FIC: CSI Sunnydale (BtVS, Giles/Xander, FRAO) 2/3
CSI SUNNYDALE: THE ONE WHERE THE REPORTER SOLVES THE CRIME, 2/3
FRAO, Giles/Xander, AU
PART ONE
*
The witness, Mrs. Strumer, had one piece of interesting information: a man, somewhere between twenty and thirty years old -- she couldn't tell because of the hat he'd been wearing -- had been by the night before Ms. Lambert's death. Mrs. Strumer had been sitting on her balcony waiting for her daughter to come home, and she'd seen him arrive. He'd knocked and rung the doorbell twice, before doubling back. She'd never seen the man before, and Ms. Lambert was a quiet sort, or so Mrs. Strumer said, and barely ever had anyone but her mother in for a visit.
Rupert had asked her to go to the station to give a deposition, and meet with their sketch artist. It was now two hours later, and he was staring at the sketch intently. The man's face looked familiar, in a distant sort of way, and he couldn't quite place him. He'd have to show the others and see if anyone recognized him.
He was putting down the drawing when his phone rang. "Giles."
"I get that you've been busy," Harris said, again without preamble. The man was irritatingly impolite. "But, it's almost dinner time, and you owe me food."
Rupert refrained from adding the obvious comment about Harris' intention, fearing they wouldn't be taken into the right context. "I need an hour to wrap things up here and see if my CSIs have everything under control. Meet me at the front desk then?"
"I am at the front desk," Harris replied. "Harmony doesn't look real happy to see me, and I'm kinda scared she's picking up the phone to call that Snyder guy right now. He gives me the creeps."
"Yes, I can see why," Rupert said, sighing. "Very well, I'll be as quick as I can. Given the circumstances, perhaps you'd rather wait in my office?" Not that he wanted the man anywhere near him right now, especially when he'd have to endure at least an hour of his company soon enough, but Rupert had a strange moment of solidarity for him. Snyder was not the kind of man you wanted to face on an empty stomach. Or ever, actually.
Dear Lord, but he loathed the new Chief.
"Yeah, and I promise not to snoop or peek at anything." Rupert could almost see Harris holding up his hands in that much too endearing way of his.
"Right then." Rupert hung up. Less than a minute later, Harris was at his doorway. "Come in, and sit down," Rupert said, holding the sketch in one hand while he waved Xander in. "I'll be as quick as possible." Then he added, "There is a lock on the door if you see Snyder come this way."
Xander shot him a grateful look, and Rupert walked out, ignoring the way his chest tightened at the sight of Xander's smile.
Harris, Rupert reminded himself sternly. There was really no need for first names in their strictly job-related relationship.
"Buffy," he called, walking into the evidence room a few doors down. She was sitting on a stool, Riley just a few feet down the table, examining pieces of evidence from that afternoon's shooting. "I've a sketch of a potential suspect. Perhaps you could circulate it before going home tonight?"
Buffy gave him a distracted nod and picked up the paper. "You know that shoe print we found at the first and second crime scenes?"
"Yes, I remember." It was a puzzle to say the least. The Fergusons had been murdered before the heist took place, and yet the print at the jewellery store was older than the one at the Pine Street flat, as evidenced by the fact that the second print had dirt from the first one.
Riley took over. "We think we found a similar one in Ms. Lambert's flower bed, but it's not the same shoe."
"Same size, though, and roughly the same width too," Buffy added. "Maybe he got a new pair?"
Rupert considered that. "Perhaps our perp simply owns more than one pair of shoes. Has Willow gotten the results of the DNA test yet?"
Buffy shook her head, and kept her eyes on the sketch in her hands. "Not as far as I know, and Spike's still doesn't have his bullet. It was stuck in the woman's head, and Wesley isn't done getting it out."
Yes, of course, it'd only been a few hours after all. "All right, no one pulls a double shift tonight, I want you refreshed and alert in the morning; this case is at a standstill as it is. Though if anything turns up before you leave, please call me."
Buffy waved him off distractedly, while Riley shot him a "Sure thing, boss."
Rupert stopped to tell Angel he was leaving and also told him to take a look at the sketch Buffy had as soon as he could, and then met with Harris in his office again.
"Ready?" Xander asked, eagerly getting to his feet. Much too eagerly.
"Yes, shall we?"
"We shall," Xander replied, with a flourish. "Oh," he said, turning around to pick up a manila folder from the desk. "Alibi."
"Alibi?" Rupert asked, frowning. He recognized the folder as being the one holding Xander's article, which he hadn't had time to read yet.
"For in case we get caught on the way out and Snyder asks too many questions."
Oh. "I see," Rupert said. "Good thinking."
"Thanks," Xander beamed. "I try."
Harris--Oh, bloody hell, Rupert sighed. He might as well give in. Xander it was.
Xander's plan ended up being really helpful when they passed by Harmony's desk and heard "Detective Giles!" bellowed in Snyder's easily recognizable tone. "What do you think you're doing? Your shift ends in an hour."
Rupert slowly turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, and I am, in fact, still working."
Snyder sneered at him. "How is that? You're on your way out, and you've just told your staff you were leaving for the day."
Rupert took a deep breath. "Mr. Harris and I are meeting to discuss his article. Since we need to be uninterrupted while we do so, we figured it'd be best if we did it outside of the precinct. Perhaps you'd like to join us?" He said it in the most innocent tone, and could see Xander repressing a laugh from the corner of his eye.
Snyder spluttered incoherently.
"Of course, it'll be quite boring, as we'll be going over every paragraph, and it might take several hours," Rupert added.
The man harrumphed and glared at him. "I'm watching you, detective." Then he turned around, and walked decisively back towards his office.
"Man, that was glorious," Xander said, laughing, when they emerged from the building. "I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there."
Rupert found himself smiling and laughing as well. "His face did turn a rather deep shade of red, didn't it?"
"Oh yeah. I was scared for a minute that he was going to actually, you know, come with us, but that was still awesome." He stopped at the street corner and looked in every direction, before settling his eyes on Rupert. "Where we going?"
Rupert hadn't thought much about it, but he figured if he was going to have to suffer through a dinner with Harris again, he should at least do it somewhere comfortable. "There's a lovely restaurant down the street, just a few blocks away, Rosemary's, have you heard of it?"
"Yeah," Xander said, his smile widening. "Never been though; the food's supposed to be pretty good."
"It truly is," Rupert replied. It had opened just a few months earlier, and Rupert had fallen for the quiet, café-like atmosphere the first time he'd walked in. "I'm surprised you haven't tried it yet," he added as they walked.
Xander gave a shrug. "I'm more of a diner kinda guy, usually. I mean, I make good-enough money, but some restaurants are still out of my league."
Rupert filed that information away. He knew journalists in Xander's field didn't make that good of a salary, but Rosemary's was certainly not an expensive restaurant by anyone's standards. He didn't ask though, as it was none of his business. Perhaps Xander had plans that involved putting money aside, and thus meals out, unless strictly necessary, were out of the question.
Knowing it wasn't any concern of his didn't make Rupert any less curious.
They were seated in the back of the room, at Rupert's request -- they would be discussing sensitive information, and a view on the street was definitely not ideal for this -- and the waiter immediately brought them menus and glasses of water.
"So," Xander asked, a few minutes later. He put down his menu, folding it back properly, and grinned in a somewhat comical way. "What made you leave your home country?"
"Isn't that quite personal? And never mind the fact that I'm certain you've read what public record there is on me out there." Rupert picked his meal and put his menu down on top of Xander's.
"What can I say, you asked me why I'm doing what I'm doing, and I figured now it's my turn," Xander said, leaning forward. "Anyway, you don't really want to talk about work, do you? My article won't be published until this case is cleared, so there's no rush."
"There are still a few points we need to discuss," Rupert said firmly. He had no desire to speak of anything but work.
Or perhaps it was the opposite. He had an intense desire for this to be something it obviously was not, and could not let himself fall into this trap. Not again.
"All right, a deal," Xander said, putting down his glass of water. "We talk business until the food gets here, and I mean the main course, appetizers don't count. But the moment we get our plates? No more business and you answer that question."
It was a recipe for disaster, though Rupert still nodded in agreement. He should have brought the sketch with him to show Xander. Although that was not allowed, Xander did have a knack for remembering faces, if not names. "This sounds reasonable."
"Good."
Just then, their waiter came back to take their order, and promptly went away. "We had a witness on the Lambert case," Rupert said, when the man was out of earshot. "The neighbour saw a man come by the house in the evening, when Ms. Lambert was out."
"Did you get a sketch?" Xander asked.
"Yes, not a very good one, but I suppose it's better than nothing."
"Too general?"
Rupert pursed his lips. "Somewhat. The witness only had partial details, as the man was wearing a baseball cap, but the face is familiar, and I've the feeling we're missing something." It felt like there was one rather large piece of the puzzle missing, the kind that was right in front of them, but no one could see until their faces were shoved in it. He hated cases like this.
"See, I have this feeling I can't shake off," Xander said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "There's something that's rubbing me the wrong way about the Holloways."
"Oh? And why is that?" Rupert frowned, taking off his glasses. He had never even reconsidered the Holloways. Jessa Holloway was dead, and her husband a properly grieving widow left alone with a child too young to have lost her mother. Perhaps, Rupert thought as he remembered Mr. Holloway's face when they'd met, perhaps the man was grieving too properly. There was nothing out of place about him, and that seemed odd to Rupert all of a sudden.
"I don't know," Xander admitted. "It's too clear cut or something. See, the brothers didn't set up to kill anyone in that robbery, all they wanted was the money. And Warren's been saying left and right that yeah, it was his gun, but no, he didn't kill the woman."
"Yes, I know," Rupert said. "He's made it quite clear he believes Henry pulled the trigger despite all evidence of the contrary."
"It doesn't matter who did it, but that they didn't want it to happen. Something must have set them off."
"Perhaps she'd said something--"
"Did the jewellery store have any video surveillance?" Xander asked, suddenly.
Rupert groaned quietly. He really disliked being interrupted. "Yes," he sighed. "But we can barely see or hear anything from the angle of the cameras." Andrew Wells, their video tech expert, had been working on it almost non-stop, to try to enhance the sound and/or image, and had yet to come see Rupert with any sort of result. He'd have to check up on Wells' progress in the morning. Even just a passable audio feed would be better than nothing. Of course, that meant subjecting himself to Andrew's unique way of communicating -- Rupert needed a "Pop Culture References to English" translator almost every time -- but it needed to be done. Or perhaps he'd send Finn. See how the new guy handled yet another one of the crazy people this lab held.
As if reading Rupert's mind, Xander said, "I'm sure Andrew'll figure something out; he's a tech whiz."
If Xander hadn't already been a good friend of most of his staff before any of them had ever been hired -- and when Xander had yet to find his calling as a journalist -- Rupert would think he was befriending them for inside information. "I'm afraid of how Snyder will take your being friends with possibly all of the technicians and CSIs on the payroll," he admitted.
Xander smiled. "Buffy'll kick his ass the moment he tries to say something stupid about it." He shrugged and pulled back when the waiter arrived with their appetizers. "Then they'll quit en masse and Snyder'll be in so much trouble, he'll hire them back. It's not like Sunnydale's a big city, you know. Crime rate's high, but there aren't all that many science experts living here, and not a lot of people want to move here for work either."
Rupert, though, no matter what Snyder might think, trusted everyone he worked with, and while Xander tended to be the annoying sort, he was also too honest and loyal to do anything to jeopardize work or friendship.
"And it's not my fault all my friends are geeks," he added with a smile, before digging into his soup.
