A Small Mutiny
written by Gileswench

Rating: FRAO
Spoilers: None in particular. Set during the summer between S3 and S4.
Summary: Giles cuts loose.
Dedication: To Ruth, who must feel very lonely as a G/Ol writer now and again. You’re not the only one who likes them.
Author's Notes: This one comes to you as part of the GRB celebration of National Masturbation Month. Part of it was also inspired by my recent discovery of just how young Phina Oruche really is.
Feedback Author: Gileswench
Author's Website: Wench's Tavern

It had been a long day. After six hours of unpacking boxes of books saved from the Sunnydale High library, another three of researching prophecy, and one of being beaten to a pulp by Buffy, Giles was ready to call it a day. He was ready to call it a week. He was ready, even, for a small mutiny.

He knew he'd never completely turn his back on the life fate had chosen for him. Being a Watcher - being Buffy's Watcher - was far too large a piece of his soul to simply stop doing it. On the other hand, there were times when he longed for a break, a chance to do something mad and pointless and freeing.

And so it was that he stopped into the local bar on his way home. Home. It didn't really feel like one on this particular night. Too quiet. Nobody to talk to, or to listen to him. No, he wanted someplace that hummed with the sound of adult voices, and perhaps a bit of music he knew from his younger days.

Alas, the music wasn't his taste and the décor was sadly pretentious. Still, there were people and conversations he could catch an edge of and wonder about. The bartender flashed a friendly smile, in the style of all service workers who survive more on tips than paychecks.

"What can I get you?"

"Scotch, neat."

"You've got it."

Giles slid onto a stool at the bar and used the mirror to look about himself subtly. He smiled ruefully to himself when he realized he was scanning for demons. Even having a drink on his way home from work, he couldn't entirely forget his work. He took his drink and toyed with it for a moment.

A laugh at the other end of the bar drew his attention. He looked over and saw a face he knew. As he stared in surprise, she turned her head from her companion and noticed him. She stared, too. A moment later, she set down her glass, excused herself and came over to Giles' side.

"Well, yours is certainly the last face I expected to see," she said as she sat with catlike grace on the stool next to his. "How long has it been? Four, five years?"

"Nearly six, actually. Whatever are you doing here?"

"The firm I work for is opening a new branch in Sunnydale. I'm here liaising for the Chairman. I expect I'll be making several visits to this sad little backwater. Speaking of this sad little backwater, what in the world are you doing paddling around in this pond? Last I heard you were working for that museum in Oxford. What brought you to California?"

Giles shrugged and tossed back his scotch.

"Work," he said. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Got the sack, did you?"

"Pulled it over my own head."

"That's the Rupert Giles I know," Olivia grinned. "All my mates wondered what I saw in such an old stick in the mud. What they didn't understand was how much of a rabble-rouser you were underneath all that horrid tweed. Of course, you do appear to be tweedless now."

"I-I'm sorry...are you flirting with me? It's been so long, I'm not sure I remember what it sounds like."

"Then you've been here too long. Don't women in this hellhole appreciate a handsome man?"

"I'm not twenty, Olivia. They all think I'm too old to be attractive."

"Then they're blind as well as dumb." She leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. "You're the sexiest thing in this place."

"Actually, I would have thought that distinction belonged to you," he said.

"Flatterer! Come on; let's go someplace we can hear ourselves think. Is there a beach nearby?"

"A beach?"

"I've always wanted to walk on the beach in the moonlight with a tall, sexy man."

"Did the tall, sexy man of your dreams wear spectacles and tweed?"

"I do believe he did, at that." She hopped off her stool and held out a hand to him. "We'll take your car. I came by taxi."

It was the work of a moment for Giles to drop some money on the bar to cover his drink and a healthy tip for the bartender. He took Olivia's hand and allowed her to lead him out into the night.

"We really shouldn't stay out at night," he said. "It's dangerous."

