"I think we're gonna be late."

"Then I'm afraid we will have to be late." Rupert Giles folded his arms in an expression of dignified stubbornness as he stood before the humming clothes dryer. "I am not going out to dinner without a clean shirt."

Oz stepped over the clean laundry basket and slid his arms around Rupert's waist. "Uh huh," he said skeptically.

"Oh? And what does that 'uh-huh' mean?"

Rupert did not unfold his arms, so Oz rested his chin on them, looking straight up at him from close range.
"It's supposed to mean something?"

"Coming from you, yes.
It usually does."



Oz tipped his head, getting comfortable and pillowing it on Rupert's forearm. Rupert smelled like laundry soap and cinnamon and tea. Nice smells.

"Well what does your little uh-huh mean?"

"Oh. That. It means that I think you're stalling." Oz leaned back to give Rupert room to unfold his arms and plant his hands on his hips in a pose of indignation that would have been more effective if Oz wasn't still attached to his waist like a red-headed limpet.

"I am
not stalling. Why on earth would I be stalling over something as simple as dinner with Wesley and - and meeting his new beau?"

"Because his new beau is psychic. And you don't even like it when
I know what you're thinking."

Rupert huffed, relenting and wrapping his arms around Oz. "You always know what I'm thinking," he complained.

"Nah." Oz leaned his weight into Rupert. "I'm just good at guessing."

The dryer
dinged and they turned their heads to look at it.

"Dryer's done," Oz commented.

"So it is," Rupert agreed, without letting go of him, and tilted Oz's face up instead, bending to taste his lips, taking Oz's full weight against his body as he rose onto tip-toes into the kiss.

"We're still gonna be late," Oz said. "And Xander will know why we were late."

"Will he now?"

"Wesley did say he's pretty good."

"Good enough, then, to know exactly what a man's thinking?"

"In Technicolor."

"Good." Rupert tugged Oz's tee-shirt up, sliding his hands beneath to grasp the steel hoops piercing his nipples and tug.

"Okay. So not objecting, but this?
Is probably going to make us later."

But this way, I shan't be distracting him all through the meal with what I'd rather be doing."







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