__Halloween Hijinks__
By Gail Christison



"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Caped Crusader?"

"It looks like you're farting around in the toy department at Sears when the plan was to patrol the streets for Halloween."

"Patrol the streets," Lorne snorted. "It's Halloween. You'd have more chance of getting hit by a bus or a bullet from a drive-by shooting in this town, tonight."

"I did not hire this costume so that you could go on a shopping spree."

Lorne rolled his eyes. "The one day of the year I can shop to my little heart's content and you want to spoil it for me."

"We're supposed to be patrolling," Wesley said through his teeth as Lorne picked his way through the action figure aisle.

"And here, I just wanted this guy to remind me of how cute you are in that outfit," he retorted, flourishing a package with a Batman doll in it, looking not terribly like the expensive costume Wesley had hired.

Wesley snorted. "Fine. You've got one. Can we move on, please?"

Lorne smiled indulgently at his companion and straightened. "Lead on, tall, dark, and rubber-clad."

Wesley resisted the temptation to tug at the latex on his inner thigh. "Yes, well, nobody told me rubber chafes more than leather."

Lorne chuckled. "Well, you will persist in going commando. So very sexy and cute, but consequences, dear boy, Consequences..."

It didn't help Wesley's mood. Lorne at least had opted for something comfortable. His thirties black, pinstriped, double-breasted suit, hat and toy Tommy gun slightly incongruous with the green complexion, but he still managed to look the part, wide shoulders, great cut and all. Besides, today he was wearing shorts, for all the good it was doing...

"You might have at least played the part and got the Robin costume."

Lorne guffawed as they rode the escalator up to the next level, hemmed in by harried adults with bored and restless, costumed offspring. "Yeah, right. And I so wanted to wear leather underwear on the outside of my tights. He looked sideways at Wesley. "I note you didn't opt for the Adam West version."

"Oh, please."

The demon was still chuckling as they headed into the bedding department. "New sheets," Lorne announced when Wesley started muttering again. "You're the one who put your foot through my best black satin ones."

Wesley looked around a little wildly, then exhaled, relieved that no one appeared to be close enough to overhear that statement.

"Yes, well, I had a good reason, didn't I? And it was awfully worn in the middle."

"I sleep in the centre of the bed. So sue me."

"I would if it meant more room for me," Wesley hissed as Lorne picked up a set of fuschia-coloured, king-sized bed linen.

"Pretty," the demon mused, ignoring his partner. "But not really you." He moved along the display and pulled out another package with a James Bond motif, making a little half-sighing, half whimpering noise under his breath. "I begged for the James Bond costume. God, you'd kill in a white tuxedo..."

Wesley suppressed a pleased smile and scowled instead, not least because he didn't want to be reminded that he could have chosen a costume that breathed, and which wasn't actively trying to consume his private parts every time he moved... codpiece, indeed.

"Are you done?" he demanded grumpily.

Lorne put the package down and selected a king-sized set in black and another in a stunning teal-blue.

"Now I am," he announced. "Here, hold these." Wesley oomph-ed as the heavy packages hit his chest. " Now I need..."

"Lorne!"

"Do you remember what level the music was on? I scratched my fave Frank Sinatra CD the other day. Really, really not a happy bunny without my Frank fix."

"Lorne," Wesley growled.

The demon made a face. "Look, sweet-cheeks, I'll buy you a toaster that actually fits those English muffin things you like so much, okay? No more digging out the smooshed pieces with a knife and blowing all the fuses. Deal?"

Wesley actually looked mollified for a moment. But only just for a moment. "But electrical appliances are on another floor. We'll never get out of here!"

Lorne continued on his way to the escalator. "That's kinda the plan," he said smugly and skipped the last couple of steps onto the people mover. In front of him a harried looking woman was arguing with her husband, and in front of them slightly-out-of-shape Brittney Spears was holding hands with a rather too-thin Terminator. Lorne liked Halloween. He always had. He could move about freely, mostly without even attracting attention, well, except maybe the good kind, with overexcited young people occasionally stopping him to enthuse about the quality of his 'makeup' and ask for tips about how to make it look so realistic. Not quite so easy though, when the person asking was wearing a bad Frankenstein mask, or a barely-stuck-on Klingon turtle head, or a Bajoran nose stuck on with spirit glue, little or no makeup on either, and both looking like they might come off any minute.

A moment later he felt hot breath on his neck and smiled. Batman was standing on the next step down, but close enough for him to feel the radiated heat from the latex costume and to be able to smell the faint mixture of human sweat, latex, Wesley's cologne, baby powder and...tuna??

The divot cleared in the green brow finally cleared. Lunch. He'd had a Waldorf salad to die for and Wes had gone wild and ordered... tuna and salad on white, hold the mayo. He sighed.

Wesley stepped off right behind Lorne and followed him around to continue their upward journey. When they reached the second level, several small wizards and witches shot past them, their mother's voice, echoing up the stairwell, threatening to cancel their Halloween if they didn't behave.

It didn't take long for Lorne to find a toaster that Wesley fell in love with on sight. Sparkling stainless steel, four wide slots... wide enough even to fit those crazy English crumpets Wes seemed to be able to get from somewhere, and colour control. Lorne had no doubt either, that Gunn and Fred would make good use of the extra space to cram in those repulsive pop-tarts they were so fond of.

Credit card in hand, the demon continued on his merry way until Batman was loaded down with parcels and carry bags and ready to mutiny, toaster notwithstanding.

"Lorne, I've had enough," Wesley said in a strained sort of voice as they reached the ground floor again.

At that Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan turned swiftly. One thing he could recognise instantly was the difference between Wesley being a spoilsport and Wes with a problem.

"You okay, compadre? Should I get a cart for all this junk?"

