My Normal Life

[madimpossibledreamer]

The prologue is probably set between Mission 1 and Mission 2. Also, it’s not entirely Jossed; Giles probably does see serious Xander more than anybody else.
Mission 1 was pretty heavy on the investigation/action. There still will be action, but this one is a more character piece. I’d say softer, but I’m not sure that even applies at this point.
i nearly mistyped it as mission 2 wow

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Buffy and Xander banter a little in the space between missions.
Word Count: 395
Rating: Teen

         When Buffy walks into the dining room, she discovers Xander hasn’t taken off the silver nail polish from the night before.  She has to make a big production out of it and embarrass him.  First of all, because it’s funny, and second of all she really doesn’t want to think.  She doesn’t want to blame him.  She hates being kept in the dark, particularly to protect her.  Not that she thinks Giles knew, and she definitely can’t talk to him about the Slayer origin stuff.  So, no, she’s not upset he told her, but…the situation’s a bad one, because it’s not like she can just talk about it in a way that would help her make sense of it all.  It’s not like being part devil would make her evil, either—Xander isn’t.  It’s more questions like ‘what does that make her?’ and ‘who is she then?’.  So she’ll just put it off, because she doesn’t want to think about it.  “Aww, I knew you wanted the makeup!”
         He ducks his head and generally attempts to make himself smaller.  “It’s so impractical, though.  It’s already messed up and I barely bumped into the door.  What’ll happen when I try to fight?”
         She cocks her head as if she’s thinking about that, even putting a hand to her her chin.  “Hmm.  Did you think about maybe that’s the point?”
         It takes him a second before he sighs.  “I’m never going to live down the Stabbing Incident, am I?”
         “Nope,” she responds brightly.  And then she looks at what he’s actually doing.  “What are you—Xander, are you eating oatmeal for dinner?  …Nope, I’m fixing this.”
         He just puts his head in his hands, amused and embarrassed.  “Don’t let Willow help you.  She’s a baker, not a cook.”
         That catches her by surprise.  “Can I cook?”
         He shrugs.  “I dunno, ask chefghost.  Appeal to hisher pride as a teacher, see where it gets you.”
         “The answer’s a yes, assuming I’m any good,” she reports after a minute from just outside the kitchen.
         “I’ll ask you to make a sammich for me and Willow.  That’s not sexist at all,” he yells back, some of his good humor back, and she just rolls her eyes.
         “On second thoughts, just eat your oatmeal!” she orders.
         “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”  He even salutes her.  Who even does that?  Besides their half-devil dork.