Giddy was chasing a non-existent bee.

"He's already twice the size he was when he asked to be taken to you," Ethan pointed out, watching the gambolling 'puppy' bounce around the slope. He supposed he might be exaggerating a bit, but Gwydion really was bigger than many adult dogs.

They were back on the Heath again, having come to the mutual decision that they had too many good memories of Hampstead to be put off the place by the exploits of Ethan the Fox. Having said that, Rupert was steering them well away from the East Heath, and instead they were walking down by the ponds, towards the meadows. Ethan felt exceedingly grateful for that.

"He really isn't built to be a city dog," Rupert said, his eyes following Gwydion's antics. "He's going to need more space than we have."

Ethan caught himself wondering how much of that was Rupert himself feeling claustrophobic. "We could perhaps find somewhere bigger out of town if we didn't mind the commute," he said cautiously.

"It's certainly an idea worth looking into." A slight frown marred Rupert's expression. "Of course, we'd have to make sure it wasn't outside of our 'range', or you'd be forced to accompany me in to the office even when you had nothing to do."

Ethan tried to hide his wince. "It's not as if I'd mind, dearheart. I'm only a Watcher because of you, after all." He shut up, feeling he was probably making things worse.

He had no idea whether it was connected or not, but ever since Buffy had arrived in London, Rupert had been increasingly restless. Their bond, which to Ethan was something inordinately precious, seemed to be becoming a source of irritation to Rupert, a fact that both depressed and worried Ethan.

Rupert reached out for his hand. "It could be very boring for you, love," he said softly, "when I deal with all that organisation and red tape that you despise so much."

Ethan didn't care. Didn't Rupert understand that Ethan only did anything because of him? "You could give me the office next door so I wouldn't be in the way; chuck out old whatshisname. You wouldn't even know I was there."

"I always know you're there," Rupert told him with a smile.

"Well, you wouldn't know what I was doing," Ethan insisted, smiling back. "My boredom or lack of it wouldn't bother you, and I wouldn't be a constant irresistible temptation." He winked.

Rupert seemed to relax a little. "You're always a constant irresistible temptation, love."

Relaxing more in turn, Ethan opened his mouth to say something pleasant and instead found himself yelling "Giddy!" as the dog barrelled into the pond ahead of them, sending ducks scattering.

"When we move, we'd best make sure it's not near a body of water," Rupert commented wryly, before raising his voice to call Gwydion back to them.

The wolfhound, having totally ignored Ethan, came immediately to his master's call and proceeded to soak both men as he shook himself dry.

"I think the dog would be much happier as a rat," Ethan said acidly.

"You're not changing my dog into a rat," Rupert said patiently. He then murmured "Exhala aquam viduum," magicking the moisture from their clothes and Gwydion's fur. "Although that would certainly solve the space problem. Assuming he was rat-sized and not a rat Gwydion-sized."

Shivering both at that alarming image and at the touch of Rupert's magic, Ethan walked a little closer to Rupert. "If we get a bigger place, maybe I could have an annoying pet too." He chuckled at the thought.

"I'm sure we could manage something even where we are now if you want a pet." Rupert looked at him curiously. "What kind of annoying pet would you want?"

Not considering the answer seriously, Ethan replied, "A mynah bird. I could teach it obscenities and the words to cantrips."

Rupert regarded him thoughtfully. "You've never struck me as the bird type."

"No," Ethan agreed, "but in truth, I wouldn't want something I'd get attached to. It would only get itself run over."

There was still a part of him even now that remembered all too clearly the day his eight-year-old self had watched his puppy, his best Christmas present ever until the Ripper days, flattened into something surreal and unrecognisable on the road near his home. He'd joked about it since, of course, as the story was the stuff of the worst Charles Dickens imitators, but it had happened, and it had, apparently, scarred.

"You're attached to me, and I haven't got myself run over," Rupert said softly. Ethan didn't answer; he didn't even want to think about the possibility. "Nor has Gwydion, and protest as you might, I think you're attached to him as well."

"Do you want to sit down?" Ethan asked, indicating a nearly bench.

Rupert hesitated and then shook his head. "Would it bother you if we kept walking?" He smiled very faintly. "I'm still rather caught up in the novelty of having two legs that work."

"Then by all means, let's continue." Ethan didn't mind, so long as they stopped talking about loved ones meeting fatal accidents.

