Sensual

Author: Andrea/silentflux

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Rating: FRT

Pairing/Characters: Rupert Giles

Warnings: None

Spoilers: Generic spoilers for the series finale, Chosen, and everything up to it.

Disclaimer: Giles is sadly not mine - he belongs to Joss Whedon and whatever studio executives. Hopefully, they don't mind letting me play with him for a while ;)

Prompt: Day #1 - Mail

Author's notes: This is for my claim for Giles at the LJ comm 60damnprompts which catalogues 60 days in the life of a character.

Summary: Giles missed it…

~ * ~ * ~

Giles sighed as he heard the dull tone from his computer announcing that he had another email. He missed the post. A lot. No matter the benefits of almost instantaneous communication, he stood firm in his belief the written physical documentation was best – it actually helped him to absorb the information more readily. But Willow had insisted on setting up some kind of worldwide network with email addresses and some of the older texts. All of the texts were, of course, thoroughly reviewed before being scanned in. One monster in the computer at Sunnydale High had been enough.

He had to admit that the redhead had done a remarkable job with the organization of all things technical and mundane. Geeky, as Xander would say. Unfortunately – or luckily, depending on the day – most of the Scoobies, as Giles found himself referring to them even though he hated that use of the vernacular, were off in all parts of the world. Split up in their work. With another loud sigh, the Head of the New Council of Slayers and Watchers (and not a few demons) turned to actually look at the infernal machine. Stupid lump of plastic and metal parts taking up space on his mahogany desk. He glared at it before he swiped his finger through the biometric pad several times before the stupid screen flashed to life.

An email from Xander who was on his way back from Africa was waiting for him. With no little trepidation, Giles deftly opened the innocuous looking message. Just another one of those odd chainletters that Giles outwardly loathed even when his eyes began to sparkle with amusement at the very off-color jokes. Xander definitely hadn't lost his touch in that arena.

The workday was almost done. With Andrew off doing God knows what, Giles was thankfully without the constant babble. In its absence, he could hear the muffled noises of the others moving about his wing of the building, the clank of the cantankerous furnace as it sent heat from the boilers. And of course, the clocks ticking. Why the hell did he need so many clocks in his office anyway? It was like Buffy had a timepiece obsession. Sighing, Giles quickly reined in his thoughts as he realized he was babbling. Dear Lord, the Sunnydale condition was contagious!

"And on that cheerful note," Giles told his ridiculously smug computer, "I'm going home." He often did stay the night at the headquarters as he had private rooms on the residential side of the massive complex. Many of the Slayers and Watchers stayed there. But not tonight. As much as he loved this place, he wanted the comforts of home. Someplace to relax.

Leaving a quick note on Andrew's desk, he pulled on his coat and grabbed his briefcase, the hiss of fabric and creak of leather the only sounds that preceded him. Within five minutes, he was sliding into his car. Giles was actually thankful tonight for the solid half hour drive to his house, giving him time to clear his head and unwind with some music.

He arrived at his house much more relaxed and threw the switch as he walked in the door which he automatically locked behind him. After setting his keys on their hook, the briefcase on the chair and shrugging out of his coat to hang it up, he headed to the kitchen.

Flipping on the stereo, he pulled open the fridge to see what was to be had. Smiling and humming to himself, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he set about the task of dinner. The lull of the quiet domesticity, the beat of the music, the mess that he made on the counters, all settled into his bones and washed away his agitation and weariness. If only for tonight, being home was one way to wipe away everything. The food lingered on his hands and the enticing aromas wrapped around him, brushing away the last vestiges of the day.

Later, in the flat darkness of night, he slept among soft sheets and heavy blankets, and only woke twice, his heart pounding in his ears, body trembling with an emotion he'd rather not define. Only twice. Sighing softly after the second dream, he turned on his side, pulled up the covers that slithered and settled on his skin before closing his eyes. Maybe he could find some more peace before another endless day began. The soft hum of his house and the softness of night pushed him back under the Sandman's thrall – surrounded and touched by comfort.

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