Characters: Willow/Angel
Summary: Can’t you guess from the title?
Rating: PG, I guess.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are solely the property of Joss Whedon (clever boy), Mutant Enemy, and the WB.
Feedback: Yes, please. And lots of it.
Note: This is an “Obsession” interval. Set after part 8. The title is from one of my favourite Python sketches.
Distribution: WillAngel FanFic, UCSL, Mallory’s, all others ask and ye shall receive, but ask, first.
Dedication: For Saber, because she wanted to see the shopping trip.
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Considering it was one of the few twenty-four hour stores in Sunnydale, the Supercenter was all but deserted. There were a few shoppers, but Angel and Willow pretty much had the run of the store. They had been wandering around for awhile, finally making their way from the grocery section to the beauty and hygiene aisle.
Angel looked almost ghostly. The fluorescent lighting only served to emphasise his pallor. Willow didn’t care; to her he was always gorgeous.
“Y’know, Willow, in my day, we couldn’t go to one store and find any and everything. You wanted shoes, you went to the cobbler. You wanted clothes, the tailor. The street markets were similar, I guess.”
“Oh, spare me. I don’t want to hear about the good old days. I’m a modern girl. I can’t imagine living without the net. Or junk food for that matter.”
Angel looked into the cart that Willow was pushing and picked up a blue box. “So, do they really taste like chicken in a biscuit?”
Willow shook her head. “No, that’s the great thing about snack food. It tastes neither like chicken nor a biscuit. You really missed the junk food revolution.” She brought a hand to her forehead and continued in mock despair, “Oh, to never know the divine taste of Screaming Yellow Zonkers or Tangy Taffy.”
Angel gently squeezed her ribs, “Hey, stop making fun of me. You’ve already picked on me enough for one night. Are you going to apologise for that kick now?”
Willow giggled. “Nope. Can’t apologise for something you’re not sorry for.”
Angel brought her fingers to his lips. “Ah, fair maiden, you wound me with thy harsh words, when ought I have done is profess my love for thee.”
Willow smacked him lightly on the arm, “Cut it out, sweet talker. Um… this is where you get off.”
Angel arched an eyebrow. “Really? Right here in the middle of the store? I know you’re fond of public places, but don’t you think this is a little *too* public?”
At the memory of some of their more open trysts, Willow blushed slightly. “No. I mean, yes, it’s too public, no that’s not what I was talking about.” She paused, “I mean I need to get some… stuff in this aisle. If you really want me to stay over more, I should probably get some things. You know, girl things.” Her embarrassment turned her cheeks a deeper shade of red.
Angel brought the back of his hand to her face, his cool touch soothing her hot skin. “I know. I’m a vampire. I know all about blood.”
Willow swallowed hard, wondering at the implied meaning of his words. That was something she had never considered, and was not at all comfortable with.
“Okay, but I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you just go to the hardware section and get some deadbolts?”
“No, we’ll go together. I’ll wait in the next aisle if it will make you feel better. Anything for you, Willow.”
Willow turned a steady gaze on him. “Anything? Absolutely anything?”
Kissing the tip of her nose, he answered, “Unequivocally anything, little girl.”
“Teach me how to fight, then.”
Her request caught Angel off guard. Why in the world would she want to know how to fight? “Willow, if this is about trying to be more like Buffy, I’ve told you before, I want you, not her.”
“Oh, no! I’m sorry. I believe you, really I do. I don’t mean fight, like, ‘Watch me kick this demon’s butt,’ fight. I mean protection type fight. Self defense stuff, really.”
Angel understood her need. She didn’t want to feel helpless. It was something he could easily do for her, and the physicality of Willow’s lessons could lead to some interesting situations. He would enjoy giving her a few pointers.
“Sure. I’ll give you your first lesson tomorrow, before your *date* with Oz. You may need them to fend of wolf-boy’s advances.”
Willow stamped her foot. “It is *not* a date! I told you that.”
“I’m teasing. Go get your private stuff. I’ll wait here.”
Willow pecked his cheek. “Thank you.” She looked into the cart and realised she’d forgotten something. “Olives! I’ve got to have olives. We’ve got to go back to the grocery section.”
“That’s okay, Willow. I forgot to pick up some whipped cream. They have a two for one special.”
Willow was confused. “What do you want whipped cream for, you don’t…” She hesitated, knowledge dawning in her eyes. “Oh. Oh! You have such a one track mind!”
He smiled and headed to the next aisle, turning his head to answer, “And you love it.”
Willow headed down the aisle, muttering. “He’s right, he’s always right.”
The End