They continued ambling slowly across the field, Rupert's hand once again finding Ethan's. "So cat or dog?" Rupert asked after a moment.

"Skunk," Ethan said immediately, refusing to take the topic seriously.

Rupert laughed. "Something that seems inviting, but if you don't handle it just right, you end up regretting it." He squeezed Ethan's hand."Sounds about right."

Ethan wasn't sure if he'd just been complimented or insulted, but he smiled and returned to an earlier topic. "So if you could live anywhere, money and circumstance no obstacle, where would you choose?"

"Anywhere?"Rupert considered. "Somewhere quiet, I think, but not too isolated." He glanced at Ethan. "With you, of course."

"England or elsewhere?" Ethan asked, walking close enough for their bodies to rub together for a step or two.

"Doesn't matter. If I've learned one thing over the years, it's that home isn't a place so much as people." Rupert paused, glancing down at Gwydion who was gambolling around them. "And dogs."

Ethan nodded. "I liked Devon a lot more than I thought I would. To start with it was all a bit too lonely and green, but I grew accustomed to the wildness, liked it even. After all, that's the kind of chaos I'm meant to be courting these days, isn't it?"

"Is that the kind of place you'd like to live though?" Rupert asked curiously. "I've always pictured you as more... Well, you've always seemed partial to the city life."

"Yes, I am... was." Ethan snorted quietly. "I'm still changing, I think. The ramifications of all that's happened haven't stopped... ramificating." He chuckled at his made-up word. "You may want me to talk less with Xander."

Rupert chuckled too. "He does seem to be rubbing off on you a bit."

"The boy's quite charming in his own strange way. It's a good job for him I'm so attached to you." Ethan made sure he was looking away while he said that so that Rupert couldn't see his amused expression.

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear that," Rupert said wryly.

Tutting and sighing, Ethan looked back. "There's absolutely nothing I can do or say to make you jealous anymore, is there?"

"Not with Xander."

"You could at least pretend, to make me happy. And who would make you jealous anyway?"

Rupert considered for a long moment. "I don't know. It isn't people I worry about losing you to."

That was a more serious answer than he'd expected, but Ethan went with the change of mood. "Chaos?" he questioned. "Or my insecurities? The two things have a surprising amount in common," he realised out loud.

"I don't worry much about Chaos, not you being seduced by it, not anymore. But our insecurities and fears, those I do worry about."

Ethan pulled on Rupert's hand, making him stop for a moment so that they could face each other. "I'll keep my promise," he said seriously. Rupert looked at him with strong emotion shining in his eyes and then leant in and kissed him.

It always warmed Ethan to be kissed in public, not just arousing his libido, although public sex was unarguably one of his kinks, but also his emotions. That Rupert cared enough about Ethan to not care about the stares and comments was wonderful.

"I know you will," Rupert murmured, responding to Ethan's words when he finally pulled back.

Ethan smiled, staring into Rupert's eyes for a while; then he started them walking again. "So, a place in the country for us, your dog, and my skunk then?" he asked with a grin.

Rupert smiled back. "Sounds just about perfect."

Ethan surprised himself by agreeing. "Our Slayers and other friends visiting occasionally? Real ale on tap down the local? Central heating and a real fire during the winter?"

"I won't let you get cold," Rupert promised, chuckling.

"Close to wild places where I can commune with storms..." Ethan sighed; he could feel the smile dropping slowly from his face. "There's still a small jaded part of me that takes the piss quite horribly when I start imagining fond futures."

"We've got a fond present; it's not out of the realm of possibility that there'll be a fond future as well. With storms and central heating and wild places and real ale." Rupert chuckled again. "Maybe we can even buy our own little country village pub."

"Oh,"Ethan beamed at Rupert. "Brilliant idea – beer on tap all the time and people to watch. We should call it, hmm, 'The Fox and Badger'."

"Not 'The Skunk and the Pit Pony'?"

"That does have a certain ring to it," Ethan acknowledged with a laugh.

Rupert nodded decisively. "It's settled then. Some day we'll buy a pub and retire there."

"It's a lovely dream, Rupert," Ethan said affectionately. "I shall hold onto it for dark times. We're truly not the boys we once were; that's for sure."

"No,"Rupert agreed softly. "We're not. In spite of everything we've been through, I wouldn't go back to those days."

