FDA Approved 
by Saber ShadowKitten 

"Hi! Welcome to Wal-Mart! Would you like a cart?" 

Spike back-peddled into Xander when the Wal-Mart greeter popped up in front 
of them, large grin on his wrinkled face. Xander automatically put his 
hands on Spike's hips, pulling the vampire against him in order to regain 
both of their balances. 

The instant their bodies connected, Xander became hyper-aware of the fact 
that Spike fit against him like a jigsaw puzzle piece. Xander's chin rested 
on the blond's shoulder without having to duck his head at all, and Spike's 
buttocks nestled perfectly in the cradle of Xander's hips. [If only he was 
naked...,] Xander thought, and immediately felt his cheeks burning, even as 
another part of him agreed enthusiastically. 

Xander released Spike quickly, taking a step back himself. Although his 
body had decided he definitely wanted Spike, Xander's mind knew he had to 
take it slow. [Waaaaay slow. Baby steps, remember?] Pushing his hard-on 
against the vampire's ass was in no way 'taking it slow.' 

On the ride to the store, Xander had found himself in the company of the 
Spike he knew and hated. The bashful vampire had vanished almost entirely, 
making Xander wonder if Spike should change his name to Cybil. If the 
brunette hadn't seen Spike still holding the key to the new apartment, he 
would've thought Spike's shyness really had been an act. 

Xander wondered if perhaps Spike's return to his usual sociopathic self was 
because he was happy. [And another case of Angelus Syndrome crops up in the 
Dale.] It was understandable, though. When depression hit Xander, so did 
melancholy and long bouts of country music, things that weren't of the norm 
for him. So why couldn't Spike's depression manifest itself in shyness? 

"Yeah, we'll take a cart," Xander answered the Wal-Mart greeter. Forty 
years working at least forty-hours a week and having a ton of Social 
Security taken from his paycheck, and the elderly greeter still had to work 
in order to make ends meet after retiring. Xander dreaded the day he'd be 
forced to put on a blue vest decorated with yellow smiley-face stickers. 
[Reason number five for becoming a vampire - no worries about retirement.] 

The cart didn't squeal or squeak or wobble unsteadily as Xander pushed it 
past the greeter and into the store. Xander was instantly on edge. There 
was no such thing as a silent, steady shopping cart. Something bad was 
going to happen. Something really bad. Somethi- 

Screeeeech. Kerthunk... kerthunk... kerthunk... kerthunk... kerthunk... 

The front left wheel on the cart rotated and began making a racket when 
Xander turned down an aisle. The brunette slumped in relief. Things had 
been going so well, with the new job, new apartment, and new Mr. Smithers. 
At some point, everything was going to go to pot - Murphy wouldn't let an 
opportunity pass him up - but Xander wouldn't mind if it was later, rather 
than sooner. 

"Alright, Mr. Barstow," Xander said cheerfully, earning a glare from Spike. 
"Jeans first, then we'll continue around the store in an anal-retentive 
fashion, ending at the registers." 

The brunette led the way into the Men's Department, heading for the cubicle 
wall where the jeans were stacked. [Made only in the good ol' U-S-of-A, by 
illegal immigrants in sweatshops for $2.50 an hour without benefits. What a 
country.] "Let me guess, you want black ones," Xander said, squeezing the 
cart between the racks of clothing. 

"Don't mind blue," Spike said. "But black doesn't show the dirt and blood." 

"You know your life is seriously whacked when comments like that make 
perfect sense," Xander commented. He stopped in front of the tall row of 
black jeans, each cubicle divided by size. [Why do they put the short and 
skinny people's sizes on the highest shelf?] "What size are you?" 

"Thirty-two twice," Spike replied. He pulled a pair from the shelf, checked 
the size, and tossed the jeans into the cart. 

"Is that before or after you got chipped?" Xander asked. 

"Before. Why?" 

"Because I have a feeling you're not that big anymore," Xander said bluntly, 
looking at Spike's [crotch - bad me!] waist. The duster hid most of the 
blond's body shape from view, but the bunched material of the borrowed blue 
jeans he wore, cinched tight by his belt, was telling. "You'd better try 
them on." 

Spike looked away from Xander, shifted, and pulled the edges of his coat 
shut. "M'not any smaller, whelp. And I'm not trying anything on like a 
soddin' woman." 