"Perhaps not, but it does say a great deal about you," Rupert said, picking up his own spoon. It was carrot soup tonight, one of his favourites.
In between two spoonsful of soup, Xander said, "I think I'm gonna see if I can dig up anything on the rape charges against Patton the patriarch from twenty-seven years ago."
"That sounds like a good plan," Rupert agreed. That would possibly mean Xander would be out of his hair for part of the day on what Rupert imagined would be a fool's errand. Although, at the same time, Rupert liked to have as much information about the concerned parties of each cases he worked, no matter how trivial, and knowing why those rape charges had been either dropped or dismissed would feed his curiosity.
And now that he was focused on it, Holloway did seem dodgy to him as well.
"How old is Holloway?" Xander asked, putting down his spoon, and pushing away his empty bowl.
Rupert held his gaze, jaw set and mouth firmly closed but for letting soup in.
"Oh, come on, Giles, it's not like this is something that'd be hard for me to find out." Xander turned to dig into his messenger bag on the seat next to him, pulling out his cellphone. "One call and I'll get that information out of someone."
Rupert sighed. "All right, true enough. He's twenty-six or so, I believe. Not that I've paid that much attention to him, since he was the husband of our first victim, and not a suspect."
"Yeah, figures," Xander said. "But that would fit."
"Fit what?" Rupert brought the last spoonful of soup to his lips.
Xander gave him a half shrug and a smile. "It's just some weird theory that's taking shape in my brain. If I'm right, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, promise. I know you value evidence over theory, so you'll have to wait."
Their waiter returned, clearing out their empty plates, and replacing them with their main course. "Is everything all right here?" the man asked, smiling in that constipated way some restaurant workers had when they were clearly not happy to be working at that moment.
"Everything's fine," Rupert answered. "Thank you."
There was a moment of comfortable silence while they took the first few bites of their meal -- delicious shepherd's pie for Rupert, and steak and potatoes for Xander. When his phone rang, Rupert put down his fork and reached for it. "Rupert Giles."
"Hey, Giles!" Buffy said, jovially. "Sorry to interrupt your date--"
Rupert groaned. "It is not--"
"--but I've got some news," Buffy continued without acknowledging him. "Spike got his bullet and he confirms it's the same as the other three. So fourth body for our sharp shooter. And I went around the lab with that sketch and everyone's saying the guy looks familiar, but they can't put their finger on who it is."
"I was afraid of that." It was exactly what he'd thought. The sketch was their first lead for their serial killer, but it was too vague to do them any good yet. "Thanks anyway for the update, and Buffy--"
"Tell Xander I said hi," she interrupted him, again, too chipper for Rupert's good. "Have a good time!" And then she hung up.
Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he looked up, Xander was smiling at him broadly, his smile reaching the corner of his eyes. Rupert almost did a double take. Bloody hell -- "Buffy says hi," he managed to said despite the knot in his throat -- this was a date.
He looked at his plate, and then up at Xander again. He should leave. Run. Never look back. This was definitely a recipe for disaster; he'd almost gone down this road once before and had promised never let temptation win. Yet he felt compelled to stay.
Rupert hid his sudden realization by stuffing another forkful of pie in his mouth.
"Did she have anything interesting to say?" Xander asked.
Shaking his head, Rupert reached for his napkin and lay it down on his lap. "Not so much; just confirmation that the bullet does point to the same killer and the sketch hasn't turned up anything so far."
"So things we already suspected," Xander concluded. "Anyway, main course is here, so you owe me an answer."
Oh dear Lord. Rupert groaned, and went to take off his glasses, only to find them gone already. He picked them up from the table and put them back on instead. "I'm not sure we should--"
Xander nodded and looked down at his plate, pursing his lips. "Yeah, okay, never mind."
Rupert should not, in any way, be feeling guilty right then. Xander had tricked him into asking him out, and now he wanted to dig into Rupert's past. Rupert wouldn't be another cover story. He'd spent the past five years learning to deal with what had happened, and not just so it could be splattered all over the headlines again.
But he did feel guilty at the look on Xander's face, and at the way he held his head down. Perhaps, this being a date -- despite Rupert being thoroughly unaware of it until now -- perhaps Xander's motives weren't moved by a desire for information, but by a desire to get to know Rupert. That happened to be something Rupert truly wasn't used to. Even with Olivia, despite their lifelong friendship, things between them had always, somehow, related to business.
He sighed, and swallowed his mouthful before speaking. "The last case I worked in England did not go so well."
Xander perked up and gave a swift nod. "I read about that, from the newspaper articles."
"Yes, there was quite a scandal over the whole thing." And Olivia, whom Rupert had known for more than half their lives, had ended up dead.
"That journalist, you really were, you know, an item?" Xander asked, suspiciously nervous.
Rupert couldn't make heads or tails of Xander's tone of voice, but he still answered, "No, we weren't. She was an old friend." And he was surprised that talking about her wasn't as painful as it used to be. She'd pursued him relentlessly for years, until finally giving up. The tabloids, however, had immediately seized on their close relationship and made a mess of things, after Olivia's death. Rupert hadn't lost his job, but it had been a close call, and it was made clear that he should start looking for some other precinct to work at, while he was still in recovery.
"Sorry," Xander whispered. "It said you got shot..."
"My knee, yes," Rupert replied. He absently rubbed at his knee before catching himself, and putting his hand firmly on the table.
"Okay, so let me see if I can put the puzzle together." Xander stared into space for a moment, lips pursed and food forgotten. Rupert took another few bites while he waited. "So, you were one of the best detectives Bath PD ever had -- and I know that because you're the best one Sunnydale PD's ever had, and I figure you didn't just suddenly become cool when you moved here -- and you were working with a journalist who had a huge crush on you."
Rupert tried not to draw too many parallels with his current life, but the description was accurate enough.
Xander went on. "You were investigating a serial killer with a taste for middle aged black women, and your journalist friend wouldn't wait for you to catch up with her, and decided to act as bait."
He hung his head down, and listened. Xander really did have a talent for this. Olivia had left a message on Rupert's answering machine that night; short and to the point, just like she always was. By the time he'd gotten the message, it had already been too late.
"When you rushed to find and save her, you found her already dead, and you got shot, and the killer decided it'd be a much better idea to kill himself than to go to prison."
Of course most of those details were in the published articles and the police report, but that didn't make Xander's tale any less true. He'd taken out the trashy tales of a behind the scenes romance, and of an imagined fight that had to have occurred between them and meant Rupert had ignored Olivia, and thus led to her death; fight which painted Rupert as a very nasty human being indeed. The truth was, Rupert had been in a meeting with several colleagues while they put together evidence, and Olivia had known that. She'd chosen that time to act, because she knew Rupert wouldn't be there to stop her, or do anything that would jeopardize her quest for information. She'd wanted to be in the skin of a victim, to make her article that much more appealing to readers.
That didn't lessen Rupert's guilt at all. It only heightened it. He'd known her inside and out, and she'd told him what she'd do if he wasn't looking over her shoulder every step of the way. He should have seen the signs. She'd never understood the risks.
"What I don't get," Xander added, "is why you came here. I mean, you had a career over there, you solved more crimes than any one of your colleagues, and you still decided to move all your stuff to sunny Cal."
Rupert looked straight at him. "During my recovery, I received a call from an ME friend who'd been contacted about a new CSI lab opening here. You might know him." He quirked an eyebrow at Xander and bit into his piece of bread.
"Wesley? You mean you knew Wyndham-Pryce before moving here?" Xander seemed genuinely surprised by this; it was almost heart-warming for Rupert to think that some things could stay secret in this world.
"Yes, we were at Oxford -- well, not quite together, as he's a few years younger and was in a completely different field, but we knew the same people." Rupert took a sip of his water, and another bite of food. "I was in need of being far away from what had happened, and he was asking for permission to leave my name with the Sunnydale Chief of Police. I agreed. I wasn't expecting any job offers, but Chief Flutie quite shockingly offered me the lead of the department, and I was on a flight as soon as my orthopaedist cleared me for travel." Oh, how he missed the man now. Flutie had died on duty just over four months ago, and it had taken quite a long time before they'd found a suitable replacement; and saying Snyder was "suitable" took quite a stretch of the imagination. Sure, he got the work done, but he acted more like a school principal would with wayward teenagers, than a Chief of Police with trained officers and scientists under his command.
"Wow, I never would have figured that part out," Xander said.
The rest of their meal passed in agreeable conversation while Rupert recounted the first days of the CSI lab, with Xander adding bits and pieces of information along the way, from the time Buffy and Willow, both his best friends from high school, had been hired.
The first crew of CSIs that Rupert had worked with in Sunnydale had been from all over California and the lower surrounding states, and they'd been there on a "loan" from the other PDs until the precinct had their own scientists and officers working the labs. The only one left from that time apart from Rupert and Wesley, was Winifred Burkle in Trace, who'd finally decided not to head home to Texas after her contract had been over. Rupert had immediately offered her a permanent job as while she was a little eccentric, and possibly more than a little insane, she definitely was the best. Everyone else had been personally handpicked by Rupert, and most of them were born and bred in Sunnydale. And all of them were fairly close to or less than thirty years old. They had the youngest overall mean age of any CSI lab in the States, which sometimes gave Rupert nightmares, but also made him quite proud of everyone's efficiency.
When the waiter came back with dessert, Rupert asked for one bill, and Xander shot him a look of surprise. The lad hadn't thought Rupert had been onto the "date" yet, or perhaps he'd been expecting to be the one paying. Rupert smiled at him, and handed his credit card to the waiter.
They walked out into the cool night air and down the street in silence, and finally stopped next to Xander's car in the precinct parking lot. Rupert's car was in the underground garage.
"Look, I -- thank you. For paying, I mean," Xander mumbled and stuttered.
Rupert nodded nervously. "My pleasure, really. After all, you paid for yesterday's meal." And oh, dear lord, had he truly been that blind? Harris had been pursuing him for weeks, now, and Rupert had only figured this out tonight. The urge to run away reared its ugly head again, and this time he could, if he truly wanted, just turn around and leave.
Except not, because Xander was grabbing his arms, and pushing him up against the side of his car. "Okay, this is probably a really bad place to do this, but I really wanna kiss you right now."
Rupert glanced at the front door of the precinct, more than just a few feet away; it was empty, the light from the hallway inside streaming in through the window into the dark night. The parking lot was also empty of onlookers. There were many reasons Rupert shouldn't allow this to happen, but none of them was that they could get caught right now, and so he leaned in and pressed his lips against Xander's warm mouth. A shrill ran through him at the touch, and he gripped Xander's forearms tightly.
When they pulled back, Xander looked flushed and slightly out of breath. "I know you're going to say this is a mistake, or at least you're thinking it right now, but I'm going to tell you this, and then I'm never going to mention it again," he said, and Rupert could feel him trembling slightly against his palms. "I'm not your reporter friend from England. I know I'm basically doing the same job she did, and you're probably scared to let yourself get close to me because of that, because you don't want anything to happen to me that could, in some really remote and stupid way, be your fault; and fuck if I don't get that. It took me forever before I worked up the nerves to sit behind the wheels of a car after my high school boyfriend got himself killed in a car accident on graduation day, and seriously--" he coughed, out of breath, before finishing with: "I know how it feels okay?"
Blinking in what he assumed must look quite idiotic Rupert nodded and ran his hands up Xander's arms to curve around his shoulders and pull him closer.
