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helenkacan Jun. 28th, 2005 05:32 pm)
helenkacan Jun. 28th, 2005 05:32 pm)LJ Note: I posted this one to GilesRulesBaby earlier today. I think it's kind of cute, myself.
Thanks to Wenchie for this week's mini challenge (I know, AGAIN, but I think my bunnies like her brand of lettuce and carrots!)
Title: Forever
Author: Helena K.
Pairing: G/X (hints of previous G/E)
Rating: FRM (General audience, but mature theme)
Warning: m/m slash (but no sexual activity)
Summary/Timeline: Unspecified time after Chosen, Giles reveals he has a craft.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss and a whole bunch of alphabetical corporate entities. I know the Polish alphabet. Not the same thing. Not for profit, just fun.
Notes:
"Speech"
*Emphasis* in thought or speech.
Dedicated to Gileswench for just *being* and for inspiring me.
Feedback: Yes, please, surprise me.
“I'm home,” came the exuberant cry from the young man as he entered the flat, his arms full of mail including a medium sized package wrapped in brown paper.
He was greeted by a mock growl from the older man. “About bloody time. What took you so long?”
“Um, arms full of mail, most of it *not* addressed to me. Could you give me a hand instead of attitude?”
“Sorry, Xander, but I missed you.” He moved toward the door and retrieved the pile of envelopes and the package from Xander's arms, before giving him a tender kiss.
Xander leaned into the intimacy, loving every sign of affection he received. No matter how long they had been together, he still found it all so new. “Missed you too, Giles, but I thought you'd like some mail along with the other stuff that was on my list.”
“I've just made some tea. Shall I pour you a cup?” Giles moved toward the couch and dropped the mail onto the table, next to the teapot and the obligatory two mugs.
“Nah, I think I'll get some milk.” With just a few strides, Xander was in and out of the kitchen with a tall glass of milk. Setting it down on the table, he dropped down onto the couch. Fingering the envelopes first, he then picked up the package that was covered with a number of colourful stamps. “So, what’s with the foreign package? Who's sending you stuff from Belgium?”
“Oh, it's nothing, just some wool I sent away for.”
Xander gave him a quizzical glance. “Right, ‘cause there's a shortage of sheep here, and you had to send away to Belgium?”
Giles tried to be patient. “It's a very famous wool, Xander, dyed using the finest natural ingredients.”
“And you need this – why?”
“For a, um, craft, a hobby.”
“A hobby? Since when do you have a hobby?”
“Since I was a small boy. I merely set it aside for most of the time I was an active Watcher. But I resumed it a few years ago.”
“So, what is it? C'm'on, Giles, spill already.”
“Try not to laugh. No, I'm serious. My grandmother taught me. When her Slayer was killed, she needed to busy herself, to take her mind off that disastrous day, so she took up needlepoint. No, not that horrid stuff you buy in shops with the design already printed on the canvas. My Gram would create her own designs and then copy them onto the canvas. She would order the wool in the exact colours she wanted. And she would create masterpieces that glowed with beauty, with life. Mind you, when I was young, my designs were uncomplicated and the finished product was merely adequate. It took me a while to learn that I had to put passion into my work; otherwise, I was just twiddling my thumbs, being an utter wanker.”
Finishing his milk, Xander put his glass down on the table and focused his attention fully on his lover's face. It had been a long time since he'd seen him so animated (well, other than when they were in bed together) and he was pleased to see the twinkle in his eyes, and the way his lips quirked up at the corners. “Passion, huh? Do I dare ask what that means?”
He got an almost Ripperish glare in reply, followed by that lopsided smile. “The only way I could portray passion was to do people – people I cared about, people I loved.”
Xander held his breath in hesitation, then ventured to whisper, “Does that, does that mean you've done one of me?” Xander looked almost ready to accept no as the reply, that he was not worthy to be the object of another's affection, of deep love.
Giles hurried to reassure him, drawing the trembling body closer to his own. “I've been working on it for some time, wanted to portray the essential you. But, when I ran out of wool, I had to send my order away and have been waiting so that I could complete it.”
Xander drew his head back just far enough to gaze into his lover’s eyes. “Could I see it?” Another long pause. “Please?”
“Well, as most of it is complete, I suppose there'd be no harm.” Standing up, he extended his hand to Xander. “Come.”