"Then you'll be stuck wearing my jeans indefinitely, because I'm not paying 
for a new pair unless you try them on," Xander stated, grabbing a pair of 
30-32's and 31-32's. He took the pair from the cart and held all three out 
towards the blond. "Trying to return something here at Wally World is 
scarier than seeing Anya first thing in the morning. And no," Xander said 
firmly when Spike went to speak, "you aren't going to steal a pair. The 
store security people are humans, and they 'vigorously prosecute 
shoplifters.' A hottie like you won't last a minute in city lockup. So, 
try on, you shall." 

Spike's upper lip curled in a snarl, but he snatched the pile of jeans from 
Xander and stomped to the fitting room. Xander followed more quietly - 
well, as quietly as the kerthunking cart would allow. He parked the cart 
and took a position leaning against the fitting room doorway. He could see 
Spike in the first doorless stall from where he stood, and smirked when he 
saw the blond childishly throw his boots after removing them. The smirk 
vanished when Spike pushed down his borrowed jeans. 

Spike wasn't wearing any underwear. 

[Trewamabipple.] 

White, white legs, made whiter by the harsh fluorescent lighting, went from 
the floor alllll the way up to his waist. Defined calve and thigh muscles 
flexed and corded as he stepped out of the blue jeans; full moon in full 
view and a glimpse of the orbiting planets as he bent to pick up the black 
denims to try on. 

A tiny part of Xander's brain that was still functioning made note not to 
try on clothes in that particular stall. Prudish, maybe, but his manly 
parts weren't for any-old-body to ogle, like he was ogling Spike. [I think I 
may need new jeans, too, because these certainly don't fit anymore.] 

As the first shock from Spike's partial nakedness wore off [although my 
hard-on is *never* going to go away,] Xander realized that Michaelangelo's 
'David' Spike was definitely not. First off, Spike was too, too thin. His 
waist was obscenely small, and his hip bones looked sharp enough to cut 
Xander's palms if he touched them. Xander would also bet there was less 
muscle in the vampire's legs than there once was, and his ankles looked like 
toothpicks. 

Like Xander had sadly guessed, the 32-32's were too big on Spike. The 
brunette caught sight of a flash of pain skittering across Spike's face, 
before the vampire set his jaw and tried on another pair. [Don't worry, 
bashful. We'll fatten you up again,] Xander promised silently. 

Although he didn't want to, Xander dropped his gaze to the stained grey 
carpeting to give Spike a little post-ogle privacy. A few minutes later, a 
black pair of jeans was shoved under his nose, accompanied by a bitter: 
"Here." Spike brushed none-too-gently past him and out of the fitting room. 
Xander glanced at the label on the denims and sighed unhappily. [A whole two 
sizes. Very not good.] 

The brunette dropped the jeans into the cart, jogged back to get another 
pair, then pushed the cart to where a sullen Spike was waiting. "Do you 
need any other clothes?" Xander asked. "Tee-shirts or boxers?" He grinned 
and pointed across the aisle. "Bras?" 

"Eh?" Spike glanced to where Xander pointed and rolled his eyes. "Too 
hilarious, pet." 

"Okay, Victoria's Secret it's not," Xander said, glad to see Spike shake off 
his self-disgust. "Really, though, go ahead and grab what you want, 
clothing-wise. I'll meet you back in the Furnishings Department." 

Spike studied him for a moment, before asking, "Seriously?" 

[Heaven save him from adorably insecure vampires.] A corner of Xander's 
mouth turned up. "Seriously. If you're running around naked, I want it to 
be because I undressed you and not because you lack clothing." The instant 
the words passed his lips, he felt his face turn red. [Oh my God, I cannot 
believe I just said that. What ever happened to baby steps?] 

Spike's eyes had grown huge and he took a step back. Pale hands fluttered 
nervously before latching onto the edges of his duster and twisting the 
material. He gave Xander an awkward half-smile and, without a word, quickly 
skirted around the brunette and disappeared into Menswear. 

Xander dropped his head and groaned. "Smooth, Xan. Real smooth. Way to 
scare the shyness back into the vampire." 