"Anyway, I'm not her, and I'm not going to be stupid and put myself in danger just because I can. I really like being alive. Like, a lot, and my readers aren't worth getting myself killed for any kind of reason whatsoever. And I like you more than a lot, and--"
"Xander," Rupert interrupted him, kissing Xander's lips again briefly. He could hear Xander's words and he knew their meaning, but all he could think about was that they were in the Police Department parking lot, and they really needed to be somewhere else to have this conversation. "You know where I live, correct?"
Xander nodded emphatically, licking his lips as if looking for a lingering taste of Rupert on them. "Yes, yeah, I know."
"I'll fetch my car and see you there, all right? Flat twenty-two, on the second floor," he added, unsure whether Xanderknew, or simply had a vague idea of which building Rupert lived in.
"I know; one six three Holland Drive, right off Main Street," Xander said quickly, nervously.
Rupert was starting to have doubts about Xander driving at all. He looked stunned, and more than a bit shaky. "Are you certain you're fit to drive?"
Xander gave a decisive nod, and let go of Rupert, smoothing down the edge of his shirt. "I'll be fine," he said steadily. "Don't worry. I just had -- a moment."
That explained nothing, really, but Rupert didn't ask again. He straightened up from the car, and watched Xander get to the driver's side door. "I'll see you in twenty minutes," he said, cursing the nervousness in his voice.
Xander smiled at him, and climbed in.
*
Rupert made a quick stop by his office to put down Xander's article, and see if there were any messages. He waved at Oz and Faith, the only two CSIs on the night shift -- as, contrary to most other cities, there were a lot less crime in Sunnydale at night than during the day, or at least the crimes were quieter and they tended to find the scenes in the morning and not at night -- on the way, and unlocked his door quickly. The sketch had been put back carefully on top of one pile of paperwork, and there were no written messages on the seat of his chair where they usually were. There was, however, a message on the answering machine.
"Hey, Giles, it's Willow. Um, so I don't have your DNA results because the machine kind of went poof and lost all my data, and I'll have to rerun the test tomorrow morning, but Snyder wants me to redo all the tests from the last week, because he thinks the malfunction may have cause 'skewed readings' or something -- as if I wouldn't have noticed or whatever; it's not like I don't know how to do my job. But I'll have to redo them and everything. I'm going to start tonight," she said, "but Buffy said that you said no double shifts, so I need to leave in like, ten minutes, and I won't have time to rerun the Lambert samples until tomorrow and I hope you can forgive me for this. I promise it's not my fault. I'm actually pretty sure it was Cordelia's fault, because she used it yesterday to run the Ferguson DNA behind my back and it was working fine before that, and she probably touched something she shouldn't have. Anyway..."
She took a deep breath and went on, "I hope you had a good time with Xander last night, or tonight, whatever time it is; I don't know when you're gonna get the message. I know you don't like to discuss your personal life with us and I promise I won't mention it again unless you do first, but just--" She paused and for a moment Rupert thought she'd been disconnected. "Just don't hurt him, okay?" She was silent again, and Rupert, thinking she was done again, went to delete the message, but then he heard her whisper, "he hasn't had a lot of luck with boyfriends, you know. The first one he had died from a blood disease when we were fifteen, and they'd been best friends forever, and then there was Larry, and he got killed in a car accident on Graduation day, and I don't know why I'm telling you all this, just that I think it's stuff you should know." He heard her breathe deeply again, and then: "I'll see you tomorrow."
He heard the click of the phone being disconnected this time, and his finger hovered over the delete button.
"Hey," Oz said behind him. Dear lord, how long had the lad been there? Rupert cursed Oz's silent nature under his breath. "Want us to look at the Patton case? Place's dead."
Rupert shook his head, and pushed his finger until the red display light blinked from "1" to "0". "Perhaps you should look over what evidence we have. We might have missed something."
"Case's kind of a mess, isn't it?" Oz asked.
"Yes, that would be an accurate description." Rupert picked up the sketch and handed it to Oz. "See if you can match this to anyone who might be connected to the case. And check to see if Andrew did anything with the surveillance tapes before he left." If Wells had managed anything, Rupert knew he'd have left whatever it was he'd found or done in the evidence room. Then he looked sternly at Faith, who was leaning against the doorway behind Oz with a smirk on her face. "Oh, and please, no heroics. This case is complicated enough, we can continue working on it in the morning. I'm only asking you two to do this to have a new set of eyes looking at it."
"Ah, boss," Faith crooned, "you know I like solving the cases I work on."
That would be why he'd hired her, actually. It was certainly not for her charming personality. Truth was, the woman scared him. "Yes, I do know," he said sternly, eyeing them both in turn. "But I do not want either of you to rush into anything. If you need to follow up a lead that cannot wait until the morning, please clear it with me first."
"No prob," Oz said.
"Sure, whatever, just let me play with the big kids now." Faith grinned, angling her body in that distinctive curl of hers; the one that meant trouble.
Rupert rolled his eyes at her. "I mean it, Faith."
Her expression changed to one of utter seriousness. "I know, Giles, trust me. I'm not gonna do anything."
"All right, and if you do find something we've missed, I'll even let you work a double shift so you can help us during the day." He smirked. Faith would never go for it.
Oz gave a shrug and said "sure," while Faith blinked. "Oh yeah, like I'm gonna miss on my beauty sleep because the day shift's dumb. Nuh uh."
Rupert sighed fondly and grabbed his keys from his pockets. He had to leave now, or Xander would start wondering if Rupert had stood him up.
Bloody hell, just what did he think he was doing? Dating a reporter? Snogging him in the parking lot? Meeting him for what was obviously meant to lead to sex?
He cleared his throat. "Right then, I'll be going. I'll see you both in the morning."
*
He called Xander to let him know he was running late, and then had to park the car two blocks from his apartment building just to breathe.
Rupert was a grown man, for heaven's sake, and he should not be having a breakdown because he was about to have sex with a ridiculously attractive young reporter. And the fact that he'd noticed how attractive Xander was should, really, have been a clue of what was happening between them, but Rupert really had been blind to all this.
His team, however, clearly hadn't been. Though he supposed Xander could have told Willow and Buffy about this evening himself. And this, of course, only made it clearer just how much of a bad idea this was.
But Rupert still found himself calming down when he remembered how much he'd actually enjoyed himself at dinner, something that so rarely happened. Even talking about work seemed easy with Xander. Everything had always been about information with Olivia, anything that could fit her article, or that she could get exclusive rights on; and she never listened when he asked that she not publish a certain detail or other. It had gotten to the point where Rupert had started avoiding her, for fear that she'd use their friendship to dig for information.
And the avoidance had ended up with her dead.
Xander was the complete opposite. He didn't rush any case, and never published any of what Rupert asked him to keep quiet. It was the boy's professionalism -- so unusual in someone with Xander's distinctive style of dress or well, everything -- which had attracted Rupert to him in the first place, he realized suddenly.
And he was attracted. More than, actually. Rupert shifted in his seat, and started up the car again.
He spared half a thought to the idea of calling Xander again and telling him that something had come up, but he shook his head; Xander would know it was a lie the moment the words would be out of Rupert's mouth. Perhaps he was a fool, to think this could be more to Xander than a fling, a one night stand, or whatever Yankees called it, but he'd be more of a fool to let this opportunity pass him by.
Xander was waiting for him on the steps outside of his building, and Rupert parked a few feet away.
"I was starting to think you'd stood me up, except for the part where it'd be really stupid to stand me up when I'm right where you live, but you know." Xander shrugged.
"I apologize," Rupert replied, coming up next to Xander and unable to suppress the smile that widened on his lips. "I was ambushed by the night shift on the way to the garage."
"Oz giving you trouble?" Xander asked as Rupert let them into the building, and led him to the stairs. "You know I can just not show up to his next gig in a show of solidarity. Or something."
"Gig?" Rupert said.
"You really don't know what your geeks do when they're not working, do you?" Xander arched his eyebrows at him in a way that should definitely not be in any way arousing.
Rupert shook that thought away, and walked decisively up the stairs, ignoring the pleasant throbbing in his groin, and the sudden pain in his knee. "I make it a point not to ask."
"Then I'll bet really good money you don't know Willow and her girlfriend are getting married in May," Xander said.
Rupert stood midway through the second set of stairs and blinked. "I wasn't even aware she was in any relationship at the moment." Let alone with another woman. The last he remembered of Willow's dating habits, she'd been recovering from a difficult break-up with Oz and had spent almost an entire week crying in the break room, which had led to a rather impressive backlog of cases to process, and Rupert had had to put his foot down. Gently. But it had been Oz, who was definitely a man; unless that was something else Rupert wasn't aware of.
He needed to get to know his staff a little better. "Where will the ceremony take place?" he asked. He resumed climbing up the stairs with a curse when his knee made its disagreement known.
Xander answered him from the top of the landing, "I don't know yet."
Rupert nodded and suppressed a grimace when he came to stand next to Xander. "This way," he nodded to the left. He took his keys out when they stopped in front of his door. "Don't let the cat out; the last time she escaped, she destroyed Mrs. Drumstrang's carpet on the fourth floor."
"You have a cat?" Xander asked, eyes widening. "Wow, I never took you for the cat type."
"It was a suggestion from my therapist after--" he shrugged. At first, Rupert hadn't even wanted to consider it, but the department was putting enormous pressure on him to complete his recovery as soon as possible, and Rupert hadn't wanted to jeopardize his career because one suggestion seemed utterly pointless to him.
Then he'd had to admit his therapist had been right, and when he'd moved to California, he'd been unable to part with the cat.
"Yeah, okay, that makes sense," Xander said. Rupert unlocked the door, and they quickly walked in. Fortunately, Penny wasn't hovering around the doorway when they did, and she only came running at them a few seconds after the door was shut. "Hey, kitty," Xander crooned as he bent down and scratched behind Penny's ear.
Rupert had to refrain from thinking the word "adorable." This was a sure way to win Penny's affection, and within seconds she went from being hesitant to rubbing herself all over Xander's hand. "She likes you," Rupert said, grinning.
"Yeah, she's a good kitty, isn't she?" He made cooing sounds at her, before finally straightening up. Rupert noted that Xander's cheeks were flushed. It looked good on him. "Um yeah, I like cats."
Rupert chuckled as he hung up his coat and took off his shoes. "Penny will not leave you alone now." As a matter of fact, she was already meowing and rubbing her side against Xander's legs.
"I can see that, but she'll have to, because I have plans tonight," Xander replied.
"Plans?" Rupert repeated. He came closer to Xander, and smiled. "What kind of plans?" He was starting to find it difficult to remember why, exactly, this was a bad idea.
"Mostly," Xander said, cupping Rupert's cheek, "they involve very little clothing."
Xander's lips tasted faintly of the chocolate cake he'd had for dessert. Rupert coaxed his lips apart and dipped inside, following the taste with his tongue. It had been too long, far too long, since he'd let himself feel this.
"Anyway," Xander whispered when they pulled apart, "like I said, I'm not going to get myself killed, okay? And I'm not going to use this to grill you for information."
"I know," Rupert replied softly. Xander had the annoying habit of insinuating himself into Rupert's investigations anyway; whether they were sleeping together or not, that wouldn't change.
"Now that that's out of the way," Xander said, curling a hand over the back of Rupert's neck. He pulled Rupert closer and nuzzled his neck.
Rupert shivered, his own hands coming up to touch Xander's shoulders, down his back. "My bedroom's at the end of the hallway," he whispered against Xander's lips. "We will be more comfortable there."
"Why, detective," Xander teased, "I think you may be propositioning me."
Rupert laughed and gave Xander's ass a sharp smack. "If I remember correctly, I didn't push you against your car earlier."
"Mmm, no," Xander admitted, lips grazing Rupert's jaw. "I did that to you. And you were really hot like that, too."
