Title: What's a Stevedore? 1/4
Author: Karen Jephson
Rating: R. Uber R.
Spoiler: Who Are You?
Disclaimer: Joss has his world with his characters, I have mine. The difference? My zero bank balance.
Distribution: Solo, Anya, anyone else just ask.
Summary: Answers the question everybody wants to know. B/G.
Feedback: Yes please. But I'm like a vampire. Flames hurt.
Dedication: To Gylzgirl who made sure I had to send it to the list. And to Cindy Bowers who asked for a B/G fic.
"What's a Stevedore?"
"Hmm?" Giles looked up from the book he was studying. Actually, pretending to study. He'd known The Demon Anthology, Lower Ancient Kingdom to Middle Ancient Kingdom word for word since he was twenty five years old. But he'd found that supposed absorbtion in a book usually stops the others from disturbing him.
"What's a Stevedore?" Buffy trailed her fingers along the back of Giles' couch, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Just in case I ever come across one."
Giles' lips lifted in a slight smile. They were actually alone this evening. Xander and Anya were off doing what they usually did, Willow was with her friend that she thought nobody knew about, and Riley was trying to reinstate himself with his Initiative buddies. "Don't worry, you'd know one if you came across them."
"But if I ever needed to fight one...."
He sighed impatiently. "You'll never have to fight one, unless you wanted to take over his job at a cheaper rate. A stevedore is a job, Buffy. A human usually does it, or at least they appear to be human."
"Oh." Giles bent his head back down to the book, and waited. He wasn't disappointed. "But what do they do?"
"Why?"
Buffy looked taken aback at the counterattack. Recovering quickly, she shrugged. "Just curious. Think of it as furthering my education. You don't want a dumb slayer do you?"
"Buffy, nobody would consider you dumb." Her face glowed with the compliment. "All right. A stevedore is a knavvy."
"Okaaay." Satisfied that he'd silenced her momentarily, Giles stood up and moved toward the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
"To get a drink. Want one?" At her 'yes', he took two soft drinks from the refrigerator and returned to the living area, opting to sit next to her on the couch. Handing her the drink, he took a long swallow from his own before putting her out of her misery. "Go on. Ask."
"What's a knavvy?" She rushed the question out, embarassed at her lack of knowledge.
"A knavvy is a stevedore." Realizing the threat to his person in her expression, Giles finally relented. "A stevedore is usually linked to the shipping industry. They're the fellows that move the cargo to and from ships. In some countries they're known as wharfies."
"Oh." The man beside her braced himself as he waited for the next question. "What did she mean?" The words were quieter, less sure.
"Your mother?" Buffy nodded, her body folding in on itself. "Well, stevedores are considered rather common, well muscled men." He only hoped his blush wasn't as strong as hers.
"You're not common!" Her indignity was amusing as well as gratifying.
"Thank you, but I don't believe your mother meant common exactly."
"Well what then?"
He hesitated. "It's probably not something I can tell you. One of those things only possible by demonstration."
It was her turn to hesitate. "Oh."
Masking his disappointment, Giles bent forward to place his drink on the coffee table. "Now, about the...."
"Okay." They both froze as the word seemed to echo around the suddenly silent room.
Swallowing as every single fantasy he'd had came to his mind, he turned toward her, looking into her overly bright eyes. Trepidation, but no fear or doubt shone there. Taking the precariously balanced bottle from her hand, Giles placed it next to his on the table. Leaning back so he was facing her, he draped his arm across the couch back, stopping short of her shoulder. He nodded slowly. "Okay." Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his own.