Having said what he did, though, seemed to answer the question as to where 
Spike's shyness stemmed from. [I say something blatantly sexually 
suggestive; Spike freaks; ergo, he's not used to either males, or possibly 
humans, flirting with him. Either that, or I'm repulsive and he's trying to 
be polite.] After all, politeness and vampires went hand-in-fang. 

Xander started towards the Furnishings Department in the back of the store. 
Somehow, he was going to find out if it was the Y-chromosome factor or the 
heartbeat that flustered Spike. Plus, Spike now knew Xander was interested, 
and it would be nice to know if that interest was returned or not. If it 
wasn't, Xander would have to shift into friend-mode, like he did once upon a 
time with Buffy. It'd be difficult, especially in light of the fact that 
Spike seemed to bring out his protective streak, but it could be done. He 
no longer lusted [that much] after Buffy anymore. 

For the time being, however, Xander was just going to shop. If the 
opportunity presented itself, he'd try and subtly ask where Spike's interest 
lay. He'd rather not embarrass the Shy One any further if it could be 
avoided. Why, Xander didn't know. 

[Liiiiar,] a little voice sang in his head. 

"Quiet, you," Xander told the voice, even though it was right. The brunette 
liked his women bossy, but he liked his men more timid. Shy. [Snort.] 
Submissive was a bad word, but it was close. He liked being the more 
aggressive one with another man, liked seeing the blushes and the 
innocuousness. Virgins were the best. [And I'm not making myself any less 
horny, am I?] 

With a shake of his head, Xander parked the cart and went to look at the 
Ready-To-Assemble bunk beds. He immediately thought of what he'd said to 
Spike earlier that night. Added to what he saw of the blond in the fitting 
room, and it was a wonder he didn't have a stroke in the middle of the 
aisle. 

The squeak of a cart-wheel caused Xander to turn, and he saw Spike dumping 
an armful of pre-packaged garments into the buggy. An air of wariness 
surrounded the blond, but he wore an expression of confusion. "Are you 
really getting bunk beds?" 

"We," Xander corrected. "And yep. There's only one bedroom, and it's too 
small for two twins, so bunk beds it be." 

"The couch is-" 

"Out of the question," Xander interrupted. "First of all, it's impractical, 
since we tend to sleep at different times. Secondly, if you're going to 
stay, you get your own bed, just like any other roommate would have." 

A somewhat stunned expression, followed by a tiny smile in response from 
Spike, and Xander turned into a puddle of goo. Then, the smile became broad 
and mischievous, and the puddle of Xandergoo sizzled in lust. 

"If we're to share a flat and all," Spike began, "I'd best warn you that I 
tend to kill people in my sleep." 

"Sleep-murdering," Xandergoo panted. "I'll remember that." He cleared his 
throat and turned to the tall boxes of disassembled bunk beds. He pointed 
to one. "That one has a bottom double bed that doubles as a couch." 

"That's a good idea, pet." Spike stepped forward and ran his hand over the 
picture on the box. [Oh, to be that box,] Xander thought. "How are we going 
to get it in the cart?" the vampire asked. 

"We aren't," Xander said in a remarkably clear voice. "I'll have Buffy come 
with me tomorrow to get it. I know, between the two of us, we can probably 
carry it ourselves, but what good is having friends if you can't abuse 
them?" 

Spike chuckled, and the sound rolled through Xander until it lodged in the 
area between his legs. How anything else fit in there was beyond him. 

Turning on his heel, Xander walked stiffly back to the cart and put it 
between himself and Spike. "We need a least two lamps, a closet organizer, 
and one of those cardboard dressers for socks and stuff," the brunette said. 
"We'll do a 'wait-and-see' for the other stuff." 

"Right. Let's get on with it, then," Spike said cheerfully, practically 
bouncing as he walked down the aisle. 

Xander followed more slowly, wondering where he could find the book 'A Guide 
To Vampires With Multiple Personalities.' He had a feeling he was going to 
need it. 


***** 


The cart was full to bursting by the time Xander and Spike had reached the 
last leg of the Wal-Mart Shopping Extravaganza. Xander shared equal blame 
for the cart's contents because of his lack of willpower. Most of the 
shopping spree had been spent trying to stay no to Perky Spike [Multiple 
Personality No. 4, and counting], chuckling helplessly when he failed. It 
didn't help matters any that Spike mocked every person they came upon, to 
the point that Xander was literally falling-down laughing. 

