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illusionsofdreaming · 4 years

Note

Just saw your post stating you take summoner requests so...Prince Xander confessing their affections to their Summoner pls? I refuse to go on anon I will die of fluff in public like I should.

Notes: *SALUTES TO THE BRAVE ONE*

Ft: Xander

“I give!” You collapsed backwards on the dusty training grounds, throwing aside the training sword with much more vehemence than it probably deserved as you wheezed pathetically for breath.

It had barely been fifteen minutes but you’ve been introduced to the ground more times than you cared to admit. Everything hurts and you’re sure your bruises have bruises.

A shadow fell over you. “You’ve improved.”

You scoffed, glaring balefully at the prince who didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be slightly out of breath. And after dragging you into this mess in the first place.

“Yeah I think I’ll stick to studying tactic books instead.” You groaned as you slung an arm across your forehead.

Curiosity had you agreeing to indulge in his request to spar but unlike most warriors here who seem to learn deep things about their opponents in trading blows you gained no such special insight, only painful reminders that you’re still not hero material.

Xander chuckled as he sat down next to you, golden perms still as perfect as ever. The Nohrian Prince opted to dress down for the bout, dressed in simple loose white shirt and tanned pants, which you observed did not take away from his regal look. It looked nice on him.

It was still early in the morning so the training grounds were empty aside from the two of you. The silence observed as you caught your breath however was not at all awkward. It seems the time you’ve spent around one another have made you comfortable to each other’s presence.

You were close to drifting off when Xander spoke. “After all this time I have yet to thank you properly.”

You blinked awake, drowsiness dispersing at his words. “What?”

“For bringing me into the order,” he clarified. “despite having fought on opposite sides once.”

You turned your head to look at him and thought about all the other shady heroes in your company who probably warranted some serious background checks. “You’re thanking the wrong person, it’s all Breidablik’s idea.” And you delighted in the chuckle it drew from him.

Still, you believed his words probably deserved better than your poor attempts at levity. “It’s a feeling I suppose.” You started slowly as the gravity of the topic seeped into you and you had to pause to sort through your thoughts on the matter. “War has always been larger than the individual, I cannot judge a person fighting for their ideals when we’re doing the same. I saw how you treated Veronica, I believed you’re not a bad person at heart.”

“That’s..” He seemed to think about your words. “Pardon my words but that’s quite naive.”

Ouch. You winced and looked away. Goes to show that not everyone can spout idealistic words and get away with it like most of those blue haired lords. You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I am still quite new to this.”

“But I don’t dislike it.”

You were moving to sit up but paused when he said that, surprised as you turned to him and found him smiling.

“From the way you struggle with weapons, to your frantic reactions on the battlefields and genuine treatment of others, I can see that you came from a world that’s peaceful, without bloodshed and war.”

“We’re not without war.” You corrected softly, crossing your arms around your knees. “We’ve had wars so great it encapsulated the entire world, it scarred the lands and lost so much... Even now there’s still discord in certain parts but at least most of us can claim to have the privilege of being able to grow up in an environment where we do not have to face the effects of one.” It was true. Perhaps some heroes might think this made you weak and vulnerable in this world. After all, back home you never had to lead lives, you didn’t have to worry about survival, you never had to watch people you know get cut down before your eyes.

Warmth blanketed you and you reached up to touch the material, you briefly wondered when he got up to grab his cape from the side.

The prince sat down, his shoulder brushed against yours and despite yourself you felt comforted by the contact. “To be able to live without fear of tomorrow and to grow up without the need to be adept at wielding any kind of weapon or staff.. That’s what I wish to bring to my people as well.“

It’s an ambitious dream. A dream that, you knew, many of the heroes here shared. “It’s not going to be easy.” It’s going to take a lot of sacrifices and bloodshed. It might not even be accomplished by him. You didn’t have to voice that out since you knew the prince would understand this far too well.

You found yourself desperately wanting to understand the look in his eyes as he glanced down at his hands. You wondered what he saw in his palms, in the scars and callouses of his fingers. “There are days where reaching this dream seemed impossible. Times when the stain of lives stolen wouldn’t leave my hands. The burden of my decisions and role crushes like a mountain and there have been moments I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve thought of giving up, to instead let others carry this weight.”

“Xander..”

“Then there’s you picking up dropped biscuits and eating them-“

Wait what- You spluttered, completely thrown by the sudden change in direction of the conversation. “That was one time and there’s this thing called the three seconds rul-“

“And losing your head when Alfonse sudden sat up-“

“There’s no such thing as magical healing in my world! I thought he died!”

Xander laughed as you grabbed his shirt to shake him and his hands wrapped over yours gently, holding you in place. “What about when you couldn’t figure out the right side of a dagger-“

“That dagger was sharp on both ends!”

“And that time you called his highness Gustav, ‘Dad’.”

Blood rushed to your face as you dropped your head against his chest in mortification. He promised to never mention that horror story ever again!

Xander’s laughter filled the air and you’re surprised there aren’t people rushing into the training grounds to investigate what’s got the normally collected Nohrian crown prince in fits. When he finally calmed down there were tears in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed.

His hand reached out to ruffle your hair which you very petulantly slapped away and he chuckled. “You’re the best example that proves that peace can be the norm, perhaps it’s not inaccurate to say that you’re an embodiment of my dream.”

For some reason you felt your cheeks flush at his words even though you knew that wasn’t what he meant. “You’ve become cheesy Xander.”

