Work Text:
Dropped Mask
by Gileswench
gileswench@yahoo.com
It is a little-known fact that the bubble bath is not exclusively a pleasure for women. In truth, it was one of Rupert Giles’ favorite personal indulgences. Even as a boy, when others kicked up a fuss about enforced cleanliness, Giles quite looked forward to bath time, though he made sure to grumble enough that the other boys wouldn’t suspect him of traitorous tendencies.
After all, it wouldn’t do at all for a boy with glasses and a slight nervous stammer to admit such a feminine predilection. Giles was well able to defend himself physically, but preferred not to be forced into it for purely social reasons. His father had drilled it into him from the tender age of ten: violence is to be saved for vampires and demons. Humans may only be attacked as a last resort and then only when they are in league with demons. Of course, one might defend oneself when under attack, but Giles’ father impressed upon him the importance of not drawing excessive notice to oneself, as well.
Giles supposed that was part of the reason he clung so desperately to his tweed suits for so long in the California heat. Anonymity had not come naturally to Giles. In point of fact, he hated it with a passion. Still, he knew that if he dressed like the natives, they would all notice him, ironically enough. It wasn’t something he could help. When he dressed in tweed and carried books around, he seemed to fade into the background. If he dressed as nicely as he knew he could, well…then everyone noticed him and how handsome he really was. That would lead to an adult social life and distraction from his Slayer.
But now, after a long week of lying to Buffy, followed by disgrace and a good being fired, there was no longer any reason to hide, no reason to fade. He dropped his dusty tweeds on the floor and ran a bathtub full of hot, sudsy water.
Damned if he was going to hide or pretend again.
The soapsuds smelled of lavender, a scent he found both relaxing and invigorating. Most people wouldn’t think of it as terribly masculine, but he found he didn’t much care what anyone else thought. The weight of nearly thirty years of other peoples’ expectations dropped away leaving only the man at the core. This was the man who knew how good he looked in blue, the man who could play guitar with fire and passion, the man who didn’t care if anyone knew he liked an occasional beer as well as his ever-present tea.
He lay back in the tub, allowing the scent and the delightful feel of the bubbles to help him forget his troubles. He rather wished he’d remembered to bring a beer in with him. The indulgence wasn’t quite complete without it. Still, it was a small thing that couldn’t be helped now. He could have a beer with his dinner, which he would eat wearing only his robe and watching television. The local PBS station was holding a Monty Python marathon and that was just what he needed.
When he heard the front door open, Giles’ heart clenched. Was it Travers coming to humiliate him some more? Someone here to make certain he wouldn’t ‘distract’ the Slayer or interfere with the new Watcher being sent to replace him?
"Hey, Giles? Giles? Are you here? Gi-illles!"
Buffy. Well that was cause for a whole new set of fears. Was she coming to tell him off for putting her through the test? Would she rail at him for getting himself fired? Had she got her strength back? He wasn’t sure what to do. All the time he tried to figure it out, he could hear her coming closer and closer.
Just as the door swung open, he hurriedly clasped his hands over his crotch.
"Giles, where are…oh! There you are. Sorry. I – I didn’t know."
"Well now you do. Would you be so kind as to shut the door and allow me to dress in peace?"
She stared in confusion.
"Giles. You’re naked."
"I’m taking a bath," he said evenly. "It would rather defeat the purpose if I were dressed."
"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Still it took her another long moment to move. "I’ll just…go wait in the living room, if that’s okay. Is it okay?"
"Yes, Buffy, it’s okay. I’ll be out in a minute or two."
She was out the door almost before he’d finished talking.
With a heavy sigh, Giles pulled the plug on his relaxing bath, rinsed off the bubbles, and got out of the tub. He had a choice before him: put on the tweed he’d dropped in the middle of the floor, or go out there to Buffy wearing only his robe. Would he don the mask and keep trying to please those who had insisted he ignore his heart, his mind, and his conscience? Or would he stand metaphorically naked before the one he’d chosen over them?
In the end, as with the test, there was no contest.
As the last foamy bubbles gurgled down the plughole, he pulled on his robe and boxers and went to Buffy.
"Tell me, Buffy, do you like Monty Python?"
"Monty Python? Well…yeah. What? Did you need me to explain a joke to you?"
"No, actually, I was hoping you’d watch some with me. There’s a marathon, and I thought we could mock the pledge breaks, have some takeaway Chinese…that is, if you’d like."
"Wait a minute, you like Monty Python? You, Giles?" Buffy broke into a sly grin. "Maybe there’s hope for you yet." She settled herself on the sofa. "Make sure you get sweet and sour pork."
Giles went to the phone and called the restaurant for delivery. Buffy regarded him thoughtfully from where she sat. When he finished and hung up the phone, she spoke again.
"Will the real Rupert Giles please stand up?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"It’s just you’re being so not-Giles. What’s up with that?"
Giles sat comfortably next to her and smiled.
"No, I’m not being Giles. For once, I’m being Rupert. Is that all right with you?"
"Yeah. It’s kind of okay. Don’t get me wrong, Giles is great and I’d hate for him to be gone permanently, but Rupert seems like a pretty nice guy. I’d like to get to know him, too."
"The night is young."
"Should I make some tea?"
"If you’d like some. I think I’ll have a beer."
"Can I have one, too?"
"Giles says no. Rupert has no opinion on the matter."
"Tea for me, then. But maybe I could have a sip of Rupert’s beer when the food gets here?"
Giles laughed.
"That could probably be arranged."
The roles of Librarian and Student, Watcher and Slayer, Adult and Teenager might well be back in the morning. In this quiet time, though, there were only Rupert and Buffy, two good friends, sharing a meal and some good jokes. Two people who had been tested in the crucible left it behind, along with all the artificial titles that had been tacked onto them.
There would be other bubble baths, Giles decided, that weren’t interrupted. He was rather glad this one had been.
the end