Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers. I do not own Filia, and I do not (unfortunately) own Xellos. All I own is… er, well… nothing, really.
Xellos and Filia's Interesting Night
Filia rolled her eyes at the gaping mazoku.
"Don't get the wrong idea. All I'm saying is I don't mind if you stay here for awhile. Just don't try anything funny," she told him.
Xellos managed to regain his composure. He smirked. "Of course not. Thanks for your kind offer, Filia."
He settled down in the armchair. Filia watched him warily for a moment, then went to her room. She made sure her mace was very close at hand before she turned out her lights.
It had been two weeks since Xellos started staying at Filia's store. It was a bright, starlit night, around one or two in the morning, and Xellos had just materialized behind the counter before glancing around for his dragon companion. Not seeing her, he started to go upstairs, until Filia's voice stopped him.
"Oh, Xellos?" she called. The mazoku turned slowly. Filia was sitting in the armchair, holding her mace.
"Er…yes, Filia-chan?" he asked nervously.
"Take off my shoes."
Xellos hesitated, but then realized that would only earn him a mace applied forcefully to his head. He did as he was told.
"Now, my robe," Filia instructed.
Xellos coughed nervously, but didn't argue.
"Skirt," the dragon said.
Xellos was blushing badly now, but Filia still had her mace.
After the rest of the garments were disposed of, Filia stood up and faced Xellos.
"Now," she said, glaring at the very embarrassed priest, "if I ever catch you wearing my clothes again, I will have to kill you."