Xander was in danger of damaging his neck, or possibly crashing the car, as
he whipped his head from watching the crowded road to peering at the
scribbled directions on the passenger seat. Standing on the brakes for the
third time in five minutes as yet another car lurched across his lane, his
muttering became full-on out-loud venting.
"Why the hell did I ever agree to this? Oh, yeah, that's right, because I'm a shame faced girly loser! Anya had better be really really appreciative of the shiny, smooth new look me, because this is all her fault - her and her 'excessive body hair is distasteful and unhygienic. You should have it removed so that I can gain more pleasure from your body'. Which is why I now have deep dark girly secrets that means that Deadboy Junior back there can blackmail me into driving him half way across the country to some gig, on pain of being found out for the useless girly loser that, yes, I do seem to be. Boy figuring that out just makes my day so much better."
Finally matching the junction number on the roadside and the one on the notes beside him, Xander pulled across two lanes, leaving a howl of horns behind, and eventually managed to get off the freeway. Flipping the sheet of directions one handed, the final stage - a roughly sketched map - was easy enough to follow. It was only a few more minutes before he was swinging the car down the ramp of the underground car park that was their destination.
As soon as he killed the engine the barrage of muffled cursing and rapid hammering he'd decided to ignore entirely since about two miles outside Sunnydale city limits started up again. He pulled the trunk lever. By the time he'd got out of the car and stretched the kinks out of his back, Spike had kicked open the trunk. Sitting with his legs hanging out of the tailgate, rolling his shoulders and grumbling he was patting down his pockets, searching for a smoke.
"What you staring at Harris? - It's not exactly White Line standard in the back here."
"Hey there Spike! - doing you the favor."
That earned him an evil look.
"Right, well then - shall we get going?"
Spike strode off, bounding up the stairwell, leaving Xander to follow behind. When he caught up with the hyperactive vampire, Spike was waiting impatiently by graffiti covered door. As Xander was walking up the last flight of stairs, he knocked on the door with a flourish.
When it opened, Spike may have been quite happy to step inside and start chatting, but Xander was going to stand in the doorway a moment, franticly calculating just how embarrassing it would really be to explain to the guys at the site why exactly he was visiting the beauty parlor back home.
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Spike reached back and grabbed Xander's wrist firmly and pulled him inside, so the door could be swung shut again. This revealed the small pink haired woman who'd opened it. Xander was pretty sure that staring open mouthed as rude, but didn't seem to be able to transmit that thought to his eyes and mouth as he looked around.
Despite the less than salubrious entrance, the place looked - well, eerily normal: high ceilings, lots of blue and silver tiling, mirrors and bright lighting. Admittedly the row of doors leading off down one side of the room could have been hiding anything, but the reception desk, complete with potted plants and a pony tailed and mini-skirted receptionist flicking through a magazine could have been lifted from a Salon's R Us catalogue. Well, until you realized that the elegantly groomed receptionist was a guy, and the magazine had a lot of photos that Cosmo wouldn't usually carry. No one seemed remotely bothered by the fact that only one of the new arrivals could be seen in the mirrors on each wall either.
"Spike? Wha? . I though you wanted to go to a gig?"
Xander finally managed to get out a whole sentence, only to be greeted with Spike's patented 'You really are a moron' glare.
"We are - later - thought I'd take the chance to get my hair done. Might as well get your salon visit out the way too - Kit - you can fit him in, can't you?"
The receptionist looked up, ran a long decalled nail down the appointment book - black with silver ink Xander noticed - and nodded.
"Should be fine. What's he want done?"
Xander was going to protest, forcefully and maturely, that he was still in the room thank you very much. Except Spike was giving him a really quite distracting examination, sweeping his eyes slowly up from the ground. He found himself starting to blush under the scrutiny.
"Might as well get it all done while we're here."
The considering look morphed back into the more familiar 'evil smirk', and turning back towards Kit he spoke rapidly
"Full body wax, manicure, pedicure, hair, the works - nothing permanent though - could do without having his Mrs. on my back."
Xander's panic abated a little with that final request, which took him back down to 'incoherent muttering' as Spike waved cheerily and stalked down the hall apparently knowing exactly where he was going.
Just as Xander was about to give in entirely to a moment of well-deserved panic he felt a gentle touch on his arm. Looking down only a little wildly he realized it was the woman who had opened the door for them.