"Yes, I know," she laughed merrily. "You and your ghouls and vampires and whatnot! When are you going to accept that life is for living, not for worrying about bizarre ways to die? Besides, what would a vampire be doing on the beach? I believe they aren't particularly keen on sunbathing."

"The moon is out. They might enjoy moonbathing."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

When they got to his Citroen, Giles stopped and cupped Olivia's cheek.

"You do realize you're still far too young for me?"

"I realize I was too young when I was seventeen," she said. "I'm twenty-three now. I've traveled quite a bit of the world, had a few sordid affairs, and found my feet. I've grown. The question is, are you going to keep hiding behind a couple pointless numbers, or are you going to take me walking on the beach and see what comes of it? Your decision, Rupert."

Part of Giles wanted to say goodnight and run back to the dull safety of his apartment. Part of him longed to turn Olivia over his knee and teach the little flirt a lesson. Most of him, however, longed to cut loose, to take a walk on the beach in the night ignoring the potential for danger. Most of him wanted to see how far Olivia was willing to take her flirting. Most of him wanted to mutiny.

"Get in," he told her shortly.

Olivia smiled and followed directions. A moment later, he was settled in the driver's seat and laughing at himself for his folly. The gentle weight of her hand resting on his thigh encouraged him in his rebellion. Instead of asking where she was spending the night and driving her there, he headed for the beach.

As he drove, they talked of this and that. She told him what she knew of how a few mutual acquaintances were doing. He provided evasive answers to her questions. She told him about her job that kept her on the road, traveling throughout Europe and the United States, never settling in one place very long. He regaled her with carefully edited tales of his hellion youth. He wished he could be more honest with her.

Actually, he wished his expurgated half-truths were the reality of his life. He wished he could tell Olivia about Jenny. He felt sure she'd be sympathetic, but he didn't dare explain that the reason he was still single was that the only woman who had been able to share all of his life - the true as well as the carefully composed fiction the outside world knew as Rupert Giles - had been hideously murdered by one of the creatures Olivia didn't believe existed.

"Here we are," he said as he pulled off the road.

"Let's take off our shoes," Olivia said. "I can't bear trying to get all the sand out after. One never quite manages to get it all."

Giles smiled and began to untie his shoes. A moment later, he swallowed hard. Olivia was wearing a dress and needed to get her stockings off. Real stockings. Giles caught a glimpse of her suspender belt as she undid the clasps. In the darkness he wasn't entirely certain whether he'd seen silken pants or not. He swallowed again and placed his socks inside his shoes. Olivia had already shaken down her skirt and danced over to him.

In the moonlight, she was almost invisibly dark, a near phantom of a woman representing the phantom of a life he couldn't have as his own.

"Come on," she urged, grabbing for his hand. "Let's go down to the water."

"I'm not doing a scene out of From Here To Eternity," he warned her playfully. "Too damn much kelp down there."

"I just want to get my toes wet in the Pacific. I've never done it yet. Have you?"

Up to that moment it had never occurred to Giles to do any such thing. Now, however, it seemed the most natural thing to want to do. He allowed himself to be lead, laughing, down to the water. The sand went from dry and dusty to cool and damp to sodden clumps that stuck to the soles of his feet. For once, he didn't care. It felt good not to care.

Olivia let go of his hand and raced ahead to dance in the edges of the waves. She looked like a sea nymph that had come briefly ashore.

"Come on, Rupert, it's delicious!"

He bounded to her side, finally dipping his feet in the water.

"It's bloody cold," he half-grumbled half-laughed. "You're mad."

"You're a grumpy old bear."

"You're the one who insisted on my company."

"That's because I have a weakness for grumpy old bears."

Without warning, she jumped into his arms. Giles grabbed her automatically, his reflexes honed by years of martial arts training and sparring with his Slayer. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to treat this as an attack. Instead, he gripped her shapely bum and allowed her to kiss him. One kiss followed another, growing deeper and more intense with every repeat.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered against her lips.

"Yes, we should," she said as she pulled him into the deepest, most sensual kiss yet. "We should do this a lot."

