People watching, it became an exceedingly intriguing hobby since you arrived in the land of demons. One you hadnât had as many chances to partake in as of late. Watching as they simply go about their lives, how familiar and distant their actions were, holding hands when crossing the street, sneaking up behind someone to surprise bite their shoulder, tall demons patting the head of shorter ones and shorter one giving a kick to the shin in return merrily, a pat to the shoulder, hugs.
Were those simply natural inclinations, or was there history, and meaning that went over a humanâs head.
And unfortunately it seemed, youâd never get too.
Despite those brothers being ârulersâ of this place, they always kept a distance from the people, knowing the culture, setting trends, but to bathe in it? Live it? BE IT
They refused too. Or perhaps, Lucifer, refused too.
Even all these years later.
The moment Satan sat beside you on the bench, a book in one hand, the other leaning on the seat-
âOi! The hell you think youâre doinâ!â
âPDA Police! Get your hand away from MC!â
A veritable riot broke out, first Mammon and Leviathan soon dragging in their other brothers, for the fourth had done such an atrocious crime. His fingers bumped into yours that were also placed on the seat.
As affectionate as any of them tried to be with you, someone else would always appear and throw a fuss over it.
Even when Beelzebub sat beside you and placed a hand on your shoulder. So terrible. âBut theyâre starving!â
Or when Belphie tried using your lap as a pillow. âGo away.â Diabolical, he should be thrown in the attic again.
It could surprisingly be cold in that house at times.
There was also a surprising lack of cultural exchange in this âexchange programâ. But perhaps you were too presumptuous, that letter that started it all never called this a âcultural exchange programâ. But wasnât that the point of these things? Especially THIS ONE, for the three worlds to build connections, to better understand each other?
As much as you loved the brothers, you couldnât help but mourn that âwhat ifâ, if you were assigned to live in Purgatory Hall or with Mephistopheles instead, to get a chance to actually learn of THIS PLACE, not just your isolated roommates.
âHmm.â Diavoloâs smile faltered. Eyes closed, arms crossed, he leaned back in his seat.
âSomething wrong?â Odd just moments ago you two were having your usual chats, him asking how your day was, laughing over the brothers antics and such, yet there he was, looking⊠not disappointed, but definitely not happy or content.
âBut whatâs gotten you upset? Is that something you donât deem worthy of mentioning?â
You rather enjoyed these weekly visits to the Demon Lordâs gardens for tea. It was your suggestion actually, kind of, a chance to directly talk to Diavolo about what humans would need here like artificial sunlight, after Lucifer threatened you shut up and not tell the prince a thing about how to actually improve the program. So early on when you had hopes of not being a family therapist and getting to experience the Devildom.
âI⊠Iâm not?â How could you be in that moment? A break from yelling for quiet. Tea, biscuits, and all sorts of other delights prepared by the greatest butler there was. Holding a conversation that wasnât interrupted every five seconds. Even great company.
It was Diavoloâs idea to have these meetings in the gardens over tea. Much better than the stuffy office you expected or even the brief handing over of a report. No. Barbatos would lead you through the maze of shrubbery, always noticing any plants that caught your attention and gifting you factoids about them, sometimes even incorporating them into the tasty delights you had for next weeks meet up.
âWhy? How would I be?â This was too homely, like taking a day trip to a botanical garden with the kindest guides.
The prince didnât seem to care for your query, a pitiful half-hearted laugh, or rather a huff was your response. Yet, he smiled, leaning in forward some. âWell then. I guess we can only get to business then.â
He beamed, that delightful sparkle in his eye. He truly loved his people. So much. âWhat do you want to know?â
âWhat I wanna knowâŠâ You took a sip, you forgot what Barbatos called it, but it was mellow with a kick on the back of the tongue. The butler set about pouring you some more; it was mesmerizing watching that pale pink liquid ripple in the cup as it flowed in.
âMC?â You were so mesmerized by the tea you missed the quick glance the prince and butler shared, and the faintest of frowns too. Or even your name being called.
