*********************

"You do *not* want to know how much I had to pay that weasely cab driver to
help me bring these in!" Cordelia walked into Angel’s office and set six
mall bags down on the floor. "Well, actually, you wouldn’t believe how much
*you’re* going to have to pay him."

"Cordelia, what are you talking about?" Angel shifted in his chair and
dropped his feet from the desk to the floor. "I asked you to buy a *few*
things, not all of this…"

"Just go pay the driver and get the rest of the bags, would you? My feet
are *killing* me! He’s out in the hall… wanted to be able to keep an eye on
his cab for some reason." Cordelia waved vaguely behind her and plopped
down in the second client chair next to Spike.

Angel shook his head, opened his desk drawer, took out his wallet and
headed for the hall.

"What’cha reading there, Spike? I didn’t even know you *could* read."
Cordelia poked Spike in the arm when he didn’t immediately respond, not
even taking his eyes off the book.

"Of course I can read! How else am I going to know which lubricants are
safe for use with my sex toys?" He still didn’t look up from his book.

"That’s disgusting, Spike…" She snatched the book out of his hands and read
the title. "The Big Sleep? Never heard of it… and who is this Raymond
Chandler person… is this on the best seller list?"

"Maybe fifty years ago… now give it back!" Spike lunged to at her to get
the book back but she was too fast.

"Nope… now I *have* to know what has you so interested." She scanned the
first few pages, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Okay.. either I’ve
suddenly become dyslectic or this is so not in English."

Spike glared at her, crossing his arms across his chest. "It’s in English,
pet. It just takes a little figuring out." Angel had threatened him with
some sort of unpleasant dismemberment if he messed up the book in any way
so he didn’t bother trying to grab it again.

Spike smirked when he remembered his first look inside the ‘forbidden
trunk’. It was stuffed full of books by authors like Raymond Chandler,
Mickey Spillane, Dashiell Hammett, and something called ‘Pulp Fiction
Magazine’ with publishing dates ranging from the nineteen twenties to the
nineteen fifties. A few ‘penny dreadfuls’, even older than that, the ink so
faded they could barely be read. But they were all about the same thing,
‘Private Dicks’. Hardboiled, mysterious, super-cool private eye’s with
balls of steel, secrets they didn’t want to share, and hearts of gold,
especially when it came to the ‘dames’; all locked away in a trunk like
they were Angel’s most precious possession. And maybe they were. They were
the only distraction Angel had allowed himself from his penance. All those
years before Whistler found him and sent him to Sunnydale, Angel’s only
connection with the mortal world and maybe the only things that allowed him
to stay halfway sane and not walk into the sun was waiting for the next
issue of the ‘Dime Detective Magazine’ or the latest ‘Thin Man’ book. Spike
thought those books and stories went a long way in explaining Angel’s
current choice of profession.

Spike licked his lips as his thoughts drifted off to the pleasant memories
of Angel ‘punishing’ him for breaking into his secret stash of cheesy
detective novels. That Angel hadn’t done the ‘I’m deeply offended and now
must go off to pout for days’ thing had been a complete surprise to Spike.
But that Angel had been so…. aggressive in his ‘punishment’… Now * that *
had been the true surprise. ((I guess he just needs… incentive to remember
he’s a vampire and not a human on a very restricted diet.… maybe I can
really piss him off and we can try out the…. ))

"Ewww.. I do not *even* want to know what you are thinking about right
now."

Spike blinked himself back to the present. "What?"

"I’ve seen that look before. You were off in the land of multiple orga…
um.. never mind, I really do *not* want to think about it." Cordelia made a
face and handed the book back to Spike. "You’re not going to hurt him are
you?"

"Hurt who?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Angel. You’re not going to.. to… I don’t know…
You’re not just messing with his head are you?"

"Why do you care? "

"He’s my friend… sort of like family almost. He’s done a lot for me and…
well, I just don’t want to see him hurt. He’s been different since you’ve
been here. Not happy really, but… less broody. I’ve never seen him like
this… not even when he was with Buffy. You know what I mean? If you being
here is just another scheme to break him, I will so hunt you down and stake
you myself."

