Ethan fidgeted on the passenger seat. He'd been restless since they set off from Devon, and as the journey had continued, the feeling had only grown worse. "So how much longer until we stop?"

"It's not too far now." Rupert glanced over at him with an encouraging smile. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

"And I can't get a single hint from you? A wafer thin hint? A mere morsel of a hint?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if you guessed it ahead of time," Rupert pointed out with annoying logic.

"You know how I feel about surprises." They were wonderful things for everyone but him. Ethan stared out at the road. They were in, hmm, Somerset, he thought. Or maybe Wiltshire. He hadn't been paying enough attention to know for sure. They were off the main roads and making their way through one pretty little village after another. It was late afternoon, and the sun was shining right into the windscreen at times, although one thing to say about country driving, at least the direction changed every few minutes.

"You'll like this one," Rupert assured him confidently as they entered the outskirts of yet one more village.

'Clarendon Comfrey' the welcome sign said, together with the usual admonishment to drive carefully. 'Population six', Ethan added to the sign mentally. Still, it was a nice looking village, as villages went: thatched cottages with well-tended gardens, family-run shops and not a chain name in sight. There was an old and rather grand church and a village green with, of all things, a bandstand in the middle of it. Hills rose up on either side, partly wooded, partly farmed, and a small river ran alongside the road for a little while before they bridged it. It was all quite quintessentially English.

They were just leaving the village again when Rupert indicated left and started up a winding hill, fields to one side, cottages to the other. He slowed still further to allow a sleek black crow to desert its feast of car-mangled rabbit in the middle of the road. It flapped away slowly to land on a wooden stile in a break in the hedgerow. The bird was very far from being the first crow they'd seen on their journey, but Ethan supposed it was inevitable that he'd always see corvidae as somehow significant now.

Just past the crow, they rounded a curve and reached the peak of the small hill where an old pub sat. Rupert stopped the car in front of it. "We're here."

'The Queen's Head' it was called, quite encouragingly. It was a large and higgledy-piggledy building, as if different sections had been built at entirely different times. The uniform shade of cream it was painted, apart from on the black Tudor timbers that projected in places, anyway, did lend some cohesion of style. There was a smallish carpark to the front and one side of it, which held precisely no cars, probably because a gate had been shut across it and padlocked.

Ethan turned in confusion to Rupert. "We're staying the night here?"

"For a start," Rupert replied. "Much longer than that if we fancy it."

"I don't understand."

Rupert smiled faintly. "What have we been saying we wanted to do if we had complete freedom to choose?"

Light was very slowly beginning to dawn in Ethan's stress-clouded mind. "You mean... this is our pub? We're really doing it? This is to be the Fox and Badger?"

"It's not a done deal just yet. We can still get out of it if you don't like the place, but that was what I was thinking, yes." Rupert spoke in a completely casual voice, but there was an intensity to his gaze that told how much the idea meant to him.

Ethan squeezed Rupert's thigh. "You have keys? We can explore? How the hell did you manage to keep all this hidden from me?"

Rupert produced a key ring with a set of keys from a pocket. "The answers in order are yes, yes, and I still have some facility in carrying out a covert operation."

The dogs were getting excited in the backseat. They'd been very patient in their new 'doggy seatbelts', a safety measure Rupert had added after speaking to one of the policemen involved in the clean up after the battle at Saffron Waldon. But now that the car had stopped, they seemed to want their freedom; perhaps they were also picking up on the not particularly muted excitement of their owners.

"What are we waiting for then?" Ethan asked, undoing his seatbelt. "I want to see it all."

Rupert grinned at him then moved to get out of the car. He opened the back door and let the dogs out as well.

As the dogs availed themselves of the bushes and garden areas around the carpark, the men made their way to one of the two visible entrances. It said 'public bar' on it. "You can't have already seen this," Ethan pointed out. However clever Rupert was at concealment, Ethan would have noticed him gone for so long, and anyway, their bond wouldn't have coped.

"Just pictures," Rupert replied easily as they stopped in front of the double doors. He worked on unlocking the padlock. "And some video footage. Pamela came down and went through, complete with digital camera."

"Ah, a very detailed report then, I imagine. Good to see you're carrying on with that long tradition of bosses everywhere and abusing your staff by making them do your personal work." Ethan ran his hand over the back of Rupert's coat. It wasn't as if there were anyone around to see him do it. The only sounds were Rupert fiddling with the door and the occasional bird.