His smile was wide as he tugged you closer and you hoped he didn’t notice how your breathing stuttered. “You have that effect on me.”

Your throat is dry as you narrowed your eyes, heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. “Are you criticising or complimenting me?” You still remembered how to sass even if everything about this situation was turning your mind blank.

His lips twitched at the corners. “I can’t begin to imagine what would prompt you to question my sincerity. I’ve only got the best compliments for you.” To which in response you scoffed at.

The smile on his face was patient and amused as he leaned over to tuck a strand of hair around your ear and warmth blossomed across your skin where his finger lingered. “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious.”

“But it’s alright. I can wait.”

#imagines #fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem fates #feh #fe14 #fe15 #xander #fluff #confession?#summoner #uh #in typical illu style #i got sidetracked from answering the actual prompt #oops #feel free to request again if this isn't what you wanted oops #i need to stop going deep for imagine requests lmao #also this took me forever + 1 to respond to #i hope it's still relevant

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ijustwantjohnmcnamaratobehappyok · 4 years

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If you're still taking requests, can I please get some hurt/comfort with Erik and William? I'd love to see how that dynamic works between them. (Either way is fine, although I'd prefer Hurt!Erik/Comfort!William if you're willing!)

Here you go! Sorry it took a few days.

The music is playing softly in the background as William flits around in the kitchen working on reheating some leftover pizza from a night or two ago. Erik was off on a bit of a longer mission so he isn’t going to be home tonight and William didn’t really feel like cooking anything just for himself.

Just as he’s putting the pizza in the oven the song gets cut off by his phone starting to ring. He closes the oven door and walks towards the kitchen table where his phone is sitting, scratching Bella on the head as he passes her. He scoops his phone up and answers it, not checking to see who’s calling. “Hello?” He asks cheerfully as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello William. It’s General McNamara.” Usually, when William talks to John it’s in a casual setting such as a family movie night, but there was no hint of the familiarity that he’s used to in the other man’s voice, it’s professional and a bit… cold almost.

“Is everything okay?” William is a bit nervous, it can’t be a good thing for John to be calling him right now.

“Erik was brought back to HQ a few hours ago. He sustained several injuries ranging from minor to severe. He’s in stable condition now, and Elizabeth is confident that he will make a full recovery. She’s going to keep him in the infirmary for a few days.” John didn’t let his professional tone slip, but William can tell that he’s worried.

“Oh my god. I… can I come see him?” He was already getting ready to as he asked, confident that the answer is going to be yes. He pulls the pizza out of the oven and discards it, no longer feeling hungry. He turns the oven off and grabs his coat off the back of the nearby kitchen chair and makes his way towards the door.

“Of course William. Do you think you can make it here safely? Or would you like me to send someone to pick you up?”

“I can make it.”

“Okay. I’ll let the agent’s on duty know you’re coming and I’ll meet you at the entrance.” “Thank you. For calling me.”

“There’s no need to thank me son. I’ll see you soon.” John’s voice is just a hint softer as he says this and that somehow manages to calm William ever so slightly.

The travel to PEIP HQ is a blur and William doesn’t remember really any of it. John keeps his promise and the moment he sees William he wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug that William immediately melts into.

“He’s alright William, he’s alive. We got him in time.” John mumbles reassuringly in his ear.

“Can I see him? Please?”

“Of course, he’s still asleep right now, but I’m sure that doesn’t make much of a difference to you.” John pulls away from the hug and leads William through the winding halls of PEIP towards the infirmary. They stop in front of one of the doors and John gestures for him to go in.

William hesitantly opens the door and steps inside, his eyes immediately land on Erik in the infirmary bed. Erik has bandages wrapped around his right arm and on at least the top of his chest that William can see peeking out from the blanket he's under. There’s a large bruise on his left cheek and a small cut adorning both his lip and the top of his left eye. He looks so much smaller than usual wrapped up like that and it hurts William’s heart.

William silently walks over to the chair someone had left on the left side of the bed and sits down on the edge. He takes Erik's left hand in his own, careful of the I.V. coming out, and runs his thumb across the back of Erik's fingers, his thumb bumping against the other man's wedding ring every time he passes over the ring finger. A small smile creeps across William's face as he remembers the argument Erik had with John about being able to wear it on his hand during missions.

Most agents who are married put their wedding ring on the same chain as their dog tags when they go out on missions. John and Xander had gotten so used to having them there that they just keep them on their all of the time. Erik, however, was so excited to be married that he never wanted to take the ring off his hand. John has been against it at first, saying that if anything were to happen and Erik got captured it would be an easy thing for them to target, threatening a significant other to try and get information. Erik pointed out that having it on a chain around his neck would be just as noticeable. John eventually gave in and Erik was allowed to wear it on missions. Sure, they’ve had to replace it once or twice due to it getting lost or damaged during a mission, but it made Erik happy, so William didn’t complain.

William is pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a soft groan and Erik’s hand twitching in his grip. He turns his attention to Erik who’s eyes are slowly fluttering open. His gaze slides across the room stopping when it lands on William.

“Hey there soldier.” William’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. Erik’s lips twitch, a small smile gracing his features for a moment before it’s replaced with a look of confusion. “Will, what-” His voice is rough and Erik cuts himself off, clearing his throat. “What’s going on? I was on a mission and I…” he trails off and he’s clearly trying to remember what happened. William wishes that he could fill in the blanks for him, but he doesn’t know much. “I got a call from John telling me that you had gotten hurt on the mission and were brought back early. He let me come in to see you.” William explained softly and Erik seemed to accept that, squeezing William’s hand and giving him the smile that William was never able to resist. Anything Erik asked of him while smiling at him like that William would give in, no doubt about it.

