William sat on his couch, his third vodka tonic in hand, pondering the day's events. The sodding brunch was nothing but a bloody farce. God only knew what the poor woman made of their pseudo-family. It was fucked up, that's for sure. Sweet Aunt Liv, always trying to see the good side of things, and good ol' Rupes. The bloody bastard had his moments, but he could be as harsh and critical as his own father.
Birds of a bloody feather.
He certainly hadn't expected her to be so stunning. She was a tiny thing, but fit and graceful. Her dark blonde hair fell in soft waves around her face and her green eyes were large and expressive. She gave off an air of confidence. He expected a T.A. of Rupert's to be matronly or bookish, but this was definitely not the case. She was truly a right bit of stuff.
Don't go thinking with your todger, mate.
That would surely lead to misery. Besides, she probably thought he was ancient at thirty. And Christ! She was not only going to be working for him, but also living under his roof. Hardly the right circumstances for casual shagging, because Lord knows he wasn't looking for a love match.
He finished off his drink, lit a cigarette, and poured himself another glass. This was his last night of free drinking. From now on, he'd have a housemate to keep him from over indulging. By God, he was going to live it up.
Buffy finished packing the last of her things and hoped she wasn't taking too much. She really didn't know what she'd need in the way of clothes. She guessed she should have asked that at brunch, but everything was just so…discordant and strained at times, especially between Dr. Giles and Mr. Elliston—or William, as he'd asked her to call him. Oh God, she could barely fathom being on a first name basis with the author of Hostile at Seventeen. Anyway, by the looks of the way he was dressed today, dressy casual should do, and if not, with her nice new salary, she would be able to afford some new things.
Once brunch was over, they were able to talk alone for a few moments. He presented her with a sheet of paper with a salary figure, expected duties, and a daily schedule, which showed her only day off was Sunday. Everything seemed reasonable, except for the one day off. She'd hoped she would have Saturdays off as well, especially since she was going to be living with the man. He said he would have a contract for her to sign tomorrow, so perhaps she could negotiate with him.
Buffy wondered if Mrs. Giles, or Olivia, as she insisted she call her, would be there tomorrow. She'd really like to get to know her better. The older woman was very interesting. She seemed to provide the balance needed between the two men, and she'd shown her around the house, pointing out different pieces of art and things of interests, telling Buffy their history and how they'd acquired them. Olivia had been very kind to her. She'd given her all her numbers and told her to call anytime she needed anything, but Buffy couldn't imagine why she would. It appeared as though she liked to coddle William. William seemed to have genuine affection for her, but didn't take well to the coddling. She'd be sure to remember that, not that she would coddle in the first place, but she'd be sure to give him plenty of space.
William dreamt fitfully. He was back in his childhood room, and he was six years old. He had just turned on his little cassette player and turned the volume up as high as it would go, but he could still hear their yelling. He put his hands over his ears to muffle the sounds. Suddenly, he sat straight up in bed. God, he hated that dream.
The shrill ring of telephone chased away the remnants of the dream. He picked it up, his voice thick with sleep.
It was his Aunt Liv. He greeted her and asked the time as he rubbed his throbbing temples. He decided he'd best get a move on and promised to have coffee waiting for her when she arrived.
It was seven fifteen. He'd have just enough time for a quick shower and a straightening of the living room before she got there. He downed some ibuprofen before he got in the shower and afterward made quick work of his morning routine before getting dressed. He grabbed the ashtray and glass from the living room on his way to the kitchen and made sure to put the half empty bottle of vodka away, along with the rest of the evidence of drinking. He sprayed some air freshener to get rid of the cigarette smell and put the coffee on then went outside for a quick smoke.
It was seven forty-five by the time he finished, and Olivia would be here any minute. She was bringing some pastries from a local bakery, and he was glad since his stomach was queasy and could use something solid to calm it. The phone rang and the doorman said she was on her way up. He opened the door for her when she rang the doorbell and stepped aside as she came bustling in.
"Good morning, William. Did you sleep well?" Olivia asked, kissing him on the cheek. "Let's go in the kitchen. I'm dying for a cup of coffee."
William gestured with his arms. "Right this way, ma'am. One cup of coffee coming right up." He got the cream from the refrigerator and the sugar from the cupboard. "Let me just get some plates. Would you get some napkins?"
They were soon seated at the small kitchen table. William took a bite of his chocolate croissant.
"Well, the delivery men should be here any minute. I told your doorman to send them up. How do you feel about this, since it's really happening?" Olivia held her coffee mug, poised to take a sip.
"I'm a bit jittery, I guess. I've always lived alone, and having someone around I don't know is going to be very odd."
William took a long sip of his coffee and sighed before he spoke. "I could pretend to be knackered very early every night, then go to my bedroom and read."
Olivia shook her head and chuckled. "Silly boy, the two of you are going to get on fine. I have a good feeling about this. Just be yourself, and tell her what you need her to do. She seems like a lovely young woman."
The conversation was halted by the arrival of the furniture and the mattress. Once the furniture was in place and the mattress laid, Olivia made the bed and arranged the lamps. When everything was done, it was nearly ten-thirty. Olivia said goodbye, and William was left to wait for Buffy. He went down to the front desk to let them know she'd be arriving, and asked them to have someone help her with her things. He then went to Tony, the doorman, and gave him enough cash for her cab fare and a tip for him and the driver.
Buffy surveyed her room to make sure she hadn't left anything she might need, but she supposed if she did, she could always come back and pick it up. It wasn't like she was moving across the country. Though she imagined her new digs would be a far cry from the shabby duplex she shared with Fred. Her bags were all by the door, so she went into the living room to wait with Fred. Fred looked up from the book she was reading as Buffy entered the room.
