Cordelia wheeled her Chrysler Sebring next to the curb into the only empty parking space on the street. Extending her long legs, she got out of the red sports car and walked across the street towards the apartment complex.
The clatter of a can hitting the pavement and mild cursing drew her attention. A man was bent over the fender of a car, his head under the raised hood. Cordelia stopped and squinted into the sun to take a long appreciative look at the guy's butt -- all she could clearly see was that and the back of his legs. Shading her eyes with her hand, she noted that he wore jeans, not super tight but tight enough to show off the exemplary shape of his...shape.
"Someone's been working out," she said to herself. The guy leaned down to pick up the can which had fallen to the ground. Cordy noted the grey t-shirt and the strong arms that stretched out from the short sleeves.
"Very nice." She stood a moment longer hoping for a better view of him, but he kept his back to her, his head bent over his work.
She continued towards her destination then stopped again. There was something familiar about the guy's car...
"Oh. My. God." Spinning on her high heel, she strode towards him.
"Giles?"
The Watcher looked up when he heard his name.
"It is you."
Frowning, he said irritably, "Who am I supposed to be?"
"Shouldn't you say 'whom'? Proper English and all that?"
"What?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Is there something you wanted, Cordelia?"
"Doesn't your building have a parking lot?"
"I'm on the waiting list for a space."
"After three years you still don't have one?"
Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. "Is there a reason why you're here?"
"Yeah." She drew in a deep breath then rushed ahead with her speech. "I just wanted to thank you for coming to visit me at the hospital. You know, after Xander and Willow broke my heart -- literally."
Leaning on the front of his car, Giles said, "Your heart wasn't damaged by the fall, Cordelia. That rod missed it by quite a lot."
"I know that!" She snapped. "Don't ruin my poetic moment with your Watcher logic."
"Wouldn't dream of it. And you're quite welcome. For the visit, I mean."
"Oh. Yeah." She trailed off into silence.
He studied her a moment. "Was there something you wished to talk about?"
"No. Just..." she paused, fishing in her purse for her sunglasses and, having found them, slipped them on. "Just thank you. Except for Xander, you're the only one who came to see me. None of my so-called friends bothered. Not Harmony or Mercedes or... well, Buffy did once but didn't stay long. I guess she felt funny because she and Willow are best friends."
"It was kind of her, even so."
"Yeah. Kind. Better than my parents anyway."
Giles scowled. "Your parents didn't visit you?" he asked, disbelief ringing clearly in his voice.
She shook her head mutely.
"Not at all?"
"No," she replied quietly. A couple of weeks ago she wouldn't have offered that information to anyone, but since the accident she felt a connection had been established between herself and Giles. She hoped so anyway. Buffy and the others sometimes shared personal stuff with him. She had no one else.
"What were they thinking? Aren't you their only child?"
She nodded, removing the sunglasses and fiddling with them in her hands.
"I don't understand that sort of behaviour."
"It's the way they are. They did phone from Belize a couple of times and Consuela -- our maid -- couriered over the flowers they sent."
"That's criminal! They don't deserve you, Cordelia."
Suddenly shy, she asked, "Really?"
Giles stared at her, speechless at her reaction.
Finally he said, "Really."
She smiled a million kilowatt smile at him. He returned the smile uncertainly, then turned back to the car as if looking for something to do with his hands.
Watching him for a few moments, she said, "I didn't know you did guy stuff."
"I'm only changing the oil. This car seems to drink it and it's expensive to take it to the garage every time."
"So buy a new one."
He was silent a moment or two. Finally: "One of these days...perhaps."
"You could get a bigger one for hauling around all those weapons and stuff. Maybe a van, though not like Oz's. His is okay for a musician because they're kind of eccentric or just plain weird. You could get a minivan. Lots of cargo space with a touch of luxury. And you'd look trendy. Of course, minivans are what people with piles of kids drive, but you always have Buffy and the others anyway so it'd be like the same thing." She wound down at last, realizing that he wasn't paying attention to her. He stood lost in thought with the dipstick in one hand and a dirty oilstained cloth in the other.
"Giles?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay? 'Cause if you're going to get unconcious or have a spell or something I'll dial 911, but don't expect me to give you mouth to mouth."
Giving her an odd look that she didn't understand, he turned away.
"No spell, Cordelia, but thank you for your concern." His familiar sarcastic tone was back in place. She still didn't get what had happened just now, but just as long as he was going to stay concious she didn't worry about it.
"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked, and then went on before he could say whether he did or did not want to know. "I think you need a vacation. Maybe you could go to Mexico for a week. The beaches near Puerto Vallarta are great this time of year. Not too hot, it's not tourist season so it wouldn't be crowded. You'd love it."
Sliding the dipstick back into the crankcase, he said, "I'm not really the beach sort."
"How can anyone not like the beach? You really need to get out in the sun more often, Giles. You're kinda pale and you spend way too much time in the Library. And half the time you're up all night. Do you ever sleep? It's not just women who need their beauty sleep, you know."
She stepped closer and reached towards his face. "You're starting to get crow's feet at the corner of your eyes. And laugh lines are starting though they're not that noticeable yet. You never laugh. How can you get laugh lines?" She touched the side of his mouth without thinking about what she was doing.
Giles jerked his head away from her fingers.
"Cordelia!"
"What? I was just..."
"Yes, fine. Thank you so much. Isn't there somewhere else you need to be?" He stared at her. Hard. Pointedly.
"Geez. Don't get all stuffy and British on me. I was only trying to help. Although you do seem to be on the right track with your clothes for a change." She stepped back and gave him the once over from head to toe.
The jeans were just right from the front, too. Not too tight at all. Some guys wore them so tight they nearly cut off their circulation, but his were fitted enough so that they showed off his assets to good advantage but not in any sort of lewd way. And was he wearing...?
