She hadn't been able to remember many occasions upon which she had gone out of her way for Giles. Concerning the Slayage, why, yes, of course. But no matter how much she liked him, that was her job, after all. One month after - thanks to Giles' London-stored savings - they had all moved to Ohio, she invited him to have dinner at her place. There hadn't been much time for, well, time with other people, other than at their respective workplaces, leaving them worried about how they would manage in case the local Hellmouth was actually going to crack open gradually. However, that evening, they promised not to talk about anything 'business'-related. It was a simple meal, but Buffy had taken a day off to prepare it (especially dessert), and Giles appreciated that more than he dared to tell her. Both were cheerful, engaging in silly, but openly non-serious banter while preparing the table. Sitting down for a modest hors d'oeuvre of salad, he remarked that she had left one pot on the stove, unguarded, but she dismissed it with a disarmingly lovely smile. When all was set for the main dish, various kinds of pots and dishes (and the huge pan Giles had insisted on buying her) all over the table, she instructed him to lift all the lids and help himself. As he peeked into the one pot she had left on the burner before, he froze, then, after a moment, smiled at her so genuinely that she couldn't but respond in kind. For the briefest of moments, something flashed in his eyes which she hoped she was identifying correctly, something she hoped to return, little by little. She took the lid from his hand, their fingers touching for a split-second, and commanded him to help himself. Still beaming, he picked up one of the spoons she had prepared and immersed it into the lovely side dish. It was a potful of peas, and she had cooked them until mushy.