"As if you could… Okay, maybe right now, you could. But, no, I’m not here
to mess with his head… not the gelled one, at least." Spike snickered at
his own joke and then became serious. "I’m not really quite sure what * is
* going on… especially since he’s not the most talkative person in the
world, but… he’s letting me stay here and… I think we’re just having fun….
or something. You’d really have to ask Angel…. I guess…"

"Well, okay then….uh.. as long as this isn’t one of your evil schemes… "
Cordelia looked around the room, searching for something to change the
subject to a less personal one. "I hope you like the things I bought you.
You should probably try them on before taking off the tags, though. I’m
usually pretty good at guessing sizes but since I’ve never seen you naked
.… okay, forget I just said that."

"Wait just a damn minute! You mean to tell me that this stuff isn’t yours?"

"No.. well, maybe one or two things.. but the rest of it is yours."

"I won’t wear it!"

"Hey, argue with the boss."

"Argue with the boss about what?" Angel returned to his office carrying
four more mall bags.

"He says he won’t wear the clothes I bought him. The clothes I spent
*hours* looking for, walking from store to store, never stopping until I
found just *the* right thing." Cordelia placed the back of her hand to her
forehead and sighed theatrically.

"That’s all very dramatic, pet, but I still won’t wear them." Spike locked
eyes with Angel, daring him to make an issue of it.

"Oh, like I care. I just want to get paid." Cordelia stood and held out her
hand to Angel. "Fork it over boss."

"Get it out of the office ‘bribe’ fund. It’s in the bottom drawer of my
desk." Angel hadn’t taken his eyes off Spike while he talked to Cordelia.

Cordy retrieved her money from the desk and opened her mouth to chastise
Angel for not having the money locked up. But one look at the visually
dueling vampires told her that they would not take the interruption kindly.
She shrugged, gathered up a few of the bags containing the things she had
bought for herself and went into the front office, closing the door behind
her. She was *not* going back in there unless furniture started breaking….
or they got a paying client. "I’m probably going to have to end up
investing in a good pair of earplugs if this keeps up… ewww… okay, maybe
not so much ewww as it should be, but… now what shoes am I going to wear
with this… and why am I always talking to myself lately?"

******************

Angel silently studied the stubborn set of Spike’s jaw and the determined
defiance in his eyes. ((So you think you’re going to win this one, do you?
There’s more ways than one to get you to do what I want…)) A slight smile
curled up the corners of his mouth and he conceded the staring match with
the blonde, for now. "Help me take this stuff downstairs and we’ll see what
Cordelia thinks well dressed vampires are wearing these days." He bent,
gathered several of the bags at his feet, turned and walked into the
elevator, waiting for Spike to follow.

"Fine. But I still won’t wear any of it."

"You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want. Just help me put it all
away."

Spike grunted in disbelief at Angel’s comment but stood, hiked up his
borrowed sweatpants and picked up the rest of the bags. "Did you really
have to * pay * her to shop?"

Angel punched the button to activate the elevator once Spike was inside and
nodded his head. "Strange as it may seem, yes."

"Isn’t that one of the signs of the Apocalypse?"

"Hmm. Well, if it isn’t, it should be." The elevator ground to a halt and
Angel pulled open the door. "Put everything on the couch. Lunch should be
in there somewhere. I just hope she got the containers that don’t leak this
time."

Spike set his load down on the couch and started rummaging around in one of
the bags. "I can smell it so it isn’t sealed *that* tight." He pulled out a
white paper sack and opened it. "Here they are, safe and sound."

"Put them away and help me sort this stuff. She was supposed to get you a
pair of jeans and t-shirt but who knows which bag it’s in."

"It’s not going to work, you know." Spike put the blood in the refrigerator
and hiked up his sweatpants again, giving up trying to keep the oversized
t-shirt tucked in.

"What’s not going to work?" Angel dumped the first bag out onto the couch
and picked up a black silk long-sleeved pullover shirt.

"You think if I see everything I’ll find something I like and then agree to
wear it. Well, it won’t work. I’m not dressing up like a pansy."

"Unlike you, Spike, I am not constantly trying to manipulate people into
doing what I want them to do. I understand you are refusing to put any of
this stuff on, no matter how good it might look on you, no matter that it
might give me pleasure to see you in it. That’s perfectly fine. If you
don’t want to wear any of this stuff, then don’t. I just thought you might
want to look a little more respectable to meet clients."