Ethan felt slightly defensive of his youth. "I'm glad we had them, apart from how they ended anyhow. We were wild and free, and I refuse to regret anything bar Eyghon."

"I don't regret, but we were running far too close to the edge," Rupert said, voice still soft. "We would've fallen, if not to Eyghon, then something else. But now..." He stopped, turning Ethan to face him once again. "Now we know how precious what we have is. We won't risk it or throw it away."

Really, Ethan didn't have the words to answer that, so he just hugged Rupert, relatively confident that the gesture would be welcomed.

Rupert's arms closed around him in return, holding him tight. "I never forget that," Rupert murmured almost too low to be heard. "Even when I'm feeling... closed in, I never forget what it was like without you, compared to now. I won't risk going back to that."

Christ, that felt almost bitterly good to hear. Ethan nuzzled the side of Rupert's face. "We'll find a way to make you more comfortable," he promised blithely. "Whatever it takes."

Rupert pulled back to smile at him, although there was a touch of sadness in the expression. Then he leant in to kiss Ethan once more.

***

Ethan stared at the unappetising contents of the lasagne tray with disquiet. "Is it meant to look like that?"

"Well, it's not cooked yet," Megan pointed out. "Everything looks vaguely disgusting until you cook it."

"I feel like a failed medical student, who having seen inside the human body, can never quite enjoy touching one again without remembering." He ground some more black pepper over the dish in the hope of somehow improving matters.

Megan reached over and took the pepper from him. "We don't want to make people sneeze when they try and take a breath," she said mildly. She added another layer of sauce, pasta and cheese.

Feeling vaguely nauseated, Ethan turned back to preparing the Caesar salad on the counter beside her. This, at least, he knew how to do. "Have you thought more about what you'd like to do for your birthday?"

She shrugged. "You don't have to go to any trouble on my account."

Frowning, Ethan glanced back. "Haven't we already had this discussion? And more than once for that matter. It's not 'trouble'."

"You sure? I mean, with Buffy and Dawn here now, I thought..."

"You thought what?" Ethan looked at her incredulously.

"That you'd have other things on your mind."

"Megan," he said, softening his tone as he placed a hand on her back. "You have to stop doing this."

She looked up at him with a weak smile. "Sorry."

"We're a pair, aren't we?" He let a strand of her long hair slide through his fingers and said gently, "You matter, sweetheart. Truly." Inhaling and returning to a normal tone as he went back to his chopping, he added, "Now let's try again. What do you fancy doing for your birthday?"

"I... Could we...?" Megan looked up shyly. "I'd like to go out. Somewhere. Like where you and Giles go."

"To celebrate independence from the parental units?" Ethan asked, smiling to himself as he grated the Parmesan.

"I guess." She put the lasagne in the oven then wandered over to where Ethan was working. "But more to... maybe start seeing if I can find my own Giles?"

He nodded, taking her seriously, but made sure he met her eyes before saying, "You will be realistic, won't you? Rupert and I had both had lovers before meeting each other." He felt proud that he didn't flinch at all saying that. "Don't expect the first girl you like the look of to be the one."

"I know." Megan smiled shyly. "But if I can't immediately find Miss Right, hopefully I can at least find Miss Right Now."

"Yes,"Ethan nodded again, smiling warmly. "Well, Rupert and I will take you somewhere nice and more than once to help you get the confidence you need. And... will madam actually permit me to take her shopping for clothes for the event?"

"Are you going to fix me up like you did Kat?" The glow in her eyes told Ethan exactly how much the idea pleased her.

Surprised but delighted by the idea, Ethan said, "Of course I will. I think something more subtle than what I did for Kat though, don't you?"

"I guess... I'm more of a wallflower than she is."

"Megan," he said warningly.

"Well, I am!" she insisted and then shrugged. "Of course, ninety percent of the Slayers would be wallflowers compared to Kat. She's a bit..."

He was already planning colours and a general look in his head. "I'm going to make you see your own beauty, my dear."

She blushed prettily, but didn't look away. "That's what I'm hoping for."

He finished putting the salad together and opened the fridge door to find a place for the bowl so it could cool until it was needed. "Trust me," he said upon turning back and gave her his best evil smirk.

"I do," Megan said immediately with a smile. All too many people seemed to trust him these days. Ethan didn't know how it had happened and didn't consider it wise of them... but he wouldn't let Megan down. She added in a softer tone, "Then that's what I want for my birthday."

