It could be bunnies
Buffy made a noise of the kind Giles associated more with the gum-snapping student she'd once been, not the sophisticated young woman who'd flown in from Rome and announced she finally knew what she wanted. No one had been more surprised than Giles to learn that what she wanted was him, but he'd recovered and gallantly wrapped himself up with a bow and handed himself over. Metaphorically. It had been a hectic week since her declaration, what with the influx of migrating M'Fashnik and then the royal visit to dedicate the new Slayer training academy grounds. This was the first moment they'd had to themselves since. Giles had taken advantage of the opportunity to cook what he'd hoped would be a pleasant dinner, to be be followed with... well, pleasantness of a different sort.
Buffy made the noise again, and put her fork down. She picked up the rabbit leg on her plate with her fingers and held it up.
"Giles? What is this? It has a leg. I definitely recognize a leg. But it's not bird-y."
Giles attempted to get her to put it down again by topping off her wineglass. She declined the bait, and waved the leg at him. Sauce dripped onto his table. "Er, remember I told you about my friend Alan?"
"The guy with the gun fetish? Yeah."
"It's more of a hunting fetish than a gun fetish. He also goes bow-hunting." Buffy perked up at that. She preferred the quiet of low-tech weaponry to the banging of guns. So did Giles, for that matter. "Anyway, he had a bit of surplus game after his last trip, and he gave me some. Well, rather a lot."
Buffy looked at him doubtfully. She let the meat fall back onto her plate, then polished her fingers with her napkin. "This does not look like deer. I've seen deer. They're bigger." She waved her hand and napkin vaguely.
"No, it's not venison. That's rabbit."
Buffy stared. "You are making me eat rabbit. Fluffy bunnies, chopped up and fried."
"Simmered, not fried. In a mustard-- er, yes. It's quite good, you know. You might try it."
"No. No way. Too weird for me."
Giles began to run down the list of backup plans. The village had one inn, but its meals were notoriously dreadful. They were overdressed for the pub, but it would do in a pinch. But he would prefer not. All this work, wasted--
"Trust me?" he ventured. "Have I ever led you astray?"
Buffy frowned. "There was the time you tried to get me to drink Bovril. Besides, Anya distrusted rabbits. Possibly for a good reason."
Giles took a page from her book and stuck his lower lip out. "I did work rather hard on this meal--"
"Oh, all right." Buffy picked up her knife and fork like the civilized woman he knew her to be, and performed the American dance with them. Giles watched her expression anxiously. "Okay. This isn't bad. Almost nice. Even if I am eating something cute and furry."
She grinned at him, and he sighed with relief. He'd tell her about the pheasant in the icebox later. If at all.
For carlaland, who wanted Giles/Buffy romance, with Giles snarking about demon-hunting in the Texas heat.
"It's bloody hot."
"Yeah, Rupert, I heard that the first time."
"It's bloody wet."
"Right with ya, big guy. Humidity is anti-sexy."
"The demon was a group of teenagers in goth makeup."
"I'm just as pissed off at the local Slayer as you are."
"I'm annoyed with her Watcher."
"I can do that, too. He sneered at me for Slaying in a sundress."
"Stupid man. It's a lovely sundress. Even if you got barbecue sauce on it."
"That was a heat demon in the wood-fired oven."
"A lesser one."
"How was I supposed to know it had been there for generations?"
"Entirely understandable mistake."
"Meanwhile, the horrible Watcher is mad because we got him thrown out of his favorite ribs place."
"His fault entirely for not warning us."
"You just keep saying that, sweetie."
"I'd rather take off the sundress. Allow me."
"Ooh. Best idea anyone's had all week."