Rupert moaned softly when Xander's mouth found a sensitive spot next to his ear. He clutched at Xander's hips, pulling him forcefully against his groin. "Take off your shirt," he murmured, hoarsely. "Now."
"Oh God," Xander whimpered. Rupert didn't let him pull far, just enough that he could pull off the offending item and throw it against the door, which reminded Rupert that they were still in the hallway. He looked down at Xander's torso and didn't care. "Oh God, Rupert," Xander moaned, when Rupert bent down to suck at the skin on his shoulder.
He moved one hand slowly over Xander's torso, mapping the muscles, the hair, nipples. He bent down further and took one into his mouth and bit, softly, chuckling around it when it made Xander arch against him. Then he pulled back. "My bedroom. I'll be with you in a second."
He needed supplies, and the condoms were stocked in his bathroom. He hadn't had a nightly visitor in years. Xander didn't say a word when Rupert let him go; he went down the hall, his walk hindered by the erection tenting his khakis. Dear Lord, Rupert wanted to slip his hands into Xander's trousers, feel that heat against his palm.
In the harsh light of the bathroom, Rupert took a look at himself in the mirror, greying hair and creased face. God, he looked old and-- What in the bloody hell did he think he was doing? Harris was a reporter, almost a colleague, and he was less than half Rupert's age; that alone should be a good enough reason to stop. But Rupert didn't want to stop.
The feel of Xander's mouth on his lips and his neck, Xander's hands on him -- he wanted this, not the overwhelming solitude of his life.
His work didn't allow him to pursue a romantic relationship; they always ended in disaster when Rupert spent more time investigating murders than being at home. It was why he had a cat and not a dog, after all. But Xander--
Not that whatever they had between them was going to become anything serious, but if it did, if there was the slightest chance that tonight turned into more, Xander would know what the job was like; he was knee-deep in it as well.
With a deep breath, Rupert resolutely pulled a handful of condoms from the box, and closed the drawer. He turned off the light on the way out.
Xander was sitting on the bed, looking around in curiosity when Rupert walked in; his expression turned to worry. "Did you--"
Rupert silenced him by cupping his cheek and kissing him, slowly, savouring the taste of him as he dipped his tongue inside Xander's mouth again. "I am fine," he whispered when their lips parted. He put the condoms down on the nightstand and ran his fingertips down the length of Xander's torso. "Would you like me to undress?"
Xander bit his lower lip, and Rupert would have had to be a much stronger man not to bend down and kiss it, dragging his tongue over the quickly fading teeth marks. "Yeah," Xander murmured, out of breath. "Yes, please."
There was something intensely arousing about making Xander Harris virtually speechless. He was eyeing Rupert, mouth partially open but not saying a word, as Rupert stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt. He slid it off his shoulders and turned to hang it on the closet door handle before he pulled his undershirt over his head. He had a second of self-consciousness when he remembered the greying hair of his chest, but one look at the look of raw, open arousal on Xander's face pushed the thought away.
He unbuckled his belt and undid the first button of his trousers. "Take off your pants," he said to Xander when it was clear the boy wouldn't do anything but stare unless Rupert told him what to do. "And your socks."
Xander's fingers scrambled for the button of his khakis, and he lowered the zipper quickly, immediately pulling pants and socks off.
Rupert let his hand drift to his crotch, and he moaned softly as he cupped his erection through his pants. He pulled his trousers down and draped them over the back of the chair in the corner; socks went into the dirty laundry basket underneath it. He came back to face Xander with a grin and curled his hand around Xander's neck. "Stand," he said firmly.
Xander immediately did as he was asked. "Fuck, you're so hot," he murmured, pressing his own hands flat against Rupert's torso.
"I tend to be--" he searched for the word and settled on, "demanding, in the bedroom."
"That's okay with me. God." Xander groaned when Rupert's fingers drifted down his back to rest above the curve of Xander's ass.
"Shall I fuck you, then?"
"Oh fuck." Xander shivered and moaned. "You know when I planned on seducing you tonight? I didn't think you'd be this hot. And I thought I'd have to do a lot more coaxing."
"It all backfired on you, then?" Rupert asked, lips grazing Xander's neck.
"Totally in my favour," Xander replied. He whimpered when Rupert's teeth worked at the skin under his lips. "God, fuck, totally."
"I'm glad," Rupert whispered, letting his fingers dip under the waistband of Xander's boxers. "I'll take these off you."
"Yes, please," Xander groaned.
Rupert slid his hands further down, cupping Xander's asscheeks into his palms. "Such a beautiful arse." He caught Xander's whimper with his lips, and squeezed his hands on the warm flesh before pushing the boxers down Xander's legs.
Xander was hard, so very hard, his cock leaking at the tip, and Rupert caught the drop on his thumb and brought it to his mouth.
"Oh. Fuck," Xander groaned.
Rupert savoured the taste on his tongue and brought his hand down again, wrapping his fist around Xander's erection, feeling it warm and pulsing against his palm. He kissed Xander, lips pushing hard against Xander's, tongue dipping in and out slowly, making the boy moan and arch up into Rupert's grip. "Sit," Rupert ordered him, his breath brushing over Xander's kiss-bruised lips as he pulled back.
Eyes drifting to Rupert's crotch, Xander sat on the edge of the bed and bit his lower lip.
Rupert curled his palm around the curve of Xander's skull and forced him to look up. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice hoarse from contained arousal. He wanted Xander's mouth on his cock, Xander's hands on his hips. Rupert shuddered when Xander leaned forward and nuzzled his stomach. Rupert gave him a nod of approval, and Xander moved lower, mouthing at Rupert's erection through his boxers. "Take them off me," he groaned, fingers coursing through Xander's hair.
Fingers hooked on the waistband, and then pulled the boxers down, over Rupert's ass, and his cock, down his legs. "I want you to suck me."
Xander grinned up at him, and darted out his tongue to lap at the tip of Rupert's erection. "I want to taste you, God," he said, breathless and flushed. "Please."
Rupert would never have imagined this, not before tonight. Perhaps he was a cynic these days, or a loner, someone accustomed to not having what he desired, and so he never dreamt of what could be. But if he had thought about having Xander Harris, naked and so hard for Rupert in his bedroom, Rupert wouldn't have imagined Xander being so quietly submissive. He would have hoped for it, but he wouldn't have thought it possible at all.
Here he was, nonetheless, with Xander's mouth wrapping around his cock, and Xander's hands settling on Rupert's hips. Within minutes, Xander's head was tilted back, his eyes locked on Rupert's, and Rupert was steadily pushing his cock in and out of Xander's mouth, slowly, in and out. And then faster, deeper, careful not to go too deeply, until Rupert pulled back, shaking, panting, every nerve on edge, and said, "On the bed, on your stomach."
Xander made a wordless sound in his throat and scrambled up on the bed, taking position on all fours, his head pillowed on his forearms. "Like this?" he croaked, licking dry lips.
Rupert looked at him for a moment, just drinking the sight of him like this, spread out and eager. Who knew when it would happen again... Forcing his thoughts away, Rupert opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the tube of lubricant. He put it on the bed, next to a condom, and climbed behind Xander. He dragged his fingertips down the expanse of Xander's warm, sweaty back, to his ass, dipping them into the crack to brush against Xander's hole.
Xander arched up immediately and whimpered. "Please," he moaned brokenly. "Please, fuck me."
Kissing between Xander's shoulder blades, Rupert bit gently on the skin there and whispered, "Yes, I will." He reached for the lube and pressed a slick finger to Xander's entrance a moment later. "Tell me you want this, Xander."
"God, yes, Rupert, please." Xander pushed back, and looked over his shoulder at Rupert. "Please, I want you to fuck me so fucking much."
"You have done this before, right?" Rupert asked, pushing a first finger in to the knuckle.
"Yes, fuck, yes, shit," Xander replied. He clenched his muscles and added, "Been a few years, but yes."
Rupert caressed Xander's asscheek with his other hand, and pushed his finger further in. He wanted to prepare Xander gently, slowly, but the combination of Xander's moans, and the throbbing of his own cock, the way Xander arched and pushed back with each thrust, meant Rupert couldn't make himself wait as much as he should. He added another finger, scissored them, felt Xander's muscles relax, and added yet another.
"I'm ready, fuck, please," Xander groaned, trying to pull Rupert's fingers in deeper. "Please, please."
There was no way Rupert could wait then. He put on a condom and lube, and then he was in, hands on Xander's hips, holding him still as he pushed his cock inside tight, so very tight, heat. "Oh," he grunted, head thrown back.
"Fuck me, yeah, yeah," Xander urged him and twined his fingers with Rupert's on his hip. "Want you in, all the way in."
Rupert pulled out until only the tip of his cock was encased, and then thrust back in, slowly; pulled out again, and in, until he had his cock as deep as it would go, Xander's muscles clenching so tight, and the boy moaning and whimpering underneath him. "So tight, so bloody tight," Rupert whispered against Xander's shoulder. "Want me to fuck you hard now?"
Xander nodded into the pillow, voice and moans muffled as he arched up and met Rupert's next thrust, and the next. Rupert's fingers tightened on Xander's hips, and he drove in harder, faster, deeper, feeling it down to his toes.
He could feel his orgasm building, slowly, steadily, each push of his cock inside Xander's ass bringing him closer to the edge, and he pulled out almost completely, and then thrust in, hard. "Touch yourself. I want to see your fist around your cock."
"Fuck yeah," Xander groaned. He uncurled one hand off the pillow and slid it between his body and the mattress.
"No." Rupert smacked his hip, and then pulled until he was sitting on his heels and Xander's back rubbed against his chest. "Like this, I want to watch you."
Xander whimpered when the next thrust sent Rupert's cock even deeper inside him. "God, yeah, fuck."
"Wrap your hands around your cock. I want to see you come." Rupert put his chin on Xander shoulder and thrust up again, pushing Xander's hips down. "Come now, lad, come for me." Xander's head came to rest on Rupert's shoulder as he moaned, baring his neck, and Rupert pressed his lips against the curve and sucked on the skin.
"Oh God, Rupert," Xander cried out, panting harshly. He sped up his strokes, pushed down harder into Rupert's cock, and moaned low in his throat as he came messily, spilling himself on his fingers and wrist.
Spent, he slumped down on the bed, face first, and Rupert followed him, forcing Xander's legs further apart. He thrust in and out faster and harder, mouth still pressed to Xander's neck and biting now. "Want me to come on or in you?" he asked, breath coming in short gasps.
"In, fuck, please, in me," Xander managed, voice half muffled by the pillow.
"Bloody hell, yes, in you," Rupert whispered, biting on Xander's earlobe. It wouldn't be long; watching Xander come had already taken him so close, so fast, and Xander was clenching his muscles again, pushing up to meet Rupert's next thrust. "You feel so bloody incredible, Xander. So tight, so--" He moaned, and gave one, two, three more thrusts, and came, cock buried balls deep into Xander's ass.
Rupert collapsed next to Xander, panting, and reached down to give Xander's ass a quick, clumsy squeeze.
"Fuck," Xander groaned next to him. "Fuck, that was good."
Rupert grinned dazedly at him and raked his fingertips up Xander's back to curl around his neck. "Couldn't say it better," he murmured and pulled Xander close, brushing their lips together in a satisfied kiss. Rupert cleaned himself up and settled on the bed lazily. He heard himself say, "Stay for the night," and he heard Xander's half muffled "yes" before he'd even finished.
Rupert turned off the light, and pulled Xander against his side, warm, just a little sweaty, and definitely half asleep already. Sex in general didn't tend to put Rupert to sleep, but the day had been a long one, and the soft snores from Xander quickly lured him into slumber.