“Will you hold me?” Erik’s voice has a smile to it, like he knows that William isn’t going to say no to him.

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to try.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea love. I don’t know what kind of injuries you have and I don’t want to make any of them worse.” He glances over Erik’s injuries again, focusing mainly on the bandages wrapped around his chest.

“You won’t, I trust you.” William sighs, feeling the small bit of resolve he had quickly melt away.

“Scoot over.” Erik does so moving to the far edge of the infirmary bed and rolling on his side so he’s facing William. He pats the bed in front of him, causing William to roll his eyes before gently getting on next to bed next to him. He pulls Erik into his arms and Erik cuddles into his chest.

“You know, you’re lucky I love you.” He says as he kisses the top of his husbands head and he can feel Erik smile as he replies.

“You’re right, I am pretty lucky.”

“Go to sleep dear, I’ll be here when you wake up.” William softly runs his hand up and down Erik’s arm. “I’ll hold you to that Mr. Hebert.” He yawns as he speaks, nuzzling his face deeper into William’s chest, soft snoring following a few moments later. William smiles and lets his own eyes flutter shut, the adrenalin from the day wearing off now that he has Erik safely in his arms. This might not have been the way that Willam was planning on ending his day, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

It could have been much worse after all.

#Erik Herbert #William Herbert

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jennycalendar · 5 years

Text

very really married (11/15)

read it on ao3!

we’ve reached That Part Of The Fic where everything i say will be a spoiler. so. shall just say that i’m very happy w this chapter and leave it at that

Giles thought he might have minded overseeing the talent show quite a bit more if not for Jenny. Bothersome as it was to be expected to take time away from his duties as a Watcher, he couldn’t quite get over how delightful it was to spend that time entirely with his wife, who had been forcibly delegated to help at his side. Much like him, Jenny was quite pleased about the close proximity that this allowed them, but she wasn’t at all happy that Snyder was very clearly trying to get back at her for not passing any of his failing athletes.

“It’s a complete lack of administrative integrity!” she was ranting, painting violent splashes of color across the backdrop for the first act. A splotch of paint very nearly hit Giles, who winced anyway. “He’s using his position for something petty and stupid! If I could just, like, wait till he’s inevitably killed by something, then take his job—”

“—my library would be digitized already, I’m sure,” Giles finished, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled a little tiredly, relaxing at his touch. “And for the record, usurping the position of our utterly odious supervisor, no matter how suited you yourself are for it, errs a bit on the side of unprofessionalism.”

“Just a bit,” said Jenny, mouth twitching.

“Just a bit, yes.” Giles was doing his best to tone down public displays of affection in the workplace, if only because of the many objections raised by Buffy and Xander (Willow didn’t seem to mind), so he settled for taking her hand and lightly kissing the knuckles. Her smile softened. “You’ll be finished with the backdrop in a minute, yes? Cordelia’s up next to rehearse her act and I, ah,” he winced delicately, “may need the moral support.”

“Of course,” Jenny agreed.

Just as Giles was about to head towards the auditorium, he heard the clatter of footsteps. Turning with slow reluctance, he saw Buffy, Willow, and Xander rounding the corner. “Kindly don’t put me through the wringer,” he said ruefully. “This was certainly not my choice.”

“Yeah, Snyder roped us into it,” said Jenny. “Willow, can you help me with this backdrop?”

“What? Oh!” Willow, blushing nearly as red as her hair, all but tripped over herself in her hurry to help Jenny.

“Buffy—” began Giles, attempting to replicate Jenny’s casual tone.

“Nope,” said Buffy.

“Lovely,” said Giles. “Can’t as much as get a word in edgewise before I’m shot down.”

“Hey, I mostly showed up to take on your traditional role!” said Buffy, grinning. “You know, watching? This’d be really funny to watch if it was just you doing it.”

“Yeah, too bad you and Ms. Calendar are rocking the whole showbiz-couple thing,” added Xander, who had somehow been commandeered into painting Jenny’s section of the backdrop. “Otherwise, you can bet we’d be laying on the constant mockery.”

“I’d help,” said Jenny, and kissed Giles on the cheek, leaving a green handprint on the shoulder of his vest. She winced. “Whoops.”

“Marriage to you, my love, is a series of unexpected consequences,” said Giles, smiling slightly. “I would never have signed up if I didn’t enjoy them.”

Jenny opened her mouth, then shut it. She’d gone a bit pink.

“Oooh, Giles has game!” Buffy teased, then grimaced. “And that’s a sentence I never wanted to say. Or hear.”

“Um,” said Jenny, and cleared her throat. “We should go out and watch Cordelia, huh?”

Giles extended his arm. Jenny took it. They were about to exit the backstage area when Principal Snyder entered, looking as ill-tempered as always. “Unprofessional,” he informed Giles and Jenny’s linked arms. “And what are those three doing here? They didn’t sign up for the talent show.”

“We just wanted to check in on Mr. Giles and Ms. Calendar!” babbled Willow. “Ms. Calendar’s my favorite teacher, she’s really great—”

“Save the praise, Rosenberg,” said Snyder, glowering. “All three of you left campus yesterday.”