"I look perfectly fine wearing my normal clothes. I said I would help you,
and I will, but nothing was said about changing my wardrobe."

"Spike, I just said you don’t have to change your wardrobe to please me."
Angel shook out a pair of khakis and refolded them neatly.

"Good."

"Fine." Angel dumped the next bag on the couch and lifted his eyebrows in
amusement. Cordelia had outdone herself with this selection.

"What the bleedin’ hell are all those?"

"Underwear."

"I can see that…. "

"You said you wanted some silk boxers of your own…"

"Some of those are not boxers, they’re….I don’t even know what to call
them… slingshots?"

"Spike, it’s daytime, we couldn’t exactly go ourselves now could we? It
looks like she just chose one of everything in your size. She probably
didn’t know what you would like. See, there are even regular cotton briefs.
I just told her to get you some underwear while she was there." ((Seems to
be getting much easier to lie these days.. Spike is definitely a bad
influence… or maybe a good one…))

"I don’t like this." Spike frowned, shoved said pile of underwear to the
side and sat down on the couch. "You’re treating me like I’m some tart…
buying me things for services rendered."

"I think you’re over reacting a little bit. They are clothes, Spike,
something that everyone needs. If you don’t want to wear them, then don’t.
No one is forcing you to do anything, I didn’t have Cordelia buy them
because of ‘services rendered’ and I won’t say a word about how good they
would look on you." Angel dumped another bag, this one containing several
button up shirts in various shades of black, red, blue and gray. He had to
admit, Cordelia had a good eye for color.

"You really think they would look good on me?" Spike fingered one of the
shirts, imagining it’s smooth texture caressing his skin. He’d never
thought himself to be a sensualist, pain being more his thing, but if the
boxers felt that good……

Angel turned his head to hide his smile. "Yes, I really think you’d look
pretty good in this stuff. You’d have to beat the women off with a stick if
you went out in something like this." He held up a short sleeved,
body-hugging shirt the exact same color as Spike’s eyes. ((Why has Cordelia
even noticed the color of his eyes? It better have been just a lucky
guess….))

Spike snorted and waived his hand dismissively. "I’d look like a pansy in
that color."

Shrugging his shoulders as if unconcerned, Angel folded the shirt and added
it to the stack. "Well, what about this one? Same shirt, only black." He
held it up in front of his chest as if he were the one considering wearing
it.

"That’s a little better, but it would look pretty stupid with jeans."

"Hmm… maybe you’re right. Looks like Cordy got some other pants, though.
I’m sure one of them would go with this."

Spike stopped pawing through the pile of clothes and looked up at Angel.
"We sound like two women, you do realize that, don’t you?"

"Where is it written that men can’t enjoy clothes?"

"I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s somewhere. What time are we visiting
paranoid Ms. Patton about her ‘odd’ boyfriend?"

"Not until seven-thirty, but you can’t wear this to the interview."

"Why not?"

"You need to look professional and competent, not …. fuckable."

"Angelus!" Spike gaped at Angel. That was the first time he’d heard ‘Angel’
utter that word… ever. Even when they were having a bit of bed sport Angel
never said that word.

"What?"

"Um.. nothing. So, what looks ‘professional and competent’?

Angel bent and gathered up the folded clothes to hide his smirk. "I’m not
sure… I guess you’ll just have to try everything on and then we can
decide." He went to the bedroom and set everything down on the bed. "Bring
the rest of that stuff in here, would you?"

*****************

"Cordelia, the sun’s down so we’re leaving now. We’re going to interview
Ms. Patton and then follow up on a lead from the Phillips case." Angel
leaned out the door of his office to speak to Cordy. "I don’t expect we’ll
be back until close to sunup. Lock up and go home whenever you’re ready, I
don’t like you being alone here."

"You don’t really think I’m going to let you leave without seeing the
fruits of my labor?"

Angel shot a glance behind him and seeing that Spike hadn’t come upstairs
yet, hurried over to sit on the edge of her desk. "Don’t make fun of him…
please. It took forever to convince him to wear something other than the
usual."

