Ethan was not at his shining best. While he had slept quite soundly and woken to the unexpected pleasure of Ian curled tightly behind him, his body had been saving up a thing or two over the night to tell him about why men his age should not attempt to sleep on bare floorboards.

Adding to a stiffness that made him feel unpleasantly old was concern about the little data storehouse secreted just below his ribs. The area was hot to the touch now and frequently shot bolts of burning discomfort through his torso. Upon waking, he'd been happy enough with his magical protection around the cache, which had remained sturdy despite the hours he couldn't attend to it. Then he'd realised that the most recent magical touch to boost its power had not been his own. Ian had been sleeping with his hand above it for a reason, it seemed.

The day hadn't been improved by a near silent breakfast of rather dry turkey and over-ripe bananas. Rupert hadn't let him waste the ink on making a pot of strong coffee for them all. A mistake, Ethan hadn't hesitated to tell him. Then the pointless walking began again, which his legs had been decidedly unhappy about. They still were, in fact.

The two encounters with increasingly large and more lethal chaos-bunnies hadn't improved anyone's temper either, for all that they'd despatched the manifestations with no injuries beyond a couple of scratches. The fact was, especially during the last encounter, they'd been lucky, and all three of them knew it.

As they began to climb yet another flight of stairs –oh yes, the maze had been obliging enough to provide them with another exciting upgrade– Ethan sighed loudly, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "This place gives futile a bad name. Really."

"I'm open to suggestions for a different course of action," Rupert replied, an edge marring the patient tone of his voice. It seemed that Ethan wasn't the only one getting frustrated.

"Sit down and let it come to us?" Ethan stopped halfway up the flight of stairs, forcing the other two to pause to listen to him. "Have you considered that the encounters, the changes in maze layout, may be dependant on time, not distance travelled? Or if it is distance, then the maze-masters are clearly trying to exhaust us before we ever reach anywhere that matters, and I can't see why we should oblige them by walking their sodding treadmill. None of this is real. Let's burn it away and see what's underneath the illusion!"

"If it is dependent on time, then why didn't anything happen when we stopped to sleep earlier?" Rupert pointed out with calm logic. "Besides, it's the height of foolishness to burn down a structure you're in the middle of."

As he had no answer to that, Ethan ignored it. "I'm not a laboratory rat, Rupert, and I refuse to behave like one any longer."

Rupert spread his hands in a 'fine' gesture. "What are you planning on doing instead?"

Planning wasn't a strictly accurate word, but... "Play a new game. Our rules."

"What kind of game?" That was from Ian, looking happily interested.

"Show them we know random better than they ever will?" Ethan suggested with little consideration; the impulse was enough. "Whatever they want us to do, don't do it. Do the opposite, or better still, something completely unconnected and confusing."

Rupert frowned. "I don't see how that could possibly be productive."

Ethan looked at him sourly, folding his arms. "It could hardly be less productive, and it would most certainly be more fun."

"Yes, because of course the reason we're here is to have fun."

"It doesn't hurt to enjoy what you're doing," Ian put in. "Or to stir things up a little. Let them know we're here."

"The whole point of this is to get to where we're going without them knowing we're here," Giles reminded, speaking in slow even tones.

"Oh, was there a declaration of intention that I somehow missed before you fell through the doorway?" Ethan asked sarcastically. "If I'd known I could have burst your rather stolid bubble many hours ago. Of course they know we're here."

"We don't need to draw extra attention to ourselves," Rupert continued doggedly. "It's possible that they may lose track of our exact position if we don't do the equivalent of jumping up and down and yelling 'Here we are!'"

Rupert was being so infuriatingly blind that Ethan wasn't sure he even cared that the tension was back between them. "You're making the mistake of perceiving this place as something real. This," he waved his hand around airily, "has no material reality. It is not a building, however much it looks to your basic senses to be one. It's just a big ball of malleable Chaos and air. We're inside the belly of the whale, my dear, and the whale can feel us tickling."

"Yes, we're in a big ball of Chaos as you put it, which gives us even more need for an orderly, well thought out strategy. Anything else is just feeding into its plan."

"And that is exactly where you prove you are talking through your admittedly fine but not so perceptive arse, dearheart. Chaos, as Ian will confirm, does not 'plan'."

"Here, here," Ian agreed. "Planning is anathema."

Ethan flicked Ian a smile of appreciation; at least he could count on someone here to see sense. "Chaos has no plan; it will merely adapt to our plans. So our only answer is to have none either. Act on impulse and erratic, illogical impulse at that, so we can't be second-guessed."