“Yeah, but we were fighting a—” Buffy was cut off by a swift elbow to the side from Willow.

“Fighting?” Snyder echoed, eyes gleaming.

“Not fighting!” squeaked Willow.

“Yeah, we left to avoid fighting,” Xander added.

Giles and Jenny exchanged a look.

“Real antisocial types,” said Snyder. “You need to integrate into this school, people.” Crossing his arms, he said decisively, “I think I just found three eager new participants for the talent show.”

“What?” said Buffy.

“No!” said Xander.

“Please?” said Willow.

“Actually, Principal Snyder,” said Jenny with a saccharine smile, “the kids are helping me out backstage. It’s not exactly performing, but Rupert and I could do with three extra pairs of hands. You know. Seeing as neither my husband nor myself have any theater background, but you put us in charge anyway.”

Principal Snyder stared at Jenny, eyes narrowed. “Are you contesting my authority, Ms. Calendar?”

A dangerously playful look in her eyes, Jenny opened her mouth. Sensing a potential calamity, Giles placed a hand at the small of his wife’s back—more a gentle reminder than a reprimand. She froze, looked up at him, and then sighed, turning back to Snyder. “No, Principal Snyder, I’m really not,” Jenny said reluctantly.

“We merely believe that these students would be better socially integrated through assigning them the work that’s already readily available,” Giles explained. “Not to mention that Jenny’s the most aware of what this production needs, seeing as her tireless work has largely contributed to the—”

“Save me the thesis statement, Mr. Giles,” snapped Snyder. “Just make sure those kids are put to work.” He turned, stomping out.

“Ms. Calendar, you’re a lifesaver,” said Xander emphatically.

“I think I’d have died if I’d had to perform,” Willow mumbled.

“I can’t take all the credit,” said Jenny, who was still glaring after Snyder’s retreating form. “Mostly I just wanted to stick it to Snyder. That man thinks he can come in and order me around just because he’s—”

“Our employer?” said Giles.

“Ugh,” said Jenny.

“Well, as long as I’m not reading some dumb monologue, I’m good,” said Buffy cheerfully, and went back to painting the backdrop.

“So,” said Giles. “Any thoughts on the talent show?”

“As soon as this thing’s over I’m setting the entire auditorium ablaze,” said Jenny, who was lying sprawled across the couch. She hadn’t yet taken off her jacket and heels, and didn’t look like she had the energy to. “I signed up for sponsoring maybe one school club at most, and now I have to listen to Cordelia Chase butcher Whitney Houston? God, I wish I’d been the teacher to end up headless in a freezer. At least then my ears wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“You have a very wonderful head,” Giles reminded Jenny, amused by her theatrics. “It’d be a shame for it to go missing.” He crossed the room, dropping a kiss to Jenny’s temple. She gave him a small, tired smile. “I’ll make you dinner, dear, how’s that?” he suggested.

“You always make dinner,” said Jenny, reaching up to play with his tie. “I want to order in.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Jenny, I like taking care of you—”

“—and I like snuggling on the couch with you while we watch whatever’s on TV, which I can’t do if you’re all the way over there.” Jenny waved a hand in the general direction of the kitchenette. “I’m all achy and I’ve been on my feet painting for way too long and if I want my husband to cuddle me he should really just do what I say—”

Giles leaned down and kissed Jenny. “I’ll get your shoes off, if you like,” he offered.

“You’re the best husband,” Jenny mumbled. “You’re, like, the best husband.”

“Am I the best husband or like the best husband?” said Giles, tugging off Jenny’s shoes. “There’s a distinct difference.”

“God, I love you,” said Jenny, a half-laugh in her voice.

Absolutely everything that Giles had been thinking—perhaps we should order pizza, I need to restock the green paint in the school supply closet, what happens if this lie I continue to tell my wife has consequences I did not anticipate—came to a complete and utter standstill at those words. He tried to think of—something, anything beyond this terrifying, dizzying mixture of incredible elation and incredible horror, but nothing could come to mind. She loved him. She loved him, and she didn’t know he was a Watcher.

But before he could stumble through some sort of clumsy response, Jenny said shakily, and very fast, “I just meant—I mean, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and—fuck. Rewind. Can I just, just take that all back?”

Giles felt a lump in his throat at the fear in Jenny’s eyes. “Do you want to?”

A beat. Then Jenny raised herself up on her elbows, pressing her mouth clumsily to his. It was a kiss without her usual finesse, but it was heartfelt in a way that Giles hadn’t ever thought he would experience, and he kissed her back with that same half-frightened urgency.

“I really didn’t mean to say that,” Jenny mumbled. This was not at all close to taking her words back. Giles’s heart was pounding as he pulled back to look at her. “You don’t have to—to say it back, I didn’t even mean to tell you now, I—”

Admitting to himself that he was anywhere close to loving Jenny meant admitting that Jenny needed to know he was a Watcher. Telling Jenny that someone she cared deeply for had been lying to her from the very first day they met would shatter her, especially after she had been so vulnerable with him not two weeks ago. “I don’t know if I—” Giles began, hating himself. Jenny deserved a man who could accept her love, something that (he realized this now) she was utterly unaccustomed to giving.

Jenny drew in a half-sobbing breath. “No, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she managed, bumping her nose against his. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I shouldn’t have—it’s waytoo soon, I know that, I just—”

Giles kissed her again, hoping that his actions might convey what his words couldn’t.