"No way. Nikes? You? Gosh. This is like... aren't you breaking some sort of Watcher's dress code or something?" Her gaze travelled back up, slowly, to his face. "Are you blushing?"
He reached up and slammed the hood of the Citroen down so hard the car bounced. Distantly, they both heard the sound of a small piece of something metallic strike pavement.
"Dammit!"
Cordelia flinched. "Take it easy. You'll break it."
Ignoring her he walked around the car searching for whatever it was that had fallen off. Returning to the front end he knelt on the ground and peered underneath.
"Bloody wonderful," he muttered.
"What is it?"
Leaning a hand on the front bumper he laid right down on the ground on his back and scoonched under the car.
Watching him until he disappeared up to the top half of his legs, Cordelia gingerly knelt beside him and craned her neck to see what he was doing.
"You did break it, didn't you?"
He didn't answer right away and she was left to stare at his denim clad legs.
Finally he pulled himself out from under the car. He held two halves of a chunk of greasy metal in his hands and sat on the pavement looking at them.
"What is that? Or should I say what was it?" Cordy crouched next to him.
"It's the... it, uh..."
"You don't know do you?" Cordy asked conversationally.
Using the back of his wrist to rub his nose, Giles said, "Not exactly, but I'm sure it's important."
"How can you tell?"
"Because nothing unimportant ever goes wrong with this car!" He swore under his breath. Then he glanced at her and said, "Sorry."
"It's okay. You're having a bad day. You need to get stuff out of your system."
Turning the broken components over in his hands he spoke quietly, "Not just a bad day."
"No?"
He shook his head. "A bad week, month, a whole bloody year!"
Cordelia commiserated silently then: "You have a smudge of oil on your nose."
Her non-sequitur caused an unexpected reaction. He laughed. Silently at first, then as his shoulders began to shake, he laughed right out loud.
Cordelia sat back on her heels.
"Are you losing your mind?" she asked seriously.
"Yes." He was still chuckling quietly.
She stood up. "I knew it. You hang around with geeks all day, you never talk to adults and you never get any..." She stopped.
"Any what?" he asked curiously looking up at her.
"Fun." A touch of rose coloured her cheeks.
"Ah. I see."
He reached for a grimy towel that lay across the edge of the grill, and wiped his face and hands with it.
Crossing her arms in front of herself she asked, "Are you going to take your car to get repaired?"
Sighing, he got to his feet. "I suppose I should."
"I'll follow and give you a ride home."
"Thank you."
"You better change. You are so not riding in my car covered in oil. It's impossible to get motor oil out of leather seats. Not that I ever had anyone get oil on the seats but it's one of those things a person just knows, you know?"
Shaking his head, he gathered his tools and discarded oil can and walked towards the steps leading to his apartment. Cordelia fell into step beside him.
At his inquiring look, she said, "I'm not sitting out here on the street like some tramp."
A slight smile flitted across his mouth. "Come along then."
"Don't you dare wear tweed or a suit and tie of any kind."
"Why not?" he sighed.
"It's Saturday." As if that explained everything.
"Ah."
An hour later, after leaving the Citroen at the garage, Giles got into Cordelia's car. Per her request, he was still dressed casually -- black jeans this time, greyish blue Henley sweater unbuttoned at the top, his runners and not a tie in sight.
"Where have you been hiding this new, improved wardrobe of yours?"
Keeping his eyes straight ahead he said, "I've had these clothes for a while."
She studied him for a moment then pronounced. "You're in a weird mood today."
Drily, he said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied brightly.
Flooring the accelerator, she rocketed the Sebring through an intersection. Car horns blared, marking their passage.
Clutching the dash with one hand and the door's armrest with the other, Giles yelled, "You just ran through a red light!"
"It was still yellow when we entered the intersection."
He turned to look at the street signs. "This isn't the way back to my place."
"No. It's not."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Cordelia..."
"Don't worry. You'll have a good time. I guarantee it."
Privately, Giles doubted that but said nothing.
They reached the city limits shortly. Once free of the heavy traffic, Cordelia pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park.
"Where are we?" Giles looked around for a sign or something to explain why they had stopped there.
"I don't know."
"Then why did we stop?"
"So you can drive." At his lack of response, she explained, "You need a holiday. You won't take one..."
"Buffy might need me..."
"Exactly. Buffy always needs you. Does she ever help you? No. She bosses you around and goes off to slay demons and vampires, and you're left in that stuffy old library with musty books."
"I like the library and the books," he protested quietly.
"That's fine, but you need fresh air and sunshine. Getting you out of there is usually next to impossible, but there you were today already out so I thought we could go for a drive up the coast; you go home tonight, get a good night's sleep and tomorrow you can do whatever you like."
"Why do you even care, Cordelia?"
"You were nice to me. You went to see me in the hospital and...I'm in an extra good mood." She grinned at him.
He found himself smiling back at her unrestrainedly, his own bad mood beginning to lift.
"Do you want to drive?"
"Drive? Oh."
"Yeah. Oh. I don't let just anyone drive my car, but you need to find out what a real one feels like on the road. That tinkertoy of yours is pathetic."
"I can't afford to buy a new car, Cordelia."
She took a moment to think about that. "Well, you can still drive this one. Today. Once."
She opened the door and got out. After a beat he did the same. They passed in the front and got back in. Giles adjusted the seat a bit for more leg room.
The leather under him was warm where she'd sat.
He started the engine and, as he put the car in gear, Cordelia said, "The way I see it, you can either turn us around and go back to Sunnydale, or you can just drive."
Giles hesitated.
"There's a full tank of gas," Cordy pointed out.
They headed down the highway, pushing the speed limit. Away from Sunnydale.