"And we can't get to our goal either," Rupert insisted. "A plan, a knowing course of action gives you footing, a foundation to lean against when faced with obstacles."

"Sometimes your Watcherly credentials just shine out, don't they, dear?" Really, the man was being almost a parody of himself with all this talk of thorough consideration and planning, as if any such thing were possible here.

Ian, clearly having little further interest in the discussion, sat down on the top step and pulled their floorboard bottle of whisky from their makeshift pack. Ethan looked at it longingly, hoping Ian wouldn't drink the little that was left as there was no way Rupert would allow them to use ink up on another bottle. Ethan grew further alarmed when Ian set about doing just what he'd feared, judging by the angle his old mentor was holding the bottle to his lips.

"Soused crow," Ethan said sourly. "Now there's a treat."

"If you two are going to stand here arguing, I have to do something to occupy myself," Ian replied and tilted his head back all the way to catch the last drops of the whisky.

Ethan scowled at Ian for a few seconds more, but then decided action was the better part of reaction. He schooled his expression and moved closer to Rupert. "I'm tired, dearheart, but all right, let's plan if you want to." He put sincerity into his tone and posture and gently tweaked Rupert's patterns to force him to release some of that tension he was holding in his clenched muscles.

"Well, I suppose a rest isn't out of the question," Rupert grudgingly allowed.

Ethan took Rupert's hands and tugged him up to the top of the stairs where Ian was now eating the last of the chocolate as well without offering it around. Pulling Rupert down to sit, Ethan then snuggled close, wrapping his arms around under Rupert's jacket. "So, strategy then?" he said pleasantly.

Rupert seemed to relax into Ethan's embrace as he began. "Yes. We need to plot out our attack and discuss the best way to choose our route through this damnable–" Abruptly he broke off, his hand clamping hard on Ethan's wrist just as Ethan had managed to get his fingers around the pen. "Do you take me for a blind fool?"

Bugger it. "Well, you have to admit you've been doing a damn good impression of one," Ethan said with what he thought of as a sweet smile as he tried to free his wrist. "It would hardly be surprising if I did."

Rupert's grip tightened to the point that it was difficult for Ethan not to wince. "You're acting like a wilful child."

"And you, dearest, are acting just like a starched Watcher. Going to thrash me, are you? That'll be fun; it's been a while."

"Yes, go ahead, thrash him," Ian encouraged. He'd pulled out a joint from somewhere and was now lighting it. "Just what I could use right now, a show."

"You git!" Ethan twisted around to stare at Ian in outrage. "You're meant to be on my side. Instead, you're hogging all the good stuff and forcing me into a position where the wannabe headmaster here feels compelled to prove he's the boss." He turned back to Rupert. "Thrash Ian. He's the one who deserves it."

Rupert hadn't let go of Ethan, but now he was frowning in Ian's direction. Or maybe it was just a more generalised frown because it remained in place when he glanced back at Ethan. "Something's not right here."

"Quite. The old bastard drank all my Glenfiddich!" Ethan had a sudden inspiration. "Perhaps you could punish him in an amusing way. I can think of a certain ring of magic that would do him a world of edification."

"No." Rupert shook his head. "There's something wrong with this whole situation, with us, the way we're acting."

If Rupert hadn't said 'us', Ethan would have dismissed his words immediately as more of his 'I'm right and you're both wrong' hectoring, but the 'us' and the 'we' caught Ethan's attention. Rupert was including himself in the accusation and therefore... Christ, Rupert was right. Ian and Ethan were thinking only about their own immediate needs, and Rupert was doing his best tin-pot dictator impression, which hadn't been him for a very long time now.

Ethan clenched his eyes tightly shut and tried to think, which currently wasn't easy. The pain from his imprisoned wrist helped a little, however, so he concentrated on that. "Trap?" he managed. "Proximity?"

"Most likely involved in the area we're in, yes," Rupert said. "We should move on, see if we can outpace it."

The urge to disagree, to do anything other than what he was told, was very strong. "Quickly," Ethan muttered. "I can't..."

Rupert nodded sharply, finally letting go of Ethan's wrist. "Help me get Ian moving."

Bugger. He could hardly get himself moving, let alone... Rubbing his wrist, Ethan stood up, but then stopped again. Rupert was taking control, telling them all what to do again, playing the petty Napoleon, and Ethan was fed up with it. He was damned if he was going to bully Ian on Rupert's behalf. "I'm not your lackey, you know," he muttered under his breath.