Jenny took a bit longer than usual getting ready for bed that night, and Giles stayed up to wait for her, flipping nervously through a book without really registering what he was reading. When she finally arrived, she hesitated by the door, looking apprehensively at Giles. “I, I can sleep on the couch,” she began.

“Come here,” said Giles quietly. “This doesn’t change a thing.”

“You promise?”

“Why on earth would I lie to you?” Giles asked, and winced.

Jenny didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Her eyes were on her neatly painted toenails. “It was a moment of weakness, okay?” she said. “It wasn’t—I don’t—”

“Love isn’t weakness,” said Giles. “Who on earth told you that?”

Jenny didn’t answer.

Giles extricated himself awkwardly from the blankets, then crossed the room, stopping in front of Jenny. He tilted her chin up, then cupped her face in one hand. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. Something warm unfurled in his chest at the way her eyelashes fluttered, but…that wouldn’t do. For her protection, for the Slayer’s safety, for the sake of generations of secrecy, he couldn’t tell her he was a Watcher, and he couldn’t tell her he loved her.

He let his hand drop.

The murder of one of the dancers in the talent show didn’t help matters in the slightest. Buffy was convinced that the perpetrator was demonic in origin, which meant that Giles would inevitably be prodded into researching vague snippets of information. Emily’s friends were too distraught to continue their act, which meant an entire reconfiguration of the talent show. And Jenny…was making herself scarce, mostly, which left Giles with a terrible feeling in his chest. He had never once considered the possibility of losing Jenny outside the possibility of Jenny finding out the truth, solely because he had never once considered the possibility of too-good-to-be-true Jenny Calendar falling in love with him.

Buffy, of course, hadn’t picked up on the change between Giles and Jenny, so focused was she on Emily’s murder, and in better circumstances this would make Giles proud of his Slayer’s ability to block out anything besides potential threats. Xander was too busy trying to figure out how to look like he was helping with the talent show (while not really helping at all) to notice anything outside that. But Willow, as always, was frustratingly attuned to Jenny’s moods, and came up to Giles in private after their first round of questioning students who might have been involved in Emily’s demise.

“So, hey, Ms. Calendar seems a little sad lately,” said Willow, sounding determinedly chipper. “And that’s pretty weird, considering how well you guys were getting along a few days ago—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Giles sharply. The memory of Jenny’s pained expression that night in his room stuck with him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her more. How would that even go? Your statement was nowhere close to premature, I have fallen madly in love with you when I wasn’t expecting it, and there has never been a moment we’ve known each other without my omissions between us. You make me feel happier than I’ve ever been, especially when I’m lying to your face. Being your husband has been a privilege and an honor, even as I treat you like an inconvenience—

“I think you should,” said Willow, her smile fading. “Talk, I mean. Maybe not with me—okay, definitely not with me, I don’t think I can work out marriage stuff—but probably with Ms. Calendar.”

“I still haven’t told her,” said Giles.

Willow blinked, then frowned. “Giles, I think you need to,” she said.

“If I tell her and I lose her—”

“—then that’s her choice to make,” Willow finished. “And it’s better than her finding out some other way, isn’t it? What if she comes into the library and sees you training Buffy? You can bet she’s not gonna be happy. Plus,” she blushed, smiling dreamily, “it’d be kinda nice to have Ms. Calendar hanging around the library more often.”

Giles swallowed. “I quite agree,” he said finally. “But I think it should wait until we’ve found out a bit more about what Morgan Shay might be up to.”

He’d been saying this sort of thing quite a lot since the morgue-drawer kiss. I’ll tell her after the hyena mess clears up. I’ll tell her after I know what’s going on with Angel. I’ll tell her after patrol, after school, after everything is perfect and I know she’ll be safe. At this point, Giles thought, there was little to no chance that he would follow up on it, especially not now—not when telling Jenny had the potential to hurt her even more than he already had.

Everything he did seemed to hurt Jenny, one way or another. Part of him was beginning to think that this marriage should have had an end date stamped on it way back in the beginning, when they were planning the whole thing. But then, even at the beginning, he’d been rather taken with the idea of staying married to Jenny. After what had felt like a lifetime of loneliness, the concept of some sort of companionship had been too much to resist.

Willow gave him a dubious look, but dropped the subject, hurrying out of the office after Xander and Buffy. Giles sat down and took a cup of tea, trying not to think about the fact that Jenny usually stopped by for lunch around this hour.

“I don’t see why I have to follow Brett and his stupid band!” Cordelia was objecting when Giles entered the auditorium.

“Because we have to clear the stage for the finale, Cordy, we’ve been over this,” said Jenny thinly. Giles’s heart caught at the sight of her; she looked terrible. Angry and miserable, clutching a large stack of flyers to her chest, and very obviously unable to handle Cordelia’s complaints. She hadn’t yet noticed Giles, who found himself feeling somehow worse at the sight of her. She’d been long gone when he woke up that morning, and had left for school without him, marking the second day that Giles had woken up alone.

Giles decided to intervene. “Cordelia,” he said, stepping up next to Jenny (she stiffened), and then frowned theatrically, directing his gaze at her hair.

“What?” said Cordelia.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Giles, doing his best to sound embarrassed. “It’s just…your hair?”

Cordelia reeled. “There’s something wrong with my hair?” she gasped. “Oh my god!” Without preamble, she turned, dashing out of the auditorium.

