The London Sonnets
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-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Ethan/Giles/Joyce
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,476
Reviews:
1
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Ethan/Giles/Joyce
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,476
Reviews:
1
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.
Chapter 5 Till My Bad Angel Fire My Good One Out
Spoilers: Anything through Buffy S4 is fair game.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: Giles finds out that getting away from it all didn’t included Ethan.
A/N: Follows And There Reigns Love And All Love’s Loving Parts. Thanks to Savvy for helping me keep the kids in line. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 144. For previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net
Giles felt good. He had missed Joyce more than he’d thought. It was nice that they had this time together, alone, away from interruptions. He frowned. That was one of the guaranteed ways to make sure things went horribly wrong, second only to “What’s the worst that could happen?” Shaking off the thought, he realized then that Joyce was taking awhile to get their drinks.
Getting up, he made his way into the bar area to see if things were alright. The familiar man talking to Joyce was enough to set his blood boiling. The bastard had the nerve to show up now eve everything was…What’s the worst that could happen? Ethan Bloody Rayne, that’s what.
“Hullo, Ripper,” Ethan greeted him, unflappable and self-possessed as ever.
It took every ounce of restraint for Giles not to reach out and throttle him.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” The question came out in a low growl.
“Just grabbing a pint,” Ethan replied smoothly.
“And I’m supposed to believe this is a coincidence?” Then it occurred to him. He turned to Joyce. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
She blinked, seemingly shocked to suddenly be the focus of his rage. Maybe if he was thinking clearly…but at the moment logic had no place.
“I knew it was too good to be true!” he seethed.
“What was?” Joyce asked quietly.
“Us! This! I never would have expected you to sink this low.”
“Now hold on just a second, Rupert,” Ethan interceded. “Joyce had no idea I would be here, let alone in England. You might want to get your facts straight before you go hurling accusations.”
He would have hit Ethan had Joyce not stepped between them. She had an air of ice-cold calm about her, the deadly calm before a violent storm hit. His anger fizzled out.
“Do you really think I would manipulate you in this way?” Her tone was flat and betrayed no emotion.
“What am I supposed to think?” he asked, exasperated.
“Do you trust me?”
“Joyce, I—”
“Rupert! Do you trust me?” She emphasized each word.
Resigned, “Of course I do, Joyce.”
“Then how can you accuse me of such a thing?”
“It’s Ethan,” he offered lamely.
Joyce turned to Ethan then. “Well?”
The other man’s confidence seemed to falter under her gaze. “Well what?”
“Did you know we were going to be here?”
“I didn’t even know you had left Sunnydale. I wouldn’t do that to you after—Joyce, I swear I didn’t know.” And Giles would be damned if Ethan didn’t sound sincere. He almost believed the man.
“Alright,” Joyce nodded and finally acknowledged the bartender who, along with several customers, had been watching their exchange. Paying the man, she picked up the drinks. Then to Ethan, “Join us.”
She wasn’t asking. With that she headed back to the table leaving Giles and Ethan to stare after her.
“Doesn’t look like there’s much of a choice in the matter, is there?” Ethan asked quietly.
“It would seem not,” Giles grudgingly conceded.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Ethan said before he took off after Joyce, leaving Giles with no choice but to follow after.
The table was deathly silent as the three of them sat drinking their respective beers. Ethan seemed about as ill at ease as Giles felt. But Joyce sat calmly, drinking her Black and Tan and watching the patrons.
It was impossible not to think of that morning, months ago, when he’d found Joyce bruised and beaten, only to be thrown out when he went after her attacker. He still had trouble believing she was a willing participant despite her assurances the other night. But what bothered him the most, when he would admit it, that is, was that Joyce so readily forgave Ethan.
He pushed it from his mind.
“So, Ethan,” Joyce spoke at last, still focused on the crowd, “is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Such as…Ah!” He caught her gaze. “No, Joyce, I’ve been . . . good.”
“And that woman?”
What woman? Giles looked from one to the other.
“Flirtation only. And no, there hasn’t been anyone else since I saw you last.”
