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slashthedrabble Dec. 10th, 2004 11:46 pm)
eloise-bright.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Dec. 10th, 2004 11:46 pm)This is a response to two challenges, the "Out Loud" or accidental declarations of love challenge over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashthedrabble, using the prompts over at watcherlove - hyperbole, text, table. It's Wes/Giles, 500 words, set BtVS Season 3.
Out Loud
Wesley lifted the volume from the shelf and opened it, intending to surprise Mr Giles with the depth of his knowledge of ascension rites. The fifteenth century text was rather florid in its description of the decimation of the Peruvian village; and Wesley sincerely hoped that the author of this account tended towards hyperbole. If half of what he was reading was true, then they had no hope of defeating the mayor.
He moved towards the stairs, then paused as he heard the library door swing open, and saw Buffy walk into the library. He wasn’t sure how she actually managed to walk in those shoes, but clearly her slayer balance and agility came in handy for activities other than demon hunting. She approached Mr Giles’ office, and he greeted her at the door.
Wesley couldn’t make out their conversation, but after a few moments he led her over to the table, where she perched contentedly. She was clearly sharing information with Mr Giles, when by all rights she should be reporting to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous. Not when Mr Giles was wearing the blue pinstripe. And the waistcoat. He sighed softly to himself and wondered if he was wearing the red braces.
He chided himself sternly. Now then, Wesley, there’s absolutely no point in pining over Rupert Giles. Even if he didn’t consider you a pompous jumped-up little council know-it-all, which of course he does, why would the captain of the Academy First Eleven (academic year ’71- ’72) show any interest in a pathetic little twit like yourself?
He thought briefly of the wonderful photograph that had pride of place next to the school trophy cabinet. R. Giles (Cpt) was smiling out of the front row, impeccably dressed in pristine cricket whites, his bronzed arms folded over a reassuringly broad chest. He had seemed then rather like a Greek god to a young and highly impressionable thirteen year old. And to be honest, that impression had only been reinforced since Wesley arrived in Sunnydale. He still had the most enormous crush on Rupert Giles.
Buffy hopped off the table and glanced up toward the stacks, and for a moment Wesley was sure she was looking at him. She put her hand up to her mouth to stifle a little giggle, and then headed out of the library.
Wesley stepped out of the shadow of the stacks and made his way down the stairs to Mr Giles.
“Anything more on the demons that attacked Buffy last night?” Wesley hoped his smile wasn’t too supercilious.
Mr Giles frowned a little. “She appears to have been infected by an aspect of the demon.”
“Really? Through the demon’s blood, of course.” He nodded to himself, then added “She is alright, isn’t she?”
Giles removed his glasses and polished them vigorously. “It appears that the demons were telepathic, and Buffy now possesses the ability to read minds.”
Wesley clutched weakly at the table for support. “Oh dear.”
slashthedrabble, using the prompts over at watcherlove - hyperbole, text, table. It's Wes/Giles, 500 words, set BtVS Season 3. Out Loud
Wesley lifted the volume from the shelf and opened it, intending to surprise Mr Giles with the depth of his knowledge of ascension rites. The fifteenth century text was rather florid in its description of the decimation of the Peruvian village; and Wesley sincerely hoped that the author of this account tended towards hyperbole. If half of what he was reading was true, then they had no hope of defeating the mayor.
He moved towards the stairs, then paused as he heard the library door swing open, and saw Buffy walk into the library. He wasn’t sure how she actually managed to walk in those shoes, but clearly her slayer balance and agility came in handy for activities other than demon hunting. She approached Mr Giles’ office, and he greeted her at the door.
Wesley couldn’t make out their conversation, but after a few moments he led her over to the table, where she perched contentedly. She was clearly sharing information with Mr Giles, when by all rights she should be reporting to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous. Not when Mr Giles was wearing the blue pinstripe. And the waistcoat. He sighed softly to himself and wondered if he was wearing the red braces.
He chided himself sternly. Now then, Wesley, there’s absolutely no point in pining over Rupert Giles. Even if he didn’t consider you a pompous jumped-up little council know-it-all, which of course he does, why would the captain of the Academy First Eleven (academic year ’71- ’72) show any interest in a pathetic little twit like yourself?
He thought briefly of the wonderful photograph that had pride of place next to the school trophy cabinet. R. Giles (Cpt) was smiling out of the front row, impeccably dressed in pristine cricket whites, his bronzed arms folded over a reassuringly broad chest. He had seemed then rather like a Greek god to a young and highly impressionable thirteen year old. And to be honest, that impression had only been reinforced since Wesley arrived in Sunnydale. He still had the most enormous crush on Rupert Giles.
Buffy hopped off the table and glanced up toward the stacks, and for a moment Wesley was sure she was looking at him. She put her hand up to her mouth to stifle a little giggle, and then headed out of the library.
Wesley stepped out of the shadow of the stacks and made his way down the stairs to Mr Giles.
“Anything more on the demons that attacked Buffy last night?” Wesley hoped his smile wasn’t too supercilious.
Mr Giles frowned a little. “She appears to have been infected by an aspect of the demon.”
“Really? Through the demon’s blood, of course.” He nodded to himself, then added “She is alright, isn’t she?”
Giles removed his glasses and polished them vigorously. “It appears that the demons were telepathic, and Buffy now possesses the ability to read minds.”
Wesley clutched weakly at the table for support. “Oh dear.”
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Thanks!
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This was a great idea!
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loved this! It could have been a lot worse for Wesley had he been thinking of more intimate situations ;)