â⊠I guess, what dose touch mean.â
How were you to word this? âYou see⊠Back in the human world, there are many cultures that see touch or any display of affection publicly as strictly romantic. To do otherwise is wrong, disgusting. Youâd be treated oddly if you asked to hold a friendâs hand. In other places, even just a stoneâs throw away, people kiss one another on the cheek or even hug for greetings. IâŠâ
You couldnât help your gaze shifting away to the side, seeing the warped reflection of the stars on that great lake. âwhat dose it mean to you? Do you see people across the street holding hands and assume theyâre a couple, or is that allowed if youâre not? Do demons need touch, are you smarter than some places that make such a basic form of communication practically a social tabu? Do you understand that humans NEED touch, that it helps the brain, keeps you healthy, PHYSICALY, not just emotionally? That humans need one hug a day to stay healthy?
Do you understand how it rots? Do you rot?
Dose that make any sen-âŠâ
Your words faltered the moment you focused on what was caught from the corner of the eye. He was reaching for you across the table, palm up. Was there enough room for him to rest his arm across the table or did Barbatos just like, instantly move stuff out of the way for him?
It was strange, such an open invitation yet still, your hand hesitated.
He dwarfed you. His callouses from writing so much, about or bigger than the pad of your thumb. If he closed his hand, yourâs would be completely hidden and none would be the wiser if there was anything in his palm.
So warm, probably from his teacup.
Odd, he didnât speak right away, instead his thumb idly rubbed against the back of your hand.
Studying. Thatâs what this was.
âWhat do demons eat?â
Asked the prince of demons.
Then burst out into howling laughter. If he didnât have such great control over himself, he probably would have knocked over the table on accident.
Dewy tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he settled down.
Okay, fine. Time for your real answer, not that you were incorrect before. âEnergy, emotions. That kind of thing.â
âLifeforce.â Of course, Barbatos swooped in with the correct terminology.
And you continued. âYou can get it from things that require effort to make, like art, dancing, cooking.â
Diavolo nodded. âBut, isnât this emotional too? Touch?â
What an odd thing, that question truly grabbing your attention, dragging you out of that fog.
Gently his thumb pressed into the bones of your hand, tracing down them, massaging the muscles and ligaments that kept it all together.
â⊠I guess so?â Certain actions that involve touch yes, but just⊠touch itself?
Of course, the prince could read even the smallest of your expressions like an open book, was that just him, or something he learned as being prince?
âWhile alive, this is the closest we can get. Isnât that special?â His eyes seemed to shimmer. âI think food is a common language among all people. We give it when hosting, we give it when others are grieving or hurt, when you donât know what to gift someone, we always go back to food. Everyone needs it. We need connections, we need trust. And the best way to give food, is directly!â
âSo, what. Youâre nibbling on my emotions right now?â There was a light laughter in your tone-
âAnd you get a bit of mine in turn.
Human lifeforce is so vibrant and bright, and youâre always making so much of it, leaving it in anything you touch. My people⊠after living so long, we lose that flicker, that spark to keep going, that energy, we have so little. People care for their own, even when you have little, you share with people you care for. Friends, family, neighbors, even strangers. If we didnât have this little physicality that we do, touch⊠Iâm not sure thereâd even be a Devildom or demons.â
He gently squeezed your hand, something tender in his gaze as he did so. âAnd you need it too. I felt it, that shift! Just a little, but you feel a little better than before. Or worse. I⊠well, I havenât felt a humanâs touch enough to know that difference.â
At times, it felt odd to be so open like this. But for Diavolo, you tried. It was difficult to ignore one who wanted to connect as much as yourself.
You sighed. âSometimes you donât realize youâre missing something till you get a glimpse of it. But then when you do knowâŠâ Only now could you notice how something felt hollow. Deep and shallow. Overflowing, that warmth too much to bear that it burned but so empty you kept pretending he had an iron grip, desperately trying to not acknowledge how easily you could slip your hand away.
