The London Sonnets

Spoilers: Anything through Buffy S4 is fair game.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: A night on the town—leather, leather everywhere and Giles runs into an old acquaintance.
A/N: Follows For Thee And For Myself No Quiet Find. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18. Two chapters written in two days, I think Savvy’s reeling. I haven’t been this productive in, well, quite some time. For previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.


“I can’t wear this!” Joyce called from the bathroom
“If
“If Rupert can buck up and wear the pants, I think you can manage as well,” Ethan replied, lounging idly on the bed. “Course, I did have to persuade him a bit.”

“Yes but if you go in there and start ‘persuading’ her, I doubt we’ll get as far as the door tonight,” Giles said, leaning stiffly against the wall, not quite comfortable in said pants yet.

“I thought you’d be all up for that, mate, would mean sparing you the humiliation of going out in public dressed like that.”

“The humiliation being that my arse hasn’t looked this good in years. Amazing how one little compliment can change one’s mind.”

Ethan flashed a devilish smile. “Was my plan all along.”

Neither realized that Joyce had emerged until they heard a subtle, “Ahem.”

Turning, Giles jaw dropped. It appeared Joyce could wear the outfit they had chosen for her, and wear it quite well. Ethan had joined Giles by the time his brain started to function again.

Joyce stood before them, posed confidently but chewing her lower lip in apprehension. She had nothing to worry about.

Ethan had picked out the shirt, a satiny brick red quite similar to the one he often wore. It was unbuttoned just low enough to show a hint of her cleavage. The bottom was tucked expertly into her skirt that ended a few inches above the knee. A small slit on the right side allowed for ease of movement as well as for a peak of lace from her stockings to show. Knee-high black boots with a sensible heel completed the outfit. It was sexy done tasteful.

“It’s that bad?” she asked, uncertain. “I look like I raided Buffy’s closet, don’t I?”

Ethan spoke first. “Hardly, my dear. That outfit has far too much class to be found in your daughter’s closet.”

Joyce frowned. “I think I should be flattered, but . . .”

“Definitely flattered,” Ethan pulled her close for a lingering kiss.

When it ended, she looked at Giles. “What’s your verdict?”

Pressing against her free side, Giles brushed her hair back to nibble lightly at her ear. “You should wear red more often. As for the leather,” his hand snaked sinuously lower, “I don’t foresee it remaining on for much longer if we don’t leave now.”

“So I look okay?” she gasped.

He heard Ethan chuckle. “Okay is a vast understatement,” Giles replied.

“Ravishing is far more appropriate,” Ethan purred, hand grazing across Giles’ as it descended lower.

Giles’ pants had grown uncomfortably tight when Joyce stepped out from between him and Ethan.

The light in her eye was positively wicked. “I think it’s time we left, don’t you?”

Wait, had the nervousness been an act? He looked at Ethan, but the other man just shrugged. This was looking to be a most interesting evening.

The club was noisy and crowded by the time they arrived. Still they managed to get in without too much trouble. For a middle-aged group, there was an atmosphere of abandon in the club.

“Are you sure they haven’t had any band candy?” Joyce asked over the din.

While the behavior wasn’t quite the extreme it had been that fateful night in Sunnydale, it came a close second.

“Of their own free will,” Ethan replied. “You seem to bring that up an awful lot, my dear.”

She blinked innocently. “Were it not for that I might never have known how good Rupert was.”

“Had you not shown up at the bar that night . . .”

“Yes, please remind me again of how close I came to becoming a Fyarl,” Giles grumbled.

“Turned into a much better evening,” Ethan said, pulling them both close. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

They made their way to an unoccupied corner table. Ethan left them to go order their drinks.

“These pants are amazing,” Joyce grinned, fingers trailing lightly up his thigh.

“A bit tight, but not so bad. No more bets with Ethan, though.”

“Mm, I enjoyed it,” she grinned wickedly. “And the wager isn’t that bad.”

“Not for you, maybe,” he shifted, pants growing increasingly tighter as her fingers played. “Think Ethan would miss us if we left?”

“You just want out of those pants.”

“Your complaint being . . .”

“That they make you sexy as hell,” she said, lips nearly touching his own. “And why have I never noticed how nice your ass was before?”

“It’s the pants, or so Ethan says.”

“What do I say?” Ethan asked, rejoining them.

“That my ass looks good.”

“Not as great as mine, but a close second. Maybe if you hadn’t let things go over the years . . .”

Giles gave Ethan enough time to set the drinks down and take a seat before attacking the other man’s mouth with his own.

“Would you bloody shut up for once?”

“Keep doing that, and I’ll have no problem,” Ethan purred.

“Again?” Joyce looked pointedly at the both of them.

Ethan held out his hand as a peace offering, “Darling, would you care to dance?”

She took it with a smile. “I’d love to.”

“Mind the drinks would you, old man?” Ethan said as he led Joyce out onto the dance floor.

The rhythm was slow and sensual. Giles watched with a small bit of jealousy as Ethan moved Joyce to the music. The man could dance as well as he fucked, which was saying a lot.

Giles realized he was no longer alone. He turned to see a severe looking woman with short, ash blonde hair waiting expectantly. While her attire wasn’t exactly conservative, it didn’t quite fit in with the club either.

“Hullo, Rupert,” she smiled. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

“Cass?” No, one didn’t forget Cassandra Jameson; she wouldn’t let you.

“Cassandra actually, has been for a number of years. Found ‘Cass’ almost as demeaning as ‘Cassie’,” she corrected, sitting across from him.

“Never would have expected to see you in a place like this,” he said evenly, surprised at how friendly she was considering how they had left things. To say she had been upset by his assignment to the Slayer was a vast understatement. “How’s the Council treating you these days?”

“Same as always,” she replied.

“Still shuffling papers then, I take it?” he asked, his attention on the dance floor.

“Actually, things are starting to look up a bit.”

“All of that hard work finally paying off?” Giles commented distractedly. Did Ethan have no sense of decency? He was practically making love to Joyce in the middle of the dance area. Not that she seemed to mind much.

“You could say that.” Then with concern, “Am I interrupting something?”

“What?” he looked at Cassandra. “No, just . . . nevermind. So things are going well for you?”

“Quite.” When she smiled, she was almost pretty. “So what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”

“Just ask,” he said, flagging down a waitress. Giles ordered another beer along with Cassandra’s martini.

“So, what have you been up to? Still saving the world?”

“Like clockwork.”

“It was a shame what the Council did to you, after all you’ve done for them over the years,” Cassandra said after the waitress set down their drinks.

“In many ways I think they were looking for any excuse to get rid of me.” He was surprised by the lack of bitterness in his voice.

“The Council’s methods are a bit outdated,” she agreed. “From what I’ve heard your slayer is quite a handful.”

“Buffy is most definitely her own master. She does a good job, though.”

“One of the longest living,” Cassandra said with admiration. “You care for her a great deal.”

“I do,” he admitted freely.

“Enough shop talk. I came here to have a good time, and I’m sure you did as well,” she said, finishing her drink and waving to the waitress for another.

Giles was somewhat taken aback. This was not the same bitter woman he remembered from five years ago. He could tell she was still driven, but had also seemed to have mellowed a little.

Doing his best to ignore the dance floor, Giles set about having a good time catching up with Cassandra.