"It was more along the lines of my asking and her taking over in spite of my protests, but given the results, I wasn't going to complain." The lock came free with a loud click, and Rupert opened the door then glanced over his shoulder at Ethan with a boyish grin. "Shall we?"

Ethan grinned, loving Rupert's enthusiasm as much as his own excitement. "Yes, let's."

It was dark inside, at least until Rupert found the switch, and then the place filled with a warm and not particularly bright yellow light. It was a large public bar, but so staggered in shape by the large and asymmetrical bar area that it didn't really seem like one room at all. The walls were a mix of dark wood panelling and painted areas made dingy by too much cigarette smoke, giving that perfect pub ambiance. There was a large fireplace, a door marked 'private', another one marked 'saloon bar', and fully stocked if slightly dusty shelves behind the bar.

"Fancy a drink?" Ethan asked brightly, eyeing a well-used dartboard on the wall. "And a game of arrows?"

"After we take a look at the rest of the place?" Rupert counter-suggested, walking over to the bar and running a hand absently along the well-worn wood.

The bar and the tables and chairs were made from a similar dark wood to the panelling. Ethan shivered; if they were staying here the night, they were going to need some heating. He went to the door and called the dogs in, shutting the door behind him. Their claws made scrabbling noises as they ran over the wooden floor.

It was easy to imagine this place full of people, noise and smoke. It made Ethan's mouth water for a good real ale. "This is independent, yes? It doesn't come with an unwanted umbilical cord to a brewery?"

Rupert smiled. "It's just the pub and the living quarters above it. We would be free to stock whatever we fancy."

Still almost seeing the horde of rustic types filling the room, Ethan frowned. "Will they accept us, do you think? Small country villages aren't known for their liberal attitudes." He walked over to Rupert.

"They didn't seem to have a problem with the previous owners." Rupert nodded towards the wall behind the bar where among the other decorations a small picture hung of two women with their arms around each other.

"Huh." Ethan lifted the part of the bar surface that allowed him to walk behind it. "Where did they go?"

"I believe one of them came into some money; they're off to travel and see the world." Rupert smiled. "Everybody has their own idea of retirement."

"Nicely symmetrical, that." Walking behind the bar, Ethan explored the bottles. If the women had been stupid enough to leave the draft on tap, it would be awful by now. He'd have to check later though for some unopened barrels in the cellar that lay, presumably, below the trap door just in front of him. He claimed a couple of glasses and began to clean them with cloth from under the bar. He could like it here. "I assume Pamela has had all the nasty nitty-gritty done, like surveyor's reports?"

"Surveyor's reports, legal inspections, looking into the licenses needed to run this place..." Rupert recited. "And it wasn't just Pamela who worked on that. This was paperwork I didn't mind doing at all."

Ethan snorted. "And there was me thinking you were busy neglecting me with the post-Vaurtain clean-up. Come here." He held his hands out to Rupert, inviting him to join him behind the bar.

"Well, there was a great deal of post-Vaurtain clean-up as well, and also the tying up of loose ends in preparation for me to step down," Rupert said, moving forward and taking Ethan's outstretched hands. "Although I suppose seeing about this place could conceivably fall under the latter category."

Ethan freed one of his hands and cupped the side of Rupert's face. "Let's look upstairs."

Rupert smiled and turned his head to drop a kiss in Ethan's palm. "All right." Still holding hands, he led the way across the room and through the door marked 'private'.

Beyond the door was a narrow hallway with stairs at the end. "The pub kitchen's that way," Rupert said, pointing to the left. He pointed in the other direction. "And that's the office."

Ethan grinned at how well Rupert knew the floorplans. "You should have shared this with me earlier. You've clearly been bursting with the possibilities."

Rupert smiled and acknowledged the comment with a tilt of the head. "It's occupied my spare time. Shall we go upstairs?"

Upstairs, while very far from the size of Buckham Hall's upper floors, was still complex enough to have a little of a maze feel to it, at least at first encounter. There were a lot of bedrooms –the pub had once been an inn apparently– and a good size flat, which was still fully furnished, although not at all to Ethan's taste. But then, what could one expect from lesbians? He chuckled quietly to himself as they entered the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" Rupert asked, glancing at him as they surveyed the small but adequately equipped kitchen.

"I'm being politically incorrect in my head in a way that would no doubt deeply offend one of our Slayers. Will we have a fixtures and furnishing budget?"

"Money shouldn't be a problem," Rupert assured him.

