dollsome | (no subject)

Standing in the wake of a newly (not to mention barely) won run-of-the-mill slayage battle, Cordelia crosses her arms in front of her chest. She’s impressively composed for someone who just impaled an unholy creature of the night with a pink stiletto heel.

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss me or something?”

Xander wipes a little bit of fluorescent green demon slime from his forehead. “Does this look like happily ever after to you?”

She contemplates it for a second, then wrinkles her nose. “Good point.”

Which, in and of itself, is reason enough for a fiery embrace or two – it’s at least twelve percent driven by the motivation to gross her out. The other eighty-eight might just be genuine affection. Xander decides not to dwell on that. He’s had enough scary for one night.