Rupert frowned at him, but then seemed to catch himself. "You're my partner," he responded. "And I need your help."

Fuck. Fuck it. He needed help himself. Staggering over to Ian, Ethan kicked him, not all that hard. "Get up, crow."

Ian glared up at him. "Why should I?"

"We're going to explore further on, see what other things we can find," Rupert responded, taking Ian's hand and bodily pulling him to his feet.

Before Ian could argue, Ethan moved close and took a chance based on where his own chaotic thoughts were currently taking him. He whispered in Ian's ear. "Come with us now, and when we get to the other end, I'll have Rupert push you against the wall, kiss you, and feed you his magic. Just come with us now, and you'll get it all."

That seemed to take care of any protests Ian had, and together, the three of them continued up the next flight of stairs.

Rupert kept badgering them on, up flight after flight, but Ethan felt clearly the moment he was free of the malign influence. "It's gone," he said wearily, continuing to climb as he wanted more distance. "Rupert, don't you dare claim to be useless here again. Ian and I... Well, we were not even close to understanding, or caring, what was going on."

"The advantage to having a more orderly nature is that, when it's enhanced, it makes you even better at noticing things that are out of order," Rupert replied. "Of course, then all you really want to do is sit there and analyse every option to find which is the best before moving..." He reached out and briefly clasped Ethan's hand. "A little instinct and feeling can be a good thing too."

The trap had moved them closer to their elemental natures, making Ian and Ethan lawless, selfish and impulsive, and consuming Rupert with the need for organisation and control. They would have ended up killing each other had they stayed within the influence. Ethan shivered.

He would have liked to have kept hold of Rupert's hand a little longer, but he was not a child, despite the way he had just been behaving. "Ian, are you going to hold me to my promise?" He chuckled a little breathlessly due to all the stair-climbing.

"Perhaps when we're a bit further away," Ian said thoughtfully then grinned at Ethan, eyes sparkling. "When there's less chance of us forgetting what we're doing."

Ethan grinned back, as much in relief that they had survived the trap as anything else. So that his lungs could concentrate on breathing, he sent with humour, 'Ripper dear, I may have compromised you a little.'

Rupert shot him an amused look. 'Why am I not surprised?'

'Thought wasn't easy at the time, but I knew what would get Ian moving as it would've got me moving too.'

Rupert chuckled. 'I'll have to keep that in mind in case we're ever in the same situation again.'

'You should already have known that about me, at least. If you lead me by the balls, I'll follow you anywhere. Well, I'd follow you anyway, but still.' Ethan flashed a grin at Rupert.

'I'll see about getting a leash,' Rupert deadpanned in response.

That idea wasn't without some merit, but the feverish area below Ethan's ribs chose that moment to complain strongly, and he instinctively wrapped his arm tightly across his waist in response. "Hungry," he said with a half-smile at Rupert once the pang had died away as he realised his action had been spotted.

"When we get off these bloody stairs, we'll find a place were we can take a break," Rupert said decisively. "Perhaps even ration out a bit more of our remaining ink to get something hot."

"Coffee," Ethan said with longing.

"Perhaps." Rupert, it seemed, was in an accommodating mood.

***

A groan of what sounded like unadulterated pleasure came from Ethan, and Giles repressed a smile. It was only a cup of summoned coffee, after all. "Usually you only groan like that for me," he teased.

"You made this for me," Ethan pointed out. He had his hands cupped around the large mug and was holding it as he would something very precious.

"Still, I feel like I should be asking if I should be jealous of a beverage."

"Ah, this is just a trivial flirtation, husband mine. No sooner has your rival kissed my lips than he is passing from my thoughts. Talking of kissing, are you going to pay my debts for me?" Ethan looked from Giles to Ian, who was quietly enjoying his own mug of java.

Giles glanced over at Ian, remembering the chat they'd had while Ethan had been sleeping. The attraction was definitely there between them and no longer unvoiced. He just didn't know if acting on that attraction was wise. "Perhaps," he finally replied. "If he wants me to."

Ethan chuckled. "And so he agrees without even knowing quite what he's agreeing to. Ian, are you cashing in your chips?"

"Oh, I don't think I can allow any reneging on this particular debt," Ian said, smiling slightly and just a little smugly.

"Why do I get the feeling I should be worried?" Giles asked in the face of that smile.