*
PART THREE
FRAO, Giles/Xander, AU
PART ONE
*
The witness, Mrs. Strumer, had one piece of interesting information: a man, somewhere between twenty and thirty years old -- she couldn't tell because of the hat he'd been wearing -- had been by the night before Ms. Lambert's death. Mrs. Strumer had been sitting on her balcony waiting for her daughter to come home, and she'd seen him arrive. He'd knocked and rung the doorbell twice, before doubling back. She'd never seen the man before, and Ms. Lambert was a quiet sort, or so Mrs. Strumer said, and barely ever had anyone but her mother in for a visit.
Rupert had asked her to go to the station to give a deposition, and meet with their sketch artist. It was now two hours later, and he was staring at the sketch intently. The man's face looked familiar, in a distant sort of way, and he couldn't quite place him. He'd have to show the others and see if anyone recognized him.
He was putting down the drawing when his phone rang. "Giles."
"I get that you've been busy," Harris said, again without preamble. The man was irritatingly impolite. "But, it's almost dinner time, and you owe me food."
Rupert refrained from adding the obvious comment about Harris' intention, fearing they wouldn't be taken into the right context. "I need an hour to wrap things up here and see if my CSIs have everything under control. Meet me at the front desk then?"
"I am at the front desk," Harris replied. "Harmony doesn't look real happy to see me, and I'm kinda scared she's picking up the phone to call that Snyder guy right now. He gives me the creeps."
"Yes, I can see why," Rupert said, sighing. "Very well, I'll be as quick as I can. Given the circumstances, perhaps you'd rather wait in my office?" Not that he wanted the man anywhere near him right now, especially when he'd have to endure at least an hour of his company soon enough, but Rupert had a strange moment of solidarity for him. Snyder was not the kind of man you wanted to face on an empty stomach. Or ever, actually.
Dear Lord, but he loathed the new Chief.
"Yeah, and I promise not to snoop or peek at anything." Rupert could almost see Harris holding up his hands in that much too endearing way of his.
"Right then." Rupert hung up. Less than a minute later, Harris was at his doorway. "Come in, and sit down," Rupert said, holding the sketch in one hand while he waved Xander in. "I'll be as quick as possible." Then he added, "There is a lock on the door if you see Snyder come this way."
Xander shot him a grateful look, and Rupert walked out, ignoring the way his chest tightened at the sight of Xander's smile.
Harris, Rupert reminded himself sternly. There was really no need for first names in their strictly job-related relationship.
"Buffy," he called, walking into the evidence room a few doors down. She was sitting on a stool, Riley just a few feet down the table, examining pieces of evidence from that afternoon's shooting. "I've a sketch of a potential suspect. Perhaps you could circulate it before going home tonight?"
Buffy gave him a distracted nod and picked up the paper. "You know that shoe print we found at the first and second crime scenes?"
"Yes, I remember." It was a puzzle to say the least. The Fergusons had been murdered before the heist took place, and yet the print at the jewellery store was older than the one at the Pine Street flat, as evidenced by the fact that the second print had dirt from the first one.
Riley took over. "We think we found a similar one in Ms. Lambert's flower bed, but it's not the same shoe."
"Same size, though, and roughly the same width too," Buffy added. "Maybe he got a new pair?"
Rupert considered that. "Perhaps our perp simply owns more than one pair of shoes. Has Willow gotten the results of the DNA test yet?"
Buffy shook her head, and kept her eyes on the sketch in her hands. "Not as far as I know, and Spike's still doesn't have his bullet. It was stuck in the woman's head, and Wesley isn't done getting it out."
Yes, of course, it'd only been a few hours after all. "All right, no one pulls a double shift tonight, I want you refreshed and alert in the morning; this case is at a standstill as it is. Though if anything turns up before you leave, please call me."
Buffy waved him off distractedly, while Riley shot him a "Sure thing, boss."
Rupert stopped to tell Angel he was leaving and also told him to take a look at the sketch Buffy had as soon as he could, and then met with Harris in his office again.
"Ready?" Xander asked, eagerly getting to his feet. Much too eagerly.
"Yes, shall we?"
"We shall," Xander replied, with a flourish. "Oh," he said, turning around to pick up a manila folder from the desk. "Alibi."
"Alibi?" Rupert asked, frowning. He recognized the folder as being the one holding Xander's article, which he hadn't had time to read yet.
"For in case we get caught on the way out and Snyder asks too many questions."
Oh. "I see," Rupert said. "Good thinking."
"Thanks," Xander beamed. "I try."
Harris--Oh, bloody hell, Rupert sighed. He might as well give in. Xander it was.
Xander's plan ended up being really helpful when they passed by Harmony's desk and heard "Detective Giles!" bellowed in Snyder's easily recognizable tone. "What do you think you're doing? Your shift ends in an hour."
Rupert slowly turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, and I am, in fact, still working."
Snyder sneered at him. "How is that? You're on your way out, and you've just told your staff you were leaving for the day."
Rupert took a deep breath. "Mr. Harris and I are meeting to discuss his article. Since we need to be uninterrupted while we do so, we figured it'd be best if we did it outside of the precinct. Perhaps you'd like to join us?" He said it in the most innocent tone, and could see Xander repressing a laugh from the corner of his eye.
Snyder spluttered incoherently.
"Of course, it'll be quite boring, as we'll be going over every paragraph, and it might take several hours," Rupert added.
The man harrumphed and glared at him. "I'm watching you, detective." Then he turned around, and walked decisively back towards his office.
"Man, that was glorious," Xander said, laughing, when they emerged from the building. "I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there."
Rupert found himself smiling and laughing as well. "His face did turn a rather deep shade of red, didn't it?"
"Oh yeah. I was scared for a minute that he was going to actually, you know, come with us, but that was still awesome." He stopped at the street corner and looked in every direction, before settling his eyes on Rupert. "Where we going?"
Rupert hadn't thought much about it, but he figured if he was going to have to suffer through a dinner with Harris again, he should at least do it somewhere comfortable. "There's a lovely restaurant down the street, just a few blocks away, Rosemary's, have you heard of it?"
"Yeah," Xander said, his smile widening. "Never been though; the food's supposed to be pretty good."
"It truly is," Rupert replied. It had opened just a few months earlier, and Rupert had fallen for the quiet, café-like atmosphere the first time he'd walked in. "I'm surprised you haven't tried it yet," he added as they walked.
Xander gave a shrug. "I'm more of a diner kinda guy, usually. I mean, I make good-enough money, but some restaurants are still out of my league."
Rupert filed that information away. He knew journalists in Xander's field didn't make that good of a salary, but Rosemary's was certainly not an expensive restaurant by anyone's standards. He didn't ask though, as it was none of his business. Perhaps Xander had plans that involved putting money aside, and thus meals out, unless strictly necessary, were out of the question.
Knowing it wasn't any concern of his didn't make Rupert any less curious.
They were seated in the back of the room, at Rupert's request -- they would be discussing sensitive information, and a view on the street was definitely not ideal for this -- and the waiter immediately brought them menus and glasses of water.
"So," Xander asked, a few minutes later. He put down his menu, folding it back properly, and grinned in a somewhat comical way. "What made you leave your home country?"
"Isn't that quite personal? And never mind the fact that I'm certain you've read what public record there is on me out there." Rupert picked his meal and put his menu down on top of Xander's.
"What can I say, you asked me why I'm doing what I'm doing, and I figured now it's my turn," Xander said, leaning forward. "Anyway, you don't really want to talk about work, do you? My article won't be published until this case is cleared, so there's no rush."
"There are still a few points we need to discuss," Rupert said firmly. He had no desire to speak of anything but work.
Or perhaps it was the opposite. He had an intense desire for this to be something it obviously was not, and could not let himself fall into this trap. Not again.
"All right, a deal," Xander said, putting down his glass of water. "We talk business until the food gets here, and I mean the main course, appetizers don't count. But the moment we get our plates? No more business and you answer that question."
It was a recipe for disaster, though Rupert still nodded in agreement. He should have brought the sketch with him to show Xander. Although that was not allowed, Xander did have a knack for remembering faces, if not names. "This sounds reasonable."
"Good."
Just then, their waiter came back to take their order, and promptly went away. "We had a witness on the Lambert case," Rupert said, when the man was out of earshot. "The neighbour saw a man come by the house in the evening, when Ms. Lambert was out."
"Did you get a sketch?" Xander asked.
"Yes, not a very good one, but I suppose it's better than nothing."
"Too general?"
Rupert pursed his lips. "Somewhat. The witness only had partial details, as the man was wearing a baseball cap, but the face is familiar, and I've the feeling we're missing something." It felt like there was one rather large piece of the puzzle missing, the kind that was right in front of them, but no one could see until their faces were shoved in it. He hated cases like this.
"See, I have this feeling I can't shake off," Xander said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "There's something that's rubbing me the wrong way about the Holloways."
"Oh? And why is that?" Rupert frowned, taking off his glasses. He had never even reconsidered the Holloways. Jessa Holloway was dead, and her husband a properly grieving widow left alone with a child too young to have lost her mother. Perhaps, Rupert thought as he remembered Mr. Holloway's face when they'd met, perhaps the man was grieving too properly. There was nothing out of place about him, and that seemed odd to Rupert all of a sudden.
"I don't know," Xander admitted. "It's too clear cut or something. See, the brothers didn't set up to kill anyone in that robbery, all they wanted was the money. And Warren's been saying left and right that yeah, it was his gun, but no, he didn't kill the woman."
"Yes, I know," Rupert said. "He's made it quite clear he believes Henry pulled the trigger despite all evidence of the contrary."
"It doesn't matter who did it, but that they didn't want it to happen. Something must have set them off."
"Perhaps she'd said something--"
"Did the jewellery store have any video surveillance?" Xander asked, suddenly.
Rupert groaned quietly. He really disliked being interrupted. "Yes," he sighed. "But we can barely see or hear anything from the angle of the cameras." Andrew Wells, their video tech expert, had been working on it almost non-stop, to try to enhance the sound and/or image, and had yet to come see Rupert with any sort of result. He'd have to check up on Wells' progress in the morning. Even just a passable audio feed would be better than nothing. Of course, that meant subjecting himself to Andrew's unique way of communicating -- Rupert needed a "Pop Culture References to English" translator almost every time -- but it needed to be done. Or perhaps he'd send Finn. See how the new guy handled yet another one of the crazy people this lab held.
As if reading Rupert's mind, Xander said, "I'm sure Andrew'll figure something out; he's a tech whiz."
If Xander hadn't already been a good friend of most of his staff before any of them had ever been hired -- and when Xander had yet to find his calling as a journalist -- Rupert would think he was befriending them for inside information. "I'm afraid of how Snyder will take your being friends with possibly all of the technicians and CSIs on the payroll," he admitted.
Xander smiled. "Buffy'll kick his ass the moment he tries to say something stupid about it." He shrugged and pulled back when the waiter arrived with their appetizers. "Then they'll quit en masse and Snyder'll be in so much trouble, he'll hire them back. It's not like Sunnydale's a big city, you know. Crime rate's high, but there aren't all that many science experts living here, and not a lot of people want to move here for work either."
Rupert, though, no matter what Snyder might think, trusted everyone he worked with, and while Xander tended to be the annoying sort, he was also too honest and loyal to do anything to jeopardize work or friendship.
"And it's not my fault all my friends are geeks," he added with a smile, before digging into his soup.
"Perhaps not, but it does say a great deal about you," Rupert said, picking up his own spoon. It was carrot soup tonight, one of his favourites.