Almost⊠lonely feeling.
How it dared to squeeze at the back of your throat
âI supposeâŠâ You turned to the butler, a hand on his chin. âtheyâre so wrapped up in competition, they havenât realized how little nourishment youâve actually gotten.â
âOH!â That sudden shift, a pop. You couldnât help but to think back! âI thought the brothers were always more touchy with Beel and Belphie because theyâre, yâknow, the babies of the family! But itâs because Beelâs always starving! And thatâs why theyâre the most affectionate! Belphie and Beel are always feeding each other! And they⊠Beelâs said Iâm starving before when Iâve just eaten or didnât feel hungry. Maybe⊠THIS is what he meant.â
Diavolo hummed. âOf all of them, he would be the most sensitive to that. And Belphie certainly would have noticed too.â
âHeh, so maybe this is finally the way to get Belphie to stop trying to use me as his personal heated mattress. Just be at bit more⊠touchyâ
⊠howâd you even go about that. Theyâd always cause trouble if you dared tried.
A soft chuckle rumbled in Barbatosâ throat. âI, personally, would not place too much hope in that.â
âThen⊠what about you two? I havenât exactly seen anyone be too touchy-feely with you.â
From the sounds of it, touch is a mutual exchange. It wouldnât be wise for royalty to make themselves so open and vulnerable like this so often, would it.
And he offered his hand anyway.
âI devote my everything to my lord. It comes through in all my work.â All those sweets before you, the tea prepared in Diavoloâs favorite way. Could it be felt, pulsing like a heartbeat through the whole castle, cleaned day in and day out by Barbatosâ hand?
And now that you thought about it, Barbatos was never shy with the Little D.s, picking them up, lightly nudging them away to their work and such things. So they feed each other.
You couldnât look to or answer the prince. But⊠Did it matter?
It seemed, they may have began to see you differently after that. Dug a pit through the bottom of your stomach. Initially something in you just cowered. Wanting to hide. But how could you, when they were being more open themselves. The two people who should be the most guarded⊠and they tried forâŠ
âItâs rather chilly out.â Barbatos held out an arm for you to hold on to as you traversed the winding paths of the gardens.
âHmm, mind if I take a look?â Diavolo leaned over your chair during a student council meeting to see the notes before you, a hand on your shoulder, for balance would probably have been the excuse but none was needed when Lucifer swiftly crushed any protest about to be made⊠Although he hovered right behind you as if trying to push the prince out of your space.
And⊠perhaps you couldâŠ
âHey, Diavolo. Wanna learn some human handshakes?â
Perfectly. Average. Interactions.
âBarbatos, you know how to apply make-up right? Think you could teach me? I donât think I should be asking Asmo to always do it for me, and⊠Iâm kinda intimidated to ask him how. You know how⊠particular he gets about this stuff.â
âCertainly. But you know by now I can be rather âparticularâ myself.â
âWeâll begin tomorrow.â
This was a terrible idea. Not even after the first week you already ran out of handshakes and had to start making up some. You couldnât just teach Diavolo like three then be like âOkay Dia thereâs no more ways humans greet each other!â
IT FELT LIKE SUCH A SIMPLE THING THAT THERE WAOULD BE SO MANY VARIATIONS BUT WHEN YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT, LIKE REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, THERE WASNâT THAT MANY UNLESS YOU INCLUDED MADE UP SECRET HANDSHAKES!
You knew you were going to resort to that, but not this soon!
What were you even doing!?
You took a deep breath passing the front gates of the school, dreading when youâd inevitably run into the prince today.
Thankfully he was not at the front waiting for Lucifer to walk and talk business. He did not pass you in the halls of R.A.D. between classes. You didnât bump into him if he snuck away for a break. Not at the cafeteria just to oversee if nothing was happening at generally the most chaotic time of the school day.
