( obviously, it's only with the razor in her hands that buffy realizes how weighty an ask this was — she's not exactly well regarded for her strength control, and too much pressure could literally, actually, slit giles' throat and kill him. not that he seemed too worried about it, barely pausing before handing it over. that kind of belief in her is better than any present he could wrap up and hand over, and it fills buffy with an undeniable resolve. not only will he not bleed — this is going to be the best shave of his life.
the bare skin of her thighs squeaks as she slides along the counter, legs falling to drape over the edge as she gets in close to him. ) Is that right? ( she asks, positioning the razor, turning to glance at their reflection over her shoulder.
it is interesting, to look at the pair of them from an observational standpoint. it looks intimate, almost. or maybe — it is, technically, isn't it? she turns back once she gets the confirmation from giles, and slides the razor up through the soap, body clenching at the raspy sound of cut hair. pulling back, she rubs her thumb against the freshly smooth skin, letting out a girlish squeal of delight. )
I did it! Hey, looking good. That was fun, actually.
( she washes off the razor under the faucet, then holds the razor in her fist, staring at him with big, hopeful eyes. she doesn't ask to keep going, just waits for him to give it to her. )
[ As Buffy scoots closer on the counter, Giles discovers he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He'd been resting one on the sink, but in order to be close enough for Buffy to reach he needs to stand in such a way that the ideal place to steady himself is currently occupied by one bare, carefully groomed, and lightly tanned leg. Impossible, of course, for all he and Buffy have touched each other over the years -- always pragmatic, contact required during training or in a fight, the occasional hug or reassuring clasp, nothing nearly so intimate as sharing space, half dressed, in their bathroom.
It's Giles' turn to deal with a dry throat as he meets his own gaze in the mirror, holding still to let Buffy get to work. There's no question in his mind that she'll be careful, gentle. That she's just as capable of tenderness as she is capable of punching a demon through a brick wall. Above and beyond everything else, he believes in that tenderness. He believes in her.
So he just tips his head back a bit, to give her more room to work, and settles his hands lightly on the counter either side of her. ]
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the bare skin of her thighs squeaks as she slides along the counter, legs falling to drape over the edge as she gets in close to him. ) Is that right? ( she asks, positioning the razor, turning to glance at their reflection over her shoulder.
it is interesting, to look at the pair of them from an observational standpoint. it looks intimate, almost. or maybe — it is, technically, isn't it? she turns back once she gets the confirmation from giles, and slides the razor up through the soap, body clenching at the raspy sound of cut hair. pulling back, she rubs her thumb against the freshly smooth skin, letting out a girlish squeal of delight. )
I did it! Hey, looking good. That was fun, actually.
( she washes off the razor under the faucet, then holds the razor in her fist, staring at him with big, hopeful eyes. she doesn't ask to keep going, just waits for him to give it to her. )
no subject
It's Giles' turn to deal with a dry throat as he meets his own gaze in the mirror, holding still to let Buffy get to work. There's no question in his mind that she'll be careful, gentle. That she's just as capable of tenderness as she is capable of punching a demon through a brick wall. Above and beyond everything else, he believes in that tenderness. He believes in her.
So he just tips his head back a bit, to give her more room to work, and settles his hands lightly on the counter either side of her. ]
Go on, then.