"Oh, hey," Xander turned the card down an aisle in the pharmacy section, 
"goggles." 

"Goggles?" Spike said confusedly, trailing after the brunette. 

"Yeah. Reading glasses, remember?" Xander said. He parked the cart and 
gestured to the glasses display along the wall by the pharmacist's counter. 
"Unless you have a really strong prescription, one of these should do ya." 

Spike gave him an incredulous look. "You can't be bloody serious." 

"Why not?" Xander said. "It's not like you need to wear them all the time. 
And this way, if you're bored and nothing's on the tube, you can read." 

"I look like a soddin' nancy in glasses," Spike complained, even as he 
stepped over to the display. 

Xander hid his amused smile. "I'll be the only one laughing at you, so no 
worries." 

The vampire sent him a non-angry scowl before returning his focus to the 
neat rows of multi-strength reading glasses. After a moment, he sighed and 
reached out to finger a pair. "How do I know which to get?" 

"Uh..." Xander looked around and found a stack of pamphlets about what his 
pharmacist could do for him. He passed one to Spike. "Here's something to 
read. The rest is trial and error, I guess." 

Spike gave him a warning growl as he took the pamphlet. "Make fun of me and 
I'll poke out your eyeballs and eat them." 

"Not a word," Xander promised, though, with the chip, Spike's threat was 
just words. 

So as not to make the vampire self-conscious [despite how cute he became,] 
Xander wandered partway down an adjoining aisle, idly scanning the items on 
the shelves. [Foot powder... corn pads... shoe inserts... pregnancy tests... 
condoms...] 

A flashy sticker tacked onto one of the condom price signs caught his 
attention. "FDA Approved Glow-In-The-Dark condoms," he read. Grabbing a 
box, he looked at the back and chuckled. [Oh man, talk about kinky.] He 
would have to purchase a box to see if they really glowed in the dark. Not 
that he had a current test partner. Unless... 

[Wait, do vampires even use condoms?] Xander wondered, heading back up the 
aisle. With all the bloodsucking vampires did, worrying about STDs probably 
wasn't a concern. If a vamp was going to catch something, it would be 
through a bite. Somehow Xander couldn't picture condoms that fit over a 
vampire's fangs. [Now, that's a fun mental image.] 

Still, he was curious. "Hey, Spike," he said, studying the back of the 
condom box again. "Vampire physiology question: do you need condoms?" 

There was clatter, and Xander lifted his eyes to see Spike crouched and 
picking up a couple pairs of specs from the tile floor. [Oh my goodness, I 
think Spike's blushing. Snerk.] Well, Xander had wanted to find out the 
vampire's history. Now seemed as good of a time as any. "Spike?" 

"Um... ah... n-no," Spike stammered, fiddling with the glasses in his hand 
as he straightened. "Vampires don't produce living... um... so we can't get 
a girl preggers." 

Xander looked at the condom box and tossed it into the cart. "What about 
when you have sex with guys? Any worries about STDs?" 

Another loud clatter, and Xander had to hide his grin. He sneaked a glance 
at Spike, who had dropped the glasses again. [Alright, Xander, behave. You 
don't want to scare Spike off.] 

Spike crouched a second time, picked up the glasses, cleared his throat and 
mumbled, "Don't know. Never been with another guy." 

[Bingo! Ca-*ching*! Three cherries on the virgin slot machine.] "Really?" 
Xander said, playing it cool. It wouldn't do, to pounce on the Cherry Boy 
in the middle of Wal-Mart, despite what Mr. Happy Hard-On in his jeans 
wanted. "I thought that you and Angel-" 

"Fuck no!" Spike exclaimed emphatically, shooting up to his feet. He 
shuddered. "That'd be like shagging my brother! Soddin' hell, I may be a 
vampire, but I'm not a bloody redneck." 

"Check," Xander laughed, "no Angel nookie." 

"Damn straight." 

"But you can't expect me to believe that you've never done it with another 
male," Xander pressed, baiting the blond. "Especially since you're how old, 
and have had how many thousand partners?" 

A brief moment of silence as Spike turned away from the brunette. Then, a 
very quiet: "Four." 

