Whitehall Up Against the Wall |
Note: Kenny refers to Kenneth Williams of Carry On, Round the Horne, Just a Minute and diaries fame. See also Kenny's Cordwangler |
Giles became aware that Spike was preparing to slip away without any formalities and, in best, subversive Watcher mode, he studied the vampire. Something was shaking the bars of the back of Giles's mind and trying to tell him something. In fact, he was aware that something was shrieking at him but, as yet, it was too far away either to recognise or to hear. He shrugged to himself and watched as Spike faded into the shadows at the back of the shop and disappeared. "He really does have the most tantalising arse, doesn't he?" Ethan followed the direction of Giles's glance with an expression of regret and admiration. "Which rather begs the question, do you intend to invite me to your bed or do I linger alone, tonight, in this Californian autumn?" Giles's sigh was theatrical rather than heart-felt; he had had approximately two minutes to tell Ethan where to go if he had not wanted him to stay and those minutes were long gone. He rose and gathered up the detritus of his bookkeeping attempts and tidied them ready for another day's assault tomorrow. "If I'm supplying bed, the board is down to you - a rather splendid table d'hote is available at unbelievable cost at the Maison Blanc and if you demur at that, then wait till you see how much you'll pay for the a la carte…" The meal was good; five bottles of wine and couple of Armagnacs later, neither man was feeling much pain. The walk home was pleasant and resonant with memories of warm nights in a long-ago London when they had wandered the dark streets talking, touching and stealing kisses in front of blind, curtain-muffled windows whose ancient glass pooled at the bottom of lead frames and distorted their reflected images. They were silent now but their memories spoke aloud; instinctively, both reached out to take the other's hand and it was a few moments before either realised what they had done. Smiling ruefully, they broke apart but hastened their step towards Giles's house. "Well, some things haven't progressed much. Here we are, in the Land of the Free and more worried about getting caught holding hands than we were in London, nearly 30 years ago." "Good God, when did we worry about anything, back then? But you're quite right, of course, twenty-five years on and Tom Robinson would be spinning in his grave. If he were dead, that is." In reply, Giles grinned back at Ethan, "Well I'm six foot nothing of muscle and bone The silence was now well and truly broken as Ethan followed Giles in a yob-rendered recitation of the best of TRB, "Law and Order... trouble in a bulletproof vest Some Sunnydale University students, looking both alarmed and piously superior, hurried past them, swerving across the road to avoid close contact with the giggling and suspicious-looking male couple. Their panicked disgust made Giles and Ethan giggle more. Ethan swayed drunkenly around to watch them as they stepped disdainfully away from the nasty, strange men. "My god," he exclaimed in a loud, carrying voice, "d'you see that one in the middle? I've seen better legs on a piano, Darling." Giles carried on singing - that is to say, carried on with the song: "My mommy held tupperware parties
During the last chorus both men found, much to their bafflement that punching the air with raised fists and kicking in time to a dubious rhythm resulted in a less than regal falling on their arses. All around them, the slamming of windows and yelled curses punctuated the otherwise resounding silence where there should have been resounding applause. "Damn Colonials, never could take a joke; you try living with 'em, year after year, you'd see," muttered Giles as he crawled around the pavement looking for the keys that he had managed to lose as he made contact with the ground. "Think they own the bloody planet and can't even drive on the proper side of the road - and as for giving 'em a car with gears you've actually gotta change yourself…" Grabbing his keys at the third try, Giles gave up on attempts to rise and decided to stay low for their final approach. Ethan stuck with him, shoulder-to-shoulder as they crawled along the precipitous flatlands of his driveway. "Personally, I think there's something gentelically wrong with their cord'nation." "Is that something like one of poor old Kenny's cord wranglers?" Ethan enquired.* Giggling like… well, like a not-as-inebriated-as-he-should-be-to-giggle-like-this man who was rediscovering his misspent youth and not in the mood to give a damn, Giles carried on through the songbook, "Drive my truck midway to the motorway station Ethan joined in the chorus while leaving Giles to the verses, and it's 2-4-6-8 ain't never too late Whizzkid sitting pretty on your two-wheel stallion Giles's house was right in front of them as, traditionally, they finished the last verse and chorus together. Well there ain't no route you could choose to lose the two of us Sucking on knuckles bleeding from being punched into the ground to emphasise the last round of choruses, Ethan watched Giles as he painfully dragged himself up then refereed the fight between key and keyhole. "And we have a winner!" Giles cheered as the door slowly swung open. "Mr. Rayne, please enter my humble yet comtafable abode." Regaining his feet, he grasped Ethan's wrist and hauled him up. "And please do not bleed on the furniture or the Asbinian… Asabisnian.. my posh rug.." His owlish gaze slid off Ethan's bleeding hand and slid across the room to the sofa. He decided to follow it and collapsed, with a grunt, onto welcoming cushions. "Tha's been a long time, Ripper," Ethan dropped half on the sofa, half on Giles. "Huhmm?" "Since you actually invited me in, anywhere," was the explanation. "Ah! Never seem to need a bloody invitation." "Nice to be asked though. Now and again." "Hmm." They sat in silence for a while until Ethan stirred, "Interesting insight, tonight, at your shop. What you're getting up to nowadays. What you're not getting up to. " I spoesyur," Ethan took a steadying breath and continued more clearly, "position of pater familias would tend to preclude your fraternising with the enemy but it's a great waste, Ripper, and not an opportunity you would have let pass you by, at one time. The legs on that one - and no shame about the face!" Ethan sniggered. "At one time, I…" Giles looked closely at Ethan and groaned. "Oh, no; you're not serious, I hope?" "Just looking, old boy, just looking. And you can't lecture. It seems, from what the Pretty One was saying, that our Uncle Pander has been at his lascivious work again." Here, Ethan prodded Giles in the chest and grinned knowingly. "Xander is, I believe, the militarily-inclined young man I recall from my own retail phase? He's very fetching; I can quite understand the inteset … the inter-est our cute little creature of the night has in him. I found myself quite taken with him that Hallowe'en." Giles groaned again, "Don't! Just don't. I've been feeling guilty about him. I was a bit sharp with him this afternoon and bland, to say the least, in reply to his questions. Bloody tax accounts take over if you let them! I should have taken more notice of him and been a lot more sympathetic." He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the window. "I spoke to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And while we might know it is, there's a hell of a lot of people out there who don't agree." Coming to stand behind him, and quite unfazed by what he meant by 'it', Ethan leant his head on Giles's shoulder and slipped his arms around his waist. "Yes, 'It' has a lot to answer for, doesn't it? 'But isn't It n……?' " Giles turned sharply and covered Ethan's mouth with his own before he could complete the quotation. The kiss was rough and tender; full of memories and full of coming home. "I said, don't say anything. Especially now. Don't say anything. Let's just go to bed." If Ethan had anything to do with the surprising level of sobriety each man had achieved by time they had discarded their clothes and dived into Giles's bed, neither had any intention of mentioning it. In any case, Ethan's skills were far from limited to magic. Giles watched the deceptively fragile-looking hands running over his body and sighed as knowing fingers found all the right spots. "Go on, then, you wicked old wizard, do your worst. Might as well make the most of it because I know we won't respect each other in the morning. But what the hell? At least we can enjoy tonight." As Ethan slid into Giles's welcoming body, his mind was running ahead, thoughts leaping with joyful abandon, capering through the flowers of sinful plotting - and all the flowers had bright blue eyes and white-blond hair… Then he heaved a sigh of satisfaction with his present lot as he felt Giles gripping him tightly and bent to place an affectionate kiss on the only mouth he knew he'd never forget.
Fin |
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