Episodes
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-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Ethan/Giles/Joyce
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,026
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Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Ethan/Giles/Joyce
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,026
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Primus
Joyce came back from lunch late, her hair appointment having gone longer than she’d expected. She was finding that she missed the regular attention she had been getting before things went so horribly, horribly wrong, and was appeasing herself with a little pampering.
It only helped so much.
She unlocked the office, dropping her purse and keys on the desk. The flashing red light on the answering machine told her she had messages, so she pushed the button without looking at it and began sorting through the mail.
“Yes, this is Denicki Designs. We’re looking to acquire some Mediterranean pieces and were referred to you. If you could call us back at 555-3269, we would like to set up an appointment to meet with you and see your collection. Thank you.” She noted down the number, then dropped the junk mail into the trash.
“Hel-lo. You have been se-lec-ted to re-ceive . . .” Joyce deleted the automated message before it could deliver its whole advertisement.
“Um. Yes.” The resonant baritone could only belong to one person. “This is Rupert. I’m sorry to bother you at work. I just had hoped to speak with you in person.” He sighed. “But as usual, death and carnage await, and I’m off to put your daughter in mortal danger for the good of humanity again, which doesn’t leave much time for talking.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure what to say at the moment, except to say I’m sorry. I’ve been reminded how important communication is in any relationship, but especially in one as awkward as ours. I didn’t do a very good job of it, I’m afraid. But I’ve missed you, Joyce. Things just haven’t felt right without you. If we manage to make it through tonight, I’d like to have the chance to at least talk to you about what happened, to try to understand it. Try to find some way to make amends.” There was noise in the background before he spoke again. “I have to go. I’m sorry. For before, for now, for not calling sooner. But I hope we can talk soon.” He seemed to fumble for words, and then finally just hung up the phone.
She played the message again with tears in her eyes, and again. And again. Finally she called his number, and got his machine. At the tone she said simply, “I’d like that.”
It only helped so much.
She unlocked the office, dropping her purse and keys on the desk. The flashing red light on the answering machine told her she had messages, so she pushed the button without looking at it and began sorting through the mail.
“Yes, this is Denicki Designs. We’re looking to acquire some Mediterranean pieces and were referred to you. If you could call us back at 555-3269, we would like to set up an appointment to meet with you and see your collection. Thank you.” She noted down the number, then dropped the junk mail into the trash.
“Hel-lo. You have been se-lec-ted to re-ceive . . .” Joyce deleted the automated message before it could deliver its whole advertisement.
“Um. Yes.” The resonant baritone could only belong to one person. “This is Rupert. I’m sorry to bother you at work. I just had hoped to speak with you in person.” He sighed. “But as usual, death and carnage await, and I’m off to put your daughter in mortal danger for the good of humanity again, which doesn’t leave much time for talking.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure what to say at the moment, except to say I’m sorry. I’ve been reminded how important communication is in any relationship, but especially in one as awkward as ours. I didn’t do a very good job of it, I’m afraid. But I’ve missed you, Joyce. Things just haven’t felt right without you. If we manage to make it through tonight, I’d like to have the chance to at least talk to you about what happened, to try to understand it. Try to find some way to make amends.” There was noise in the background before he spoke again. “I have to go. I’m sorry. For before, for now, for not calling sooner. But I hope we can talk soon.” He seemed to fumble for words, and then finally just hung up the phone.
She played the message again with tears in her eyes, and again. And again. Finally she called his number, and got his machine. At the tone she said simply, “I’d like that.”