"You're very hot."
Giles looked over the top of his glasses at Anya. The two of them, human and ex-demon, sat in his apartment, left behind by Buffy and the others. Again.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't think I hadn't noticed before. You're a sexy man. For an old guy."
Frowning, Giles said, "So speaks an 1100 year old demon."
Anya smiled in delight, clasped her hands together on her knees and squirmed a little on her chair. "I love the way you talk. It sounds like the men I killed decades ago. All formal and everything. Very hot."
"That turns you on?" Giles was intrigued despite his lack of a comfort zone around Anya.
"Yup."
Giles slowly removed his glasses and set them on the desk.
"And you think I'm….sexy?"
She stood up but sat back down again on his lap. Giles made a reflexive motion and ended up holding her waist. To steady her. Nothing more. Anya's arms wound around his neck.
"You sound like you don't hear that everyday." Her expression indicated she was perfectly serious. Anya was always perfectly serious.
"It isn't something I hear often, no."
"That's a shame. A person needs confirmation of their self worth. I've been watching Oprah," she explained. She paused and studied his face. "I've been wondering something. Are you a good kisser? My only experience has been with Xander and he's good but are all men good kissers?"
"I can't speak for others but I believe I'm good."
"Show me."
Thinking what harm can a kiss do, Giles leaned forward, Anya met him halfway and their lips touched. They pulled back, reconsidered then kissed for real.
The apartment door opened.
"Xander!"
"You guys started without me! You said you'd wait, An. Move over. I want in there too."
Giles reached for him….