Another Plan Foiled.

Xander wasn't entirely sure what had he been expecting, but Ethan Rayne relaxed and smiling on Giles' couch definitely wasn't it. It wasn't that much of a shock as it would have been any other day, since he had seen Ethan already this morning, when he arrived, all cat-after-swallowing-a-canary smug and grinning, and the later in the afternoon, before they did that spell thing to avert the lates Apocalypse.

Xander was fine with that. Fine with any Apocalypse-averting mojo, even if it involved Ethan Rayne, because if there was no imminent threat of the complete destruction of the world, he could get back to regularly-scheduled Saturday evenings at Giles', with tea, buiscuits and British TV shows he still couldn't make sense of but really didn't mind.

Ethan Rayne was not a welcome addition to these evenings, and right now should be on a plane back to whatever hell he had crawled out from. And not, quite emphatetically not, sitting on Giles' couch. Giles' couch, on Saturday evenings, belonged to Xander. And maybe, possibly, Giles.

He glared at Ethan and stomped inside, giving the couch a wide berth and claiming the armchair. He'd be damned if he shared the couch with that guy. Or sit on it ever again unless it had been steam-cleaned.

"What is he doing here?" he called out to Giles, his gaze still fixed on Ethan in what he hoped was a threatening 'watch it, buddy' glare.

Ethan just smiled.

"He's staying over for the night," Giles offered matter-of-factly, walking into the room and placing the tray on the coffee table. "Tea, Xander?"

No. No tea until things get back to normal. "Yeah, sure."

He might have overdone the enthusiasm, because Giles gives him a searching glance, then frowns thoughtfully. "He helped us, Xander. The least I can do is to put him up for the night."

Fine. Whatever. He doesn't have to like it, though, and he doesn't. And doesn't like the way Ethan is watching him, and likes even less the appearing smirk and the quiet 'Ah', as if Ethan worked something out, a joke on Xander's expense.

He definitely doesn't like the 'Ah'.

"You could also bring out the scotch, Rupert," Ethan offers, placing his empty tea cup on the table. "I'm sure your boy here would appreciate it as well."

Xander isn't sure what exactly is the feeling deep down in his stomach he experiences at Ethan's phrasing. Could be annoyance. Yeah, he'd go with that.


*

When you think of it, the idea of having drinks with Ethan is potentially disastrous. He should know better, by now.

Of course, Ethan did help them. And it would be impolite to just send him on his way after that. And he seems to be behaving. And frankly, Giles had missed him, in the particular way he always misses Ethan... can't stand him, for most of the time, but then, all of a sudden, can't stand being away.

The bottle is almost empty now, and he starts to feel the effects, pulsing in his veins, alcohol and residual magic, an aftertaste. It's been a while, both since he had done magic with Ethan for the last time and since...

If Xander wasn't here he'd... but Xander is here, and Giles would never ask him to leave. He might have, in the past, but not anymore. So he just sips his whisky and cringes at the stories Ethan is telling. He'll never live those down.

"And so there he is, just a towel on, hair dripping wet, and he says with all the wounded dignity he can muster 'Well, I should think that went well'!" Ethan finishes cheerfully, and Xander dissolves into laughter. Giles groans. Never, ever live those down.

But then he catches Xander's eye, and there's something there, under the drunken amusement, something that makes Giles' breathe in harshly.

"Now you're getting it," Ethan mutters.

This is a potentially disastrous idea.

These are the best ones.

*

It's not exactly going according to Ethan's plan.

Plan was simple. Fly over, stop the world from ending (he hates doing the good thing, but he quite likes this world, and having Ripper indebted to him is a great bonus). Then either cause some mischief or, preferably, get Rupert drunk and take advantage.

But then the boy stumbles in, and things get even more interesting.

And while he does hate doing the good thing, Ripper had become too much of a chivalrous bastard to do anything about it himself, to ever presume.

It takes him a full bottle of scotch, four hours, and most of his 'naked Ripper' stories, but he is not disappointed.

Doing the good thing might not be so bad, after all, he muses as he watches Rupert kiss the boy for the first time. And then, Ripper extends his hand towards Ethan, familiar touch on his shoulder, gently sliding to the back of his neck, dragging him closer. Xander breathes harshly, prettily flushed, his eye closed, his lips parted. Ethan leans in, kissing and biting down Xander's exposed neck, taking his time. Xander's fingers clumsily work on Ripper's belt and...

Another plan foiled.

Somehow, he doesn't mind.