[Woah.] Xander was surprised and a lot impressed. "*Four* thousand?" 

"No," Spike shook his head, and Xander caught a glimpse of 
Spiderman-Underoos-face. "Four." 

Slooooooow blink. "Four. As in, one, two, three, four?" Xander said in 
disbelief. "Not four, as in, vampire slang for four dozen, or four score?" 
[And seven years ago. Bibble.] 

Spike nodded, still half-turned away from Xander, and briefly held up four 
fingers before shoving his hand into his duster pocket. 

"That's just..." Xander tried to comprehend [*four?!?!*] but couldn't. 
"I've had more than that in one day. Hell, I've had more than that at one 
*time.*" 

The blond shrugged, and Xander had a new Spike-expression to add to the 
growing catalog: complete and utter embarrassment. [Great going, 
zilch-for-brains. Embarrass the shy-boy so he totally clams up. Oh, and 
don't forget to stomp on his male ego while you're at it.] 

Then, Xander thought of something. "Holy Shite Muslim in a half-shell, does 
that mean you were monogamous for the billions of years you were with 
Drusilla?" 

Spike nodded again. Xander whistled. "Man, that is innnn-tense. How did 
you do it?" 

The vampire turned to him, finally, and arched a scarred brow. Xander 
realized what his question implicated and burst into girly giggles. "Not 
what I meant," he said. 

"Do you need me to draw a diagram, Xander?" Spike asked patronizingly. 

"I learn better by hands-on demonstration," Xander replied with a wink. 
Flustered Spike returned instantly, the blond shifting his weight, his head 
down. [So adorably cute.] 

Xander stepped closer to Spike, took the blond's chin and lifted it. 
Startled, wary [pretty] blue eyes met Xander's. "Truth: I think it takes a 
real man to stay monogamous for so long," the brunette said, then covered 
Spike's mouth with his own. 

Short, sweet, and wholly innocent, the kiss ended almost as soon as it 
began. Xander smiled softly at Spike, who stared owlishly up at him. [I 
wonder, would he look at me like this when I entered him the first time?] 

"So," Xander said thickly, taking a quick step back and shoving his hands in 
his too tight pockets before he ravished Spike then and there. "Did you 
find a pair?" 

"Huh?" 

"Of glasses," Xander clarified, moving even further away from the 
super-adorable, befuddled vampire. [Warning! Warning! Danger, Xander 
Robinson. It's too soon to fall in love.] Love? Eep. And eep, and eep 
once more. Maybe even a gah or two. [Not gonna do it. You can't make me, 
Spike.] 

"Er... uh..." Spike turned to the glasses display and stared blankly at it. 
"Uh..." 

"Slurpee!" Xander exclaimed abruptly. Spike jumped, startled, and spun to 
face him. "We have to get a Slurpee on our way out," the brunette said. 

Spike studied him a moment before asking warily, "What's a Slurpee?" 

"You never had a Slurpee?" Xander tisked, glad he was able to defuse the 
somewhat charged post-smoochie atmosphere. "Then you are in for a treat, 
roommate-o-mine. Grab the specks and let's check-out so you can have a 
taste of frosty heaven." 

Spike still looked a bit fershimmled as he ran a hand through his platinum 
hair, turned to the glasses display again, and chose a pair of frameless, 
square half-glasses, strength: +2.50. 

Check-out was a bore, although Xander's eyes bugged when he saw the final 
total. [Looks like Ramen noodles for the next, oh, year or so.] He wheeled 
the blue bag-filled cart past the Wal-Mart greeter and into the little 
concession area. Gesturing for Spike to join him at the counter, he 
addressed the girl behind it. "Two Slurpees, por favor. I'll have a cherry. 
Spike, what flavor do you want?" 

Spike frowned. "Flavor?" 

Xander put his hand on Spike's lower back and pointed across the counter. 
"Those are your choices. Coke, root-beer, cherry, lemonade, grape, 
raspberry, and orange." 

Spike glanced at Xander, and that addictive, tiny smile flitted across the 
vampire's lips. He shifted closer to Xander, relaxed into the touch, and 
tentatively answered, "Maybe grape?" 

[Gah. Gah. Gah. Eep. Eep. Gah.] 



End