A/N: Hey waves This is the first fic I've posted on here. More chapters to come.

It's something like irony that Xander's life doesn't come together until it's completely falling apart. After the gang hears tales of yet another apocalypse in the making Anya's apparently finally had enough. She leaves Sunnydale in the middle of the night with Xander's car and half his belongings. When he wakes up and finds her note saying If you had normal friends or lived in a normal town I almost could have loved you. Thanks for all the orgasms he can't feel anything stronger than relief. He's just happy she didn't take his Star Trek commemorative plates.

After the world doesn't end, yet again, Xander goes back to work, and he's surprised to find that walking to his job actually puts him in a better mood than driving ever did. He never has to deal with some asshole pulling out in front of him or some jerk running through a light that's clearly red. And he actually has the time to look at his surroundings and notice things like the beautiful architecture of the mint-green stucco house or the simplicity of the wooden walk-bridge on Eighth. So maybe it sucks that every morning he has to wake up an hour earlier than he used to, but it was kind of neat to go to the Thrift Shop with the girls to pick out a tote to carry his lunch and work-folder in.

When fall comes he finally realizes why he always loved that month most of all. The smell of rain, of wet leaves and wet cement, is like nothing else on earth. He's walking along, just enjoying the gentle mist they're having that day, when he gets to the light on Tenth. It's one of those lights that takes forever to turn if he hits it wrong, and today he's hit it more wrong than he usually does. So when someone walks up from the other direction, Xander sends the smile of shared patience his way. And when the guy says, "Beautiful day," Xander can't help but say, "It is, isn't it. Although I'm guessing I'm one of only a few people who would say that."

That starts a conversation about seasons, and how autumn is clearly the best one, although spring is also pretty cool. And that leads to the whole introduction thing. Xander finds out his new friend's name is Keith, he works with meteorology, and he likes his coffee black. (He finds the last out after Xander gets called off work due to the rain and they stop in the little coffee shop on Twelfth.) They talk for over an hour in a cozy little booth before Keith looks at his watch and says, "Oh, god, look at the time. I was supposed to be at the station fifteen minutes ago." And then he says, "Man, it was nice to meet you. You wouldn't want to do this again sometime, would you? I mean since I'm new in town and all it would be really neat to have a Sunnydale native show me around. Here's my number. Give me a call if you want to hang out some time."

And Keith's already out the door before Xander can even open his mouth to speak. Because, the thing is, he's pretty sure he was just hit on. By a guy. It's kind of a lot to take in. Not like he hasn't known gay people before. Obviously. Willow is like the living embodiment of how being gay can still mean being cool. But the thing is, despite the fact that Xander has never never never even considered being gay before, he just had a better time on an almost date with a guy that he doesn't even know than he ever had with a girlfriend.

So Xander walks back to his apartment, past the light on Tenth and over the little wooden bridge and past the mint-green stucco house and does the only thing he can think of, calls Willow. He doesn't call her to ask her if he's gay or to reveal he's actually considering going out with a guy. He just calls her because sometimes listening to Willow babble makes his own life seem straightforward.

And when he's done listening to Willow tell him about the new spell she's working on with Tara and the new sweater Buffy got that looks like a cat died but Willow can't tell her that and about how Giles is totally playing at the Irish pub on the bad side of town and wasn't that a conflict of interests between the whole British and Irish things, he picks up the damp napkin with a slightly runny Keith followed by ten digits and dials. And of course Keith doesn't pick up, because he's at work or something, but that's almost better because leaving a message is a whole lot easier than talking to a breathing thinking human being. So he does just that. "Keith, it's Xander. I was just thinking…yeah. I'd really like to show you around town. If you, you know, still want to go. So…just give me a call back, okay? Talk later."

And Xander really is feeling surprisingly good about it. After all, if nothing else this can just be another friendship, and he can always use a new friend. So he's Mr. Happy-With-His-Own-Life-Decisions guy. At least until he turns on the evening news. And the weather comes on. And suddenly he sees shiny white teeth and perfect blonde hair that look alarmingly familiar. Probably because he was drinking coffee across from them earlier that day.

* * *

It's not that Xander has something against famous people. After all, he lives in California, the state that was practically born from movie stars. But Xander really was hoping to try out this whole 'gay' hypothesis with someone who wouldn't be able to blab on the Nightly News to thousands of viewers just how much of a dork he is. Or just how little he is able to dress himself. The really big worry is the whole, What if this DOESN'T work out, and then Keith can go on national air and tell everyone Xander's a homophobe (lie) or bad in bed (total lie) or leaves the toilet seat up (well, that one's true).