“Xander was right,” said Giles, amused. “Worked like a charm.” He didn’t dare look over at Jenny.

Jenny sighed. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Giles nodded, eyes still on the empty space where Cordelia had been. “Of course,” he said.

Jenny exhaled. “I didn’t mean to make it weird,” she said. “I don’t usually get this clingy this fast.”

Every single self-deprecating remark of Jenny’s hurt Giles so much more than he had expected. There was no way out of their marriage that didn’t end in disaster for Giles, but he’d thought that he could have at least spared Jenny the heartache. “I—” he began, turning slowly to face Jenny, lost in all the things he wanted to tell her.

“Giles, have you seen Morgan?” Buffy called, a strange, flat note to her voice.

“I’m sorry?” said Giles, turning away from Jenny.

“We can talk later,” said Jenny, and hurried away, pushing past Buffy, Willow, and Xander.

“Is Ms. Calendar okay?” Buffy asked, peering around Giles at the discarded flyers. “Willow says she’s just been handing out worksheets in class.”

“And aren’t we all grateful for that!” said Xander jovially, but his smile flickered as he saw the way Jenny was leaning against the stage. “Hey, Giles, what’s going on?”

Willow looked up at Giles with a pointed expression. “I think you should tell them,” she said.

Buffy and Xander exchanged a bemused look. “Tell us what?” Buffy asked.

“Frankly, Willow, anything going on between myself and Jenny shall remain—” Giles began sharply.

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this is getting ridiculous,” said Willow. She was glaring. Giles hadn’t once seen Willow glare, and certainly not at him. “Giles, Ms. Calendar’s been miserable. She’s been ignoring her lesson plan and giving us worksheets so she can program in a sulk without being interrupted. And you’re keeping a whole big secret from her, and a whole big secret from Buffy and Xander—”

“Because it is none of their business!” snapped Giles. “And frankly, Willow, it isn’t yours either!”

“Well, maybe it should be!” Willow shot back. “You’re hurting her, Giles—”

“Willow.”

Willow froze. Buffy and Xander now looked extremely unnerved. Giles, exhausted, turned to face Jenny, who was looking steadily and tiredly at all of them. “Jenny, I’m sorry,” he said. “The children seem to have picked up on—”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Jenny. “Willow, don’t harass my husband. He’s right. It isn’t any of your business what’s going on between us, and you should know better than to tell him off for something you don’t completely understand.”

“Ms. Calendar—” Willow began, looking a mixture of horrified and furious.

“Don’t,” said Jenny. She gave Giles a small, sad smile. “Rupert, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s true that I haven’t been handling our personal stuff well, and if it’s starting to affect my work, I think we should probably talk about it. If—that’s okay with you?”

Giles didn’t know how to respond to that. There was a painful lump in his throat. “You’re not at fault, Jenny,” he said. “It’s my own cowardice that’s causing us both all the trouble. But yes. We should talk after school, before the talent show starts.”

Jenny was looking at him a little differently, now. At the word cowardice, her lips had parted, and there was a small spark of hope in her eyes. Giles felt a flutter in his chest; she had become rather adept at reading between the lines, with him, and now seemed no exception. “I love you, you know,” she said, lightly enough that it wasn’t quite clear whether or not she was saying it as his fake wife or as Jenny Calendar.

It was a clear invitation, a way for Giles to respond in kind without the consequences of a true declaration of love. And it made him love her all the more, for trying to help even a complete idiot like himself, but he couldn’t take the coward’s way out. If ever he told Jenny he loved her, it would be without pretense. “I know,” he said quietly, and reached out to her, but she was already turning and hurrying out of the auditorium.

Buffy and Xander exchanged a concerned look. Willow, however, had gone from infuriated to a pained understanding. “Oh,” she said. “Huh.”

“Yes,” said Giles, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Willow was smart enough to piece the mess together. “Well. Buffy, you mentioned wanting to talk to Morgan?”

Buffy seemed rather stuck on the concept of Morgan’s dummy being behind the murders, which Giles severely doubted. Still, every theory merited investigation, and a second day of after-school research seemed apropos. A few quiet hours in the library would also enable Giles to have some sort of a conversation with Jenny while the children looked for more information, which terrified him thoroughly. He would have to tell her the truth about himself, he knew, but he just so didn’t want to. She’d be angry, or worse, hurt, and it would throw yet another complication into an already muddled arrangement.

Arms full of costumes, Giles followed Willow and Buffy into the library, where they found Xander sitting at the desk with Morgan’s odd little dummy.

“Where did you get that?” said Buffy uncomfortably.

“Took it out of Mrs. Jackson’s cupboard,” said Xander nonchalantly. “You said you wanted to speak to Morgan alone, so, well…”

Giles set the costumes down, turning to Willow. “You and I have some hunting of our own to do,” he said. Willow was really the only one he trusted around his books, especially after what Xander had called The Orange Pop Rock Catastrophe and Giles had called a sticky mess on the encyclopedias.

Willow wavered. “Giles,” she said. “Ms. Calendar’s right that it’s not any of my business. But it bothers me that—”

“Willow, I am well aware that I have thoroughly mishandled the situation,” said Giles stiffly. “My primary goal is to hurt Jenny as little as possible, and it’s becoming incredibly difficult to do that right now.”

Willow seemed satisfied with this answer. “Then you’d better tread carefully,” she said, not unkindly, and set her own pile of costumes down, heading up into the stacks.

