Title:  Job Quest

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating: PG-13. 

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.  Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Notes:   Written in response to a challenge by Devil Piglet, who wanted stories about Spike and Xander as roommates. 

Set in Season 4.

            "Arrgh!" yelled Xander.  "The peanut butter is all gone.  And I bought a new jumbo jar of Extra Crunchy yesterday!"

            Spike stared fixedly at the TV set, doing his best to look like a vampire who had never heard of peanut butter.

            Xander opened the tiny refrigerator.  "And there's no more milk!  What kind of a goddamned vampire drinks milk?"

Spike was still apparently fascinated by the action on the screen.

            "If you're going to eat all my food and consume half the cathode rays sent into this room by my very expensive cable company, the least you can do is contribute to the economy of this basement, " said Xander, coming over to sit down on the couch with the leavings he had found—a half a pack of crackers and a jar with one lonely pickle floating in it.

            "Offered to," said Spike, reluctantly joining the conversation.  "But you get all holier-than-thou when I knick stuff."

           "There are other ways to get things than stealing.  I think you should get a job," said Xander.  He pointed at the set. "Look at that.  Even Kelly Bundy has a job.  She looks cute in that Verminator outfit, spraying toxins all over everyone."

           "Even if that were a real job, there is no way I'm engaging in any profession that requires wearing tights.  Besides, I can't. Get a job.  Got the severe photophobia thing, you know.  Plus the spontaneous combustion.  Probably covered under the Americans with Disabilities Act."  On the screen, Kelly bent over.  Spike noted that Xander's brain functions had stopped temporarily in Pavlovian reaction to that event, and the vampire's hand snaked out towards the contents of the coffee table.

            "That's not what the Act's about," said Xander when Kelly's image on the screen was replaced by a vision of Al Bundy.  "I found that out when I tried to get out of cleaning the snake cage at Scales and Claws due to extreme fear of things that slither up your arms.  Besides, you're not an American.  And there's always the night shift."  Xander looked down and discovered that his pickle had inexplicably disappeared, leaving him with only stale Saltines for dinner.

            "Bugger that.  Besides, I haven't seen you bringing home a paycheck for weeks.  What's your disability?  Lack of motivation?" 

            "Well, I have reasons too.  Trust me, shoe salesman looks good compared to some of the jobs out there for a guy who barely made it out of high school."  Xander kicked at the newspaper lying on the floor.  "But I'm trying."

            Spike glanced down by Xander's feet, noticed an ad circled in red, and picked up the paper.

            "Hey, give me that!" said Xander, trying to wrest it from him.

            Spike fended him off.  "You wanted me to look for a job.  Let's see what opportunities there are!"  His expression was now gleeful.  "Look at this!  Our Little Xander wants a job as a "security officer" at The Eager Beaver Nude Modeling and Conversation Studio!"  His eyebrow twitched.  "That's the address for the whorehouse.  When did they start calling it that?"

            "Candi Dish changed the name when Sunnydale passed an ordinance outlawing all the massage parlors except for the one at the YWCA."  Xander shrugged with an effort at nonchalance.  "I thought it wouldn't hurt if I wandered over there in a few minutes and applied."

            "Security?"  Spike glanced at Xander.  "Don't think you have a chance at getting that, do you?"

            "Hey, I look more bulked up than you!" said Xander.  "And I was in the army once.  For a few hours, until the spell got broken.  Besides--no chip."

            "But as long as I don't hurt the disruptive johns, just move them on out—" muttered Spike.  "And I'd be doing a service for the ladies."  His eyes gleamed.  "I like that idea of servicing the ladies."

            Xander's jaw dropped.  "You're not really thinking of applying?"

            "Night shift," Spike pointed out.  "And you wanted me to get a job."

            "No way they'd hire you instead of me!"

            "A carton of smokes to a six pack of Corona says they do!" said Spike.

            They collided in the doorway as they deserted the couch in their sudden quest for gainful employment.

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