"You're ashamed of me."

Giles' voice was mild but Buffy could hear the hurt behind the words.

"Not," she answered, and wriggled closer to his warmth, running reassuring hands over his ribs. "Really not."

"It's been a month. After patrol, between classes, during training--where do they think you are? Still with that pillock Riley?"

"Well..." Buffy trailed her fingernails through the whorls of hair on his chest, rasping quickly across his nipples. She heard his soft intake of breath and smiled. "...yeah."

Giles' arms tightened around her. "We're going to have to tell them at some point. Eventually they will figure it out, and they'll feel badly that we didn't trust them enough with the truth."

Buffy lifted her head and gazed down at him. Giles' green eyes were stormy, distant, and she smoothed away the frown-crinkle between his eyebrows with a kiss. "If they're too dumb to see what's right in front of them..."

"We haven't exactly been blatant with our affections," Giles pointed out. "You wouldn't lie, if Willow or Xander asked you outright?"

"God no. I love you," and Buffy kissed him soundly to prove it, nibbling at his lips until she felt his heart pounding beneath her hand.

Giles pulled away. "But?"

"You saw but-face through all that?"

His only response was a Look.

"But...this is...private. New. You and me." She brushed her fingers through his hair, concentrating on its softness, smiling slightly.

"Which brings me back to my point...Willow and Xander aren't blind, you realise. They are going to notice sooner or later."

"Huhn." Buffy lay back, resting her cheek on his bicep. "I bet they wouldn't notice if we went at it on the dance floor at the Bronze. They'd chalk it up to some weird Watcher-Slayer ritual or something. Trust me, they're happier not knowing."

"I guess we'll see about that..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh...nothing..."

And Giles proceeded to distract her completely.

The music drummed through the walls of the Bronze, heavy bass throbbing an exciting, impossible-to-sit-still-for beat. Buffy grinned as she swung through the doors, already looking at the gang's usual table for her friends. Willow and Tara were smiling and gesturing as though they were enjoying a great conversation, but their lips weren't moving. Telepathy was probably a definite asset, by-passing the thunderous blare of band and audience. Xander and Anya were on the dance floor, trying to find room to gyrate within the heavy Friday night crush.

"Hey!" she yelled above the roar, and Willow and Tara waved her over to a seat, pushing the pitcher to her side of the table. Buffy nodded her thanks and filled a plastic cup, then drained it. The hot press of dance-sweaty bodies was already warming her after the cool evening outside. "Mmm. Foamy. Cold. Not magically delicious."

Xander shoved his way closer to the table, Anya on his arm. "Hey, the Buffster arrives!" he shouted. "Time to get with the merrymaking. Where's Soldier-Boy and how did they manage to detach your hip from his?"

"Riley? Oh...he couldn't make it. I don't know. Monsters." Buffy shrugged, and flushed, remembering her conversation with Giles that afternoon.

"He's out there without you? Are you sure you can take time off from all that fry-cooking?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, sure, no problem. Uh...Giles suggested a night off." Buffy reached for the beer again and hid her embarrassment behind her glass.

"Giles said that?" Xander asked. He and Willow exchanged looks.

"He has been acting kinda...permissive lately." Willow shifted nervously. "Are we sure he isn't a demon again? Or that he's not grumpy about feeling, y'know, out of the loopy?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Giles is fine. Better than fine." She gave what she was a certain was a rather goofy grin and added, "Oh, yeah, he's feeling no pain. And I've definitely been including him in some loops. Come on, guys, less worry, more party. Apocalypse Later."

"Yes, it's important to keep imbibing alcohol and exerting ourselves physically," Anya chimed in. "It's the most efficient way of becoming piss drunk, and that leads to good sex later."

"Right," Xander said. "Back to the dance floor, then, where no one can hear a word we're saying?"

"I'm right behind you," Buffy said. She followed Xander and Anya, then squirmed through the crowd to get closer to the band. The song thrummed so loudly it felt like a solid thing, inside her, pulsing in time with her blood, and she gave herself up to the music. She shook her hips in time, feeling the brief brushes of warm strangers against her mostly-bare skin. The heat and the beer and the flashing lights all whirled together, feeding a frenzy within her to move, to touch, to dance as hard as she could until she was gasping for air and ready for another drink.

When the song faded away, Buffy opened her eyes, and headed back for the table, dismissing the boys who'd glommed on to her during the dance. There was only one man she tangoed with, and he wasn't here...though she was beginning to wish he was. Heat surged through her at the thought, and she considered dumping her friends and running back to Giles' apartment and ravishing him. But she'd come out with the intention of assuring them she was still a Scooby, not a boyfriend-obsessed bitca. Which she was, sort of, even if it wasn't the guy they thought it was. Buffy shoved away the guilt that thought provoked. Tonight was about fun. There'd be time enough to tell everyone about Giles...like when she was thirty and her mom was far, far away.

Buffy swung onto her stool at the table, not interrupting Willow and Tara's foray into a detailed exploration of tonsil hockey, and poured herself another beer. Through the bobbing heads, she could see Anya holding Xander close for a deep kiss as they swayed to a song with a slower beat.