Then he called for a student council meeting. You were shoved in with the crowd of brothers. Not even the chance for a single âHiâ as Lucifer practically glared everyone into their seats, his mood especially soured after Leviathan summoned Lotan destroying three buildings, Beel eating the cafeteria whole worried Lotan would destroy it, Satan flying into a rage that the cats were scared away by all the commotion, Belphie trying to pull one of his pranks amongst the chaos, Mammon using the chaos as a cover for thieving, and Asmo for Devilgraming all the incidents making R.A.D. look bad.
You were not looking forward too going home.
What was worse, embarrassing yourself before Diavolo or dealing with a pissy Lucifer.
The answer was very clear, you almost wanted to thank Diavolo for prolonging you âhavingâ to sit in on Luciferâs hours long lecture because âyou were there and didnât stop themâ and nonsense. Like you can ALWAYS handle them any second. HE of all people should know what a task that was.
Tired, boring, longwinded, hopefully no one noticed how you zoned out during the meeting.
All too soon it had come to an end.
⊠And it didnât seem Luciferâs mood was any better, his rage silent but palpable. That alone herding his brothers through the door.
âMC, could you stay back?â The cheery prince didnât faulter under his right-handâs appalled look. âWe shouldnât be long.â
You couldnât care at this point, rather blatantly scurrying over to the manâs side and answering so quickly. Anything to make Lucifer objecting harder.
You watched as the man stewed for a moment before not saying a thing, just a little bow before leaving.
âWhatever for?â That chuckle seeping out of his voice gave his amusement away. âYou still need to teach me a handshake!â
⊠Yeah, just about what you expected.
âHold your hand out⊠now we curl our fingers together like this and rest your thumb on like⊠the side of your pointer finger, the side of the knuck- yeah like that. Now, when we both say one we switch our thumbs. One.â
âAnd we keep it up for each syllable. I declare-â
âCâmon, put it up, now we fight!â
âWith only the thumb, you gotta pin your opponentâs thumb!â
The man chuckled, you both knew he could win instantly; however itâd be rude if he ended your greeting so abruptly. The ridiculousness drew some snickers from you, twisting and turning your hands trying to get leverage, nudging each other away, by the end you were both giggling messes, this giddy, boyish, silly energy overtaking you as your war raged on.
Diavolo chuckled, keeping his thumb back as far as he could, watching as you struggled to reach him.
But however long he wanted to extend this greeting, he couldnât keep Lucifer waiting on you for too long. At least he got a smile to grace your tired features before letting you go. Even a laugh, he did well.
âI win!â And in the last moment, swift as a bullet, he got you.
âFinally done toying with me, are ya?â
âWhatever do you mean.â
âWellâŠâ Your sudden quiet and subdued tone, it got him to drop that mischievous streak. âI suppose I did so first. And I canât simply let you out into the human world, challenging everyone to thumb wars wherever you go.â
âA game, not a greeting.â
âI seeâŠâ Why did his grip get tighter? âThen, since I won, could I choose the greeting you teach me?â
Confused you raised a brow, nodding, unsure how one could go about doing so.
âExcellent.â He- â⊠You once said humans sometimes greet each other with hugs, right?â
Those arms enveloped you completely, their grip so firm and sturdy. Your face pressed into his chest, even with all those layers of fabric, his steady breath, a gentle raise and fall, heart rhythmically beating away under your touch, it was much too loud and big even for his massive frame.
You almost lost your footing from how secure his hold was.
âWe do⊠sometimes.â
So⊠this was the strong hands which hold the entire weight of the Devildom, huh.
A powerful, and gentle grip. Unyielding in strength and care. The hands of a gardener, plucking the weeds, pulling them out by the stubborn roots and tenderly coaxing the plants into bloom, making sure anything they could need was cared for.
Even if it dared to squeeze at your throat.
Even if it dared to squeeze the tiny heart in your chest.
Even if it dared to make your breath begin to hitch and shutter.
Did it matter if it was you? Or just someone willing to reach out?