Ethan looked around thoughtfully. "Hmm, a chance to flex my interior design muscles, or is that too stereotypical to stomach?"

Rupert pulled Ethan into a loose embrace. "Someone has to do it, and you really wouldn't want to leave it up to me."

"I wonder if Kat would care to help me?" Ethan pondered. "The girl has such good colour sense. I'll ask Megan too, of course. If they brought their respective other halves, we could probably manage with minimal professional help." He paused. "I seem to be talking as if it's already ours."

Rupert smiled. "It is if we want it."

Ethan stepped closer into the embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around Rupert. "It will be a very different life for you, for both of us. Are you sure you want this?"

Rupert's expression became serious, and he lifted a hand to touch Ethan's cheek. "I do."

They stood for a while, just losing themselves in each other's eyes, seeing far deeper than the surface. Ethan took joy in Rupert's patterns always, but today they seemed even more delightful. It was this place, he realised. Rupert's patterns fitted with ease here, as did his own. How amazing to feel so at home somewhere they'd never been before. "I love you," he said quietly, "And I love it here."

"So do I." Rupert closed his eyes and leant his forehead against Ethan's with a sigh of contentment. "This place... it feels as right as it looks on paper."

"Yes. We belong here. We fit." Ethan cupped Rupert's face and lifted it enough to kiss him.

Rupert indulged him in a long and lingering kiss before finally pulling back. "Shall we take a look at the rest of the place?"

"The bedroom perhaps?" Ethan laughed.

They explored the large L-shaped living room and the bathroom, which to Ethan's amusement contained a bidet. But ultimately, they did indeed end up in the master bedroom. Ignoring the highly dubious bedding and curtains, it was a lovely room. Large and airy with two sets of french windows that led out onto tiny balconies where flowerpots stood. There were dark timbers in the ceiling, which was arched like an old cottage church. Ethan stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly. "Oh. Oh yes."

Rupert leaned against the doorjamb and watched him with a smile on his face. "Passes muster, does it?"

"It makes me want to wax new-age hippy about the energy and positive space and all that gumph." Only it wasn't gumph, not if you had pattern sight. Ethan sighed happily and went to look out of the windows, holding his hand out behind him in an invitation for Rupert to join him.

"Considering my experience of living on a Hellmouth, I'll take all the positive vibes I can get," Rupert said as he crossed the room over to Ethan's side. They stared out through the glass. Beyond the pub's beer garden and yard, there was a dirt lane, and beyond that, fields rising on a slope to wooded hilltops.

Ethan called Skunk to his side with a mental command. She came scampering into the room and then sat beside them, her tongue hanging out as she stared out at where they were looking. "See, sweetheart – rabbits!" Ethan told her.

Skunk barked excitedly at that, and from elsewhere in the building, they heard muffled barks from Giddy in response. Half a moment later, Giddy appeared in the doorway. He barked at Skunk; Skunk yipped back, and there followed an entire canine conversation between the two that ended when Giddy came over to look out the window with Skunk.

Ethan moved his hand affectionately over Rupert's bum, caressing it lightly as they stood. "If I've worked out where we are correctly, we should be close to the Cerne Abbas giant here, striding across the hills in all his naked chalk glory."

"Are you contemplating some naked striding of our own?" Rupert asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan wasn't sure if Rupert's thoughts were going in quite the same direction as his own. He suspected that they weren't but answered as if they were. "I'm not sure we dare become our giant again, the division was so hard last time, and without people to talk us down... No, I don't think we dare go there again. But maybe in our dreams we could stride these hills of ours." He snorted softly. "They do feel like ours, don't they?"

"This whole place does, pub, flat and hills combined," Rupert agreed. "Like it was waiting for us."

Ethan turned to face Rupert. "Let's sign on the dotted then. Before anyone else can."

Rupert nodded firmly. "I'll call Pamela and have her initiate the final paperwork and red tape."

"Do it now?" They had to lay claim to it; make legitimate in the human world what already existed in the patterns. "I'll wander around and see if I can work out how to turn the heating on. Then... oh, perhaps a trip into the village for some basic ingredients for a meal? I'm assuming from what you said earlier that you've somehow obtained some special permissions here."

"I arranged for us to be able to 'test drive' the place as it were, yes." Rupert grinned as he pulled out his cell phone. "I had the feeling it would be merely a formality."