And she was here alone.

Not that she had to be. Giles would've come if she'd asked...and if she'd promised to kiss and tell...

Suddenly, warm arms were circling around her waist from behind, hands clasping just below her breasts. A broad chest pressed against her back, there was a breath in her ear, and then teeth nipped at the jumping pulse at her throat. Buffy gasped as fire shot through her, pooling liquid pleasure somewhere south of her stomach. She twisted around to look up into Giles' laughing green eyes. His hair was mussed, silver-dark and curly, and gold glinted at his ear under the strobbing lights.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, fighting her desire to melt backwards into his solid strength.

"Defending your modesty. Did you realise you'd accidentally wandered into a public forum without a shirt back?" His voice was a lazy whisper, the breath of his words on her neck making her shiver.

"It's supposed to be like that," she answered, struggling to maintain a straight face as his hands on her belly started exploring the edges of the black silk cloth she'd worn as an excuse for a top.

Xander and Anya approached as the slow song's final chords were fading, Xander's face flushed and grinning, his big floppy shirt even more wrinkled and unkempt than usual. Willow and Tara looked up from their preoccupation, and Willow shouted, "Giles! Why are you here? Is there evil? Do we need to worry about evilness?"

"What makes you say that?" Giles stood up straighter, but hidden under the table, his fingers continued their slow feathery caresses down Buffy's side. She sucked in a breath of air, damning him silently for having such good control of his voice. He sounded a little British, a little miffed, and entirely Giles-like...definitely not like a man whose hand had now found its way to her inner thigh, beneath her miniskirt, stroking nearer to her wet, needy heat. Buffy ached to squirm closer to his touch, but she forced herself to focus on the conversation.

"Hey, it's the G-man, braving the risk of exposure to pop culture." Xander shrugged matter-of-factly. He had one arm around Anya's shoulders, and she was smiling up at him like the cat that ate the canary. "What say, big guy, is it time to do some, uh, dusting? Yeah, housecleaning, that's what I'm talking about."

"No. I offered Buffy some time off, and I thought I might take advantage of a little rest and relaxation--" and here his fingers curled over Buffy's crotch and squeezed. Pleasure screamed through her, leaving her humming on the edge of explosion. She reared off the stool, her breath catching in her throat, and she bit back a moan. Everyone, even Giles, turned to look at her inquiringly.

"Uh, you okay, there, Buff?" Xander stared at her with worry in his eyes. "Goose on your grave?"

Buffy panted slightly, and struggled to find her voice. "Nothing, sorry, what were you saying?"

Giles gave her a mild look, but she could see the grin in his eyes. "I hope I'm not disturbing you by crashing the party?"

"Disturbing, no, there's no disturbing. Guys, you're not disturbed, am I right? Oh, good. More beer then? I think this is my round. Back in a sec." Buffy slipped off the stool, paused for a moment to smooth her clothes, and headed for the bar. She was trembling, melting, just from the friction of walking in the constricting skirt, and she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder longingly at Giles. He was dressed in the pair of jeans she liked best on him, tight in all the right places, and a blue shirt rolled up at the cuffs to expose his tanned forearms. From the way he stood, hip-shot and easy, she knew he was inviting her eyes to check him out...hers, and everybody else's within fifty feet. She knew what he wanted--to tell the gang exactly what their relationship really was--but, she thought, her control seeping back slowly, two can play at that game. And she smiled a secret smile of her own as she brought the pitchers back to the table.

Giles watched as Buffy sauntered away from the table, swinging her leather-clad posterior to good effect. His eyes followed her legs down to the strapless black high heels, the slender line of her back up to where the ends of the cloth were tied to complete her outfit. God, she was beautiful. A month gone and he didn't, couldn't remember how he'd lived with a secret love...a secret that, if he had any say in the matter, would be ended tonight. He raised his hand to his face, scenting her on himself, and felt his body react violently. He leaned closer to the table to conceal his condition from curious eyes, and listened to the Scoobies' idle chatter. The band was taking a reprieve between sets, and the conversations around them swelled.

Buffy came back, and, without a qualm, squeezed into her space at the table beside him, depositing the beer in front of them. Everyone filled their cups, and Buffy poured for Giles, letting the beer slop into the glass until the foam spilled over the rim onto their joined hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry Giles, was that too much head for you?" Buffy looked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence, biting her lower lip, teasing it, until he could practically feel her mouth on him, demanding and giving at the same time. Moist and sweet, tongue flicking out, licking, finding every bundle of nerves and pressing--

"Not at all," he gritted through his teeth. "I'm sure it's fine."

Buffy smiled, raised an eyebrow, and sucked the beer off her fingers one by one. "Bet?" she whispered. "I'm not noticing any noticing, are you? Sunnydale just isn't the town for it."

Giles could feel his control of the situation leaking away, but he answered: "Bet."