"I'm old enough to be your father, you know."

"I can't imagine anyone would mistake us for father and daughter. We've got such different accents, you see."

Giles burst into a fit of giggles at that and held Olivia closer. This was what he'd been wanting. This was what freedom felt like, and he needed it, even if only on a temporary basis. When she tilted her chin and offered up her throat to him, he lavished it with wet, suckling kisses. Even that simple gesture of trust was so rare in his world that he couldn't help being almost overwhelmed by it. He ran his tongue gently up the side of her throat, then nipped lightly at the underside of her chin. Olivia gasped slightly and wriggled closer in his arms.

"I want to make love with you," she said softly. "Right here, right now."

"I - I...here?"

"It's a warm enough night, and you've pressed all the right buttons. Why not here?"

"Sand in terrifying places for weeks after?"

She giggled. It was a delightfully naughty sound.

"Are you afraid of who you'll have to explain it to?" she taunted.

"No," he said sounding mildly surprised and a bit disappointed. "I rather doubt anyone will much care. On the other hand, I have no intention of getting sand in some of my more interesting crevasses."

"Well I don't want to go to some stuffy hotel room or boring house. I want to do this someplace a little dangerous."


"Not mortal danger, of course. Just someplace we could get caught. Here, a park, on the steps of the courthouse, I don't care what the specific place is, I just want to do something a little scandalous."

Giles sighed slightly.

"Would you settle for my car? I'm not certain I'm up for anything too very dangerous," he said. "Oh, and I'm afraid I'm not... well... prepared for this."

"Neither am I. Damn. I've usually got something with me, but I didn't really expect to meet up with anyone as interesting as you." She frowned, but brightened almost immediately. "Of course, that doesn't mean we can't have some fun, anyway. It's almost more appropriate in a car. Speaking of which, why do you drive that battered old thing?"

"It's perfectly serviceable. Gets me where I'm going roughly when I need to be there. I don't ask much more of a car."

"You ought. A car says a lot about its owner, you know. If you keep driving this monstrosity, of course the women are going to keep thinking you're as dull and battered and ridiculous as it is. What you need is a bright red convertible. Something that says 'sexy' in a language the locals understand."

"Actually, when a man over the age of forty gets one of those, the locals understand it to say 'I can no longer achieve and maintain an erection without the aid of pharmaceuticals'."

"Perhaps, but they all think you take the pills, so it doesn't much matter, does it? They know you want sex. Your car simply screams 'I haven't any testicles at all'. We both know that's not the case."

"I didn't lay a finger on you, then."

"No, and I was very disappointed. I think we both were. And I want your fingers on me now."

"This is still insane."

Her grin grew as broad as the Cheshire Cat's.

"We're all mad here, Rupert."

"Then I may as well be mad, too."

He kissed her deeply again. Her response was immediate and enthusiastic. It was simple passion with no particular strings attached. He didn't have to worry about what came next. They both knew this was a matter of fulfilling old fantasies and sharing whatever happened along in whatever time they chose to spend together.

"Let's go," he said.

He dropped her unceremoniously on the sand and started up the beach. She followed, laughing merrily and trying to shake the sand off her feet.

“You’re a wanker, you know!” she called after him.

“So I’ve been told.”

She caught up to him. He draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently. Her answering caress sent a shiver down his spine. It was all he could do to keep trudging toward the car.

It seemed an eternity before he made his destination. His skin hummed with anticipation, his cock was already standing half to attention. A tiny piece of his mind insisted this was a rash, mad thing to do, but he refused to pay any attention to that. Here was a beautiful woman half his age, a one-time slightly guilty fantasy of his, eagerly offering herself to him. She would be gone in the morning. Nobody would know unless he told them about it, which he had no intention of doing. For an hour or two, he could stop being a Watcher and simply be a man. He fumbled with the keys and helped Olivia into the back seat.