Buffy, meanwhile, was heading out of the library to find Morgan; as she exited, she held the door open for Jenny, who looked a little taken aback at Willow and Xander’s presence.

“Isn’t that Morgan Shay’s dummy?” Jenny asked warily.

“I’ve found it best to ask as little as possible,” said Giles, trying to smile. It came off as more of a nervous grimace. “Should we—”

“Yeah, okay,” said Jenny, and stepped into Giles’s office, sitting down on his desk.

Giles followed her in, shutting the door. “Jenny,” he began.

Jenny held up a hand. “This isn’t your issue,” she said. “Okay? This is mine. Regardless of how you feel about me, I don’t want Willow Rosenberg jumping down your throat because she thinks you’re a bad husband. And if she’s been noticing my moping around over the last two days, I’d say that’s a pretty reasonable conclusion to make, which is entirely my fault. So before we get going on whatever it is you’re afraid of, I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” said Giles immediately.

Jenny fixed him with a fondly exasperated look. “You’re kinda bad at taking apologies,” she said.

“When they’re not needed—” Giles began helplessly.

“I don’t think you’re the one who gets to decide what I’m sorry about.”

“I think, if an apology is directed at me, I am within reasonable grounds to dismiss it as completely unnecessary—” Belatedly, Giles realized how horribly he had put his foot in his mouth.

“And I think calling my apology unnecessary but not telling me why I shouldn’t be apologizing is ridiculous!” snapped a clearly humiliated Jenny.

“Guys!” shouted Xander, barging into the office. “Sid’s gone!”

“What?” said Giles, realized what might have happened, and narrowly resisted the urge to jump atop the desk next to Jenny.

“Sid as in the dummy?” said Jenny slowly. “As in Morgan Shay’s dummy?”

Willow tumbled in after Xander, waving a book in hand. “Guys, listen to this!” she gasped, leaning against the doorframe to catch her breath. “On rare occasions inanimate objects of human quality, such as dolls and mannequins, already mystically possessed of consciousness, have acted upon their desire to become human by harvesting organs.”

“Emily’s heart,” said Giles, nauseated.

“And it’d sure explain where Sid’s gone off to,” Xander added, looking pale.

“You know what?” said Jenny suddenly. “I can’t deal with any of this right now.” She slid off Giles’s desk. “I’m going to go home,” she said to a spot on the wall. “I’m going to go home until I’m needed for the talent show and, and not think about any of this, okay? Okay.”

“Jenny,” said Giles, feeling awful. This was really the worst possible outcome. “We still have to talk—”

“Heard you loud and clear, Rupert,” said Jenny, still not looking at him. “Let me know when I’m necessary again.” She hurried out of the office.

“What is going on with you two?” said Xander, sounding genuinely concerned.

“She knows there’s a creepy dummy running around trying to kill people, right?” Willow added uneasily.

“I need a cup of tea,” said Giles, a lump in his throat.

Buffy arrived with the dummy in tow. Sid then proceeded to tell them a tale the likes of which Giles had never anticipated. A demon hunter, cursed to be a living dummy until all the demons were killed…well, at least Giles’s initial research into demons that needed a heart and a brain to look human was of some use to the situation. Still, it was rather nice to have someone else explaining everything for a change, especially in his state of distraction. He said as such to Sid, who nodded.

“There were seven of them,” Sid informed the room at large. “I’ve killed six. One more and the curse gets lifted. I’m sure it’s someone in that stupid talent show.”

“Yeah, but our demon has his heart and his brain,” Buffy pointed out. “He’ll be moving on.”

“So once we know who’s missing from the show…” Sid began.

“We’ll know who our demon is,” Sid finished.

The show. The phrase clicked in Giles’s head. I’m going to go home until I’m needed for the talent show. “The show!” he said.

“What?” said Buffy.

“I have to go, I-I’m needed there,” Giles stammered, and was about to all but race out of the room when Buffy caught his arm. “What,” he said, his mind already on Jenny.

“Make sure you know who is and isn’t there!” Buffy reminded him.

“Yeah, form the power circle,” Sid chimed in.

“The what?” said Giles weakly.

“The power circle,” said Sid, looking about as close to bemused as a dummy could get. “You get everyone together, get ‘em revved up—”

“Right,” said Giles, shaking off Buffy’s arm and hurrying out of the library.

Backstage, the cast of Sunnydale High’s talent show was buzzing with activity when he entered. “Fifteen minutes to curtain!” Jenny was shouting, a last splotch of paint on her face, and Giles’s heart seized at the sight of her. She blinked, looking at him, and then turned away.

Giles hurried up to her. “Jenny, we need to talk,” he began.

“Save it for after the show,” said Jenny. “I have a whole bunch of equipment to set up.” Without waiting for his answer, she hurried away.

Giles swallowed, hard, and was knocked into by a wide-eyed Cordelia. “I can’t go out there!” she wailed. “All those people staring at me and judging me like I’m some kind of, of, Buffy! What if I mess up?”

“I have no idea,” said Giles. “Frankly, I’m the last person you should ask about something like that right now. Excuse me.” He hurried to center stage, then called, “In five minutes we’ll, we’ll all assemble on the stage for the power, um, thing, all right?”

“Power circle in five!” Jenny shouted.

“Yes,” said Giles. “What she said.” Then he sat down on a nearby bench and tried not to feel too miserable about the whole affair, which didn’t really work.