"And from all the noise you two were making I’d say you had a lot of fun
with the ‘convincing’ process. What with all the growling and yelling and
noises I don’t even want to try to identify, I’m just glad that we didn’t
get any clients because…"

"Cordy! You can hear…"

"Loud and clear. That elevator shaft isn’t exactly sound proof, you know…
and WOW!"

Angel turned to see what Cordelia was looking so startled about. Spike
strolled into the outer office and scowled at Angel. "Are we going or not?"

"Yes, we’re leaving right now." Turning back to give Cordelia another
pleading look Angel was surprised to see Cordy staring, glassy eyed, at
Spike. He waived a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Cordy. We’re
leaving now."

Cordelia blinked and ignored Angel, running her eyes down Spike’s body like
he was the last piece of chocolate in the box. Blue-gray, collarless button
up shirt, clinging in all the right places, black, tight fitting cotton
slacks, molding to muscular thighs and fitting just right over his…
"Shoes!"

"What?" Angel was finding that he needed to, almost literally, bite his
tongue to keep from telling Cordelia to stop looking at *his* Spike like
that, but then she said ‘shoes’, so maybe she was in ‘fashion mode’ after
all.

"He needs to get rid of those boots."

"I’m not getting rid of my boots. Do you know how long it took to break
these in? And what are you staring at, anyway?" Since it didn’t seem as if
they were going anywhere fast, Spike leaned against the doorframe and
patted his pocket for his smokes. ((Damn.. downstairs…))

"You. You look… very… different." Cordelia was a little breathless. She’d
never seen anyone clean up quite so well.

"I told you I look stupid, Angel. I’m going to go change." Spike pushed
himself away from the door and started back to the elevator.

"NO!" Cordelia scrambled out from behind her desk and followed after Spike.
"Really, Spike, I meant that in a good way. You look great, really great,
as a matter of fact. Don’t you *dare* change your clothes… unless it’s into
that blue sweater.. or.."

"If you’re not careful, I might start thinking you fancy me, pet." Spike
still thought he looked stupid, but Cordelia’s reaction seemed real enough,
so maybe Angel was right. It made him feel a little better but since it was
only Cordelia…

"Don’t be ridiculous! I just… I’ve never seen you in anything except those
jeans and t-shirts. Turn around." Cordy made twirling motion with her hand.

"Not in this life time. Now I really feel like a tart." Spike continued
grumbling and went back into the outer office. "So can we go now? Or should
I strip and show her what underwear you picked out?"

"Funny. Why don’t you go get the car out?" Angel tossed his keys to Spike.
"I need to get Ms. Patton’s case file."

"Yeah, right. Just hurry up, would you?" Spike heard Angel clear his throat
and hovered in the door for a moment. ((Bollocks!))
"Thanksforgettingtheseclothesforme,Cordelia." He forced the sentence past
his lips without turning around and then quickly left the office, heading
down to the garage.

"Thanks for backing me up, Cordy. And .. uh.. sorry about the noise. I’ll
try to remember that the next time…"

"I wasn’t just backing you up, Angel. I meant what I said. That’s a fine
looking vamp you got there, even if it is Spike. Has he always been like
that?"

"Like what?"

"A one outfit kind of guy."

"To be honest, I think he’s colorblind or fashion impaired or something. So
when he finds something that’s comfortable and someone tells him he looks
good in it, he sticks with it. Now that you mention it, though, when he was
human he wore almost the same outfit every day. At the time I thought it
was just because he didn’t have much money, now I wonder. And then
afterwards, he wore whatever I told him to wear…"

"Enough said. You never have told me the story behind…" At the look of pain
on Angel’s face, Cordelia backed off. "Okay, well, probably not something
you want to share, bad old days and all that. You better get going before
that dental hygienist from next door spots the new and improved Spike."

"I have my cell phone so ring me if anything comes up, okay?" Angel grabbed
the file he needed off Cordelia’s desk and headed out the door.

Cordelia sighed and sat back down in her chair. "I so need a boyfriend if
I’m starting to think * Spike * looks good." She started gathering her
things to make ready to go home when something occurred to her. "And where
the hell has Wesley been all day?"
 

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