Daisee Chain CELERITER VADENDUM, ACRITER SAGITTANDUM

He couldn't say Giles hadn't warned him. It was his own fault really. Not that that made this feel any better. A bookcase isn't a comfortable thing to be backed into, after all.

But he had been trying to help. It was what he did. And if he couldn't fight, and he couldn't run fast enough, and he couldn't get donuts because the shop was shut and it was so late at night, he could at least research. Right?

It was a bit unfair though. With Buffy and Willow off chasing Angelus, and Ethan who had deliberately unleashed him, that rather than guiding him in his research, and telling him which books to look through, it seemed he'd suddenly stumbled over a different side of Giles.

Maybe he had pushed it a bit far, what with the endless banter, and the jokes about jolly old England, and Giles and his unnatural attachment to tweed, and wondering out loud, why Giles couldn’t find some middle-ground between the tight jeans and leather jackets of his youth, and the buttoned-down grandfather look he had going now. And mostly Giles had just urged him to get back to his research or asked him to be quiet. But when, three hours in, Xander asked yet again what he got out of dressing like Sherlock Holmes, Giles had finally looked straight at him and simply said “Subterfuge.”

Xander had screwed up his face. “Huh?”

“It’s easier to get information out of people when they think you’re a harmless oddball.”

Which was when Xander had opened his mouth without thinking and said “But you are a harmless...”

He never got to finish the sentence. Apparently he’d crossed a line, which was how he found himself literally up against the wall.

Giles pinned Xander against the shelves with the full weight of his body for a moment, then seemed to calm a bit, and leaned back slightly, still keeping his hips against Xander’s. Then he took his glasses off and polished them. “Oh dear. Do you really still believe that, Alexander? Do you really still believe, after all these years, that I’m nothing more than a fusty librarian?”

Xander rapidly revised that view.

Because usually, when Giles took his glasses off and polished them, and said "Oh dear", he didn't say it in that tone of voice. And he certainly never said it while he was pressing Xander up against a bookcase.

And he never, to Xander's memory, threw the glasses off to the side somewhere without bothering to worry where they landed.

And he absolutely never, ever, ever, grabbed Xander's hair with one hand, pulled open his jaw with the other and stuck his tongue inside Xander's mouth.

"gmmph?" He asked, as Giles slid his tongue round, then pulled back a little and nipped at Xander's bottom lip.

The hand that had been on his jaw now trailed down his throat, and down to his top button. Xander tried to look down and bat the hand away, but Giles’ other hand yanked his head back up. "Giving you what you want."

"Sorry? What I want? I don't... uh... I don't think I asked..."

"You wanted something a little more dangerous, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but... I didn't think..."

"No, you never do."

Giles was undoing Xander’ button.

He batted at Giles’ hand which had moved onto the next button.

Giles' hand slid under the fabric of Xander's shirt and searched till it found a nipple.

Xander jumped and squeaked. Just a little. But in a very manly way.

"Giles I really don't!" He coughed and brought his voice back down to it's usual pitch. "I really don't think this is a good... oooh... a good idea!"

"No. And I'm certain Giles’ would agree with you." Giles bent to lick at Xander's neck.

"Er? Giles?" Xander's chest was moving a lot faster now, and this seemed to interest Giles. A lot.

"Giles, Giles, Giles." Sing-songed Giles as he looked back up Xander. And there was someone there Xander hadn't met before. "Sometimes, you just have to let go and be who you really are."

Xander twisted his head in an effort to escape Giles' grip. "And who would that be exactly?"

Giles’ face slipped into a malicious expression, one Xander associated more with Angelus. He wasn't so much uncomfortable now, as really, really scared.

"Xander, meet Ripper. Ripper, meet Xander. Nice to meet you, Xander. How do you do?" And with that, he twisted Xander's nipple, hard.

"Fuck!"

"The usual response is "I'm very well, thank you. How are you?" But that will do just fine."

"Um... I think I'm just gonna' go now." He tried pulling his shirt closed. "Help with the, you know, with the search for... the thing. The thing we've gotta search for." He twisted his head again, but Giles or Ripper or whoever this was wasn't letting go. "Which is a thing. That we have to..."

"Search for?" Ripper's own head wavered slightly. "I thought you were helping Giles. Searching for something here." He flattened out his palm and pushed hard against Xander's chest. Then he pulled it out from under the shirt, and pulled at the belt instead. His hand moved slowly round, then his thumb slid down the front of Xander's chinos, pressing against the zip. "I think we might have found something already. Right..." He moved his hand again and massaged Xander's balls through the cotton. "here."

Xander couldn't help it. He moaned. Just a little. And tilted his head back. Just a little. And closed his eyes. Just a little. And Ripper's hand moved, just a little. And Ripper's mouth was at his throat again. And he realized, just a little, how stupidly dangerous this really was, because there were any number of things in this town that had designs on his veins and he was taking it for granted that this really was still Giles. Just a little.

But not much. Because Giles would never open his belt buckle one-handed, and pull down the zipper on his pants, and he would never slip his hand into Xander's briefs and he would never, ever, ever do that.

And Xander would absolutely never let him.

So it was just as well this wasn't really Giles. Because when Ripper pulled on his hair again, and moved his other hand up to tug at his jeans and maneuver him away from the bookcase and walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the table, and his back was pushed down on the table, and the hands were now both on his pants and pulling them down, and his head was thrown back as warm lips wrapped round his cock and began moving and sucking and his arms thumped down on some books and knocked over some half-filled coffee mugs, and he bucked as he came and it was entirely swallowed, and he lay there panting, as he was tucked neatly back into place and his clothes straightened up without any effort on his part, he knew absolutely that if Giles had tried any of that on, he would have punched the man. But this wasn't Giles. So that was okay.

He was just struggling off the table, when Buffy came bursting through the door. Giles had the now empty mugs in his hand and headed for the kitchen. "We got 'em." She called out. "You guys can take the rest of the night off. Willow and I can take it from here."

Giles called through the breakfast bar. "Oh, that's very good news, Buffy. I'm so glad to hear." Then he walked through to the living room, and under the pretense of fetching a book, picked his glasses up off the floor. He straightened and polished them. "Xander and I were just finishing off here, anyway. I don't think there was much else forthcoming tonight."

Buffy beamed. "Ok, then. See you guys tomorrow. And try and get some rest. You both look exhausted!" She left as suddenly as she'd arrived.

Xander watched, warily.

"She's right. You look thoroughly done. You should try and get some rest." Not-Giles slipped his glasses on. "We can always pick up where we left off." His lips curled, in not quite a smile.

"Yeah. Right." He thought he should be moving for the door. "I should be going." He tried to work out who he was looking at right now. "But who will I be meeting tomorrow? Giles? Or Ripper?"

Giles' lifted his chin. "Who would you prefer to meet?"

Xander didn't know. He couldn't answer that.

"Give it some thought. I'm off to bed. When you know who you want, come."

Xander watched him walk upstairs.

And several minutes later, followed him.