There was no conversation for a while. Their lips and tongues were too busy with other, more urgent matters. Despite the cramped quarters, Giles found he was more aroused than he’d been in a very long time. Perhaps it was that he was finally living out his fantasy of making love with Olivia. Perhaps it was the novelty of getting off in the back seat of a car again after so many years of beds. Perhaps it was the skill of his lover, who seemed to know precisely how to touch and kiss and fondle him to produce the most achingly sweet responses. It might even have been the danger Olivia didn’t understand of being caught, not by the police or a passerby, but by a werewolf attracted by human passion or a vampire looking for a distracted potential meal. He didn’t care. Olivia’s dress was pooled around her waist, his hand weighed the firm curve of her breast and her hand had found its way to the rigid flesh straining between his thighs.

While she undid his trousers and yanked them down his legs, he bent to take a chocolate-dark nipple in his mouth. Olivia gasped as his hand wandered under her skirt and found that she wasn’t wearing knickers, after all. As her hand stroked up and down his cock, his finger slid into her moist opening. They began to rock side-by-side in matching rhythm. The only sounds to be heard were Giles’ lips sucking at Olivia’s nipple, the slight damp squish of his finger inside her, and a protesting squeak of the Citroen’s seat springs.


It was a single word, but Giles knew exactly what more she wanted. He added a second finger inside her and began to brush his thumb lightly over her clit every few strokes. Olivia shuddered, groaned, and began to stroke him faster. Giles was trembling with lust. He couldn’t help thrusting against her hand. He gave a small moan.

Suddenly Olivia pulled his head from her bosom and kissed him deeply, doing her best to muffle her cries as she went over the edge. He used every bit of skill he’d learned over the years to keep her riding the wave as long as possible. Her hand moved faster and faster over him, gripping almost convulsively.

Then he was lost. All rational thought had fled entirely, leaving only the agonizing joy of release. He bit his lip to keep from shouting. The attempt failed. His voice rang in the night and he no longer cared who – or what – heard his delight.

Then it was over. They sat slumped next to each other, still touching, still sharing lazy kisses. At last, though, Giles decided he needed to wipe the cooling mess from his belly. Before he could reach for it, Olivia found his discarded tee shirt and began cleaning him off with it.

“What’s so funny?” she asked as he began to shake with laughter. “You were enjoying it well enough a minute ago.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he gasped between helpless giggles. “It’s just…oh dear, I’ve suddenly realized…I’m naked in a car!”

“We’re both naked in a car,” she laughed back. “Is that a surprise to you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, desperately trying to sober himself. “It’s just that, well, it’s been a while, and sometimes I get a bit… giddy after.”

“That’s because all those ridiculous defenses come down,” she said. “You ought to let them down more often, Rupert.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, not Rupert. Not now. Ripper.”

“Ripper…” Before she could laugh, she caught his eye and swallowed her amusement. “You’re serious, aren’t you? This is important to you.”

“Yes, it is rather.”

“All right, then. Ripper.”

“Not all the time,” he said wistfully. “Just…sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” She sealed the promise with a tender kiss. “I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me why, will you?”

“No, I don’t suppose I will.” He tossed his sodden tee shirt on the floor of the car, grabbed his sweater where it had landed on the steering wheel, and lifted his rump to pull up his trousers. “But thanks all the same.”

A few minutes later, they had finished making themselves look as presentable as possible under the circumstances. Giles drove Olivia to her hotel and insisted on walking her to the door of the lobby. They kissed goodnight and exchanged numbers.

“Next time you’re going to be in town, you could stay with me, if you like,” Giles said. “Save on hotel bills.”

“I might just take you up on that, if I don’t get a better offer.”

They shared a broad smile and another small kiss. Giles watched until Olivia was safely into the elevator that would take her to her floor. He smiled again, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and returned to his car. Somehow, even his empty apartment didn’t seem so bad, anymore. His life was just as stressful and lonely and terrifying as it had been two hours before, but he’d taken a short break and it felt good.

As long as Ripper could come out to play every now and then, he really did love being Watcher.