But it seemed, you were the only one to dare.
Be this vulnerable in the face of the most powerful and potentially destructive being there was.
For all his kindness and love, was still feared by his people.
Did he yearn, just as much as you?
A man who had to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders, to be small, to be held close, to be able to be broken.
To be allowed to connect at all
Is that the world heâs so desperate to create?
Did he ever allow himself this before?
You didnât say anything about how the ever self-controlled, steady Diavolo, acting ruler and future king of demonsâ hands trembled slightly as you slowly let go, and he didnât say a thing about the tear stains that now adorned his uniform.
It was certainly tiring just how many parties you were dragged off too, clubs, raves, balls, there was always something. And being by the side of the brightest stars of the Devildom, whether you liked it or not, you were somewhat forced to keep up appearances.
Not by on lookers, oh no, but those stars themselves. You were their lovely little doll to dress up however they pleased. They had a NEED to show off their amazing master after all, so how you looked was top priority.
And the worst part of all⊠when they were unable to do so the fit theyâd throw. Asmo refusing to leave in the greatest dramatics till he did your make-up, Mammon hiding the pair of you away if he didnât get a say in your outfit.
And frankly, you were getting tired of being blamed for their antics. Especially when they got into a fight because the other was getting too âtouchyâ with you which happened just about every time.
Even if they wouldnât accept it and want to do this for you anyway, maybe learning how to apply makeup for days when they were too busy too would placate them some.
And so, every few days or so, depending on his schedule, youâd make your way over to the Demon Lordâs Castle. Of course his ward noticed, getting pouty when Barbatos allotted your time for directly after your tea times with Diavolo. One of the Little D.s would act as your escort while Barbatos made sure Diavolo got to work even knowing his favorite guest was still milling around somewhere.
It was the same room every time, one you hadnât been to before these lessons. Some sort of dressing room you had to assume. It was much better lit than most of the darkened castle halls, rivaling the main entrance, the only other bright room in this place you could think of other than the ballroom directly connected to it.
A walk-in closet perhaps? You couldnât be too sure.
You were placed before a grand three mirrored vanity. It was perfectly your size unlike most of the beds, chairs, and couches better fit for the denizens of this land, a bit bigger than your petite human self.
Rather simple at first glance, even with the three mirrors and the many drawers, but then came the details. How shiny the finishing was, the deep dark red of the wood, the intricate engravings on the edges, even a matching chair. Almost odd to say but it almost felt like it was made for you somehow, but why you couldnât quite articulate. So, youâd admire the craftmanship, run your hands across the surface, poke around in the drawers to see what youâd be working with this time, see if there were any hidden compartments somewhere.
âEnjoying yourself I see.â
A great THUNK you jumped, head slamming into the underside.
âIâm fine! Iâm fine.â Your first instinct was to take a deep breath as to try stifling the flush that threatened to bloom across your cheeks.
He kneeled, squatting on the ground by your exit, but he didnât crowd you, a little off to the side as you waddled your way out.
The moment you were in the open he approached, âPlease, allow me.â placing his hands on your head, likely searching for and bumps and looking if there were any bruises.
It was strange, despite how close you were you couldnât make out what he had mumbled so quietly. It made your scalp tingle under where his fingertips traced. A spell, most likely.
Or not, magic actually wasnât used all too often in everyday use here despite what one might expect. Perhaps it truly was simply his finger work, even as his voice hushed the feeling lingered as he continued.
The crown, the sides, down, tracing the bottom of the skull, where head and neck met, behind the ears⊠and just the right amount of pressure. In all honesty, you were rather tempted to close your eyes, but you never could, no matter how relaxing, every fiber of your being so alert to every movement made. Even of the shifting of his weight on his own feet. If he were to lean forward, just a little, just a few inchesâŠ
Soon he backed off, a hand out for you to take. âMay I get anything for you?â
âNah, like I said Iâm fine.â You were not going to have him go fetch an ice pack or something and that makes him decide to cancel this because youâre hurt.