So Xander's pretty much freaking out. But when Keith calls later that night he's so easy-going and so relaxed Xander finds himself calming down without even doing something stupid like telling Keith that he doesn't think this will work before he even knows if Keith really wants more than a friendship. And when Keith says, "Do you want to grab some dinner Saturday?" Xander says, "Sure," without even thinking about it. It's after he hangs up that he starts damning himself for also not thinking about other very important things like where they should go and what to wear on something that may be a date, but also may just be two friends meeting up.

He's just about to call up Willow to ask for advice, because although he loves Buffy, he doesn't trust her not to dig the truth of the possibly-gay-now out of him, and Dawn would just get puppy eyes and imply he should be dating her, when there's a sharp rap at his door. Saved by the knock. Of course when he opens the door it's a bit of a let down to find Spike instead of the makeover specialist he was secretly hoping for. And when Xander really looks at Spike, he's looking a mixture of shifty and antsy that's never of the good. Xander really considers just slamming the door in his face. But good manners win out and he sighs, "What do you want, fangless?"

"Well now, Harris, I was just thinking it might be a good idea to," Spike stumbles over his words a bit, looking a bit like he's swallowing a pile of dung, "to, uh, shack up together again. You know. Male solidarity and all that rot." Xander's look must be giving him an inkling of what exactly Xander is feeling, because after a second he sighs in exacerbation and says, "Fine, I'll pay rent and all. Come on. You know you want to."

And Xander almost slams the door on Spike again, but then he looks around his apartment at the lack of television or kitchen appliances or food, and then he takes a good look at Spike and sees the twitchy way he's tapping his foot and the fact that he's actually kind of nervous looking. And then he does something he knows he'll shoot himself over later. He agrees. "Okay, Spike. Here's the deal. You live in my house you respect house rules. No leaving bloody mugs on the counter. No leaving dirty towels on the floor. If you come in covered in demon slime, you make sure not to drip it onto my carpeting. And no, absolutely no, friends over. Ever." Xander takes one more look at Spike and adds one last addendum, "Oh, and you have to help me pick out an outfit for my date Saturday. Something nice. Not…undead chic, or whatever you have going on."

"I'll have you know, I'm the height of fashion," Spike says, hitching his pants and glaring at Xander. After a minute of trading stares, Spike growls, "Fine, you going to invite me in or what?"

"I'm sorry," Xander says, cupping a hand to his ear, "was that an agreement. Cause it didn't really sound like an agreement from this side of the impenetrable barrier."

Spike grimaces, "I won't leave a bloody mess, right?"

"You'd better not leave a bloody mess. Blood's a lot harder to get out than gore. Now how about the rest?" Xander gestured with a come on motion.

"Bloody…fine. I won't have any of my friends over despite the fact that they're decent law-abiding folks. And…well I can't do anything more than try to make you look presentable. You know you're not exactly the type the birds go for. Unlike me."

"Oh I know, fangless. Girls throw themselves all over you. Constantly. You have to keep a fireman handy to keep off the heat from the fires of their burning love for you. Now get in before I change my mind."

* * *

The next day opens a whole new can of worms. Spike was unbelievable well-mannered the night before, letting Xander have the first shower, cleaning his mug out before Xander can even yell at him, watching the show Xander had on for a full ten minutes before changing the channel to Dawson's Creek. And Xander was actually able to get a full night's sleep, possibly because, unlike the basement, his apartment has actual rooms, as in plural, so he could shut the unsleeping, undead out.

But getting Spike to choose him an outfit is almost more hassle than it's worth. First he totally rules out everything in Xander's closet as being entirely too freakish, and not in a good way (not that Xander ever even knew freakish could be good before). Then he completely ignores Xander's suggestion they go to Wal-Mart to look for something. Spike looks longingly at a leather biker shop which Xander vetoes before Spike can even get his mouth open. By eight o'clock Xander's seriously considering the idea of just staking Spike and hiding the evidence, when Spike up and suggests they go to the Thrift Shop, which Xander would have suggested in the first place if he hadn't been sure he would've been turned down.

So they're at the Thrift Shop and Xander's picking out shirts while Spike looks over the pants with a critical eye. Only, when Spike sees the shirts Xander's picked out he makes the kind of growl that used to make Xander quiver with fear and now only makes his arm hair stand up on end and Xander's putting the shirts back before Spike even has to say anything. Spike throws two pairs of pants at him and stalks over to the shirts, giving them the kind of look Xander imagines he used to give his supper before he ate them. After about ten minutes of Xander watching Spike watch the clothes, Spike moves back to Xander and throws five shirts on top of the two pairs of pants and makes a shooing motion towards the changing rooms.

Xander gives Spike a look of horror. "Spike, I may stoop to some low lows, I mean I dated Anya, I dated Cordelia, I slept with Faith, but even I don't stoop low enough to try on clothes in the Thrift Shop changing rooms."

