Disclaimer: The characters etc belong to Joss Wheedon, Mutant Enemy et al. Am just having fun. The British Museum, its staff and ethos are represented in a totally fictitious capacity, any resemblence to real persons or situations is wholly coincidental.
Giles sat on the carpet in front of Alice, regarding her with some suspicion.
‘Are you sure you know how to do this?’
‘Yeah, course.’
Alice’s face was screwed up in concentration, as much to Giles’ surprise she rather deftly tied his bow tie, then handed him a mirror to check her handiwork.
‘That’s perfect.’
He reached up to touch it and Alice slapped his hand.
‘Right. I’ll be leaving that alone.’
He stood up and started to walk away.
‘I’d better go and see where your mother’s got to. Why she can’t actually be ready at the time we agreed to leave I do not know.’
Alice looked up nervously, stopping him dead when she asked:
‘Giles? Before I was here who tied your tie?’
When she and Buffy had first moved in, Alice often looked to him for reassurance that he was happy to share his home and his life with her. ‘Before I was here’ was one of her favourite ways of checking that everything was alright. Three years later it was a question that rarely came up, and usually meant that she was feeling anxious about something. Giles was sure that he knew what was bothering her, but there simply wasn’t time to discuss it then and there. Reluctant though he was to lie, he felt that to tell her he was perfectly capable of tying his own tie would not help matters.
‘Before you were here I never used to wear a bow-tie, and whenever I went anywhere formal, people would make me stand at the back, so that my terribly scruffy appearance wouldn’t bring shame upon them all.’
Alice laughed, and instantly forgot that he hadn’t given her a proper answer.
Giles hesitated in the doorway, feeling that he really ought to say something else, but then changed his mind and went in search of his wife.
********************
Buffy sat at her dressing table and stared miserably at her reflection. She’d done everything right, hair, make-up, the ocean blue dress that clung to her slight frame in all the right places and her new shoes that she’d bought triumphantly this afternoon having spent hours searching for the perfect pair. But none of it was helping her self-esteem. She kept focussing on the parts she wasn’t happy with, the lines at the side of her eyes, the bluntness of her cheekbones and the scar that Angel had put on her neck in a parody of a lover’s embrace that, though much faded over time, could still be clearly seen.
She knew that she was being irrational but sometimes no matter what you can actually see in the mirror, you can’t avoid feeling ugly and vulnerable. It didn’t help that they had to go out tonight and be on show at yet another museum fundraiser. The British Museum was a beautiful and important building, it was also chronically under funded by the government and appeared to be permanently trying to raise some cash. As head of a department Giles was required to show his support as much as possible and accordingly once or twice a month Buffy and Giles found themselves attending events of varying formality.
At least tonight was a drinks party so there was no chance of her getting trapped at a table with some socially inept bore. Buffy got on well with most of Giles’ colleagues and had at first been surprised by the variety in their ages, but the museum attracted people at all stages of their career from graduates who were just starting out to experienced professionals. However some of them could be extremely anti-social, expressing rabidly right-wing views or engaging in behaviour that anywhere else would be termed sexual harassment. It seemed to Buffy that people could behave as they wanted and not be held accountable for their actions if they had a high enough IQ, ‘may be a little eccentric but they’ve got a first class mind’ even Giles was guilty of dismissing someone’s conduct with that kind of comment. Buffy found it the least appealing aspect of his job.
‘Are you ready to go?’
Giles appeared behind her, looking forwards and addressing her reflection.
‘Do we have to?’ asked Buffy plaintively.
‘Well, yes. It’s important.’
‘It always is,’ she pouted.
Giles picked up on her tone of voice and leant against the dressing table so he could look at Buffy directly.
‘What’s wrong?’
Buffy gave the mirror one last glance and then looked up at her husband, suddenly becoming more animated.
‘Let’s not go. Let’s just stay in tonight.’
Giles started to protest as Buffy carried on.
‘We could get a take out, watch a movie…no, not a movie we’ll feed Alice’s ‘Monopoly’ addiction. Open some wine and later…’
She stood up and gave Giles a deep, passionate kiss. He responded enthusiastically, then with some reluctance unattached himself from her embrace.
‘That does actually sound perfect, but we still have to go.’
Buffy’s face fell.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
‘People will look at me,’ she said.
‘In that dress I dare say that they will.’
‘I look old and gross.’
Giles laughed, much to Buffy‘s annoyance.
‘It’s a long time since I’ve heard you say that, and you were wrong then and you are most definitely wrong now.’
Buffy remained unconvinced, so Giles tried again.
‘I don’t doubt that you feel ‘old and gross’, who doesn’t every so often? But I assure you that you in no way look it.’
He held her close.
‘You are beautiful,’ he said simply. ‘And we don’t have to stay long. Just be seen to be doing our bit and then we can come back here, thank Katrina for babysitting, tell her to sod off, open some wine and later…’
He gave her a feral grin, exaggerating the expression to make her smile.
‘I think the Buffy plan is best, but I’m willing to give yours a try,’ she said grudgingly.
They headed downstairs.
‘Thank you.’
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