Leave Your Hat On
By MidnightGirl

Author: Midnight Girl
Title: Leave Your Hat On
Rating PG-13 to R
Distribution: You want it you got it. Just ask first so I can see your site.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I have nothing, sue me and you'll get nothing. Summary: A short silly fic involving one of our dynamic duo dancin' nekkid. If that doesn't make you want read it, how can you call yourself a BG shipper?!
Feedback: YES! Can't get enough of that stuff.

Dedication: To my suggestion gal, Princess Slayer, whose English-ness led to the free association thinking that gave this story existence.


"So, Buffy, wanna join us at the Bronze?" Willow asked as they approached the dorm. "You know, mass quantities of caffeine. After a couple of cups Xander declares himself the Lord of the Dance and begins flailing about the dancefloor. If that's not entertainment, I don't know what is."

"No thanks, Will, Giles has special training planned for tonight, so I must away," Buffy shrugged.

"Special training, eh?" Willow grinned. "Translation: naked time."

"Willow, I resent that. I take my duties as a Slayer VERY seriously. I would never spend valuable training time, gettting NAKED with the sexiest man I know. Feh! I bid you good day, madame."

Buffy started towards Giles' house. After a few steps she turned.

"Okay, yes, I'm going to his house, specifically to see him naked, but I don't think that reflects badly on me!" she cried.

And with that she took off running. She reached Giles' house in no time. The house was awfully dark, she noticed as she walked up the path. She opened the front door. The entryway was completely black.

"Giles?" she called. "Honey?"

She was met by the blaring of trumpets. She laughed. She recognized the tune, it was the opening bars of "Leave Your Hat On," from "The Full Monty."

"GILES?" she yelled.

Suddenly the lights popped on. Giles appeared at the top of the stairs in a blue pin-striped suit and fedora. He grinned and slid down the bannister, landing just as Tom Jones grunted, "Huh!"

"I knew watching that movie with you was a mistake!" she laughed.

He wiggled his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around her waist.

BABY, TAKE OFF YOUR COAT, Tom crooned. REAL SLOOOOW

He slid her jacket from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor just as the trumpets blared. She laughed and dashed for the stairs, he caught her ankle. She landed with a thud.

BABY, TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES,
He brushed kisses along her ankles as he tossed her shoes behind him.
I'LL HELP YOU TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES.

Buffy began crawling up the stairs backwards, daunted with the task of planting kisses along Giles' throat and pushing his jacket from his shoulders. She grabbed his tie and pulled him up with her. He grinned, loving the fact that she was willing to play along with his game.

BABY, TAKE OFF YOUR DRESS.
He reached for the buttons of her shirt.
YES, YES, YES.
He accentuated each of Tom's "Yes's" by undoing a button of her shirt, revealing the bright blue bra she wore underneath. He gave her a surprised look. Blue was his favorite color.

YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR HAT ON.
She tugged at his tie, throwing it over the bannister. He pulled what
YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR HAT ON.
She tried to unbutton his shirt, but the tiny buttons wouldn't cooperate. So she pulled hard, sending them skittering across the stairs. He gaped at her. She pulled the shirt open, letting her nails lightly scrape the toned flesh beneath. He gasped at the contact. All forgiven.
YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR HAT ON.
She pushed his suspenders back, ripping the shirt from him. He tugged at her skirt. As the band played, they reached the top of the stairs. She scrambled for the bedroom. He followed, his shirt hanging in ruins from his waist.

GO OVER THERE, Tom instructed. Buffy obeyed, shaking her little tail as she approached the light switch. Giles pulled a chair from his desk and set it in the middle of the room.
TURN ON THE LIGHTS, Tom sang.
NO, ALL THE LIGHTS.
COME BACK HERE, Giles beckoned to her with a crooked finger.
STAND ON THAT CHAIR. She stepped on the seat, feeling a little silly as she wriggled and bumped.
OOH, BABY THAT'S RIGHT.
RAISE YOU ARMS IN THE AIR,
NOW SHAKE 'EM.
Giles took the opportunity to removed her garter belt and stockings, watching in awe as his young lover danced.

He whisked her from the chair and began dancing a box-step with her.
YOU GIVE ME REASON TO LIVE.
She yanked at his zipper, pulling his pants to the floor. She grinned when she saw his bright purple boxers. She loved purple.
YOU GIVE ME REASON TO LIVE.
He stepped out of his pants, dipping her.
YOU GIVE ME REASON TO LIVE.

YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR HAT ON, BABY.
He put the fedora on her head and kissed her nose, before spinning her.

YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR HAAAT ON.
He dipped her again, this time lowering her onto the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him down with her.

He rained kisses along her neck, across her breasts. Paying particular attention to her bellybutton. He laughed as her stomach muscles contracted. Using her feet, she pushed his boxers to the floor.

The music died. Giles pressed her deeper into the mattress. As he tossed the fedora across the room, Giles made a mental note to send Tom Jones a thank-you letter.

END