Xander bounded up from the couch with almost puppy-like glee. He had no idea where Giles kept the canvas, even though he knew his way around the cozy flat and its contents.
He followed Giles to his study. There was a two-door closet that went up to the ceiling. Giles opened the upper door and removed a white cotton covered bundle. Xander noticed that there was one other bundle as well, but didn't say anything.
Giles stripped the cotton sleeve off the canvas that had been rolled up loosely. He unrolled it gently, laying it flat upon his study desk. It was a large canvas, about a metre long.
As the design on it was revealed, Xander lapsed into a stunned silence. Oh, sure, there were bare patches where wool had not yet been applied, but the essence of it – of him – was all there. It was the portrait of a warrior, with a warrior's stance, feet apart planted firmly on the ground, hands clasping a long sword whose point also rested on the ground. With the grey cowl-necked tunic and the matching loose trousers, he could have been anyone in history. He noted that his image had two eyes that stared back at him with a sureness, a confidence he didn't realize he'd ever had. He also noticed that some of the wool, especially on his head, seemed more worn and a little tangled in places.
Finally, he turned his head. “That's how you see me?”
Giles replied with conviction, “That's how I've always seen you, love. Your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty.”
Xander tilted his head. “I see you kept both eyes.” He wasn't bitter. It was merely an observation.
“Silly boy, I've loved you longer than you can realize. I knew I had to depict my earliest longing for you, otherwise it would not have been complete.”
“Um, how come some of the wool seems to be tangled? Did you screw up?”
Giles was silent for a long time, varying revealing emotions flitting across his eyes. His harsh painful whisper shocked Xander. “No, love, I didn't screw up. I reused some of the wool that had been in my portrait of Jenny. When she was killed, I put her canvas back in storage. After a few years, I took it out. When I looked at it, I knew I couldn't keep it, as the picture I had of her was not a true representation. Who she really was, what she was had nothing to do with the Technopagan she claimed to be.” He drew in another pained breath of air. “I couldn't bring myself to destroy my work, so I painstakingly unraveled each piece of wool, and allowed my heart to heal as the bare canvas was restored, with only her outline left traced onto it. I took much of that wool and reused it when I began creating your likeness. However, as I was weeping while I worked, from both the pain of the loss, of the betrayal, and also the fearful anticipation that our new love would flourish, much of the wool became matted.”
His arms slid off the table where he had been holding the canvas flat. His body was slumped, his posture revealing the depth of his feelings. There were tracks down his cheeks of tears he hadn’t realized he'd shed.
Xander slid his arms around his lover's waist from behind. “Shhh. I'm here for you. I've got you.”
Giles closed his eyes and luxuriated in the strength of the younger man's embrace. He managed to turn his body around to kiss him softly on the lips and then to nuzzle at his throat. He'd had to be the strong one for so many people throughout his entire life and now he had found someone – amazingly with no mystical powers – who could hold him, who could make him feel safe, merely by loving him. It was the most blissful feeling he could imagine.
He felt the shift of Xander's muscles as tension crept into his arms before the young man spoke again. “I don't want you to feel bad – but can I ask what's in the other bundle?”
Another long pause, then the voice came out with just a hint of strain. “The canvas of Jenny and also one I did a very long time ago.”
“Of him?” They never had to mention *his* name; there had been only one man who could remain both unnamed and yet so ever present, even though memories of him were scattered to the four corners of the earth, a fitting tribute to a worshipper of Chaos.
Hearing the nondescript reply of “Mmhmm” from a distracted Giles, Xander just had to ask, “But why, especially after all this time?”
Giles straightened his body, regaining more of his usual composure. He made sure he was looking fully into Xander's face before he continued. “He was the first one who dared to see more in me than just my ancestral duty. He helped me to define myself as a man. And, although most of what we did together was either childishly foolish or irresponsibly dangerous or inadvertently evil, I owe him that acknowledgment.”
Xander looked a little unsure at the response. “Do you, do you still love him?”
What came back at him stunned him for its ferocity. “I despise the reckless man. I pity the insecure practitioner of magics. But, until the day I die, I will love the brash youth who grasped my heart and refused to release me. And I can assure you he has *not* released me throughout the years, despite the turmoil.”
