Summary: It’s a heavy, musty, dusty old book. It even smells.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy. God, how I wish I did, but the sad fact is, I do not.
Author's Note: For halfdutch, who wanted Giles/Jenny, involving books. It's been a while for my Buffy muse, but I must not be too rusty, because this has been the easiest one to write so far. :)
“Rupert, this is ridiculous.”
“Just read it,” he replies, overenthusiastically, holding the book right in front of her face. You find it endlessly amusing that he’s looking at it like a small child eyes his presents on Christmas morning. You take it from his hand, a small smile on your face.
It’s a heavy, musty, dusty old book. It even smells. You remember Rupert saying something about that to you once, the way book smell. You’d still prefer to have your keyboard beneath your fingers, or read lines of code instead of well worn pages written in language as foreign to you as the print-offs from your computer seem to be to Rupert.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” he asks with the same childlike enthusiasm. You smile at him, wishing that you could get excited. But…
“I can’t understand a word of it,” you have to say. He sighs and sits, removing the book from your hands and closing it, setting it on the desk.
“I-I suppose I’m never going to be able to accustomed you to books any more than you’ll accustomed me to,” he turns over his shoulder and casts a venomous glance at the computer. “…that.”
You laugh and shake your head. “I guess not,” you say. “But there are still plenty of other things we can do with our time.” Your smile grows the more he blushes.