Wesley shook his head as they moved back out into the mall. "I... um... well, yes. It might be a good plan. I-I need to go."

Lorne's eyes grew wide. "You have to go *now?* It took you an hour to get that thing on. How exactly do you plan on executing this little manoeuvre?

The Englishman shrugged. "Where there's a will, there's a way. I'm not an astronaut. I'm not going in my suit."

"Eieww," Lorne muttered, trundling off to snag a deserted supermarket cart left parked by a wastebasket. Once he'd removed the lettuce leaf, shopping list and cash register docket and thrown them in the trash, he put his own packages in and returned to Wesley.

"So does that thing have a zipper... somewhere?" He ventured after relieving his friend of his load of boxes and parcels.

Batman shrugged again, looking like a particularly wilted superhero. "Do we even know where the nearest bathroom is?"

"Yo," Al Capone confirmed, and headed off with the cart. "But you'll need help. You better wait there for five minutes while I take this stuff back to the car."

* * * * *

"You were gone for ten," Wesley retorted when Lorne returned, too cheerful by far and enjoying his predicament entirely too much.

"Poor baby," Lorne empathised, unfairly defusing his friend's righteous indignation. "Come on, let's go. I'm kinda looking forward to maybe having to peel you like a grape."

"That's it. We're going home," Wesley said in a strangled voice.

"What happened to fighting the good fight, patrolling the city to keep its good citizens safe from the dark denizens of the demon world?" Lorne deadpanned, though with a touch of snark at the end.

Wesley said something extremely uncharacteristic.

Lorne's eyes widened, then he grinned. "Whoa there, Sweetie. I'm so there. But you'll have to wait until we get home. Right now we've got to get you some blessed relief. Come on."

The men's room was relatively quiet, for which Wesley was extremely grateful. He didn't know what was worse, having Lorne trying to get him out of his suit and codpiece in front of a bunch of strange men, or locking themselves in a cubicle together to work on the problem.

"Okay, ouvre the cape, dude," Lorne ordered. "Damn."

Wesley frowned. "What?"

"I thought you said you rented this from the same Hollywood costume store I got Al baby from?"

"That's right," Wesley said cautiously.

"Then why is there a back on this costume? I should be looking at your tights and a lot of ties. Last time I looked, these costumes, cute as they are and all, were strictly front only jobs. You didn't rent this baby, did you?"

Wesley turned red. "The rental costumes were so shoddy..." he said in a low voice as a couple of men came in and went straight to the trough.

"So you went and bought the prop version... like you don't have anything better to do with your hard earned money..." Lorne's sarcasm waned as the reality of that statement hit. He cleared his throat before running an appreciative hand over the contours of the sit-down part of the suit. "Anyway, very nice glutes, hon. I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to get at... er... to them. How exactly did you get this thing on?"

"Layers," Wes growled.

"Are you sure you can't wait until we get home?"

Wesley made a strangled noise, which made the two men now zipping up at the trough, look up suspiciously.

"No, I can't wait," he hissed. "Just help me get the cape and the cowl off and then we can work on the rest."

It took a few minutes to carefully remove the items so that he could remove the torso piece and slide down the 'braces' holding the bottom half in place.

"Wait, codpiece! I'll do it," Lorne said gleefully when Wes moved to ease the wetsuit-like latex over his hips.

Wesley, unshaven and mussed from the removal of the cowl, smiled, amused. "Sorry to disappoint, but this is only a replica. The cod piece is simply sculpted into the bottom half of the suit."

"Nuts," Lorne huffed.

Wesley let out a long, happy breath as his manliness uncramped itself from its prison and cool air rushed in to the sensitive but overheated and unhappy area beneath his shorts.

"Yes, mine," Wes sighed, then remembered why he was there. "Now if you'll excuse me." He bolted into a stall and closed the door.

Lorne made sure he had all the pieces of costume as a steady stream of men and boys now came and went.

A small boy turned from the trough and walked over to look up at Lorne, whose hat, formerly at the same rakish angle once famously worn by Capone himself, was now pushed to the back of his head, leaving one of his horns exposed.

"I like the monster costume," the little boy announced. "It's cool."

Lorne grinned smugly and shifted his Tommy gun to make holding the parts of Wesley's costume away from his suit, easier. "So what about the threads? Uh? Uh?" He flourished the toy gun. "Al Capone, eat your heart out, right?"

The boy stared at the double-breasted jacket for a long moment then blinked and wrinkled his nose.

"Who...?"

Lorne rolled his eyes. "Never mind, kid. Go find your mommy. Get her to buy you a Mummy costume. Tell her to pay special attention to the mouth."

The kid made a face and left just as the stall door opened again.

Wesley emerged wearing an extremely contented grin as he pulled the straps back up over his bare shoulders and reached for the torso piece.

"Do me a favour," Lorne muttered, pulling his hat back into place as they left the bathroom. "Next time you go trick or treating, wear something with a zipper, or a trapdoor or something in it."

"You wish," Wesley growled beneath his cowl.

"So, Dark Knight, are we hitting the streets or going home to a supper of tea and crumpets?"

Wesley sighed. "Since the only weapons we have are the currently unreachable stake in my right boot and your plastic machine gun, I think perhaps we'll trust to tradition and let Halloween take care of itself..."

"Hallelujah!" Lorne sang and did a little skip as they exited through the electric doors.

"You're entirely too happy about this," Wes told him, taking out his keys as they started to cross the parking lot.

The gangster demon turned and looked up at him from under the brim of his hat. "Of course I'm happy. What do you think I'd rather be doing? Wandering around the streets of Los Angeles looking for trouble, or putting my new silk sheets on our bed and having 'Dark Knight Surprise' for supper...?"

* * *