“No one?”
“No one.” He earned a smile for that.
Giles had no clue what they were talking about.
“You look a bit lost, old man,” Ethan said to him.
“I . . . never mind, it’s none of my business,” Giles turned his attention to his beer, an awkward silence descending upon the table.
“So, Joyce, has Rupert been showing you his old haunts?” Ethan asked casually.
“Um, no,” Joyce blushed faintly.
“Understood,” Ethan grinned wickedly. “Do encourage him to, my dear, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. There was a time when Ripper knew all of the hot spots.”
Giles looked at his old friend uncertainly. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
“I did say was, but I suppose you could interpret it as such,” Ethan shrugged. “So what hovel have you swept Joyce away to in this fair city of ours? At least a three star establishment, I hope.”
“The Kildare Gardens is not a hovel,” Joyce interjected in the conversation.
“The bed and breakfast in Notting Hill?” he asked. She nodded. “I do believe you still possess some taste, my friend.”
“It was Joyce who—” Bugger it. Giles cursed himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut.
Ethan laughed. “I should have known such impeccable taste had another source.”
Giles grumbled into his beer. No one to blame but himself.
“A bit more elaborate than I had in mind, but I’m impressed, Joyce,” Ethan said to her.
“Thank you,” she smiled. Then to Giles, “And before you get the wrong idea again, this wasn’t some great conspiracy. Ethan just gave me some good advice and I ran with it.”
“Did I say anything?” Giles said defensively.
“No, but you were getting that look,” Ethan said. Then, a bit more serious than he probably intended, “I think you have more to fear from Joyce’s influence than my own.”
In an attempt to turn attention onto Ethan, Giles asked, “You never did say why you were in London?”
“Nothing to arouse your righteous indignation,” he smiled benignly. He finished his beer and stood to leave.
“You’re going already?” Joyce asked, a note of hurt in her voice.
“I think I’ve imposed long enough. Best to leave before Rupert decides that tearing my head off isn’t such a bad idea,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “London isn’t all that big, I’m sure I’ll run into you both again.”
Giles had no doubt about that. The odds of winning the lottery were better than those of not seeing Ethan again while in London. So much for it just being Joyce and he.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: Giles finds out that getting away from it all didn’t included Ethan.
A/N: Follows And There Reigns Love And All Love’s Loving Parts. Thanks to Savvy for helping me keep the kids in line. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 144. For previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net
Giles felt good. He had missed Joyce more than he’d thought. It was nice that they had this time together, alone, away from interruptions. He frowned. That was one of the guaranteed ways to make sure things went horribly wrong, second only to “What’s the worst that could happen?” Shaking off the thought, he realized then that Joyce was taking awhile to get their drinks.
Getting up, he made his way into the bar area to see if things were alright. The familiar man talking to Joyce was enough to set his blood boiling. The bastard had the nerve to show up now eve everything was…What’s the worst that could happen? Ethan Bloody Rayne, that’s what.
“Hullo, Ripper,” Ethan greeted him, unflappable and self-possessed as ever.
It took every ounce of restraint for Giles not to reach out and throttle him.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” The question came out in a low growl.
“Just grabbing a pint,” Ethan replied smoothly.
“And I’m supposed to believe this is a coincidence?” Then it occurred to him. He turned to Joyce. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
She blinked, seemingly shocked to suddenly be the focus of his rage. Maybe if he was thinking clearly…but at the moment logic had no place.
“I knew it was too good to be true!” he seethed.
“What was?” Joyce asked quietly.
“Us! This! I never would have expected you to sink this low.”
“Now hold on just a second, Rupert,” Ethan interceded. “Joyce had no idea I would be here, let alone in England. You might want to get your facts straight before you go hurling accusations.”
He would have hit Ethan had Joyce not stepped between them. She had an air of ice-cold calm about her, the deadly calm before a violent storm hit. His anger fizzled out.
“Do you really think I would manipulate you in this way?” Her tone was flat and betrayed no emotion.
“What am I supposed to think?” he asked, exasperated.
“Do you trust me?”
