author: Lucinda

content may be similar to the series, with violence involving humans and nonhumans, moderate sexuality, and alcohol, though it probably won't be as serious.

pairing: Willow/Doyle, mentions of past tense Willow/Tara

eighth in 'Lucky Charm'

disclaimer: I own nobody from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series.

distribution: WLS, NHA, Bite Me please, Wic, anyone else just ask.

notes: AU. Hero never happened. Cordelia hooked up with Wesley, and Doyle's crush on her faded.

Willow sighed, tucking one last book onto the shelf. She was here, in LA, preparing to go to a different college where she wouldn't know anybody, with a room in Angel's hotel. Instead of paying rent, she would be helping with research and magic for slaying, though without Buffy. For a moment, she wondered if it was still called slaying without a Slayer, but decided that if not, slaying was close enough.

"Getting everything settled in, Willow?" Doyle's voice called from outside the door.

"Mostly. I've got everything out of boxes at least," Willow replied.

The door swung open, revealing Doyle, in his comfortable, slightly worn clothing. "And did you stop to get something to eat during this unpacking?

"Ummm..." Willow blushed, trying to think about that. Had she actually paused for food?

"I'm thinking that means no. Come on; let's go out for dinner. I know a place that does great Chinese, or we could get some pizza..." he tempted.

"Chinese is good," Willow replied, standing up. Her head felt funny for a few moments, and her vision darkened just a little. How long had it been since she'd remembered to eat something? Apparently much too long, if she was feeling like this. "You'd better drive. I don't even know where this place is."

"Of course, my lady," Doyle replied, holding his arm out to her.

She smiled, and they made their way to a car, and Willow moved a stack of mail to the back seat before settling into the passenger side and fastening her seat belt. "I just hope the soup isn't too salty.

She just leaned back, trying to relax as he drove. There were no hairpin turns or squeals of tires, making him a better driver than both Buffy and Cordelia. Soon enough, the car came to a halt, tucked into a parking spot along the street.

The place had a sign, with oriental characters in green glowing overhead, a few places showing white where the paint had fallen from the sign. It was a simple brick building in a row of identical brick buildings. Honestly, it looked a bit dingy, but she could smell the food, and it smelled wonderful.

"Any idea what the sign says?" Willow asked, glancing at them. They looked almost familiar, but she'd never learned to read any of the eastern languages.

"Peaceful Ogre," Doyle replied, and then added, "It's run by a demon family. Second generation residents, and pretty decent people, but they'd rather nobody start any fights inside, so the sign basically says that it's a no fighting area."

Willow nodded, following him inside the building. She could see a couple waitresses, with smooth bluish green skin and falls of shining black hair. One had a pair of neat, black horns raising strait up, like an antelope, and she could see that another had small tusks, the tips just barely rising over her upper lip. Behind the counter, a huge green man with horns like a bull wielded a pair of cleavers, dicing meat for a smaller, bluish woman to cook with.

"Yikes," Willow murmured, looking at the couple behind the counter. "It looks like it would be dangerous to start a fight in here."

"They swear that they've never used the customers as ingredients," Doyle grinned at her.

"Good to know, but who wants to hassle a cook that's three times as big as most people? Especially one with big, sharp knives?" Willow glanced around. "Do we seat ourselves, or wait?"

"Please follow me to a table," answered one of the waitresses, her skin a little more green than blue. "And most people think Dad looks too big and scary to bother."

Willow followed, feeling like her head was about to combust. Bad enough that she'd been caught staring at the cook by one of the staff, but it was a family restaurant, the person who caught her was the cook's daughter, and oh... the ground could open up and swallow her any time now. She wouldn't mind too much.

"Don't worry so much," Doyle commented. "So, any ideas on what you'll have for dinner?"

Willow opened the menu, part of her wanting to just find one of the few things that she always ordered in Sunnydale, and part of her insisting that every eastern restaurant made things just a little different, so everything would be new anyhow. Finally, she settled on the Szechwan beef, and when the waitress came back, they placed their order. Doyle asked for the Sweet and Sour pork.

"You might want to try the pork, it's really good," he offered.

Willow shook her head. "I don't think I'll be trying that. I... well, my family's Jewish, and while I don't worry so much now about keeping kosher, there's some old habits that die hard. I don't eat pork. I do keep Passover."

"Jewish?" Doyle blinked, and then grinned. "So, you were raised Jewish, fought alongside a Christian Slayer, and now you're... what, pagan?"

"No, but my girlfriend was," Willow commented. "I don't know what I'd call myself now."

"As an Irishman, I was raised Catholic, and Angel probably was too," Doyle observed. With a small smile, he chuckled, "I'm recovering nicely. Part of that being that some things are rather hard to bring up in Confession."

"Would that be the visions, the part where you're half demon, or the working for a vampire part?" Willow asked, feeling lighter inside, as if she could float.

"Any of that. Most of them have the very straight and narrow experiences, they don't know about the not-so human, and they aren't wanting to know either." Doyle seemed a little sadder as he explained.

Willow nodded, thinking about her own colorful and hard-to-explain past. Hanging out in the library, knowing what, when and how the assorted teachers had died, breaking into the morgue, hacking databases, conspiring to blow up the school and mayor... "Sometimes life gets weird."

"I'm sorry to drag you into this," Doyle murmured.

"No, I got dragged into this a long time ago," Willow insisted. "When I'm with you... it feels like it's not quite so bad. Almost comfortable."

"So, you're comfortable around me?" Doyle grinned. "That's not a bad thing at all..."

Willow smiled back, thinking that it was actually a rather good thing. He made her feel good, and comfortable with herself, with her place in the world.

For once, life was good. Not okay, considering. Not better than it could have been. She felt good about her life, and about Doyle.

end Lucky Charms 8: Comfortable.