Giles saw the look of dismay on Xander's face, so quickly added, “Xander, you must believe me when I tell you I have redefined the boundaries of my heart – so that you, and only you, are my life. After all, it's not the first time any of us has had to deal with unrequited love. Even you, dearest, must still have a soft spot in your heart for Anya, or for Willow.”
Xander nodded slowly, with a dawning comprehension. “Sometimes, I wish life weren't so complicated. But that would probably mean I'd never have fallen in love with you, so I guess things sort of evened themselves out. Anyways, how about showing me the other canvasses. Cuz I only met him when he was older and badder. I want to see what you saw in him. Please, show me.”
Unable to deny his lover's wish – and also wanting him to have a broader understanding of who he had once been, Giles nodded in agreement. After first rolling up the canvas of Xander and putting it away safely in its sleeve, he returned it to the closet and retrieved the other bundle. First he withdrew the once finished and now undone canvas of Jenny. It was only of her head, the neck fading to nothingness.
Xander gulped. It was hard to look at a picture – even just a drawn outline – of the dead.
Giles no longer exhibited the strong emotions he once felt. They were locked away deep within, but he still respected their power. He dragged his fingertips down what would have been Jenny's cheek and whispered, “Requiescat in Pacem, Jana.” He rolled it up after a long silence.
Then, seeming to gather himself, he withdrew the second canvas from the sleeve. It was almost one and a half times bigger than Xander's. Without saying a single word, he unrolled it, anchored it upon the desk with a couple of books, and then stepped back, so Xander could see everything.
Xander couldn't believe his eye. It was *him*, no mistaking that. But, but this full-length portrayal was of a young, nude man – make that a *very* nude man. He was lying on a dark blue sheet that gleamed like satin. His head was propped up by one arm bent at the elbow. But the other arm…the other arm hung down the slender chest to rest on the sheet with the fingers of his hand trailing along his penis, his…very erect…penis. When Xander had regained his self-control and was able to wrest his eye away from that…well, just that…he drew his glance up to the face framed by dark hair, to the eyes glinting with mischief, and the torso almost leaping off the canvas with restrained excitement. It wasn't just that it was so boldly sexual, because it was; but it was the way his life force seemed to be captured perfectly. It wasn't like a mirror; it was more like *he* was in the next room and Xander was looking at him through the doorway. Almost close enough to touch. Almost.
And Giles had created this, so many years ago, before the constant struggle between love and hate had started to create havoc in his soul.
Still stunned, Xander could only utter a very succinct, “Wow!”
Having watched Xander's reaction intently, Giles permitted himself to repeat it. “Wow, indeed.” He reached out with his fingers and, once again, touched the canvas. But, this time, he did not feel the harshness of the naked weave of Jenny's piece, only the warmth of the wool strands that had come together in harmony, spreading the heat from his fingertips through his body. Even after all the years, after all the *history* between them, he could still feel the essence of the man – without the illusions, the traps, the deceptions.
Shaking off the reverie a little reluctantly, he turned back to Xander. “Can you see now why I could never destroy this piece? That's not just what he was – It's also what I was. And, for a long time, it was more good than bad. I owe it to him and I owe it to myself to keep this piece alive, as it were.”
Wanting to feel a more solid connection, he grasped Xander's head and drew it closer to his own. “Please don't ask me to destroy it. I'll never look at it again, but I couldn't bear to know that it no longer exists.”
Xander took a very deep breath and looked back at Giles, also lifting his hands to cradle his lover's head. “Nah, I wouldn't make you do that. Who you were is still a little of who you are. The *who* that I love. But, just keep it in the closet. If you feel you need to look at it, that's okay with me. We can look at it together, if you want. It's no big.”
The relief radiated from Giles. “Have I told you how much I love you recently?”
“Umm. Let me think.” His eye closed as if in deep concentration. When he opened it, he had the perfect response. “I think it's time you started working on a new piece of me, with a definite clothes optional rule.” The working eye sparkled, both eyebrows lifting upwards. Then came the ultimatum. “In fact, I dare you!”
Giles rose to the challenge. “I accept your dare. And, if you have nothing more important on your agenda this afternoon, I suggest now would be a good time to start.”
It wasn't long before a trail of clothes, mostly Xander's, led from the study to the bedroom. After all, the artist in Giles insisted on knowing his subject matter thoroughly.