"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."
"Oh. Erm, Xander, Xander Harris . Look, I'm really not sure .."
"First time? You'll be fine! Come on through to the treatment room, and we'll get started. My name's Lizzie, by the way. So, what's the big event?"
"Some band - at the Forum - more his thing really. I'm just along as the transport."
"Really? You know, I've never known him to bring a guest before. Sorry, that's none of my business."
She had a soft slightly southern accent, and for all the pink hair and piercings her conversation was calming. She guided him into one of the small rooms, and pointed him to a padded leather recliner, while she bustled around the room, dragging over a trolley and stool, and keeping up a constant stream of questions all the while. Xander never quite got the chance to voice his fears about what, exactly, she was about to do amid the chatter. Without quite knowing how, Xander found himself with one hand soaking in a bowl of warm scented water while the other was massaged with a matching lotion - sandalwood and cedar - dispensed from a sleek black pump bottle.
If asked he would have had to admit that this wasn't bad. Pretty good, in fact. He started to relax under the firm strokes of her hands. Lizzie deftly kept the conversation moving as she worked. Complimenting him on his strong forearms and tutting over the state of his nails meant that Xander felt the need to explain about his new job.
"That makes sense" she nodded "With the tan and those shoulders I'd have guessed at some sort of outside work - that or you're a real gym bunny. You don't get a body like yours without some hard work."
He could feel himself starting to blush yet again. He really wasn't used to being complemented by strange women, and she was kinda cute herself.
"Um, thanks - I guess. Anya seems to like it, so that's of the good."
"Anya? That your girlfriend?"
Christ, where do you start to explain a 1000-year-old ex-vengeance demon who occasionally chooses to interlock body parts with you?
"Sort of."
"Only sort of? I'd have thought there's be hundreds of girls chasing after a fine catch like you!"
Xander repressed the shudder as his mind helpfully flashed the memory of being chased through the streets by the womenfolk of Sunnydale
"Not really."
"Just wait till we're done with you, then, and you'll be able to take your pick."
Not living on the hellmouth, she probably thought that was a good thing. Warm and relaxed as she worked her hands up and down the other forearm, Xander started to doze off, the adrenaline panic melting away with the tension knots.
"Why the hell did I ever agree to this? Oh, yeah, that's right, because I'm a shame faced girly loser! Anya had better be really really appreciative of the shiny, smooth new look me, because this is all her fault - her and her 'excessive body hair is distasteful and unhygienic. You should have it removed so that I can gain more pleasure from your body'. Which is why I now have deep dark girly secrets that means that Deadboy Junior back there can blackmail me into driving him half way across the country to some gig, on pain of being found out for the useless girly loser that, yes, I do seem to be. Boy figuring that out just makes my day so much better."
Finally matching the junction number on the roadside and the one on the notes beside him, Xander pulled across two lanes, leaving a howl of horns behind, and eventually managed to get off the freeway. Flipping the sheet of directions one handed, the final stage - a roughly sketched map - was easy enough to follow. It was only a few more minutes before he was swinging the car down the ramp of the underground car park that was their destination.
As soon as he killed the engine the barrage of muffled cursing and rapid hammering he'd decided to ignore entirely since about two miles outside Sunnydale city limits started up again. He pulled the trunk lever. By the time he'd got out of the car and stretched the kinks out of his back, Spike had kicked open the trunk. Sitting with his legs hanging out of the tailgate, rolling his shoulders and grumbling he was patting down his pockets, searching for a smoke.
"What you staring at Harris? - It's not exactly White Line standard in the back here."
"Hey there Spike! - doing you the favor."
That earned him an evil look.
"Right, well then - shall we get going?"
Spike strode off, bounding up the stairwell, leaving Xander to follow behind. When he caught up with the hyperactive vampire, Spike was waiting impatiently by graffiti covered door. As Xander was walking up the last flight of stairs, he knocked on the door with a flourish.
When it opened, Spike may have been quite happy to step inside and start chatting, but Xander was going to stand in the doorway a moment, franticly calculating just how embarrassing it would really be to explain to the guys at the site why exactly he was visiting the beauty parlor back home.