Ethan leant back against the wall, a quite definite smirk on his lips. "Well, you'll both have to stand up for this, you know." Ian promptly did so; Giles hesitated long enough to shoot Ethan a slightly worried look before following suit. Ethan grinned in a way that wasn't reassuring. "Now let's see if I can remember the exact wording. You may have to help me with this, m'lord crow." He paused, quite clearly for dramatic effect. "Rupert, you are obligated to push our good friend firmly against the wall, kiss him, feed him magic, and, um... was there anything else?"

"There was some mention of 'getting it all'," Ian helpfully supplied.

Giles turned that over in his mind. "Wouldn't that mean he got you as well?" he asked Ethan.

"Ripper, do the pushing and the kissing as stipulated, and I'm afraid neither of you will be able to prevent getting me as well." Ethan's grin turned into a thoughtful frown. "Wards first, I suggest. The same ones we used for the Estate should work, only forming a bubble around us."

Ian nodded. "Those would certainly prove effective."

Ethan stood and joined them in the centre of the room. Working together, they quite quickly shaped an anti-Chaos sphere around themselves. Well, more of an anti-Chaos squishy oblong really. They had to adapt the working a little so that the building's structure wouldn't set off the wards, only active Chaos.

That done, Ethan stepped back a little way and folded his arms, looking from Giles to Ian and back again. "Well?" he demanded, smirking again. Ian just smiled enigmatically.

"Was the order of actions important?" Giles asked.

"You're procrastinating, dear," Ethan said fondly. "Don't worry about respect due or any such nonsense like that. Just claim him as you would me, for the next hour or so anyway."

"Am I really so intimidating?" Ian asked, still smiling.

"I usually have to work up to the pushing people into walls." Still, Giles moved closer, letting that constant low-level attraction he felt for Ian flare up into something stronger as he reached out to touch the older man's face. As he did, he felt a very familiar touch of magic followed by a mild but definite surge of arousal.

"A helping hand, you might say," Ethan said unrepentantly, when Giles glanced with pointed inquiry his way.

Ian's smile was fading now, and the very beginnings of an intensity Giles remembered from their night together in the nursery were starting to show in Ian's eyes. He moved his cheek slowly against Giles' fingers.

That helped Giles get into the flow of this strangeness more than anything else had so far. He let his fingers trace over Ian's features, trying to imagine what Ian must have looked like when he was young, when he had been with Derek. "I'm not him," he murmured, knowing that Ian would follow what he was saying, "but I don't mind if you pretend." Then he leant in and kissed the older man lingeringly.

Ian's lips felt almost cool to start with, and he returned the kiss only hesitantly, but when Giles tried to pull back, Ian nonetheless tried to follow. Giles allowed him to do so, sliding his hand from Ian's cheek to the nape of his neck, holding him in place as the kiss deepened.

Ian made a slight noise in his throat, which was echoed from the side by Ethan. Ian's hands moved up to Giles' waist, holding lightly, and he became more active in the kiss, his tongue darting quickly through Giles' lips. That pulled a noise up from Giles' throat as well, and he slowly walked Ian backwards until he was pushing him up against the aforementioned wall.

Ethan and Ian groaned simultaneously as Ian's back met the wall, almost as if they were feeling the same things, and thinking about Ethan's abilities and wont, that was far from impossible. Ian's hands moved around behind Giles, restlessly stroking.

Giles let his own hands wander as well, first over Ian's clothes, then dipping down to his waist to slide up underneath his top and glide over bare skin. All the while, he kept kissing him, losing himself in the taste and feel as much as he would have if it had been Ethan.

Ethan muttered something that sounded appreciative under his breath, and from the loudness of it, he was closer to them both now. Giles didn't have a chance to check however as Ian had started moving, twisting and rubbing against Giles, following the touch of Giles' hands. That was when Giles judged it time to add the last requested element, and let his magic flow through his fingertips.

Kiss finally broken, Ian's head tipped back as he gasped, but it was Ethan who said urgently from right beside them, "Oh more. Please, Ripper, more."

It was definitely odd, like snogging Ethan by proxy, but that didn't stop it from being unbearably erotic. "Yes, more," Giles replied, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in kissing to pull Ian's tops over his head and cast them aside.

Ian hardly seemed to notice, taking Giles' face between his hands and starting the kiss again, feeding his own magic to Giles, so like Ethan's yet not, quite, the same. Still good though; still something of which he wanted more. Ethan, in the meantime, had moved behind Giles and was pressing into him, rubbing, his hands pushing up Giles' own tops to remove them.

Giles begrudged the second he had to pull back from Ian to allow Ethan to get his tops off over his head, but the feel of skin against skin as he pressed against Ian once more made the brief loss of contact well worth it.

