[fic] Best. Present. Ever. (Tracks 6-10)
Jun. 16th, 2012 12:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiBest. Present. Ever. (Tracks 6-10)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
akainagi
Fandom: BtVS, Buffy/Giles
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “If music be the food of love, play on …”
Track Six:
Rupert Giles’ electronic arch-nemesis had a name. A very silly name, actually.
“You named it ‘Ringo?’” he asked his Slayer incredulously.
“Yup.”
”Ringo?”
“Again, yup.”
“As in ‘Ringo of The Beatles?’ That Ringo?”
“Kinda. The Beatles are definitely of the cool. But Xander also told me that Ringo means apple.” Buffy shrugged. “Seemed appropriate. Being an iPod and all.”
This conversation was bordering on the surreal. “Since when does Xander know Japanese?” Giles asked.
Buffy grinned. “Since he got sucked up by a evil demon called Japanamation. He picked up a few words. He tries to act all artsy, talking about animation style and production values. We all know it’s just ‘cause he likes looking at anime chicks with big eyes and huge boobs.”
Giles choked on his tea.
Track Seven:
Perhaps it was the universe’s idea of humour. Or perhaps it was karma from his Ripper days coming back in some kind of hellacious installment plan. Why else would he be forced to listen to this song right now, at this moment?
And I'm sure I can't pretend
To be a gentlemen..
But before I begin,
I just gotta know …
Did he say song? It was more like pornographic poetry set to electric guitar.
Despite Buffy’s considerable innate gifts in the combat arts, there were still occasions when hands-on training was required. Especially when dealing with weapons. Her weapons of choice were usually stakes, boot-heels and the occasional snide one-liner. More often than not, they were enough.
It was a Watcher’s job, however, to search out any room for improvement. On the Hellmouth, even minor tactical disadvantages could be disasterous. And despite her strength and speed, Buffy’s reach would always be impaired by her small stature.
That was how he ended up violating the six-inch rule. Of course where Buffy was concerned it might as well have been a bloody kilometer, he’d still end up in sorry straits. He demonstrated how to modify her grip on the pole-arm, and instructed her in rather sharp tones to watch her center of gravity. God knew he was watching it.
And some sodding-great berk of an American musician continued to loudly taunt him with images of things he would hardly admit to desiring.
… What do I have to do to get inside of you …
Giles barked out something not fit for print, marched over to the offending piece of gadgetry and unplugged it roughly from the portable speaker. Blessed silence.
He turned to find a visibly startled Slayer. Buffy looked at him with such guileless concern, that he immediately felt something of a berk himself.
“Is this the part where you ban my iPod from the library?” She looked positively pouty.
Giles rolled his eyes. “Perish the thought. Though, perhaps next time something a little less …”
Naughty? Inappropriate? Thoroughly inspirational?
“Loud,” He finished.
“Oh. ‘Kay.” Buffy was visibly relieved. She gave him a dazzingly grateful smile and then went back to working on her center of gravity.
Music or no music, he was doomed.
Track Eight:
“I’m merely surprised that you deviate from mainstream pop-culture enough to appreciate musical theatre.” Giles didn’t realize until the words were out how insultingly they could be construed.
Buffy seemed not to notice, even as she defended the day’s listening preferences. “Why, because I’m not your stereotypical drama-nerd? I've got one hyphenated word for you, Giles: Ice-capades. Good, campy, all-American entertainment. I can appreciate a good piece of cheeze as well as the next gal.” Buffy gave him a rather wolfish grin. “Besides, you remind me of Joanne.”
Giles was even more lost, if that were possible. “Joanne?”
“The woman in the song.”
“Please tell me you’re not referring to the part of the bisexual nymphomaniac.” He waited for the inevitable ‘eew’ and possibly a jibe about his age.
No ‘eew’ was forthcoming. “Nah, that’s Maureen,” Buffy supplied. “Other one.”
Giles reviewed for a moment. He smiled self-depricatingly to cover the very real twinge of insult. “Ah. The ‘Anal-retentive-snob?’”
Buffy’s smile was seemingly tailor-made to disrupt his cardiovascular equilibrium. “Loveable-droll-geek,” the blonde corrected.
Yet again, he was polishing his glasses before he even realized he was doing it.
