opens and Rupert rushes in, slamming it behind him. He looks up at you, blushing profusely.
You stand up and smile. He walks up to meet you. You kiss the end of his nose. "Bad day?" He nods sadly. "Well I predict that once we go upstairs, its going to get a whole lot better."
He leans his forehead to yours. "Can I get that in writing please?"
"Would you settle for a premonition?"
"I think so."
"Good." You slip your hands into the hair at the base of his neck and kiss him lingeringly, not even breaking contact when he lifts you and carries you up to his loft.
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| 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. |