Rulesverse Ficlet: First Blast of the Trumpet (PG13)
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title The First Blast of the Trumpet
Words 550
Rating PG13
Pairing Faith/Giles. Whoooo!
Prompt For Drunken Gilesathon, snickfic's request: Giles is too old for drinking games. Like that would stop Faith. It's a frivolous ficlet, set after The Turning of the Year I, and before Breaking the Rules in the Rulesverse: a little proto-F/G only. But you know they get there in the end!
"Hey G." Faith bounced into the control centre.
Giles sighed. "Must you be so hearty?"
"Totally. Night shift's bad enough without gettin' grim over it."
"Oh good. Another seven hours of this."
Giles couldn't help smiling, all the same. He rather liked Faith, and she was pretty good company on these long nights. Surprisingly so, in fact. He'd never have guessed it without spending this time with her. So there were some upsides to these tough months of establishing the Council.
And there was that kiss. Not that it had been anything other than a Christmas mistletoe moment. She'd laugh hysterically if she knew how much time he'd spent reliving that over the festive period. Or, rather more likely, shrug scornfully and write him off for future fun. Must avoid revealing any of that.
She was checking the (utterly silent) contact lines as he pondered, then turned back to the control room with a grin. "S'okay G. I have a better way to pass the time."
She got a bottle of local whisky out of her jacket. "Vodka's in the chiller if you want it instead. Thought we could play Slayerette Bingo. You know? One shot for every panicked call that turns out to be a cat up a tree or a bunny getting eaten by the big bad coyotes."
"Faith. I don't believe you're seriously suggesting that we might drink on duty."
"You never drank in Sunnydale? Ever? Always on duty then, G. Not like now - there are hundreds of us now. Who's it gonna hurt?"
A completely irresponsible suggestion. Inappropriate. Preposterous. "Look, I can't possibly agree to us abdicating our responsibilities like this." And yet… he was secretly willing to be persuaded. By Faith.
"G, seriously. Do we or do we not have a whole bunch of guys working the prophecies and the underworld networks for us?"
"We do. But-"
"Did we or did we not agree that this was a pretty low priority job that we're gonna entrust to the kids in the new year when the new rosters go out so the rest of us can finally get some sleep and some Slaying in?"
"We did. Though I still think-"
"No way. You don’t have to drink, but we are not renegotiating the roster thing. Also, do I or do I not have the liver of a rhino, or whatever it was you compared me to?"
"Um, I may have said that…"
"Yep." She plunked the whisky on the table.
In the first hour, always a slow time for crises, they only drank two shots. It was decent whisky. Giles felt faintly mellow.
In the second hour, they drank another three shots apiece. The whisky was almost gone. Giles was feeling better about the Slayerette calls, at least. He giggled a little when Noemie reported a 'big, freaky-looking pink bird' and told her she needed to learn to recognise a jay when she saw one. Then drank another distinctly hefty shot.
Mmm, decent Scotch.
He finished the bottle before any further Potentials phoned in to interfere with his enjoyment.
"Hey. Cheater!" Faith was giggling, though. Couldn't be drunk - her tolerance was rather higher than his own. Just cheerful and relaxed. Gorgeously so.
Giles felt rather good about helping get her into such a mood. Against all good sense, age and, frankly, brewer's droop, he was half-hard and deeply grateful for the office desk to conceal this. Inappropriate. Against the rules. Bad Giles. Have another drink, Giles. It will pass.
It did. He regretted that. This was their last rostered duty together. He'd miss her.
*
A reminder you can bid for my fic services at helpbrazil2011!
Title The First Blast of the Trumpet
Words 550
Rating PG13
Pairing Faith/Giles. Whoooo!
Prompt For Drunken Gilesathon, snickfic's request: Giles is too old for drinking games. Like that would stop Faith. It's a frivolous ficlet, set after The Turning of the Year I, and before Breaking the Rules in the Rulesverse: a little proto-F/G only. But you know they get there in the end!
"Hey G." Faith bounced into the control centre.
Giles sighed. "Must you be so hearty?"
"Totally. Night shift's bad enough without gettin' grim over it."
"Oh good. Another seven hours of this."
Giles couldn't help smiling, all the same. He rather liked Faith, and she was pretty good company on these long nights. Surprisingly so, in fact. He'd never have guessed it without spending this time with her. So there were some upsides to these tough months of establishing the Council.
And there was that kiss. Not that it had been anything other than a Christmas mistletoe moment. She'd laugh hysterically if she knew how much time he'd spent reliving that over the festive period. Or, rather more likely, shrug scornfully and write him off for future fun. Must avoid revealing any of that.
She was checking the (utterly silent) contact lines as he pondered, then turned back to the control room with a grin. "S'okay G. I have a better way to pass the time."
She got a bottle of local whisky out of her jacket. "Vodka's in the chiller if you want it instead. Thought we could play Slayerette Bingo. You know? One shot for every panicked call that turns out to be a cat up a tree or a bunny getting eaten by the big bad coyotes."
"Faith. I don't believe you're seriously suggesting that we might drink on duty."
"You never drank in Sunnydale? Ever? Always on duty then, G. Not like now - there are hundreds of us now. Who's it gonna hurt?"
A completely irresponsible suggestion. Inappropriate. Preposterous. "Look, I can't possibly agree to us abdicating our responsibilities like this." And yet… he was secretly willing to be persuaded. By Faith.
"G, seriously. Do we or do we not have a whole bunch of guys working the prophecies and the underworld networks for us?"
"We do. But-"
"Did we or did we not agree that this was a pretty low priority job that we're gonna entrust to the kids in the new year when the new rosters go out so the rest of us can finally get some sleep and some Slaying in?"
"We did. Though I still think-"
"No way. You don’t have to drink, but we are not renegotiating the roster thing. Also, do I or do I not have the liver of a rhino, or whatever it was you compared me to?"
"Um, I may have said that…"
"Yep." She plunked the whisky on the table.
In the first hour, always a slow time for crises, they only drank two shots. It was decent whisky. Giles felt faintly mellow.
In the second hour, they drank another three shots apiece. The whisky was almost gone. Giles was feeling better about the Slayerette calls, at least. He giggled a little when Noemie reported a 'big, freaky-looking pink bird' and told her she needed to learn to recognise a jay when she saw one. Then drank another distinctly hefty shot.
Mmm, decent Scotch.
He finished the bottle before any further Potentials phoned in to interfere with his enjoyment.
"Hey. Cheater!" Faith was giggling, though. Couldn't be drunk - her tolerance was rather higher than his own. Just cheerful and relaxed. Gorgeously so.
Giles felt rather good about helping get her into such a mood. Against all good sense, age and, frankly, brewer's droop, he was half-hard and deeply grateful for the office desk to conceal this. Inappropriate. Against the rules. Bad Giles. Have another drink, Giles. It will pass.
It did. He regretted that. This was their last rostered duty together. He'd miss her.
*
A reminder you can bid for my fic services at helpbrazil2011!