Track Nine:
Given their location and occupation, Giles found today’s music selection slightly inappropriate. He told his Slayer as much.
Buffy disagreed. Shocking.
“It’s not prophecy, Giles. It’s college rock. C’mon; this song could be the Sunnydale Civic Anthem it’s so appropriate.”
“I’m still attempting to wrap my head around a pop tune that references Leonid Brezhnev,” he replied dryly.
“Ah. Russian. Communist. Big Shot. Was he the one who screwed-up royal over in Afghanastan?”
“One of many, actually.” He looked at her calculatingly, “Now who are you and what have you done with Buffy Summers?”
“Har har. You were the slavedriver who spent a week quizzing me on Modern European history.”
“I’m merely surprised that you payed attention.”
“I always pay attention.”
Giles gave her the look
“Mostly pay attention. Usually.”
Again, the look.
“Okay, you win,” the Slayer groused.
He couldn’t hold back an amused smile. “She finally admits it. Perhaps it really is the End of the World as We Know it.”
Buffy smirked. “And , y’know. I feel kinda fine.”
Track Ten:
Now it was Buffy’s turn to eat a helping of crow.
“Fiona Apple?”
Giles faced his slayer’s shocked regard with what he hoped was composure. “Quite,” he answered.
“Fiona Apple?”
Giles sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Her work is a fine example of early-jazz influenced modern composition with complex piano arrangement . All said, it’s not bad for an American.”
When Buffy didn’t answer, the Watcher did indeed roll his eyes. “Buffy, despite what you may think, you don’t know everything about me.”
Buffy’s cheeks tinged slightly pink. “I guess not,” she admitted. The Slayer then adopted a small, cryptic smile. “Just never pegged you for the type who listened to bitchy, post-break-up, fuck-my-life piano-rock. What’s next? Alanis Morissette?”
“… Who?”
(TBC)
Track 6: Listener’s Choice
Track 7: “Inside of You” - Hoobastank
Track 8: Take Me or Leave Me” – Original Broadway Cast Recording of Rent
Track 9: “It’s the End of the World as We Know it” – R.E.M.
Track 10: “The Way Things Are” – Fiona Apple
Previous tracks [HERE]
Author:
akainagiFandom: BtVS, Buffy/Giles
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “If music be the food of love, play on …”
Track Six:
Rupert Giles’ electronic arch-nemesis had a name. A very silly name, actually.
“You named it ‘Ringo?’” he asked his Slayer incredulously.
“Yup.”
”Ringo?”
“Again, yup.”
“As in ‘Ringo of The Beatles?’ That Ringo?”
“Kinda. The Beatles are definitely of the cool. But Xander also told me that Ringo means apple.” Buffy shrugged. “Seemed appropriate. Being an iPod and all.”
This conversation was bordering on the surreal. “Since when does Xander know Japanese?” Giles asked.
Buffy grinned. “Since he got sucked up by a evil demon called Japanamation. He picked up a few words. He tries to act all artsy, talking about animation style and production values. We all know it’s just ‘cause he likes looking at anime chicks with big eyes and huge boobs.”
Giles choked on his tea.
Track Seven:
Perhaps it was the universe’s idea of humour. Or perhaps it was karma from his Ripper days coming back in some kind of hellacious installment plan. Why else would he be forced to listen to this song right now, at this moment?
And I'm sure I can't pretend
To be a gentlemen..
But before I begin,
I just gotta know …
Did he say song? It was more like pornographic poetry set to electric guitar.
Despite Buffy’s considerable innate gifts in the combat arts, there were still occasions when hands-on training was required. Especially when dealing with weapons. Her weapons of choice were usually stakes, boot-heels and the occasional snide one-liner. More often than not, they were enough.
It was a Watcher’s job, however, to search out any room for improvement. On the Hellmouth, even minor tactical disadvantages could be disasterous. And despite her strength and speed, Buffy’s reach would always be impaired by her small stature.
That was how he ended up violating the six-inch rule. Of course where Buffy was concerned it might as well have been a bloody kilometer, he’d still end up in sorry straits. He demonstrated how to modify her grip on the pole-arm, and instructed her in rather sharp tones to watch her center of gravity. God knew he was watching it.