Ethan moaned quietly, and when he pressed close to Giles again, he too was shirtless. Ian, his eyes closed, seemed helpless in his responses to Giles' magic-tinted touch, following his hands, his mouth, wherever they moved, and pushing into them. Giles had still been imagining that Ian had taken him at his word and was fantasising his touches came from Derek, but when Ian finally spoke, it was to groan, "Rupert..."

That affected Giles more than he would have ever expected, and he reacted by capturing Ian's mouth again in a possessive, almost violent kiss, pushing against Ian more roughly than he had up to now. His two lovers shuddered on either side of him, their hands gripping him tightly, their hips thrusting against him. Giles growled in reaction, finding the unaccustomed experience of being in the middle arousing enough to make his head spin.

"Christ," Ethan muttered, and Giles felt hands on his belt, swiftly unbuckling. Ian, in the meantime, was caressing Giles' upper body, spilling magic liberally across Giles' skin. Giles' trousers were opened and fell to his ankles, his boxers quickly following. As he stepped out of them and his shoes, his lips still locked to Ian's, he felt Ethan move to the side of him again. Ian was quickly as naked as Giles.

Giles was glad to have someone else take care of the little details like getting rid of their clothes; it left him free to focus on the important things like touching, feeling, pulling small sounds of pleasure from Ian, echoing them with his own.

Now their erections were free to rub and thrust against each other, and it was almost too good. Ian, no longer at all hesitant, was cupping Giles' buttocks in his hands and pulling their bodies tight together with surprising strength. Giles could feel urgency rising within him, demanding and consuming. "Want you," he growled, thrusting hard against Ian.

"Oh please," Ian replied with a ragged chuckle, "do help yourself." Giles felt Ethan laugh too; he was back behind Giles again and naked by the feel of it. Letting a wolfish grin cross his face, Giles slid his hands down Ian's torso, trailing magic with their touch, and finally closing his grip around Ian's cock. Ian gasped hard, his whole body tensing. "Oh. Rupert..."

Giles could feel Ethan panting against his back, the breath hitting his skin in soft puffs. Ethan's cock was pressing between Giles' buttocks, hard and impossible to ignore. Giles couldn't stop himself from pushing back into that touch, but swallowed his groan and kept his concentration on the man in front of him. "Should I fuck you right here?" he asked, voice low and husky as he leant forward, his chest resting against Ian's, holding him in place as he let his other hand drift down to cup Ian's balls, the first still stroking Ian's cock. "Turn you around and fuck you right up against the wall? Could you handle that?"

Ian stared fixedly at him, silent bar his laboured breathing and occasional small gasp, but he nodded eagerly. Ethan, however, had other ideas. "Floor, dearheart. Please take him on the floor. For me?"

Unable to deny that plea from Ethan, Giles nodded sharply then stepped back, pulling Ian with him and turning him around so he could lower the man to the floor, following him down and devouring his mouth yet again.

Whimpering into the kiss, Ian squirmed in a way that suggested he really was related to Ethan in some kind of esoteric but powerful manner. He lifted his legs and wrapped them around Giles, who was vaguely aware that Ethan was behind him, kneeling between his thighs. Ethan's hands stroked up Ian's legs, half-holding them.

Giles slid a hand between his and Ian's bodies, briefly stroking Ian's cock again before drifting further back to brush against his opening. "You ready for me?" he asked, letting one finger push inside teasingly.

"God... ah..." Ian seemed to still be having problems forming words, perhaps because of the magic tingling out from Giles' finger, but he managed a gasped, "Yes!"

'Any more requests, love?' Giles sent to Ethan, controlling his own urges enough to ask that before going any further.

'Only... may I?' Ethan ran his finger down between Giles' buttocks and begin to copy Giles' movements within Ian.

Giles couldn't help but buck into the touch. "God..." he half-groaned, half-growled. 'It might kill me, but yes. God, yes.'

"Just so you know," Ethan said aloud in a low voice as his finger moved inside Giles. "Ian and I have been pattern-linked since just after you first kissed him." Giles had guessed as much, of course.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ian said underneath him in what sounded like satisfied agreement.

Knowing for sure that Ethan was feeling everything Giles did to Ian just made it all even more intense, and Giles couldn't wait any longer. He shifted position, lined himself up, and slowly pushed into Ian's body, a stream of magic easing his way.

Ian muttered something unintelligible, tipping his head back. His thighs tightened around Giles, his heels digging into Giles' back briefly. Ethan, on the other hand, had stopped moving at all.