He gulped down the half-glass of beer that was left to him and loftily turned back to the conversation. Buffy pressed closer to his side, shoved by the throng of people around them, and a strangled sound forced its way from him, lost in the noise but not to Buffy, who felt it vibrations through him where they were wedged together.

"If you ask me, there isn't enough vengeance in the world," Anya complained. "I was worked off my feet, and still there were horrible nasty men going unpunished."

"Oh, I agree," Buffy said. Her hand found its way into Giles' lap and worked its way upwards, scraping over each metal tooth in the zipper of his jeans. He quivered beneath her hand, shifting slightly, rolling his hips forward until she cupped him fully. "Everyone needs a taste of their own medicine now and again."

The band returned to the stage and struck up another bass-filled number. Giles took Buffy's errant hand in his and tugged her towards the people swarming back to the open area. "Dance with me?" he asked.

Willow and Xander looked up at this.

"Not really your kind of song, is it, Giles?" Buffy asked.

"I think I could be persuaded to try something new." Giles glanced at the the two witches. "Don't you agree that anything new is to be savoured, experienced, and not judged harshly until its worth is proven?"

Willow glanced at Tara and blushed. "Uh, sure, Giles. Newness is of the good."

"Right, then. Buffy?"

"Sure, Watcher-mine."

Xander and Anya decided to sit this one out, so Buffy and Giles made their way to the dance floor alone, warmed by the animal fervor of the people around them, pressing them into each other's arms on every side. Walled in by the crowd, unseen, Giles slipped his arms around Buffy, grasping her butt and pulling her hard into his erection. She whimpered, struggled closer, her hips undulating, and Giles bent his head down to rest his forehead against hers, gasping, reaching for control.

"Buffy--"

"Okay, you win, we'll tell them, I promise." Buffy writhed in his arms. "Now...just--oh, God--dance."

Giles was only too happy to oblige, letting his body follow the music's pounding rhythm. He stroked his hands up and down Buffy's bare back, feeling her slim fingers work their way beneath the buttons of his shirt, nails grazing his nipples, sending hot spurts of sparks through him. Her lips followed where her hands led, mouthing his collarbone, the slope of his pecs, through the thin material. The song ended and they barely noticed, except that the protective wall of fellow dancers melted away, leaving them exposed to the Scoobies' view.

Buffy broke away from him, smiling, her mouth moist and swollen-lipped from kisses, and grabbed his hand, leading him back to the table. Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were all staring at them, wide-eyed. Xander's mouth was working, flapping open and closed, but no sounds emerged. Willow made little gestures, first at Giles, then at Buffy, then at the world at large, trying to discover what alternate universe she'd sudden found herself in. Tara smiled gently and patted Willow's arm. Anya was the first to recover, tilting her head and grinning.

"I want to learn to dance like that. Xander, why don't we ever dance that way?"

"I don't know--I don't know--I never want to know," Xander babbled. "I never want to think about dancing again. Hysterical amnesia. That's what this is. And blindness. Can I be blind now?"

Willow shook her head. "Why? How? When? But--and Riley--you--and can I just say again, why? How? When?"

"Riley--wimpy--insecure ass--Giles and me--together--lovers--gotta go." Buffy hauled Giles away, though behind them they heard Xander's plaintive voice:

"And deaf. Please, deafness too."

Giles let Buffy lead him away from the mob, up to the second level of the Bronze, into a dark corner overlooking the stage. Below them, the sea of dancers flowed across the dance floor, distant and remote. On the balcony, above the lights, above the band, even the din of pulse-pounding music was a distant thing, like the ocean's ceaseless crashing waves. There was only the two of them, hot and hard and real, pressing themselves into each other, want meeting want.

Giles kissed her, full and long, a satisfying melding that did nothing to alleviate the condition they'd worked themselves into downstairs. She crawled up into his arms, her legs encircling him, holding him to her, her lips hard and greedy against his own.

"Buffy--here...?"

"Here. Now. No one's looking. Definitely not Xander."

He gave up the battle. She slithered down, moulding every inch of herself against him. Her insistent hands had worked open the button on his jeans, and her hands--oh, gods--her hands were on him, drawing him out, and sweet slick pleasure cascaded through him. He buried his mouth on her throat, sucking, nibbling, until she was moaning and mewling in his arms, and then he lifted her, and she slid down on him, and they were together. He pushed her until her back was against a wall, and he pounded into her, not breaking contact for an instant.

"Oh--Giles--please--" Buffy sobbed into his throat, his ear, and her thighs were squeezing him as she rode him, until all at once she grew taut and still, and with one last thrust Giles fell over the edge, sensation driving all thought from his mind, and he spilled into her, riding the slow langorous waves of his climax to completion.

When he opened his eyes, she was looking up at him, a lazy smile spread over her face. "I think we've made a bit of a mess," she said.

"I don't believe that Xander and Willow will ever forgive us," he agreed.

"That's not quite what I meant, but...don't worry, Watcher-mine. They'll deal. Ignorance is fun for a while, but this--" and she looked down to where they were still joined, his quick strokes bringing them down slowly from the heights. "This is bliss."

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June 26, 2003