In between two spoonsful of soup, Xander said, "I think I'm gonna see if I can dig up anything on the rape charges against Patton the patriarch from twenty-seven years ago."
"That sounds like a good plan," Rupert agreed. That would possibly mean Xander would be out of his hair for part of the day on what Rupert imagined would be a fool's errand. Although, at the same time, Rupert liked to have as much information about the concerned parties of each cases he worked, no matter how trivial, and knowing why those rape charges had been either dropped or dismissed would feed his curiosity.
And now that he was focused on it, Holloway did seem dodgy to him as well.
"How old is Holloway?" Xander asked, putting down his spoon, and pushing away his empty bowl.
Rupert held his gaze, jaw set and mouth firmly closed but for letting soup in.
"Oh, come on, Giles, it's not like this is something that'd be hard for me to find out." Xander turned to dig into his messenger bag on the seat next to him, pulling out his cellphone. "One call and I'll get that information out of someone."
Rupert sighed. "All right, true enough. He's twenty-six or so, I believe. Not that I've paid that much attention to him, since he was the husband of our first victim, and not a suspect."
"Yeah, figures," Xander said. "But that would fit."
"Fit what?" Rupert brought the last spoonful of soup to his lips.
Xander gave him a half shrug and a smile. "It's just some weird theory that's taking shape in my brain. If I'm right, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, promise. I know you value evidence over theory, so you'll have to wait."
Their waiter returned, clearing out their empty plates, and replacing them with their main course. "Is everything all right here?" the man asked, smiling in that constipated way some restaurant workers had when they were clearly not happy to be working at that moment.
"Everything's fine," Rupert answered. "Thank you."
There was a moment of comfortable silence while they took the first few bites of their meal -- delicious shepherd's pie for Rupert, and steak and potatoes for Xander. When his phone rang, Rupert put down his fork and reached for it. "Rupert Giles."
"Hey, Giles!" Buffy said, jovially. "Sorry to interrupt your date--"
Rupert groaned. "It is not--"
"--but I've got some news," Buffy continued without acknowledging him. "Spike got his bullet and he confirms it's the same as the other three. So fourth body for our sharp shooter. And I went around the lab with that sketch and everyone's saying the guy looks familiar, but they can't put their finger on who it is."
"I was afraid of that." It was exactly what he'd thought. The sketch was their first lead for their serial killer, but it was too vague to do them any good yet. "Thanks anyway for the update, and Buffy--"
"Tell Xander I said hi," she interrupted him, again, too chipper for Rupert's good. "Have a good time!" And then she hung up.
Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he looked up, Xander was smiling at him broadly, his smile reaching the corner of his eyes. Rupert almost did a double take. Bloody hell -- "Buffy says hi," he managed to said despite the knot in his throat -- this was a date.
He looked at his plate, and then up at Xander again. He should leave. Run. Never look back. This was definitely a recipe for disaster; he'd almost gone down this road once before and had promised never let temptation win. Yet he felt compelled to stay.
Rupert hid his sudden realization by stuffing another forkful of pie in his mouth.
"Did she have anything interesting to say?" Xander asked.
Shaking his head, Rupert reached for his napkin and lay it down on his lap. "Not so much; just confirmation that the bullet does point to the same killer and the sketch hasn't turned up anything so far."
"So things we already suspected," Xander concluded. "Anyway, main course is here, so you owe me an answer."
Oh dear Lord. Rupert groaned, and went to take off his glasses, only to find them gone already. He picked them up from the table and put them back on instead. "I'm not sure we should--"
Xander nodded and looked down at his plate, pursing his lips. "Yeah, okay, never mind."
Rupert should not, in any way, be feeling guilty right then. Xander had tricked him into asking him out, and now he wanted to dig into Rupert's past. Rupert wouldn't be another cover story. He'd spent the past five years learning to deal with what had happened, and not just so it could be splattered all over the headlines again.
But he did feel guilty at the look on Xander's face, and at the way he held his head down. Perhaps, this being a date -- despite Rupert being thoroughly unaware of it until now -- perhaps Xander's motives weren't moved by a desire for information, but by a desire to get to know Rupert. That happened to be something Rupert truly wasn't used to. Even with Olivia, despite their lifelong friendship, things between them had always, somehow, related to business.
He sighed, and swallowed his mouthful before speaking. "The last case I worked in England did not go so well."
Xander perked up and gave a swift nod. "I read about that, from the newspaper articles."
"Yes, there was quite a scandal over the whole thing." And Olivia, whom Rupert had known for more than half their lives, had ended up dead.
"That journalist, you really were, you know, an item?" Xander asked, suspiciously nervous.
Rupert couldn't make heads or tails of Xander's tone of voice, but he still answered, "No, we weren't. She was an old friend." And he was surprised that talking about her wasn't as painful as it used to be. She'd pursued him relentlessly for years, until finally giving up. The tabloids, however, had immediately seized on their close relationship and made a mess of things, after Olivia's death. Rupert hadn't lost his job, but it had been a close call, and it was made clear that he should start looking for some other precinct to work at, while he was still in recovery.
"Sorry," Xander whispered. "It said you got shot..."
"My knee, yes," Rupert replied. He absently rubbed at his knee before catching himself, and putting his hand firmly on the table.
"Okay, so let me see if I can put the puzzle together." Xander stared into space for a moment, lips pursed and food forgotten. Rupert took another few bites while he waited. "So, you were one of the best detectives Bath PD ever had -- and I know that because you're the best one Sunnydale PD's ever had, and I figure you didn't just suddenly become cool when you moved here -- and you were working with a journalist who had a huge crush on you."
Rupert tried not to draw too many parallels with his current life, but the description was accurate enough.
Xander went on. "You were investigating a serial killer with a taste for middle aged black women, and your journalist friend wouldn't wait for you to catch up with her, and decided to act as bait."
He hung his head down, and listened. Xander really did have a talent for this. Olivia had left a message on Rupert's answering machine that night; short and to the point, just like she always was. By the time he'd gotten the message, it had already been too late.
"When you rushed to find and save her, you found her already dead, and you got shot, and the killer decided it'd be a much better idea to kill himself than to go to prison."
Of course most of those details were in the published articles and the police report, but that didn't make Xander's tale any less true. He'd taken out the trashy tales of a behind the scenes romance, and of an imagined fight that had to have occurred between them and meant Rupert had ignored Olivia, and thus led to her death; fight which painted Rupert as a very nasty human being indeed. The truth was, Rupert had been in a meeting with several colleagues while they put together evidence, and Olivia had known that. She'd chosen that time to act, because she knew Rupert wouldn't be there to stop her, or do anything that would jeopardize her quest for information. She'd wanted to be in the skin of a victim, to make her article that much more appealing to readers.
That didn't lessen Rupert's guilt at all. It only heightened it. He'd known her inside and out, and she'd told him what she'd do if he wasn't looking over her shoulder every step of the way. He should have seen the signs. She'd never understood the risks.
"What I don't get," Xander added, "is why you came here. I mean, you had a career over there, you solved more crimes than any one of your colleagues, and you still decided to move all your stuff to sunny Cal."
Rupert looked straight at him. "During my recovery, I received a call from an ME friend who'd been contacted about a new CSI lab opening here. You might know him." He quirked an eyebrow at Xander and bit into his piece of bread.
"Wesley? You mean you knew Wyndham-Pryce before moving here?" Xander seemed genuinely surprised by this; it was almost heart-warming for Rupert to think that some things could stay secret in this world.
"Yes, we were at Oxford -- well, not quite together, as he's a few years younger and was in a completely different field, but we knew the same people." Rupert took a sip of his water, and another bite of food. "I was in need of being far away from what had happened, and he was asking for permission to leave my name with the Sunnydale Chief of Police. I agreed. I wasn't expecting any job offers, but Chief Flutie quite shockingly offered me the lead of the department, and I was on a flight as soon as my orthopaedist cleared me for travel." Oh, how he missed the man now. Flutie had died on duty just over four months ago, and it had taken quite a long time before they'd found a suitable replacement; and saying Snyder was "suitable" took quite a stretch of the imagination. Sure, he got the work done, but he acted more like a school principal would with wayward teenagers, than a Chief of Police with trained officers and scientists under his command.
"Wow, I never would have figured that part out," Xander said.
The rest of their meal passed in agreeable conversation while Rupert recounted the first days of the CSI lab, with Xander adding bits and pieces of information along the way, from the time Buffy and Willow, both his best friends from high school, had been hired.
The first crew of CSIs that Rupert had worked with in Sunnydale had been from all over California and the lower surrounding states, and they'd been there on a "loan" from the other PDs until the precinct had their own scientists and officers working the labs. The only one left from that time apart from Rupert and Wesley, was Winifred Burkle in Trace, who'd finally decided not to head home to Texas after her contract had been over. Rupert had immediately offered her a permanent job as while she was a little eccentric, and possibly more than a little insane, she definitely was the best. Everyone else had been personally handpicked by Rupert, and most of them were born and bred in Sunnydale. And all of them were fairly close to or less than thirty years old. They had the youngest overall mean age of any CSI lab in the States, which sometimes gave Rupert nightmares, but also made him quite proud of everyone's efficiency.
When the waiter came back with dessert, Rupert asked for one bill, and Xander shot him a look of surprise. The lad hadn't thought Rupert had been onto the "date" yet, or perhaps he'd been expecting to be the one paying. Rupert smiled at him, and handed his credit card to the waiter.
They walked out into the cool night air and down the street in silence, and finally stopped next to Xander's car in the precinct parking lot. Rupert's car was in the underground garage.
"Look, I -- thank you. For paying, I mean," Xander mumbled and stuttered.
Rupert nodded nervously. "My pleasure, really. After all, you paid for yesterday's meal." And oh, dear lord, had he truly been that blind? Harris had been pursuing him for weeks, now, and Rupert had only figured this out tonight. The urge to run away reared its ugly head again, and this time he could, if he truly wanted, just turn around and leave.
Except not, because Xander was grabbing his arms, and pushing him up against the side of his car. "Okay, this is probably a really bad place to do this, but I really wanna kiss you right now."
Rupert glanced at the front door of the precinct, more than just a few feet away; it was empty, the light from the hallway inside streaming in through the window into the dark night. The parking lot was also empty of onlookers. There were many reasons Rupert shouldn't allow this to happen, but none of them was that they could get caught right now, and so he leaned in and pressed his lips against Xander's warm mouth. A shrill ran through him at the touch, and he gripped Xander's forearms tightly.
When they pulled back, Xander looked flushed and slightly out of breath. "I know you're going to say this is a mistake, or at least you're thinking it right now, but I'm going to tell you this, and then I'm never going to mention it again," he said, and Rupert could feel him trembling slightly against his palms. "I'm not your reporter friend from England. I know I'm basically doing the same job she did, and you're probably scared to let yourself get close to me because of that, because you don't want anything to happen to me that could, in some really remote and stupid way, be your fault; and fuck if I don't get that. It took me forever before I worked up the nerves to sit behind the wheels of a car after my high school boyfriend got himself killed in a car accident on graduation day, and seriously--" he coughed, out of breath, before finishing with: "I know how it feels okay?"
Blinking in what he assumed must look quite idiotic Rupert nodded and ran his hands up Xander's arms to curve around his shoulders and pull him closer.
"Anyway, I'm not her, and I'm not going to be stupid and put myself in danger just because I can. I really like being alive. Like, a lot, and my readers aren't worth getting myself killed for any kind of reason whatsoever. And I like you more than a lot, and--"
"Xander," Rupert interrupted him, kissing Xander's lips again briefly. He could hear Xander's words and he knew their meaning, but all he could think about was that they were in the Police Department parking lot, and they really needed to be somewhere else to have this conversation. "You know where I live, correct?"
