Costume Ball
You are dressed as Queen Gueneviere in a long sleeve, floor-length royal blue satin gown, your long loose hair pulled back in silver combs. You feel a bit more like Cinderella actually, arriving to the ball in a pumpkin, make that lemon, or more precisely, Rupert's Citroen. He opens the door for you and helps you out. He is the perfect Edwardian gentleman. A thigh-length velvet coat, the same color as your dress, long-sleeve white shirt with frills down the front and at the cuffs, black pants and shoes. He closes the door behind you and leads you across the crowded parking lot to the door.
You wade in amongst the dancing couples, nearly getting rundown by a Pharaoh leading a masked French noblewoman off somewhere in a hurry. You're having a hard time believing you're here. The whole dancing thing has never been something Rupert's been overly enthused about, but coming here was his suggestion and he's been smiling all night. He even left his glasses in the car because they "clashed" with the style of the costume. Whether that was him loosening up more or just a sign of him hanging around Cordelia too much you're not sure, but you found it very cute.
He's leading you to the other side of the room, and off the dance floor no doubt, you figure. Then he stops where the floor is less crowded and turns to you with a smile. He brings up the hand he's been holding the whole time and bends to it. Looking at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he presses his lips to the back of your hand, purposefully, teasingly slow. You're surprised how much of an effect a kiss on the hand is having on you, but that doesn't mean that you're complaining.
Rupert straightens once more, "My Lady, may I have this dance?"
"Of course you may, good Sir." You've been told you do a good English accent, which you self-consciously never do around Giles, him being a native and all. This time, to keep in character, you risk it. Giles either liked it, didn't notice, or is just showing good enough manners not to laugh. Giles pulls you to him in a rush and clamps you against him tightly, almost possessively. You look up at him with near amazement. He wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully and whisks you into the dance.
Time passes in a spin. It may have been minutes or even hours you're not sure. It's all been a blur of music, Rupert's smile, his eyes, stolen kisses and gentle touches. The heat of the room, or perhaps it's just you, is beginning to be too much to take and you stumble a bit in Rupert's arms. Fortunately, his tight grip doesn't leave you much room to fall. He holds you up with a hand at the small of your back, pressing you to him. He runs a finger down your cheek and looks to you, concerned. "Would you like to get some air?"
"That'd be nice." He walks you up the short flight of stairs at the side of the room and through open French doors to a terrace.
The cool night air is brisk and refreshing and soon your head begins to clear. You're leaning against his ruffled shirtfront and you pull back to find him smiling at you. "Feeling better?"
"Much. Thank you. It feels wonderful out here." Inside you hear a new song start. Rupert begins to dance with you on the balcony, humming softly to the music at first and then singing at barely above a whisper, his lips pressed right to your ear:
I'm in the mood for love
simply because you're near me.
Funny, but when you're near me
I'm in the mood for love.
Heaven is in your eyes
bright as the stars we're under.
Oh, is it any wonder
I'm in the mood for love?
Why stop to think of whether
this little dream might fade?
We've put our hearts together,
now we are one, I'm not afraid.
If there's a cloud above,
if it should rain we'll let it.
But for tonight, forget it,
I'm in the mood for love.~
The music plays out and you stop, gazing into each other's eyes. Another song starts, neither of you seem to notice it. He brings both his hands lightly to your face and kisses you. You slide your hands to the ruffled material over his chest, wishing silently that it was his skin under your hands. When he breaks the kiss, your lips are tingling. You smile at each other, his hands sliding down to your arms and rubbing them.
Suddenly his gaze shifts to something over your shoulder. His expression darkens and his grip on your arms tightens. "Get inside, love. Go now," he whispers to you. When he relinquishes his grasp you instead pivot around to see what has rattled him so. Crouching on the balcony railing, a demon-faced vampire smirks. You gasp in surprise and the creature leaps down, landing barely a foot before you.
Rupert's crucifix-wielding hand juts over your shoulder. The vampire recoils and you feel Rupert shove you none too gently for the doors, which slam in your face. You look up and another vampire stands perched on the roof. You scream and barely have enough time to move from its path as it jumps down to join you. You back into Rupert and feel him slip a glass object into your palm. You glance quickly down, identifying it as a bottle of holy water, while Rupert tries to keep the converging demons at bay.
You flick the stopper out with your thumbnail and splash first one then the other across the eyes. Both of them cover their faces and back up. Rupert hands you a stake and then heads for the first vampire with one of his own.
You move nervously toward the writhing vampire, raising the stake with a shaking hand. As you're about to drive it home, the thing lunges at you. On instinct, your left hand brings the bottle up to soak its face once more and your right hand completes the task with the stake. It bursts into dust before you and you turn to Rupert in time to see the other vampire disintegrate as well.
You smile relievedly at him and try the doors. Somehow, you are far from surprised when they don't budge. "Oh great, we're locked out."
Rupert gives it a couple more tugs for good measure, confirming your diagnosis with a tight smile and a nod of his head. He explores the length of the terrace and finally turns to you with a grin. "Are you ready to go home?"
"Oh sure. How much excitement can a girl take for one evening?"
"All right then, come on. I've found a way." Rupert walks to the end of the balcony and swings his legs over.
"Are you crazy?" You rush to him. "We can't jump. It's too far."
"No no, there's a trellis here. We can climb down."
"Or fall."
"We better go one at a time to be safe. Mind your skirt when you come. I'll help you from the bottom."
Rupert scrambles down with feline skill and now it's your turn. You hoist the dress to your thigh, tentatively slip your legs over the railing and hook your foot into the trellis. You drop your skirt back down and ease your way over the ivy covered wooden frame. About five feet from the ground, Rupert slides his hands around your waist, plucks you from the makeshift ladder and lowers you to the ground.
The drive to your house is uneventful, although to be fair a spaceship would have had to show up to compete, and then it would be a close race. Rupert has fallen into, what seems to you, an embarrassed silence. His earlier, rare carefree demeanor, now replaced with tension and unease that he "allowed his world to touch you" as you remember he once put it.
Rupert walks you to your door. You unlock it and turn to him. He kisses you sweetly then says goodnight. Before he can turn back to the street, you say, "Remember when I asked you 'How much excitement can a girl take for one evening'?"
"Yes?"
You grab his shirt ruffles and pull him to you roughly. "What do you say we find out?" Before he can utter a word of protest, you pull him into a kiss that would make Madonna blush. You feel him smile under your lips as you lead him back into your house and slam the door.
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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. |