Ethan waited for Rupert to press the right buttons and then pulled him into a hard kiss, only freeing him when he heard a tinny Pamela repeating 'Hello? Hello?'. Grinning, and in exceptionally good spirits, he patted Rupert on the arse and disappeared off looking for heating controls.

***

That evening found them lounging on the rug in front of a handsome fire in the living room hearth. The remnants of a quickly put together meal lay between them. Giles drained his glass and sat back with a contented sigh. "An excellent dinner if I do say so myself."

"That will be as a result of my special touch," Ethan said, grinning.

The 'touch' had consisted of being allowed to add a single pinch of salt under Giles' watchful eye. Or, Giles supposed, Ethan could be referring to the groping he had indulged in whilst Giles had been trying to cook. "Or in spite of your special touch trying to distract me," he teased with a slight smile.

"I have nothing to distract you from now," Ethan said, slipping his hand over Giles' leg to caress his inner thigh.

"We should really clean up," Giles observed, not at all seriously, although he did his best to appear that way.

Ethan raised an eyebrow and then got to his knees. He put their plates together and slowly shovelled them away to the side. "There. That's that done." He moved a hand back to Giles' thigh and up until he was stroking over very sensitive areas. Still on his knees, he leant forward to kiss Giles.

Giles kissed him back, but then with a deadpan expression said, "We still need to wash the dishes–"

"Rupert?" Ethan asked, rubbing the heel of his hand over the growing bulge in Giles' trousers.

"Yes?" Giles noted that his voice was growing rougher.

"Bugger the dishes."

Barely keeping his lips from twitching upwards into a smile, Giles began, "Well, if you'd rather bugger the dishes than–"

He caught a brief glimpse of an exasperated expression on Ethan's face before suddenly he was on his back on the floor with Ethan straddled above him. Wriggling.

Laughing, Giles rested his hands on Ethan's waist. "I get the impression you want something."

Ethan paused. "Don't you? I mean, here, in front of a roaring fire in our new home?" He moved his hips again, more slowly. "Don't you want something to put a cap of perfection on things too?"

"Just being with you makes this perfect," Giles said softly, all traces of teasing banished in favour of more serious emotions.

Ethan stared at Giles for a few moments, his expression somewhat doting, but then it changed, and he sat back on his haunches. "Oh, so you don't need sex then?"

"I never said that." Giles sat up and leant forward, stopping when he was less than an inch from Ethan's mouth. "Always need you," he murmured.

"Prove it." Ethan's tongue slipped from his own mouth to lick Giles' lower lip.

Taking Ethan's hand, Giles pressed it to his now very hard cock. "Proof enough?"

"Well, I'd prefer something more active," Ethan said, freeing his hand and undoing Giles' belt, "but this is always a nice start."

Giles leant back to give Ethan better access. "So me sitting here and contemplating fucking you through the floorboards isn't good enough for you?"

"Well, you do know I prefer active improvisation to careful plotting and planning, dearheart." The trousers undone, Ethan inched back on his knees, pulling them and Giles' boxers from his body.

Giles pulled his jumper off himself. "You might want to take care of that overdressed problem you have then."

Ethan looked up and grinned. "Yes, no nasty fraying magic on these togs, please." He bent and kissed the tip of Giles' cock before unstraddling him and rapidly stripping.

Leaning back on his elbows, Giles watched appreciatively as Ethan's naked body came into view. "All the years I've known you, I don't think I've ever got tired of just watching you move. Especially without clothes."

The compliment very obviously pleased Ethan, who grinned and knelt beside Giles. He ran a sensual hand up and down Giles' body. "Any movement you fancy in particular today?"

"I can think of one or two," Giles replied, sitting up enough to grab Ethan by the back of the neck and pull him down for a passionate kiss. Ethan went with him, half-covering Giles' body and opening his mouth to receive Giles' tongue. His hands moved up to cup Giles' face.

The heat that always lay simmering just under the surface between them burst into full flames as Ethan moved against him, and Giles devoured Ethan's mouth. He knew he would never have enough of Ethan: his feel, his taste, his scent, everything about him.

Moaning hungrily, Ethan fed magic through his hands whilst pressing his erection into Giles' side. "Ripper," he murmured as their lips briefly parted. "Please." With a burst of energy, Giles shifted them, not stopping until Ethan was lying supone in front of the fire with Giles straddling Ethan's hips. Ethan grinned toothily up at him, breathing hard. "Oh yes," he said happily, rubbing his cock up against Giles' arse.