“Joyce, I—”
“Rupert! Do you trust me?” She emphasized each word.
Resigned, “Of course I do, Joyce.”
“Then how can you accuse me of such a thing?”
“It’s Ethan,” he offered lamely.
Joyce turned to Ethan then. “Well?”
The other man’s confidence seemed to falter under her gaze. “Well what?”
“Did you know we were going to be here?”
“I didn’t even know you had left Sunnydale. I wouldn’t do that to you after—Joyce, I swear I didn’t know.” And Giles would be damned if Ethan didn’t sound sincere. He almost believed the man.
“Alright,” Joyce nodded and finally acknowledged the bartender who, along with several customers, had been watching their exchange. Paying the man, she picked up the drinks. Then to Ethan, “Join us.”
She wasn’t asking. With that she headed back to the table leaving Giles and Ethan to stare after her.
“Doesn’t look like there’s much of a choice in the matter, is there?” Ethan asked quietly.
“It would seem not,” Giles grudgingly conceded.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Ethan said before he took off after Joyce, leaving Giles with no choice but to follow after.
The table was deathly silent as the three of them sat drinking their respective beers. Ethan seemed about as ill at ease as Giles felt. But Joyce sat calmly, drinking her Black and Tan and watching the patrons.
It was impossible not to think of that morning, months ago, when he’d found Joyce bruised and beaten, only to be thrown out when he went after her attacker. He still had trouble believing she was a willing participant despite her assurances the other night. But what bothered him the most, when he would admit it, that is, was that Joyce so readily forgave Ethan.
He pushed it from his mind.
“So, Ethan,” Joyce spoke at last, still focused on the crowd, “is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Such as…Ah!” He caught her gaze. “No, Joyce, I’ve been . . . good.”
“And that woman?”
What woman? Giles looked from one to the other.
“Flirtation only. And no, there hasn’t been anyone else since I saw you last.”
“No one?”
“No one.” He earned a smile for that.
Giles had no clue what they were talking about.
“You look a bit lost, old man,” Ethan said to him.
“I . . . never mind, it’s none of my business,” Giles turned his attention to his beer, an awkward silence descending upon the table.
“So, Joyce, has Rupert been showing you his old haunts?” Ethan asked casually.
“Um, no,” Joyce blushed faintly.
“Understood,” Ethan grinned wickedly. “Do encourage him to, my dear, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. There was a time when Ripper knew all of the hot spots.”
Giles looked at his old friend uncertainly. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
“I did say was, but I suppose you could interpret it as such,” Ethan shrugged. “So what hovel have you swept Joyce away to in this fair city of ours? At least a three star establishment, I hope.”
“The Kildare Gardens is not a hovel,” Joyce interjected in the conversation.
“The bed and breakfast in Notting Hill?” he asked. She nodded. “I do believe you still possess some taste, my friend.”
“It was Joyce who—” Bugger it. Giles cursed himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut.
Ethan laughed. “I should have known such impeccable taste had another source.”
Giles grumbled into his beer. No one to blame but himself.
“A bit more elaborate than I had in mind, but I’m impressed, Joyce,” Ethan said to her.
“Thank you,” she smiled. Then to Giles, “And before you get the wrong idea again, this wasn’t some great conspiracy. Ethan just gave me some good advice and I ran with it.”
“Did I say anything?” Giles said defensively.
“No, but you were getting that look,” Ethan said. Then, a bit more serious than he probably intended, “I think you have more to fear from Joyce’s influence than my own.”
In an attempt to turn attention onto Ethan, Giles asked, “You never did say why you were in London?”
“Nothing to arouse your righteous indignation,” he smiled benignly. He finished his beer and stood to leave.
“You’re going already?” Joyce asked, a note of hurt in her voice.
“I think I’ve imposed long enough. Best to leave before Rupert decides that tearing my head off isn’t such a bad idea,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “London isn’t all that big, I’m sure I’ll run into you both again.”
Giles had no doubt about that. The odds of winning the lottery were better than those of not seeing Ethan again while in London. So much for it just being Joyce and he.