Xander nodded emphatically, licking his lips as if looking for a lingering taste of Rupert on them. "Yes, yeah, I know."
"I'll fetch my car and see you there, all right? Flat twenty-two, on the second floor," he added, unsure whether Xanderknew, or simply had a vague idea of which building Rupert lived in.
"I know; one six three Holland Drive, right off Main Street," Xander said quickly, nervously.
Rupert was starting to have doubts about Xander driving at all. He looked stunned, and more than a bit shaky. "Are you certain you're fit to drive?"
Xander gave a decisive nod, and let go of Rupert, smoothing down the edge of his shirt. "I'll be fine," he said steadily. "Don't worry. I just had -- a moment."
That explained nothing, really, but Rupert didn't ask again. He straightened up from the car, and watched Xander get to the driver's side door. "I'll see you in twenty minutes," he said, cursing the nervousness in his voice.
Xander smiled at him, and climbed in.
*
Rupert made a quick stop by his office to put down Xander's article, and see if there were any messages. He waved at Oz and Faith, the only two CSIs on the night shift -- as, contrary to most other cities, there were a lot less crime in Sunnydale at night than during the day, or at least the crimes were quieter and they tended to find the scenes in the morning and not at night -- on the way, and unlocked his door quickly. The sketch had been put back carefully on top of one pile of paperwork, and there were no written messages on the seat of his chair where they usually were. There was, however, a message on the answering machine.
"Hey, Giles, it's Willow. Um, so I don't have your DNA results because the machine kind of went poof and lost all my data, and I'll have to rerun the test tomorrow morning, but Snyder wants me to redo all the tests from the last week, because he thinks the malfunction may have cause 'skewed readings' or something -- as if I wouldn't have noticed or whatever; it's not like I don't know how to do my job. But I'll have to redo them and everything. I'm going to start tonight," she said, "but Buffy said that you said no double shifts, so I need to leave in like, ten minutes, and I won't have time to rerun the Lambert samples until tomorrow and I hope you can forgive me for this. I promise it's not my fault. I'm actually pretty sure it was Cordelia's fault, because she used it yesterday to run the Ferguson DNA behind my back and it was working fine before that, and she probably touched something she shouldn't have. Anyway..."
She took a deep breath and went on, "I hope you had a good time with Xander last night, or tonight, whatever time it is; I don't know when you're gonna get the message. I know you don't like to discuss your personal life with us and I promise I won't mention it again unless you do first, but just--" She paused and for a moment Rupert thought she'd been disconnected. "Just don't hurt him, okay?" She was silent again, and Rupert, thinking she was done again, went to delete the message, but then he heard her whisper, "he hasn't had a lot of luck with boyfriends, you know. The first one he had died from a blood disease when we were fifteen, and they'd been best friends forever, and then there was Larry, and he got killed in a car accident on Graduation day, and I don't know why I'm telling you all this, just that I think it's stuff you should know." He heard her breathe deeply again, and then: "I'll see you tomorrow."
He heard the click of the phone being disconnected this time, and his finger hovered over the delete button.
"Hey," Oz said behind him. Dear lord, how long had the lad been there? Rupert cursed Oz's silent nature under his breath. "Want us to look at the Patton case? Place's dead."
Rupert shook his head, and pushed his finger until the red display light blinked from "1" to "0". "Perhaps you should look over what evidence we have. We might have missed something."
"Case's kind of a mess, isn't it?" Oz asked.
"Yes, that would be an accurate description." Rupert picked up the sketch and handed it to Oz. "See if you can match this to anyone who might be connected to the case. And check to see if Andrew did anything with the surveillance tapes before he left." If Wells had managed anything, Rupert knew he'd have left whatever it was he'd found or done in the evidence room. Then he looked sternly at Faith, who was leaning against the doorway behind Oz with a smirk on her face. "Oh, and please, no heroics. This case is complicated enough, we can continue working on it in the morning. I'm only asking you two to do this to have a new set of eyes looking at it."
"Ah, boss," Faith crooned, "you know I like solving the cases I work on."
That would be why he'd hired her, actually. It was certainly not for her charming personality. Truth was, the woman scared him. "Yes, I do know," he said sternly, eyeing them both in turn. "But I do not want either of you to rush into anything. If you need to follow up a lead that cannot wait until the morning, please clear it with me first."
"No prob," Oz said.
"Sure, whatever, just let me play with the big kids now." Faith grinned, angling her body in that distinctive curl of hers; the one that meant trouble.
Rupert rolled his eyes at her. "I mean it, Faith."
Her expression changed to one of utter seriousness. "I know, Giles, trust me. I'm not gonna do anything."
"All right, and if you do find something we've missed, I'll even let you work a double shift so you can help us during the day." He smirked. Faith would never go for it.
Oz gave a shrug and said "sure," while Faith blinked. "Oh yeah, like I'm gonna miss on my beauty sleep because the day shift's dumb. Nuh uh."
Rupert sighed fondly and grabbed his keys from his pockets. He had to leave now, or Xander would start wondering if Rupert had stood him up.
Bloody hell, just what did he think he was doing? Dating a reporter? Snogging him in the parking lot? Meeting him for what was obviously meant to lead to sex?
He cleared his throat. "Right then, I'll be going. I'll see you both in the morning."
*
He called Xander to let him know he was running late, and then had to park the car two blocks from his apartment building just to breathe.
Rupert was a grown man, for heaven's sake, and he should not be having a breakdown because he was about to have sex with a ridiculously attractive young reporter. And the fact that he'd noticed how attractive Xander was should, really, have been a clue of what was happening between them, but Rupert really had been blind to all this.
His team, however, clearly hadn't been. Though he supposed Xander could have told Willow and Buffy about this evening himself. And this, of course, only made it clearer just how much of a bad idea this was.
But Rupert still found himself calming down when he remembered how much he'd actually enjoyed himself at dinner, something that so rarely happened. Even talking about work seemed easy with Xander. Everything had always been about information with Olivia, anything that could fit her article, or that she could get exclusive rights on; and she never listened when he asked that she not publish a certain detail or other. It had gotten to the point where Rupert had started avoiding her, for fear that she'd use their friendship to dig for information.
And the avoidance had ended up with her dead.
Xander was the complete opposite. He didn't rush any case, and never published any of what Rupert asked him to keep quiet. It was the boy's professionalism -- so unusual in someone with Xander's distinctive style of dress or well, everything -- which had attracted Rupert to him in the first place, he realized suddenly.
And he was attracted. More than, actually. Rupert shifted in his seat, and started up the car again.
He spared half a thought to the idea of calling Xander again and telling him that something had come up, but he shook his head; Xander would know it was a lie the moment the words would be out of Rupert's mouth. Perhaps he was a fool, to think this could be more to Xander than a fling, a one night stand, or whatever Yankees called it, but he'd be more of a fool to let this opportunity pass him by.
Xander was waiting for him on the steps outside of his building, and Rupert parked a few feet away.
"I was starting to think you'd stood me up, except for the part where it'd be really stupid to stand me up when I'm right where you live, but you know." Xander shrugged.
"I apologize," Rupert replied, coming up next to Xander and unable to suppress the smile that widened on his lips. "I was ambushed by the night shift on the way to the garage."
"Oz giving you trouble?" Xander asked as Rupert let them into the building, and led him to the stairs. "You know I can just not show up to his next gig in a show of solidarity. Or something."
"Gig?" Rupert said.
"You really don't know what your geeks do when they're not working, do you?" Xander arched his eyebrows at him in a way that should definitely not be in any way arousing.
Rupert shook that thought away, and walked decisively up the stairs, ignoring the pleasant throbbing in his groin, and the sudden pain in his knee. "I make it a point not to ask."
"Then I'll bet really good money you don't know Willow and her girlfriend are getting married in May," Xander said.
Rupert stood midway through the second set of stairs and blinked. "I wasn't even aware she was in any relationship at the moment." Let alone with another woman. The last he remembered of Willow's dating habits, she'd been recovering from a difficult break-up with Oz and had spent almost an entire week crying in the break room, which had led to a rather impressive backlog of cases to process, and Rupert had had to put his foot down. Gently. But it had been Oz, who was definitely a man; unless that was something else Rupert wasn't aware of.
He needed to get to know his staff a little better. "Where will the ceremony take place?" he asked. He resumed climbing up the stairs with a curse when his knee made its disagreement known.
Xander answered him from the top of the landing, "I don't know yet."
Rupert nodded and suppressed a grimace when he came to stand next to Xander. "This way," he nodded to the left. He took his keys out when they stopped in front of his door. "Don't let the cat out; the last time she escaped, she destroyed Mrs. Drumstrang's carpet on the fourth floor."
"You have a cat?" Xander asked, eyes widening. "Wow, I never took you for the cat type."
"It was a suggestion from my therapist after--" he shrugged. At first, Rupert hadn't even wanted to consider it, but the department was putting enormous pressure on him to complete his recovery as soon as possible, and Rupert hadn't wanted to jeopardize his career because one suggestion seemed utterly pointless to him.
Then he'd had to admit his therapist had been right, and when he'd moved to California, he'd been unable to part with the cat.
"Yeah, okay, that makes sense," Xander said. Rupert unlocked the door, and they quickly walked in. Fortunately, Penny wasn't hovering around the doorway when they did, and she only came running at them a few seconds after the door was shut. "Hey, kitty," Xander crooned as he bent down and scratched behind Penny's ear.
Rupert had to refrain from thinking the word "adorable." This was a sure way to win Penny's affection, and within seconds she went from being hesitant to rubbing herself all over Xander's hand. "She likes you," Rupert said, grinning.
"Yeah, she's a good kitty, isn't she?" He made cooing sounds at her, before finally straightening up. Rupert noted that Xander's cheeks were flushed. It looked good on him. "Um yeah, I like cats."
Rupert chuckled as he hung up his coat and took off his shoes. "Penny will not leave you alone now." As a matter of fact, she was already meowing and rubbing her side against Xander's legs.
"I can see that, but she'll have to, because I have plans tonight," Xander replied.
"Plans?" Rupert repeated. He came closer to Xander, and smiled. "What kind of plans?" He was starting to find it difficult to remember why, exactly, this was a bad idea.
"Mostly," Xander said, cupping Rupert's cheek, "they involve very little clothing."
Xander's lips tasted faintly of the chocolate cake he'd had for dessert. Rupert coaxed his lips apart and dipped inside, following the taste with his tongue. It had been too long, far too long, since he'd let himself feel this.
"Anyway," Xander whispered when they pulled apart, "like I said, I'm not going to get myself killed, okay? And I'm not going to use this to grill you for information."
"I know," Rupert replied softly. Xander had the annoying habit of insinuating himself into Rupert's investigations anyway; whether they were sleeping together or not, that wouldn't change.
"Now that that's out of the way," Xander said, curling a hand over the back of Rupert's neck. He pulled Rupert closer and nuzzled his neck.
Rupert shivered, his own hands coming up to touch Xander's shoulders, down his back. "My bedroom's at the end of the hallway," he whispered against Xander's lips. "We will be more comfortable there."
"Why, detective," Xander teased, "I think you may be propositioning me."
Rupert laughed and gave Xander's ass a sharp smack. "If I remember correctly, I didn't push you against your car earlier."
"Mmm, no," Xander admitted, lips grazing Rupert's jaw. "I did that to you. And you were really hot like that, too."