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Spike reached back and grabbed Xander's wrist firmly and pulled him inside, so the door could be swung shut again. This revealed the small pink haired woman who'd opened it. Xander was pretty sure that staring open mouthed as rude, but didn't seem to be able to transmit that thought to his eyes and mouth as he looked around.
Despite the less than salubrious entrance, the place looked - well, eerily normal: high ceilings, lots of blue and silver tiling, mirrors and bright lighting. Admittedly the row of doors leading off down one side of the room could have been hiding anything, but the reception desk, complete with potted plants and a pony tailed and mini-skirted receptionist flicking through a magazine could have been lifted from a Salon's R Us catalogue. Well, until you realized that the elegantly groomed receptionist was a guy, and the magazine had a lot of photos that Cosmo wouldn't usually carry. No one seemed remotely bothered by the fact that only one of the new arrivals could be seen in the mirrors on each wall either.
"Spike? Wha? . I though you wanted to go to a gig?"
Xander finally managed to get out a whole sentence, only to be greeted with Spike's patented 'You really are a moron' glare.
"We are - later - thought I'd take the chance to get my hair done. Might as well get your salon visit out the way too - Kit - you can fit him in, can't you?"
The receptionist looked up, ran a long decalled nail down the appointment book - black with silver ink Xander noticed - and nodded.
"Should be fine. What's he want done?"
Xander was going to protest, forcefully and maturely, that he was still in the room thank you very much. Except Spike was giving him a really quite distracting examination, sweeping his eyes slowly up from the ground. He found himself starting to blush under the scrutiny.
"Might as well get it all done while we're here."
The considering look morphed back into the more familiar 'evil smirk', and turning back towards Kit he spoke rapidly
"Full body wax, manicure, pedicure, hair, the works - nothing permanent though - could do without having his Mrs. on my back."
Xander's panic abated a little with that final request, which took him back down to 'incoherent muttering' as Spike waved cheerily and stalked down the hall apparently knowing exactly where he was going.
Just as Xander was about to give in entirely to a moment of well-deserved panic he felt a gentle touch on his arm. Looking down only a little wildly he realized it was the woman who had opened the door for them.
"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."
"Oh. Erm, Xander, Xander Harris . Look, I'm really not sure .."
"First time? You'll be fine! Come on through to the treatment room, and we'll get started. My name's Lizzie, by the way. So, what's the big event?"
"Some band - at the Forum - more his thing really. I'm just along as the transport."
"Really? You know, I've never known him to bring a guest before. Sorry, that's none of my business."
She had a soft slightly southern accent, and for all the pink hair and piercings her conversation was calming. She guided him into one of the small rooms, and pointed him to a padded leather recliner, while she bustled around the room, dragging over a trolley and stool, and keeping up a constant stream of questions all the while. Xander never quite got the chance to voice his fears about what, exactly, she was about to do amid the chatter. Without quite knowing how, Xander found himself with one hand soaking in a bowl of warm scented water while the other was massaged with a matching lotion - sandalwood and cedar - dispensed from a sleek black pump bottle.
If asked he would have had to admit that this wasn't bad. Pretty good, in fact. He started to relax under the firm strokes of her hands. Lizzie deftly kept the conversation moving as she worked. Complimenting him on his strong forearms and tutting over the state of his nails meant that Xander felt the need to explain about his new job.
"That makes sense" she nodded "With the tan and those shoulders I'd have guessed at some sort of outside work - that or you're a real gym bunny. You don't get a body like yours without some hard work."
He could feel himself starting to blush yet again. He really wasn't used to being complemented by strange women, and she was kinda cute herself.
"Um, thanks - I guess. Anya seems to like it, so that's of the good."
"Anya? That your girlfriend?"
Christ, where do you start to explain a 1000-year-old ex-vengeance demon who occasionally chooses to interlock body parts with you?
"Sort of."
"Only sort of? I'd have thought there's be hundreds of girls chasing after a fine catch like you!"
Xander repressed the shudder as his mind helpfully flashed the memory of being chased through the streets by the womenfolk of Sunnydale
"Not really."
"Just wait till we're done with you, then, and you'll be able to take your pick."
Not living on the hellmouth, she probably thought that was a good thing. Warm and relaxed as she worked her hands up and down the other forearm, Xander started to doze off, the adrenaline panic melting away with the tension knots.