Spike just looks up at him with a calculating smile on his face. "Harris, if you're not in that changing room in ten seconds I will strip you right here. And I really don't think that everyone in this store needs to see a grown man in Snoopy boxers."

With a gulp Xander races into the changing rooms. If the choice is between public nudity and the changing room at the Thrift Shop, public nudity is way scarier. And the fact that Spike threatening to strip Xander made his heart beat a little faster, well that's all due to the public humiliation. Not due to the hot undead guy out there at all.

* * *

Spike decides on a blue striped oxford with a hole under the armpit and a pair of dark brown chinos with the button missing. Xander pretty much thinks he's crazy to choose two things with such obvious flaws, but when he opens his mouth to tell the vamp exactly that, Spike growls, "Not. One. Word," in such a creepy voice that Xander decides to just close his mouth right back up. Not like he was really going to say anything anyway.

So Xander pays for his purchases and the two of them start the short walk home. And when Xander starts to talk about the crazy lady with three kids that were all obviously younger than four, Spike laughs and says, "Yeah, I'd never kill that lot. Just liked to vamp out at them. It was worse torture to leave them alive. God those bints are stupid, just popping out brat after brat with no means to support them. And now they don't even have any excuses. All they have to do is take a pill to keep from spawning, but do they ever think of it? Of course not."

And the creepy part is, Xander is in complete and utter agreement with everything Spike said, well except for the vamping part, because he obviously can't do that. It's almost alarming to have this kind of camaraderie going on between them, so he does all he can to put an end to it. "You're just jealous you can't have any spawn of your own, blood-breath."

"Right, like I'd want a little tot always getting underfoot and mucking up my day." The words sound right, but when Xander glances at Spike he's biting his lip.

It makes Xander feel like an ass. But at least it puts a little distance between them.

* * *

When Spike grabs the bags from Xander as soon as they enter the apartment, Xander's more confused than anything else. The fact that Spike has the bag isn't too confusing. Spike has that whole vamp philosophy down with the whole taking anything he wants and eating people and there's the whole railroad spike thing which is just…yurg. The thing that's kind of confusing is Spike seems to be taking Xander's new (or at least new-to-Xander) clothes out of said bag and instead of doing something demony like spilling blood all over them or using them as a dust rag, he's holding them up and looking at them.

And when Spike finally speaks it's not to do something evil like mock Xander for actually believing the clothing ever looked good on him in the first place or to ask Xander for a lighter so he can perform the ritual burning of the terrible, nasty, very bad clothing. No, when Spike finally speaks what comes out is, "Got an iron?"

Xander spends about half a minute trying to translate those words into something that makes sense coming from Spike, but although an iron bar is something Spike might find useful, it's not really something most people have lying around their houses, and although Spike doesn't seem to be the type who would turn up his nose at using hair products, a curling iron and the amount of gel in that hair would probably end up mixing together in a way that was so not of the good. So Xander finally manages to ask, "You mean like an iron iron? Like a clothing iron?" and he's pretty proud of himself for getting something so preposterous past his lips in the first place.

So when Spike says, "Yeah, and one of them board things," Xander thinks it's perfectly justifiable that he needs to sit down for a minute. Of course Spike doesn't seem to agree. "Oi, you deaf or just dumb? I asked you if you had an iron."

"Right," Xander says, finally deciding that actually trying to make logic out of the words coming out of Spike's mouth is probably a bad idea. He gets up in a bit of a daze and stumbles to the hall closet. And when he finally manages to wrestle the ironing board out from between the vacuum cleaner and his old skate board, he turns back to see Spike sitting in the rocking chair and doing something that appears to look a lot like sewing.

When Xander's close enough to see it actually is sewing, he manages to mumble out, "I have to sit down," before dropping on the floor like a beached whale. And while Spike is yelling, "Hey, don't break the board until I have a chance to use it at least," Xander is thinking, Maybe this is a dream. Of course when Spike's still sitting in the rocking chair sewing away even after Xander pinches himself, he realizes this for what it actually is. A spell. A spell to force evil undead guys to need to do chores for normal schmoes. And although he spends a few seconds considering getting Willow on the phone to end the spell, he decides, in the interest of normal schmoes everywhere, to just let sleeping dogs lie.

So while Spike sews a button on Xander's new trousers and mends the seam in his new shirt and irons both until they're probably the best-looking clothing he'll ever have on, Xander goes over his spreadsheets for work. Because, unlike household chores, spreadsheets won't just do themselves. So when Xander looks up and Spike is giving him another one of his looks, Xander just knows there's something fishy going on here.

"What?" he asks, sharply, thinking no matter what Spike says right now, there's no way it can shock him after this morning.

Spike's giving him an assessing look that reminds Xander way too much of the look Spike was giving the pants before.