Somebody sat down next to him. “That was not helpful advice,” Cordelia informed him. “Don’t you have anything else to say?”

“Can’t you ask Jenny?” Giles asked heavily. “She’s a damn sight better at bouncing back than I am, Cordelia.”

“Obviously, because you’re in some kind of loser-librarian downward spiral right now, and that cannot happen when I’m about to go and sing onstage,” huffed Cordelia. “I need sage advice, Giles. Hand some over.”

Giles looked up at her, trying to think of some inane bit of advice that might make her go away. “Um, picture the audience in their underwear,” he said.

“Even Mrs. Franklin?” Cordelia’s face screwed up. “Ew!” But she got up and left, still shuddering.

Giles pulled himself up from the bench as well. Jenny was shepherding students into the power circle, which gave him ample time to observe—

“Oh no, get over here,” said Jenny grimly, grabbing Giles’s hand and pulling him into the circle. “You’re not getting out of this one, Rupert.”

Giles did a rapid head count, then frowned: not a single person was missing. He counted again, but ended up with the same result.

“Okay, just—just—” Jenny waved a hand. “Good luck out there,” she said miserably, and tugged herself free of the power circle, all but running backstage. The students looked somewhat confused, but Marc the Magnificent cocked his head a little and followed her.

Giles decided to let Jenny deal with Marc herself; she certainly wouldn’t take kindly to his help at this juncture. As Buffy landed in front of him, he informed her nervously, “There’s no one missing.”

“So the demon isn’t in the show,” said Buffy.

“All right, well, you warn the others,” said Giles. “I’d best get this show started.”

But as it turned out, there really wasn’t all that much for Giles to do. All the students were already waiting in the wings, Marc the Magnificent had (presumably) set the stage for his performance, and Jenny—wherewas Jenny? Giles wavered, debating whether or not going after her was a good idea—

There was a loud thud from the stage. Giles frowned. Had one of the props gone awry? There was that terrible guillotine of Marc’s that served no clear purpose whatsoever—

Giles was nearly bowled over by Buffy, who registered his presence and skidded to a stunned stop. “What?” she gasped out. “But—you’re Brain Man!”

“I’m sorry?” said Giles, bemused.

Willow reached them next, wheezing. “Not—Giles!” she gasped. “Ms. Calendar!”

Buffy went pale and ran for the stage.

“What on earth—” Giles began.

Xander steadied Willow, looking nauseous. “The demon’s in the show,” he said. “It doesn’t have a healthy brain. We thought it’d go after you—”

It took Giles a moment to fully understand what Xander and Willow were trying to tell him. It took him another moment to realize what the thud must have been. He ran, bursting through the curtains to find Buffy fighting Marc the Magnificent and Jenny—

Jenny was strapped, unconscious, to the guillotine bench, a blade poised to neatly chop off the part of her head containing her brain. Giles had to resist the very strong urge to full-on tackle Marc the Magnificent himself; as it was, he seriously considered it before the rope snapped. He lunged, grabbing it a second before it would have cut off Jenny’s head.

“Cutting it a little close there, Giles,” said Xander, his face pale.

“Pull that blade back up,” said Giles flatly, thrusting the rope into Xander’s hands. As Xander obliged, Giles ran to Jenny, undoing the restraints at her chest and feet. God, she would have died not knowing anything. She would have died knowing absolutely nothing. If he had told her that he wasn’t writing a book, that he was a Watcher, anything of importance, she would never have been put in this position—

In Marc the Magnificent’s haste to kill Jenny, he’d forgotten to lock the head restraint in place. Giles lifted it, pulling Jenny off the bench. Scooping her up in a bridal carry, he staggered back, hitting the curtain and very nearly falling to the stage floor.

The demon had been kicked into the guillotine. This was, of course, when Jenny stirred. “Ow,” she whispered, one hand fluttering to touch the bruise on her forehead. “Ow! Rupert, did Marc punch me out or am I just imagining—”

“I love you,” said Giles, dizzy with relief. “So much.”

Jenny smiled slightly. “Cool,” she mumbled, and turned her face into his chest.

Giles bid the children a hasty goodbye and informed Snyder that he would be taking Jenny home, claiming a prop malfunction had led to injury and playing up the concerned-husband factor to the best of his abilities (though very little of his concern was feigned). Supporting Jenny, he hurried out to the parking lot, carefully unlocking the car door.

“So, you, like, love me?” said Jenny, who still sounded a little woozy. “Like love me love me?”

“I love you love you,” Giles agreed.

“You know I don’t love you love you yet, right?” Jenny informed him. “I mean I love you, but I don’t know if I love you, because that’s a whole buncha commitment and I’m still not even sure if I’m cool with being married. Even if it’s you and your nice face.”

“You did broach the subject,” Giles reminded Jenny, helping her into the car.

“It was an accident,” said Jenny. “And you’ve been all twitchy ever since, and—and I should still be mad at you for being all twitchy, but right now my head really hurts.” She tilted her head, looking up at him. “You love me?”

The gravity of his words finally hit Giles, jerking him from exhausted relief into something not unlike panic. “I love you,” he said weakly, and the genuine emotion behind his words only intensified his worry.

Jenny gave him a small, crooked smile. “You’re really bad at this,” she said, and tugged at his hand, pulling him down into a clumsy, impassioned hug.

“Yes,” said Giles heavily. “I really, really am.”

#fic #very really married #cannot get OVER the fact that i am posting FINISHED CHAPTERS. amazing

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