Passion would be created.
And captured.
Forever.
June 28, 2005
Thanks to Wenchie for this week's mini challenge (I know, AGAIN, but I think my bunnies like her brand of lettuce and carrots!)
Title: Forever
Author: Helena K.
Pairing: G/X (hints of previous G/E)
Rating: FRM (General audience, but mature theme)
Warning: m/m slash (but no sexual activity)
Summary/Timeline: Unspecified time after Chosen, Giles reveals he has a craft.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss and a whole bunch of alphabetical corporate entities. I know the Polish alphabet. Not the same thing. Not for profit, just fun.
Notes:
"Speech"
*Emphasis* in thought or speech.
Dedicated to Gileswench for just *being* and for inspiring me.
Feedback: Yes, please, surprise me.
“I'm home,” came the exuberant cry from the young man as he entered the flat, his arms full of mail including a medium sized package wrapped in brown paper.
He was greeted by a mock growl from the older man. “About bloody time. What took you so long?”
“Um, arms full of mail, most of it *not* addressed to me. Could you give me a hand instead of attitude?”
“Sorry, Xander, but I missed you.” He moved toward the door and retrieved the pile of envelopes and the package from Xander's arms, before giving him a tender kiss.
Xander leaned into the intimacy, loving every sign of affection he received. No matter how long they had been together, he still found it all so new. “Missed you too, Giles, but I thought you'd like some mail along with the other stuff that was on my list.”
“I've just made some tea. Shall I pour you a cup?” Giles moved toward the couch and dropped the mail onto the table, next to the teapot and the obligatory two mugs.
“Nah, I think I'll get some milk.” With just a few strides, Xander was in and out of the kitchen with a tall glass of milk. Setting it down on the table, he dropped down onto the couch. Fingering the envelopes first, he then picked up the package that was covered with a number of colourful stamps. “So, what’s with the foreign package? Who's sending you stuff from Belgium?”
“Oh, it's nothing, just some wool I sent away for.”
Xander gave him a quizzical glance. “Right, ‘cause there's a shortage of sheep here, and you had to send away to Belgium?”
Giles tried to be patient. “It's a very famous wool, Xander, dyed using the finest natural ingredients.”
“And you need this – why?”
“For a, um, craft, a hobby.”
“A hobby? Since when do you have a hobby?”
“Since I was a small boy. I merely set it aside for most of the time I was an active Watcher. But I resumed it a few years ago.”
“So, what is it? C'm'on, Giles, spill already.”
“Try not to laugh. No, I'm serious. My grandmother taught me. When her Slayer was killed, she needed to busy herself, to take her mind off that disastrous day, so she took up needlepoint. No, not that horrid stuff you buy in shops with the design already printed on the canvas. My Gram would create her own designs and then copy them onto the canvas. She would order the wool in the exact colours she wanted. And she would create masterpieces that glowed with beauty, with life. Mind you, when I was young, my designs were uncomplicated and the finished product was merely adequate. It took me a while to learn that I had to put passion into my work; otherwise, I was just twiddling my thumbs, being an utter wanker.”
Finishing his milk, Xander put his glass down on the table and focused his attention fully on his lover's face. It had been a long time since he'd seen him so animated (well, other than when they were in bed together) and he was pleased to see the twinkle in his eyes, and the way his lips quirked up at the corners. “Passion, huh? Do I dare ask what that means?”
He got an almost Ripperish glare in reply, followed by that lopsided smile. “The only way I could portray passion was to do people – people I cared about, people I loved.”
Xander held his breath in hesitation, then ventured to whisper, “Does that, does that mean you've done one of me?” Xander looked almost ready to accept no as the reply, that he was not worthy to be the object of another's affection, of deep love.
Giles hurried to reassure him, drawing the trembling body closer to his own. “I've been working on it for some time, wanted to portray the essential you. But, when I ran out of wool, I had to send my order away and have been waiting so that I could complete it.”
Xander drew his head back just far enough to gaze into his lover’s eyes. “Could I see it?” Another long pause. “Please?”
“Well, as most of it is complete, I suppose there'd be no harm.” Standing up, he extended his hand to Xander. “Come.”
Xander bounded up from the couch with almost puppy-like glee. He had no idea where Giles kept the canvas, even though he knew his way around the cozy flat and its contents.