'Feel me?' Giles sent to him, pulling out of Ian slightly then thrusting back in. 'Do you feel me inside him?'

'Yes. Yes, God, yes.' Ethan shifted again and pressed a second finger inside Giles.

"Yes," Ian echoed aloud. "Rupert." He reached up and traced Giles' features with slightly trembling fingers.

Giles turned his head enough to kiss Ian's fingers then leant over, claiming Ian's lips with his own, thrusting his tongue into Ian's mouth in an echo of what his hips wanted so badly to do. Despite that though, he kept his lower body still, buried fully in Ian's body.

Ian clenched his inner muscles impatiently, but Ethan muttered heatedly, "Wait, wait just a few moments, dearest crow," and pulled his fingers out from Giles' body. A few seconds later, Giles felt a wash of Ethan's magic over his opening and then a cock pressing firmly inside.

Giles groaned, arching and pressing back into Ethan's penetration, his senses temporarily overwhelmed by the sensation of fucking and being fucked at the same time.

"Feel us fucking you?" Ethan asked, making matters even more confusing. "We feel you in us. Move, dearheart. Move between us, giving and receiving. It's like a sacred ritual really. Ripper, move."

And Giles began to do just that, even before the thought to do so was fully formed. He pulled slowly out of Ian, which pressed Ethan deeper into his own body, then thrust forward again, pulling away from Ethan and burying himself in Ian. Back and forth, between the two sensations, filling and being filled, every movement bringing one or the other.

He moved slowly at first, savouring every spark of pleasure, wanting this to last for as long as it could, but need soon had him speeding up, thrusting harder and faster between the two men, forcing inarticulate cries of pleasure from all three of them.

He could no longer tell whose hands were whose, whose mouth was kissing his skin where. Unless he concentrated, Giles wasn't even clear whom he was inside and who was inside him. He was fucking both of them, being fucked by both of them, making both of them groan and cry out in synchronous, wordless pleas for more.

All too soon, Giles felt his orgasm rushing up upon him. As his groin tightened almost painfully, and his world started to close in to just two points of overwhelming sensation, he heard a roar from his lovers, almost a scream, coming from two throats at once. His own cry added to the crescendo as pleasure blinded him, momentarily paralysing him, and he came.

Reality went away for a little bit then, and when Giles came back to himself, he was part of a lazy, sated, three-way jumble of bodies. Someone's hand –Ethan's, he rather thought– was moving in slow, light circles on Giles' hip. Ian, who was still half-under Giles, stirred slightly. He really couldn't be all that comfortable, Giles supposed, pinned to the floor.

Making a supreme effort, Giles managed to shift himself and the others so they were lying more or less side by side by side, with legs and arms still all tangled together. Ethan made a grumbling noise and shuffled closer. "I miss our bed."

The floor was a bit hard, Giles admitted to himself. Wanting to give them something softer on which to enjoy the afterglow, he dredged up some helpful words of Latin from his memory and concentrated his magic, condensing the air beneath them into a semblance of a mattress. He felt them lift as the spell worked, now 'floating' a few inches above the floor. "Better?"

Ethan sighed contentedly and rolled onto his back. "Much better. Knew you could do this if you tried." Ian murmured unintelligibly, but with the definite sound of appreciation in his tone.

"Perhaps I just needed the right motivation," Giles replied, running a hand lightly down Ian's arm in a fond caress, and at the same time, reaching for Ethan's hand.

Both men responded by moving closer to him, curling up at either side of him and sandwiching him in warmth. Ethan chuckled softly. "How did you like playing piggy in the middle, Ripper?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I find my brain. I rather fear I lost it somewhere along the line there."

"Go to sleep, dear man," Ian rumbled against Giles' shoulder. "We'll look for your brain later."

Giles turned his head enough to kiss Ian softly. "Thank you," he said simply, before letting his eyes drift closed.

Ethan coughed pointedly. "How nice it is to be taken for granted."

Without opening his eyes, Giles squeezed Ethan's hand. "It is nice, knowing you'll always be there. Of course I take you for granted; you're the one constant in my life that's never going to change. Not now."

"You could still say thank you," Ethan insisted, his voice rich with humour and far too awake. "Old rangy crows could too."

"Can't," Giles replied, yawning as he let himself succumb to the lure of sleep. "Napping."

Just as Giles was slipping into a soft and pleasant unconsciousness, he felt Ethan move and then soft lips pressed to his cheek. The last soft murmur Giles heard before succumbing to sleep was, "Thank you, Rupert."