"So you're all ready to go? This is really exciting, your first real job. One that might start your career!" Fred, perhaps noticing the look on Buffy's face, poked her shoulder. "Are you still feeling jumbly about the whole thing?"
Buffy let out a breath and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. "I know this job could be a ginormous break for me, and he seems really nice. Like I said, yesterday was kinda wiggy. You know, not him, per se, but their whole dynamic."
Fred just nodded without saying anything, and Buffy chewed on her bottom lip. "The cab should be here any minute. I told them to be here by a quarter after ten. Everything's ready to go, and I have directions, but I didn't want to be late, because of traffic."
"I'm sure you're just worrying over nothing," she said, her Texas drawl drawing out each word.
The sound of the cab's horn from outside propelled Buffy up off the couch and toward the door.
"I guess that's your ride," Fred said, already getting to her feet. "Promise we'll talk as much as possible, and call me tonight to let me know how thing are going."
With the driver's help, they put the last of the things in the car. The girls hugged and Buffy was off. Traffic wasn't bad, so they made good time. The driver pulled into the circular drive of the high-rise apartment building, and a uniformed doorman quickly opened her door.
"Hello, you must be Miss Summers," the dark haired man said in a thick Boston accent.
"Yes, I'm Buffy," Buffy said, a little surprised.
"I'm Tony. Mr. Elliston said he was expecting you. You can go to the desk, and they'll tell him you're here. I'll have someone bring your things up."
Tony headed around to the trunk with the driver to start unloading her things. Buffy asked the driver how much she owed.
"Oh, no, Miss," said Tony, before the driver could answer. "Mr. Elliston's already taken care of everything. You just go on inside."
Buffy just shrugged her shoulders and went inside the opulent lobby. She found the desk easily and told the perfectly coifed women whom she was there to see. The woman ran an appraising eye over her before reaching for the phone.
"Yes, Mr. Elliston, your guest has arrived. Shall I send her up? Thank you." She looked back to Buffy. "Take one of the elevators behind you to the twelfth floor. Mr. Elliston's apartment is the fifth one down. Number twelve-zero-five."
Buffy smiled her best I'd-love-to-take-you-down-a-peg-or-two smile. "Thanks so much. I hope you have a pleasant day."
Buffy stood outside the apartment with her finger hovering over the bell. She finally just squeezed her eyes shut and pressed, and that's how he first saw her.
"Buffy, are you okay?" William asked as he opened the door.
"Uh huh–I mean yes, I'm fine. Just had something in my eyes, but they're all better now," she said, quickly, her cheeks burned like she'd fallen asleep in a tanning bed.
He must have been standing on top of the freaking door!
"Come on in," he said, stepping aside for her. "Your things should be up shortly. Can I get you something to drink?"
She followed him through the entryway, down a corridor, and into the living room. It was a large space with a wall of windows overlooking the Charles River. A set of oak French doors led out onto a spacious patio. The room was sparsely decorated with vintage and mid century modern furniture. Some interesting pieces of photography decorated the back wall, and another other wall had floor-to-ceiling shelves containing an entertainment center and library. The final wall housed the fireplace and mantle, but there was nothing on the mantle or above.
Buffy took all this in, trying to decide what it said about him. It was kind of sterile, and aside from his choices of books and music, showed nothing really personal about him. This room wasn't giving anything away.
"Sure, that would be of the good," she said.
"All right, the kitchen's this way," William said, walking toward the wall of windows and turning left through an alcove.
Buffy looked around the spacious, pristine, industrial kitchen. "Nice kitchen. It looks like you use it a lot."
William snorted and turned to look at her with a little smirk on his face. "Oi! You're awfully cheeky. How do you know I'm not just insanely tidy?"
Buffy looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pointed to the pot rack over the range. "These pots hanging over your stove don't have any marks on them. They've never been used."
He smiled as the color rose in his cheeks, and his eyes crinkled a little in the corners. "Ah, you've found me out. I've never made a meal in this kitchen. I live off take away and cold cereal. Now, what do want to drink?"
"I'll have a diet Coke, but you've got to start eating better. I think it's part of my job description to make sure you do. Olivia is going to come over once a week and check the fridge."
"I don't have any diet Coke. I've got orange juice, milk, and water. And as far my eating habits go, you can pretend you care, but don't." William held the fridge door open, waiting for her answer.
"Take out may work for you all the time, but neither my waistline nor my pocketbook can handle it every meal. I'll have some orange juice, please. I'm used to cooking, so I'll just cook, and you'll eat. It's as easy as that." She took the juice he handed her and thanked him.
"Hmm, that sounds so easy, but what if I don't like your food? What if it's rubbish?" He smirked at her.
Her eyes widened. "My food is not rubbish, but if you don't like it, then by all means waste your money on stupid take out," she said, sounding more haughty than she'd intended. She was going to lose her job in less than an hour.
"Jesus, I was only having you on. Don't get your knickers in a twist over something so silly." He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
Buffy spoke quickly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. Sometimes I misunderstand things, then my mouth starts with the words, and please, don't fire me."
"Yeah, I have a tendency to shoot off my mouth too, so we're even. I have no intention of firing you." William looked down at her and raised his eyebrows in question. "We good?"
Buffy sighed in relief. "Yes, we're good."
Just then the doorbell chimed.
"That'll be your things. Come on. I'll show you to your new room."
Buffy followed him down the hall, thankful to still have a job.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Abby for the beta, as always and to Minx DeLovely for her support and giving it once over for missing words. The cool banner is by Edgehead.
Chapter End Notes:
I'm so grateul for all your feedback and happy you're enjoying the story. I hope you'll let me know what you thought of this William/Buffy interaction.