reality_bends | At the mall! Incredible.

"I had the knives if I needed to defend myself," Spike replied, returning the smile. "I don't think it's dangerous, but you might want to shoo it out before it grows legs."

"I can't even begin to tell you how unsettling I find that thought," Wesley said mildly, turning the car into a parking space.

"You're a Watcher, ex or not; you should be used to that sort of thing," Spike said, opening his door as soon as Wesley had shut off the engine. "It can't be weirder than anything else you've seen."

"Furry fruit sprouting eyes and limbs?" Wesley asked, chuckling softly as he got out of the car. He reconsidered and muttered, mostly under his breath, "Well, there was this talking hamburger..."

"Now that sounds like a good story," Spike said, getting out of the car and shutting the door. "Or a kids' commercial."

"More a combination of the two," Wesley said, remembering with astonishing clarity the utter despair he'd felt after his audience with the Loa.

Spike could see by the expression on Wesley's face that it didn't seem to be a happy memory for him, so he looked around the garage instead, willing to drop the subject. "All right, how do we get out of this place? You promised me hordes of giggling teenagers ogling overpriced and badly made clothes, not a garage with dim lights and exhaust fumes."

"This way," Wesley said, gesturing. "I think we have to go up a flight of stairs." He hadn't been to the mall in a long time, and with the exception of one or two visits he'd always been following Cordelia.

Setting off in the direction Wesley had indicated, Spike fell into step beside him. "Wonder if this place has an arcade," he said almost to himself.

"I'm not sure," Wesley said. "I have to admit that most of the time spent here with Cordelia was in women's clothing stores, shoe stores, jewelry boutiques... well. You get the idea."

Spike nodded. "She shopped, you carried?"

"Yes. And in addition to being her personal pack horse, I was occasionally called upon to give my opinion." Wesley took three steps a bit more quickly to reach the door to the stairwell first, and opened the door for Spike, holding it. "As long as it didn't oppose hers."

Spike gave Wesley a small smile as he stepped through the doorway. "Yeah, I did much the same for Dawn the summer Buffy was -" There was a very brief pause. "- dead. She asked more how to nick things than how they looked." He was quick to add, "Which I didn't tell her."

They started up the flight of stairs. "Do you think it's genetic?"

"Could be. I've never seen so many shoes in my life as when I lived in that house with all those girls." Spike shuddered. "Gave me nightmares."

"There was a particular outfit of Cordelia's that featured in a few of my dreams, but I wouldn't call them nightmares," Wesley said thoughtfully, opening the door that led into the mall itself.

"Oh, really?" Spike asked with interest, following Wesley through the door into the brightly-lit corridor.

"Mm-hm. Have you seen that George Lucas film in which Carrie Fisher wears that... metallic bikini type thing? It was sort of a cross between that and a belly dancing outfit. Very... um. Revealing." Wesley looked at Spike a bit sheepishly.

Spike couldn't help it; he started to laugh. It wasn't cruel, and he stopped himself quickly, but the thought of Wesley lusting after Cordelia in that outfit was too amusing to resist. "She sure had the body to pull it off," he said when he was able. "One of the first times I met her she was wearing a cat suit. Less skin, but also a nice view."

"If you laugh at me, I'll make you try on clothing," Wesley said warningly. "In bright colors. Peach. Banana. Raspberry." He tilted his head to one side and frowned. "There are an awful lot of colors that are named for fruits, aren't there."

"I wouldn't know. You're obviously the fashion expert," Spike replied. He paused as they reached the end of the access hallway and found themselves at the edge of the shopping area itself. "And how do you think you can make me try on anything?"

Wesley looked in both directions, then pointed to the left. "All right, ask," he said. "Or I'll hold them up to your back when you're not looking and imagine you wearing them. I suppose that would be entertaining enough in its own right."

Spike glared at Wesley as they started to walk. "You think you're funny, don't you?"

"Yes," Wesley said. "This shopping trip really does resemble past ones. Cordelia used to ask me that very same question. Although she was generally laughing when she did, so it tended to lose some of its impact." God, he missed her. He wasn't sure he'd realized until just then how much.

Spike moved a bit closer to Wesley, just enough that the backs of their fingers brushed for a moment. "I didn't realize you two were such good friends," he said thoughtfully.

"I thought we were," Wesley said. He'd continued to think it in the false set of memories, although now he knew that she'd never come to hear his side of the story after Connor had been taken.

"Trust me. If you're not friends, she tells you. With a crossbow." Spike wondered idly what had happened to the Irishman who had been working with Angel when Spike had tried to get the Gem of Amara from him. If he was smart, he had gotten out before Angel could bore him to death. "There's nothing else to be done for her?"

"Nothing that we've found." Wesley felt too guilty to admit that he'd given up hope at this point.

"That's too bad," Spike said, stepping around a pair of mothers with strollers. "She would've tried to stake me the minute she saw me, but she deserves a better end than that."

There was a men's clothing store just ahead. "I was thinking about jeans," Wesley said. Then, because Cordelia really did deserve better, "It is too bad. I don't think Angel's given up on finding a solution." The truth of that statement just made him feel more guilty.

"If he puts his people on the case, there's hope for her staking me yet." Spike led them toward the clothing store. "Come on, love. Let's get you some clothes that show you off."

Oh dear. Wesley wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Still, he followed Spike willingly enough. "Show me off?" he asked.

"You know, shirts that show off how well you're built, trousers that cling just right to your ass." Spike decided not to go into more detail than that. He didn't care what he said around the other shoppers, but he thought that Wesley might. "You're always bloody gorgeous, but if you're buying something new it might as well be something that suits you, right?"

"And you're going to help me decide what suits me?" They stopped near a rack of shirt in deep jewel tones.

"Don't you trust my opinion?" Spike asked. He pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm hurt."

Wesley smiled. "That's not what I meant."

"Do you think I'm going to try to dress you in black and leather?" Spike lost the thread of the conversation for a moment as he imagined Wesley dressed like that. "No," he said, his eyes re-focusing, "I want you to look like you."

Curious to see what types of things Spike was talking about, Wesley suggested, "Show me."

"What do I look like? A personal shopper?" Despite his protest, Spike was already looking around. "Something with colors that bring out those beautiful eyes of yours." He fixed on a shirt in a rich but muted green. "Like that. It's like what you usually wear but darker. Shows you off a bit more."

Wesley picked up the shirt and looked at it. It was a darker shade than he generally wore -- most of his wardrobe was in paler colors. "All right," he said. Then he looked down at his jeans. "And what's wrong with my trousers? In general, I mean."

Spike looked thoughtfully at Wesley's jeans. "Nothing's wrong with them, but you could try on different sorts to see what looks best. You wear your clothes like you eat your food, don't you? It's all for function and not for fun."

"They're just clothes," Wesley said, moving to another rack and rubbing a smooth silk between his fingers. "But I do see your point. For example, I'd like to see you in one of these. Blue, or maybe red."

"Would you?" Spike asked, raising his eyebrow. He wasn't actually opposed to the idea, but he wasn't going to give in immediately, either.

Wesley straightened up. They weren't standing particularly far apart, and he looked directly into Spike's very blue eyes before saying, "Yes," with a slight smile.

Continues here (http://www.livejournal.com/community/reality_bends/38626.html).

At the mall! Incredible.

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