"Utterly shameless, aren't you?" Giles observed, running fingers charged with magic lightly over Ethan's torso.

Shivering in response, Ethan tipped his head back. "What cause is there here for shame? The man I love is... oh. The man I love is sitting above me, looking magnificent and... and teasing me with delicious magic. I don't regard my reactions –oh, Ripper, Christ– as excessive."

God, Ethan was so... "Do you know what seeing you like this does to me?" Giles asked, voice rough with arousal.

Ethan moved his head to look at Giles again, and he was smirking, just a little. "Well actually, yes, I do." He lifted his hands to stroke up Giles' thighs, sparking magic all the way. "Benefits of pattern sight, you see."

Giles caught his breath at the sensation. "Shameless," he repeated, leaning down to taste Ethan's mouth again.

'Do you want to see too?' Ethan sent as they kissed. 'I could join us a little, if you like.' He sounded hopeful.

Oh, Giles wanted to; he wanted to very much. They hadn't allowed themselves any type of magical joining since they'd defeated Vaurtain, for fear that once started, they would no longer be able to stop. But here, now, in what was going to be their new home, somehow that fear didn't seem so great. Meeting Ethan's eyes, Giles said simply, "Do it."

Ethan groaned, squeezing Giles' thighs. Giles felt his awareness grow and change. He began to be able to see shadows of patterns and connections, the constellations of nodes and paths that surrounded everything. But that part of the sight did not become clearer, Ethan apparently concentrating just on linking their bodies tonight.

Giles found he could feel Ethan's body and arousal almost as well as his own. He was breathing with Ethan, their hearts beating in time. "Kiss me," Ethan said roughly. "Fuck me."

"God, yes," Giles growled, leaning over and plundering Ethan's mouth roughly.

Oh lord, he could feel Ethan's lips bruising under his own, could feel Ethan's body respond with tightening muscles and increased heart rate, both of which his own body echoed. Ethan pushed up with his hips, his hands moving rapidly over Giles' back.

'Want you,' Giles sent, instinctively moving against Ethan, matching the words. There was no thought in his mind beyond Ethan and wanting to shag him senseless.

Ethan made an incoherent noise and began to squirm under Giles, trying to get his legs out. His need to be filled by Giles was so strong that Giles found it hard to separate it from his own urge to fill and thrust. There was a bit of a muddle as a result, but eventually Giles was between Ethan's legs, and Ethan was whispering, "Please. Please, Ripper, please."

Giles didn't need any more encouragement than that; he thrust into Ethan's body, a stream of magic easing his way as usual. Ethan moaned and thrust up to meet Giles, their movements almost simultaneous. There was nothing that felt more right than this, more so when he could feel what Ethan was feeling as well.

Ethan lifted his legs, and Giles moved his arms until the first were hooked around the second. Then Giles began to thrust in earnest, and Ethan almost wailed with pleasure. Giles bit back a wail of his own as every feeling was mirrored – fucking and being fucked, each sensation as strong as the other until Giles began to lose track of which were his feelings and which were Ethan's.

Somehow he kept moving, his body knowing just what to do even while his pleasure-soaked brain received so much overwhelming information. He felt his muscles tighten, or was that Ethan's? He felt the pleasure take his breath, his vision, consuming all his senses. He felt Ethan come and then himself, feeling also Ethan's response to that. And then he was nothing but feeling, sensation, sparks exploding in the night and not stopping, ongoing, more and more and...

Awareness went away for a while then as Giles finally blacked out. It happened every time they did this linked sex. It was more of a white out, really, he thought groggily as awareness began to return, not an absence of sensation, but so much that it all became overwhelming white noise that nothing else could penetrate.

Eventually, he became aware of a wordless groaning from Ethan, and they were still linked just enough for Giles to work out that Ethan's legs were hurting. He summoned up enough energy to roll to the side, letting Ethan bring his legs down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't mind, don't care," Ethan muttered, immediately rolling to his side in order to snuggle close to Giles. "Was perfect."

Giles turned his head lazily to look at Ethan and the way the firelight glowed on his skin. Beyond them, the rest of their new flat now lay in soft shadow. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was."

"Everything about this place is perfect," Ethan said, but then wriggled, frowning. "Except this. I'm laying on something prickly."

"Well, move then," Giles told him, amused.

They both sat up, and Ethan lifted from the rug the thing that had been irritating his skin. He stared at it with obvious bemusement.

It was a large, quill-like black feather with a small streak of white near the tip.