He followed Giles to his study. There was a two-door closet that went up to the ceiling. Giles opened the upper door and removed a white cotton covered bundle. Xander noticed that there was one other bundle as well, but didn't say anything.
Giles stripped the cotton sleeve off the canvas that had been rolled up loosely. He unrolled it gently, laying it flat upon his study desk. It was a large canvas, about a metre long.
As the design on it was revealed, Xander lapsed into a stunned silence. Oh, sure, there were bare patches where wool had not yet been applied, but the essence of it – of him – was all there. It was the portrait of a warrior, with a warrior's stance, feet apart planted firmly on the ground, hands clasping a long sword whose point also rested on the ground. With the grey cowl-necked tunic and the matching loose trousers, he could have been anyone in history. He noted that his image had two eyes that stared back at him with a sureness, a confidence he didn't realize he'd ever had. He also noticed that some of the wool, especially on his head, seemed more worn and a little tangled in places.
Finally, he turned his head. “That's how you see me?”
Giles replied with conviction, “That's how I've always seen you, love. Your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty.”
Xander tilted his head. “I see you kept both eyes.” He wasn't bitter. It was merely an observation.
“Silly boy, I've loved you longer than you can realize. I knew I had to depict my earliest longing for you, otherwise it would not have been complete.”
“Um, how come some of the wool seems to be tangled? Did you screw up?”
Giles was silent for a long time, varying revealing emotions flitting across his eyes. His harsh painful whisper shocked Xander. “No, love, I didn't screw up. I reused some of the wool that had been in my portrait of Jenny. When she was killed, I put her canvas back in storage. After a few years, I took it out. When I looked at it, I knew I couldn't keep it, as the picture I had of her was not a true representation. Who she really was, what she was had nothing to do with the Technopagan she claimed to be.” He drew in another pained breath of air. “I couldn't bring myself to destroy my work, so I painstakingly unraveled each piece of wool, and allowed my heart to heal as the bare canvas was restored, with only her outline left traced onto it. I took much of that wool and reused it when I began creating your likeness. However, as I was weeping while I worked, from both the pain of the loss, of the betrayal, and also the fearful anticipation that our new love would flourish, much of the wool became matted.”
His arms slid off the table where he had been holding the canvas flat. His body was slumped, his posture revealing the depth of his feelings. There were tracks down his cheeks of tears he hadn’t realized he'd shed.
Xander slid his arms around his lover's waist from behind. “Shhh. I'm here for you. I've got you.”
Giles closed his eyes and luxuriated in the strength of the younger man's embrace. He managed to turn his body around to kiss him softly on the lips and then to nuzzle at his throat. He'd had to be the strong one for so many people throughout his entire life and now he had found someone – amazingly with no mystical powers – who could hold him, who could make him feel safe, merely by loving him. It was the most blissful feeling he could imagine.
He felt the shift of Xander's muscles as tension crept into his arms before the young man spoke again. “I don't want you to feel bad – but can I ask what's in the other bundle?”
Another long pause, then the voice came out with just a hint of strain. “The canvas of Jenny and also one I did a very long time ago.”
“Of him?” They never had to mention *his* name; there had been only one man who could remain both unnamed and yet so ever present, even though memories of him were scattered to the four corners of the earth, a fitting tribute to a worshipper of Chaos.
Hearing the nondescript reply of “Mmhmm” from a distracted Giles, Xander just had to ask, “But why, especially after all this time?”
Giles straightened his body, regaining more of his usual composure. He made sure he was looking fully into Xander's face before he continued. “He was the first one who dared to see more in me than just my ancestral duty. He helped me to define myself as a man. And, although most of what we did together was either childishly foolish or irresponsibly dangerous or inadvertently evil, I owe him that acknowledgment.”
Xander looked a little unsure at the response. “Do you, do you still love him?”
What came back at him stunned him for its ferocity. “I despise the reckless man. I pity the insecure practitioner of magics. But, until the day I die, I will love the brash youth who grasped my heart and refused to release me. And I can assure you he has *not* released me throughout the years, despite the turmoil.”