"Then that's what you shall have." Running a hand lightly across her back as he passed, Ethan moved to the kitchen door and stuck his head out into the living room where Rupert and Xander were chatting. "I think this is a sit-at-the-table job if you'd care to set said table."

"Wow, fancy," Xander teased as he and Rupert got up and dodged around Giddy, who'd thought the call also included him.

"Just potentially messy," Ethan told him. "Although Megan assures me it won't taste like intestines and raw blood once it's cooked."

Rupert frowned. "I thought you were making lasagne." He side-stepped around the dog again and said sternly, "Gwydion, please go and lie down."

"Just an analogy, dearheart... Giddy, no! Not in the damn kitchen. There's no room!" Ethan grabbed the huge puppy by the collar and dragged him back out of Megan's way.

"Here, I'll take him," Rupert said, coming over and taking the collar from Ethan. He waited for the dog to look up and then gave the animal his stern Watcher look. "You know that wasn't what I meant. When I say lie down, I mean in your bed. Now go."

When Rupert released the collar, Gwydion did exactly what he was told, his tail stuck firmly between his legs.

Ethan watched for a while as Rupert and Xander took the plates and cutlery from the dresser into the study, which was to serve in its original role of dining room for a little while. Then the four of them sat and watched most of Ready Steady Cook, which resulted in a great deal more laughter than the BBC deserved for the low-budget show.

When they returned to the kitchen, Megan took the lasagne out of the oven. Cooking had indeed transformed it into something golden and hunger-inducing. "Well done, dear," Ethan said happily.

She grinned up at him. "Told you so. Even you could do this dish without blowing up the kitchen."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said wryly, arranging the warmed ciabatta in a basket. "Really."

"That's true," Rupert put in, coming in to help bring the food to the table. "Ethan once almost burned our flat down just boiling water."

"Christ, I'd forgotten that." Ethan chuckled, passing the breadbasket to over. "Yes, truly I'm a menace to domesticity."

"Why the hell did you let him cook Thanksgiving dinner then?" Xander asked from the doorway.

"He pouted," Rupert replied, smiling fondly at Ethan. "Besides I've long since mastered a flame-smothering spell. Right after the incident with the water, actually, if I recall correctly."

"It's the natural chaos of my nature," Ethan claimed. "It makes things... unpredictable. Especially when cooking with gas."

Megan giggled. "You hadn't even started cooking anything when the first disaster happened on Thanksgiving."

He gave her a pretend glare. "Well, you better hope I've a defter hand with clothes and cosmetics than when I try and cook you a nice meal."

"I've seen your work," Megan replied. "I'm not worried."

Ethan removed the salad from the fridge and passed it to Xander. "Here. You better take it before it ignites," he said dryly.

Xander grinned. "As long as there's no arrows coming in through the window, I'm happy."

"Oh God," Rupert groaned. "Yes, let's avoid a repeat of that meal if at all possible."

Removing the chilling wine from the fridge, Ethan then shut the door. He spread his arms wide to herd the two men in the doorway out. "Move along. Slayer carrying hot baked intestines coming through."

Megan giggled, and holding the hot dish with oven gloves, advanced on them with false menace. Amidst laughter and more small talk, all the food managed to get to the table, and they sat down to eat.

Handing Rupert the lasagne knife with a smile, Ethan moved around their small table filling wine glasses. This was really quite blissfully domestic, and a scene he'd never have been able to imagine himself partaking in even six months ago. Kat, he thought, should have been with them to make things perfect, but somehow the imperfection of her absence just underlined how almost painfully good this was.

For a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe.

He caught himself almost longing for simpler times when he'd cared only about himself, Chaos, and the distant yet ever-present push-pull of Rupert. It was a stupid craving, and he quickly dismissed it, knowing full well that it was based in fear of loss as opposed to anything at all being preferable then than now.

It did scare Ethan, however, how much scenes like this meant. It made him feel desperately vulnerable, or would have, had he let himself really feel it. But while he was nowhere near as good as Rupert at repressing emotion, Ethan had years of experience at channelling one emotion through another, more acceptable feeling.

As Rupert bravely cut through the golden cheese crust, savoury sauce and meat juices bubbling through the crack, Ethan raised his glass in a toast. "To domesticity. Long may it reign unscorched."