An agitated Doyle glanced over a rack at a nearly panic-stricken Xander. "You know," he whispered, "we could always knock her out and make a run for it. Tell Angel she turned into some kind of demon or somethin."
The dark-haired teenager thought about this, his head cocked to the side and his teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Do you think he'd buy that?" Then, answering his own question in a crestfallen voice, "He'd never buy that."
The half-demon sighed, defeated. "Yeah, you're right. She'd kill us when she woke up, too. One thing I've learned in the months that I've worked for Angel: never get on the bad side of Cordelia Chase."
"Besides," continued Xander in a falsely cheerful tone, "she really is trying to do something nice for us, in her own twisted, sadistic way. We should be grateful."
Doyle couldn't help but shudder. "Grateful, yeah. Remind me of that in another couple of hours."
The two men stood in the middle of a clothing boutique in downtown LA. It was the fifth such shop they had been in that day, and Xander had long since stopped looking at the names. Inside, they were all virtually identical anyway, carrying the same overpriced, ostentatious clothing. Clothing that Cordelia expected them to try on so she could use Angel's money to buy it for them. It really was a nice gesture, especially for Cordelia, who would usually jump at the chance to spend it all on herself. Instead, she had decided to 'help her fashion deprived, style ignorant friends rise above their own bad taste in clothing and re-emerge in the world as something other than Salvation Army misfits'.
Those had been her exact words on the drive from the office to the first shop that morning.
In a way, Xander knew that this little spree had been his destiny ever since he and Cordelia had first locked lips back in the eleventh grade. His lack of fashion sense had proved a treacherous obstacle in their relationship, and he had always known, in the back of his mind, that her strong will would eventually break his. One day, she would force him to dress better. Well, it looked like that day had finally arrived. Unfortunately, he had somehow managed to drag Doyle into the fray with him, thus exposing the green-eyed man to the humiliation, not to mention the agonizing boredom, of having Cordelia Chase pick out clothes for him. Clothes that, quite honestly, neither one of them ever wanted to be caught dead in.
But since she was attempting to be nice by bestowing on them her expertise in the clothing field, plus the fact that it was the day before her birthday (hence the money gift from Angel), they had no choice but to plod after her from store to store until she had thoroughly exhausted the cash supply. At the rate they were going through the money, it thankfully looked like that point might not be too far in the future.
"Hey," Doyle interrupted the younger man's thought process by poking Xander in the ribs with what looked to be a gigantic hot pink feather, "I have an idea."
The slayerette looked at the startlingly bright object in his lover's hand. "What is that? It looks like a giant feather."
"It is a giant feather," the Irishman confirmed. "I got it from one of those hats." He motioned with his free hand toward a row of white fedoras that had been updated by the addition of immense florescent feathers in several different shades. Xander shuddered.
"Do you want to hear my idea, then?" the older man went on, enjoying Xander's distress.
"Does it get us out of this store?" the brunette asked hopefully.
"Hm. No, but it definitely beats just standing around watching Cordy get hit on by that salesman over there."
Xander sighed. "What is it?"
"Wanna go make out in one of the changing rooms?"
The teen couldn't help but laugh. "Why Doyle, I thought you'd never ask." Grabbing the other man's hand, the dark-eyed man pulled him over to where the little wooden doors gave those trying things on a little bit of privacy. A *very* little bit, Xander realized as he pulled the door shut after them and turned around to face a full-length mirror which undoubtedly had a camera behind it, monitoring their every move. He smiled mischievously at his reflection.
"Have you ever thought about staring in a porn video?" he asked, watching Doyle's face in the mirror.
The half-demon looked confused at the question. "I'm not really built for it, ya know. They want those guys with the muscles and the huge..." he trailed off, realization hitting him. "You think there's a camera behind there?"
"I think it would be a safe assumption." Xander captured the Irishman's hands in his own, gently pressing the other man against the wall of the small room. He looked Doyle's body up and down once, hungrily, before pressing his lips to the delicious mouth an inch away from his own. The half-demon's fingers tangled in Xander's unruly brown hair, causing it to become even messier than usual. Xander's own hands moved up Doyle's arms slowly, then slid down the slim torso before resting on the other man's hips.
He pressed himself fully against the warm body, reveling, as always, in the feel of being so intimately near to the lean frame. Xander could feel Doyle's tongue gliding along his own, exploring each and every nook and cranny in the younger man's mouth. He shifted his hips, brushing his semi-hard length across Doyle's thigh, bringing it to instant full erection. He felt the half-demon turn slightly, wishing to do the same with his own throbbing shaft...
A sudden banging on the door broke them apart, both of them gasping for breath as they scrambled to straighten their clothing. Flushed and flustered, Doyle unlatched the thin metal lock and opened the door to reveal a very angry looking Miss Chase.
"I cannot *believe* that you two are making out in a changing room! Don't you get enough sex at home? It's not like anyone else needs to know about it. The whole store can see your feet! God, this is so embarrassing!" she hissed. With that, she stomped away, leaving two suddenly very self-conscious men behind.
"Does this mean no more clothes shopping?" Doyle whispered optimistically.
Xander sighed as he watched Cordy stride confidently back to the rack of silk shirts she had been looking through earlier. "I doubt it."
Heaving his own terrific sigh, the Irishman led the way back to the row of truly ugly headgear and prepared to settle in for the long haul. It looked like they had a lengthy day ahead of them.