Giles saw the look of dismay on Xander's face, so quickly added, “Xander, you must believe me when I tell you I have redefined the boundaries of my heart – so that you, and only you, are my life. After all, it's not the first time any of us has had to deal with unrequited love. Even you, dearest, must still have a soft spot in your heart for Anya, or for Willow.”
Xander nodded slowly, with a dawning comprehension. “Sometimes, I wish life weren't so complicated. But that would probably mean I'd never have fallen in love with you, so I guess things sort of evened themselves out. Anyways, how about showing me the other canvasses. Cuz I only met him when he was older and badder. I want to see what you saw in him. Please, show me.”
Unable to deny his lover's wish – and also wanting him to have a broader understanding of who he had once been, Giles nodded in agreement. After first rolling up the canvas of Xander and putting it away safely in its sleeve, he returned it to the closet and retrieved the other bundle. First he withdrew the once finished and now undone canvas of Jenny. It was only of her head, the neck fading to nothingness.
Xander gulped. It was hard to look at a picture – even just a drawn outline – of the dead.
Giles no longer exhibited the strong emotions he once felt. They were locked away deep within, but he still respected their power. He dragged his fingertips down what would have been Jenny's cheek and whispered, “Requiescat in Pacem, Jana.” He rolled it up after a long silence.
Then, seeming to gather himself, he withdrew the second canvas from the sleeve. It was almost one and a half times bigger than Xander's. Without saying a single word, he unrolled it, anchored it upon the desk with a couple of books, and then stepped back, so Xander could see everything.
Xander couldn't believe his eye. It was *him*, no mistaking that. But, but this full-length portrayal was of a young, nude man – make that a *very* nude man. He was lying on a dark blue sheet that gleamed like satin. His head was propped up by one arm bent at the elbow. But the other arm…the other arm hung down the slender chest to rest on the sheet with the fingers of his hand trailing along his penis, his…very erect…penis. When Xander had regained his self-control and was able to wrest his eye away from that…well, just that…he drew his glance up to the face framed by dark hair, to the eyes glinting with mischief, and the torso almost leaping off the canvas with restrained excitement. It wasn't just that it was so boldly sexual, because it was; but it was the way his life force seemed to be captured perfectly. It wasn't like a mirror; it was more like *he* was in the next room and Xander was looking at him through the doorway. Almost close enough to touch. Almost.
And Giles had created this, so many years ago, before the constant struggle between love and hate had started to create havoc in his soul.
Still stunned, Xander could only utter a very succinct, “Wow!”
Having watched Xander's reaction intently, Giles permitted himself to repeat it. “Wow, indeed.” He reached out with his fingers and, once again, touched the canvas. But, this time, he did not feel the harshness of the naked weave of Jenny's piece, only the warmth of the wool strands that had come together in harmony, spreading the heat from his fingertips through his body. Even after all the years, after all the *history* between them, he could still feel the essence of the man – without the illusions, the traps, the deceptions.
Shaking off the reverie a little reluctantly, he turned back to Xander. “Can you see now why I could never destroy this piece? That's not just what he was – It's also what I was. And, for a long time, it was more good than bad. I owe it to him and I owe it to myself to keep this piece alive, as it were.”
Wanting to feel a more solid connection, he grasped Xander's head and drew it closer to his own. “Please don't ask me to destroy it. I'll never look at it again, but I couldn't bear to know that it no longer exists.”
Xander took a very deep breath and looked back at Giles, also lifting his hands to cradle his lover's head. “Nah, I wouldn't make you do that. Who you were is still a little of who you are. The *who* that I love. But, just keep it in the closet. If you feel you need to look at it, that's okay with me. We can look at it together, if you want. It's no big.”
The relief radiated from Giles. “Have I told you how much I love you recently?”
“Umm. Let me think.” His eye closed as if in deep concentration. When he opened it, he had the perfect response. “I think it's time you started working on a new piece of me, with a definite clothes optional rule.” The working eye sparkled, both eyebrows lifting upwards. Then came the ultimatum. “In fact, I dare you!”
Giles rose to the challenge. “I accept your dare. And, if you have nothing more important on your agenda this afternoon, I suggest now would be a good time to start.”
It wasn't long before a trail of clothes, mostly Xander's, led from the study to the bedroom. After all, the artist in Giles insisted on knowing his subject matter thoroughly.
Passion would be created.
And captured.
Forever.
June 28, 2005
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