Rupert moaned softly when Xander's mouth found a sensitive spot next to his ear. He clutched at Xander's hips, pulling him forcefully against his groin. "Take off your shirt," he murmured, hoarsely. "Now."
"Oh God," Xander whimpered. Rupert didn't let him pull far, just enough that he could pull off the offending item and throw it against the door, which reminded Rupert that they were still in the hallway. He looked down at Xander's torso and didn't care. "Oh God, Rupert," Xander moaned, when Rupert bent down to suck at the skin on his shoulder.
He moved one hand slowly over Xander's torso, mapping the muscles, the hair, nipples. He bent down further and took one into his mouth and bit, softly, chuckling around it when it made Xander arch against him. Then he pulled back. "My bedroom. I'll be with you in a second."
He needed supplies, and the condoms were stocked in his bathroom. He hadn't had a nightly visitor in years. Xander didn't say a word when Rupert let him go; he went down the hall, his walk hindered by the erection tenting his khakis. Dear Lord, Rupert wanted to slip his hands into Xander's trousers, feel that heat against his palm.
In the harsh light of the bathroom, Rupert took a look at himself in the mirror, greying hair and creased face. God, he looked old and-- What in the bloody hell did he think he was doing? Harris was a reporter, almost a colleague, and he was less than half Rupert's age; that alone should be a good enough reason to stop. But Rupert didn't want to stop.
The feel of Xander's mouth on his lips and his neck, Xander's hands on him -- he wanted this, not the overwhelming solitude of his life.
His work didn't allow him to pursue a romantic relationship; they always ended in disaster when Rupert spent more time investigating murders than being at home. It was why he had a cat and not a dog, after all. But Xander--
Not that whatever they had between them was going to become anything serious, but if it did, if there was the slightest chance that tonight turned into more, Xander would know what the job was like; he was knee-deep in it as well.
With a deep breath, Rupert resolutely pulled a handful of condoms from the box, and closed the drawer. He turned off the light on the way out.
Xander was sitting on the bed, looking around in curiosity when Rupert walked in; his expression turned to worry. "Did you--"
Rupert silenced him by cupping his cheek and kissing him, slowly, savouring the taste of him as he dipped his tongue inside Xander's mouth again. "I am fine," he whispered when their lips parted. He put the condoms down on the nightstand and ran his fingertips down the length of Xander's torso. "Would you like me to undress?"
Xander bit his lower lip, and Rupert would have had to be a much stronger man not to bend down and kiss it, dragging his tongue over the quickly fading teeth marks. "Yeah," Xander murmured, out of breath. "Yes, please."
There was something intensely arousing about making Xander Harris virtually speechless. He was eyeing Rupert, mouth partially open but not saying a word, as Rupert stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt. He slid it off his shoulders and turned to hang it on the closet door handle before he pulled his undershirt over his head. He had a second of self-consciousness when he remembered the greying hair of his chest, but one look at the look of raw, open arousal on Xander's face pushed the thought away.
He unbuckled his belt and undid the first button of his trousers. "Take off your pants," he said to Xander when it was clear the boy wouldn't do anything but stare unless Rupert told him what to do. "And your socks."
Xander's fingers scrambled for the button of his khakis, and he lowered the zipper quickly, immediately pulling pants and socks off.
Rupert let his hand drift to his crotch, and he moaned softly as he cupped his erection through his pants. He pulled his trousers down and draped them over the back of the chair in the corner; socks went into the dirty laundry basket underneath it. He came back to face Xander with a grin and curled his hand around Xander's neck. "Stand," he said firmly.
Xander immediately did as he was asked. "Fuck, you're so hot," he murmured, pressing his own hands flat against Rupert's torso.
"I tend to be--" he searched for the word and settled on, "demanding, in the bedroom."
"That's okay with me. God." Xander groaned when Rupert's fingers drifted down his back to rest above the curve of Xander's ass.
"Shall I fuck you, then?"
"Oh fuck." Xander shivered and moaned. "You know when I planned on seducing you tonight? I didn't think you'd be this hot. And I thought I'd have to do a lot more coaxing."
"It all backfired on you, then?" Rupert asked, lips grazing Xander's neck.
"Totally in my favour," Xander replied. He whimpered when Rupert's teeth worked at the skin under his lips. "God, fuck, totally."
"I'm glad," Rupert whispered, letting his fingers dip under the waistband of Xander's boxers. "I'll take these off you."
"Yes, please," Xander groaned.
Rupert slid his hands further down, cupping Xander's asscheeks into his palms. "Such a beautiful arse." He caught Xander's whimper with his lips, and squeezed his hands on the warm flesh before pushing the boxers down Xander's legs.
Xander was hard, so very hard, his cock leaking at the tip, and Rupert caught the drop on his thumb and brought it to his mouth.
"Oh. Fuck," Xander groaned.
Rupert savoured the taste on his tongue and brought his hand down again, wrapping his fist around Xander's erection, feeling it warm and pulsing against his palm. He kissed Xander, lips pushing hard against Xander's, tongue dipping in and out slowly, making the boy moan and arch up into Rupert's grip. "Sit," Rupert ordered him, his breath brushing over Xander's kiss-bruised lips as he pulled back.
Eyes drifting to Rupert's crotch, Xander sat on the edge of the bed and bit his lower lip.
Rupert curled his palm around the curve of Xander's skull and forced him to look up. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice hoarse from contained arousal. He wanted Xander's mouth on his cock, Xander's hands on his hips. Rupert shuddered when Xander leaned forward and nuzzled his stomach. Rupert gave him a nod of approval, and Xander moved lower, mouthing at Rupert's erection through his boxers. "Take them off me," he groaned, fingers coursing through Xander's hair.
Fingers hooked on the waistband, and then pulled the boxers down, over Rupert's ass, and his cock, down his legs. "I want you to suck me."
Xander grinned up at him, and darted out his tongue to lap at the tip of Rupert's erection. "I want to taste you, God," he said, breathless and flushed. "Please."
Rupert would never have imagined this, not before tonight. Perhaps he was a cynic these days, or a loner, someone accustomed to not having what he desired, and so he never dreamt of what could be. But if he had thought about having Xander Harris, naked and so hard for Rupert in his bedroom, Rupert wouldn't have imagined Xander being so quietly submissive. He would have hoped for it, but he wouldn't have thought it possible at all.
Here he was, nonetheless, with Xander's mouth wrapping around his cock, and Xander's hands settling on Rupert's hips. Within minutes, Xander's head was tilted back, his eyes locked on Rupert's, and Rupert was steadily pushing his cock in and out of Xander's mouth, slowly, in and out. And then faster, deeper, careful not to go too deeply, until Rupert pulled back, shaking, panting, every nerve on edge, and said, "On the bed, on your stomach."
Xander made a wordless sound in his throat and scrambled up on the bed, taking position on all fours, his head pillowed on his forearms. "Like this?" he croaked, licking dry lips.
Rupert looked at him for a moment, just drinking the sight of him like this, spread out and eager. Who knew when it would happen again... Forcing his thoughts away, Rupert opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the tube of lubricant. He put it on the bed, next to a condom, and climbed behind Xander. He dragged his fingertips down the expanse of Xander's warm, sweaty back, to his ass, dipping them into the crack to brush against Xander's hole.
Xander arched up immediately and whimpered. "Please," he moaned brokenly. "Please, fuck me."
Kissing between Xander's shoulder blades, Rupert bit gently on the skin there and whispered, "Yes, I will." He reached for the lube and pressed a slick finger to Xander's entrance a moment later. "Tell me you want this, Xander."
"God, yes, Rupert, please." Xander pushed back, and looked over his shoulder at Rupert. "Please, I want you to fuck me so fucking much."
"You have done this before, right?" Rupert asked, pushing a first finger in to the knuckle.
"Yes, fuck, yes, shit," Xander replied. He clenched his muscles and added, "Been a few years, but yes."
Rupert caressed Xander's asscheek with his other hand, and pushed his finger further in. He wanted to prepare Xander gently, slowly, but the combination of Xander's moans, and the throbbing of his own cock, the way Xander arched and pushed back with each thrust, meant Rupert couldn't make himself wait as much as he should. He added another finger, scissored them, felt Xander's muscles relax, and added yet another.
"I'm ready, fuck, please," Xander groaned, trying to pull Rupert's fingers in deeper. "Please, please."
There was no way Rupert could wait then. He put on a condom and lube, and then he was in, hands on Xander's hips, holding him still as he pushed his cock inside tight, so very tight, heat. "Oh," he grunted, head thrown back.
"Fuck me, yeah, yeah," Xander urged him and twined his fingers with Rupert's on his hip. "Want you in, all the way in."
Rupert pulled out until only the tip of his cock was encased, and then thrust back in, slowly; pulled out again, and in, until he had his cock as deep as it would go, Xander's muscles clenching so tight, and the boy moaning and whimpering underneath him. "So tight, so bloody tight," Rupert whispered against Xander's shoulder. "Want me to fuck you hard now?"
Xander nodded into the pillow, voice and moans muffled as he arched up and met Rupert's next thrust, and the next. Rupert's fingers tightened on Xander's hips, and he drove in harder, faster, deeper, feeling it down to his toes.
He could feel his orgasm building, slowly, steadily, each push of his cock inside Xander's ass bringing him closer to the edge, and he pulled out almost completely, and then thrust in, hard. "Touch yourself. I want to see your fist around your cock."
"Fuck yeah," Xander groaned. He uncurled one hand off the pillow and slid it between his body and the mattress.
"No." Rupert smacked his hip, and then pulled until he was sitting on his heels and Xander's back rubbed against his chest. "Like this, I want to watch you."
Xander whimpered when the next thrust sent Rupert's cock even deeper inside him. "God, yeah, fuck."
"Wrap your hands around your cock. I want to see you come." Rupert put his chin on Xander shoulder and thrust up again, pushing Xander's hips down. "Come now, lad, come for me." Xander's head came to rest on Rupert's shoulder as he moaned, baring his neck, and Rupert pressed his lips against the curve and sucked on the skin.
"Oh God, Rupert," Xander cried out, panting harshly. He sped up his strokes, pushed down harder into Rupert's cock, and moaned low in his throat as he came messily, spilling himself on his fingers and wrist.
Spent, he slumped down on the bed, face first, and Rupert followed him, forcing Xander's legs further apart. He thrust in and out faster and harder, mouth still pressed to Xander's neck and biting now. "Want me to come on or in you?" he asked, breath coming in short gasps.
"In, fuck, please, in me," Xander managed, voice half muffled by the pillow.
"Bloody hell, yes, in you," Rupert whispered, biting on Xander's earlobe. It wouldn't be long; watching Xander come had already taken him so close, so fast, and Xander was clenching his muscles again, pushing up to meet Rupert's next thrust. "You feel so bloody incredible, Xander. So tight, so--" He moaned, and gave one, two, three more thrusts, and came, cock buried balls deep into Xander's ass.
Rupert collapsed next to Xander, panting, and reached down to give Xander's ass a quick, clumsy squeeze.
"Fuck," Xander groaned next to him. "Fuck, that was good."
Rupert grinned dazedly at him and raked his fingertips up Xander's back to curl around his neck. "Couldn't say it better," he murmured and pulled Xander close, brushing their lips together in a satisfied kiss. Rupert cleaned himself up and settled on the bed lazily. He heard himself say, "Stay for the night," and he heard Xander's half muffled "yes" before he'd even finished.
Rupert turned off the light, and pulled Xander against his side, warm, just a little sweaty, and definitely half asleep already. Sex in general didn't tend to put Rupert to sleep, but the day had been a long one, and the soft snores from Xander quickly lured him into slumber.
*
PART THREE