“I could  help shelve those books?”

“No need.”

“Or clear away the snacks?”

“Willow did that. Go home.”

“I could -”

“Xander, what is it? Why do you want to stay in the library?”

And you realise hints aren’t going to be enough when it’s something this improbable, but you know you’ll never dare do more than hint, never dare to grab and kiss, or scream and swear, never get to see what’s under the tweed, what those grey-green eyes are like when Giles isn’t cool, calm and collected.

“I don’t.”

And you walk away.

And miss his frustrated sigh.

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