And some sodding-great berk of an American musician continued to loudly taunt him with images of things he would hardly admit to desiring.
… What do I have to do to get inside of you …
Giles barked out something not fit for print, marched over to the offending piece of gadgetry and unplugged it roughly from the portable speaker. Blessed silence.
He turned to find a visibly startled Slayer. Buffy looked at him with such guileless concern, that he immediately felt something of a berk himself.
“Is this the part where you ban my iPod from the library?” She looked positively pouty.
Giles rolled his eyes. “Perish the thought. Though, perhaps next time something a little less …”
Naughty? Inappropriate? Thoroughly inspirational?
“Loud,” He finished.
“Oh. ‘Kay.” Buffy was visibly relieved. She gave him a dazzingly grateful smile and then went back to working on her center of gravity.
Music or no music, he was doomed.
Track Eight:
“I’m merely surprised that you deviate from mainstream pop-culture enough to appreciate musical theatre.” Giles didn’t realize until the words were out how insultingly they could be construed.
Buffy seemed not to notice, even as she defended the day’s listening preferences. “Why, because I’m not your stereotypical drama-nerd? I've got one hyphenated word for you, Giles: Ice-capades. Good, campy, all-American entertainment. I can appreciate a good piece of cheeze as well as the next gal.” Buffy gave him a rather wolfish grin. “Besides, you remind me of Joanne.”
Giles was even more lost, if that were possible. “Joanne?”
“The woman in the song.”
“Please tell me you’re not referring to the part of the bisexual nymphomaniac.” He waited for the inevitable ‘eew’ and possibly a jibe about his age.
No ‘eew’ was forthcoming. “Nah, that’s Maureen,” Buffy supplied. “Other one.”
Giles reviewed for a moment. He smiled self-depricatingly to cover the very real twinge of insult. “Ah. The ‘Anal-retentive-snob?’”
Buffy’s smile was seemingly tailor-made to disrupt his cardiovascular equilibrium. “Loveable-droll-geek,” the blonde corrected.
Yet again, he was polishing his glasses before he even realized he was doing it.
Track Nine:
Given their location and occupation, Giles found today’s music selection slightly inappropriate. He told his Slayer as much.
Buffy disagreed. Shocking.
“It’s not prophecy, Giles. It’s college rock. C’mon; this song could be the Sunnydale Civic Anthem it’s so appropriate.”
“I’m still attempting to wrap my head around a pop tune that references Leonid Brezhnev,” he replied dryly.
“Ah. Russian. Communist. Big Shot. Was he the one who screwed-up royal over in Afghanastan?”
“One of many, actually.” He looked at her calculatingly, “Now who are you and what have you done with Buffy Summers?”
“Har har. You were the slavedriver who spent a week quizzing me on Modern European history.”
“I’m merely surprised that you payed attention.”
“I always pay attention.”
Giles gave her the look
“Mostly pay attention. Usually.”
Again, the look.
“Okay, you win,” the Slayer groused.
He couldn’t hold back an amused smile. “She finally admits it. Perhaps it really is the End of the World as We Know it.”
Buffy smirked. “And , y’know. I feel kinda fine.”
Track Ten:
Now it was Buffy’s turn to eat a helping of crow.
“Fiona Apple?”
Giles faced his slayer’s shocked regard with what he hoped was composure. “Quite,” he answered.
“Fiona Apple?”
Giles sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Her work is a fine example of early-jazz influenced modern composition with complex piano arrangement . All said, it’s not bad for an American.”
When Buffy didn’t answer, the Watcher did indeed roll his eyes. “Buffy, despite what you may think, you don’t know everything about me.”
Buffy’s cheeks tinged slightly pink. “I guess not,” she admitted. The Slayer then adopted a small, cryptic smile. “Just never pegged you for the type who listened to bitchy, post-break-up, fuck-my-life piano-rock. What’s next? Alanis Morissette?”
“… Who?”
(TBC)
Track 6: Listener’s Choice
Track 7: “Inside of You” - Hoobastank
Track 8: Take Me or Leave Me” – Original Broadway Cast Recording of Rent
Track 9: “It’s the End of the World as We Know it” – R.E.M.
Track 10: “The Way Things Are” – Fiona Apple
Previous tracks [HERE]