Besides, you didnât hit your head that hard, the pain was just from⊠the wood⊠the wood was extra hard or something, it just seemed worse than it felt!
HE SO KNEW, HE ALWAYS KNOWS EVERYTHING, HE COULD PROBABLY SOLVE A MURDER MYSTERY FROM ONLY SEEING ONE CLUE!
But it seemed, for whatever reason, he didnât call you out, instead holding out your chair for you⊠and patting your head once before walking away.
Damn it, Damn it, DAMN IT! Donât let this stupid embarrassment give you away! No blushing cheeks, no tears pricking the corners of the eye! None of that nonsense!
You! Are just! Had a VERY normal interaction! And nothing else!
For whatever reason the man often caught you off guard. There was just always something⊠off, for lack of better wording, inhuman about him. It wasnât bad, he didnât scare you, he just⊠for someone who seemed so upfront, even about his more mysterious aspects⊠there was just something. Like his touch.
In all honesty, you didnât expect him to be as touchy as he had become, and how quickly too. It fit, but also didnât fit his personality, or at least your impression of him. Ever the perfect butler, doing all this for poor you. Pity. Duty.
âMy apologies for the wait, it seems my chair ran away.â
âSo, shall we get started?â
And so your lesson began.
Barbatos was a very strict but patient teacher. Youâd spend hours doing the same technique over and over before you got it just right, then by your next lesson you had to show Barbatos you could do it again, and if you failed another lesson that was nothing but that.
You never looked to one another directly, always focused solely on your reflections, watching him work on himself.
He truly was such a beautiful man. Wars would likely be waged over him if he stayed out of the Demon Lordâs castle long enough, let alone if he highlighted his best features like he was teaching you how. No wonder everyone went nuts when he was dressed as a dame. Even as a child did Diavolo know he dream and knew he had to lock this man down lest thereâd never be true peace with all fighting for his affections? Seemed ridiculous, but you wouldnât be surprised.
âHowever, with the shape of your eyes, I suggest you keep the wing short. It can be rather striking, and it would suit you well, but shorter ones would highlight your lashes instead of distracting from them.â
âSomething the matter?â
⊠He pat you on the head again before continuing. It frustrated you how it felt so⊠childish? Embarrassing? Silly? Needy? You didnât know but the feeling was, just that it was a lot.
He never had his gloves on during these lessons. Surely it was that. That was also why you always dreaded the end of these lessons. âTurn to me please.â He always did your whole face after. A very natural look, something you could easily do tiny adjustments too fit most occasions, the sort of âgoalâ you were building towards.
Cupping your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the area under the eye, fingers on your chin tilting you this way and that; it made your stomach do flips. Some guy doing your make up made you react like this. The most tender, and kind touch, and it was fucking THIS, a JOB! Because OF COURSE it iS! Why eLSe wOuLD ANYoNE-
â⊠Iâm sorry, for what?â Even with the man so close to your face you couldnât read his expression.
Even as he paused for a moment, staring at you. There was⊠something swirling in his gaze.
Then he continued his work.
âI may have powers that relate to time, but unlike how even Solomon assumes it works, I am much more effected by it than most. Time. I am not itâs master, but the other way around. Scattered throughout it all, all at once, more aware of that pull than anyone else. At times, there is difficulty in âbeing hereâ to not get lost some time else. To be in any âpresentâ, you might say.â
He kept going, but his movements slowed, fingers lightly tracing the lines on your face he had yet to cover. âYou can be here, while I struggle to find footing to stay on.â He dropped the brush instead going for one of those hand power pads, and with each pat of it, the tips of his fingers holding it did so too. The last step, a final touch-up. He always insisted on it, even though you were confident it shouldnât be. âBut, touch grounds me, something tactile, something to anchor me here. And youâre allowing me to live in this moment, with you.
So thank you, for gifting me excuses-â He put it away. Before patting your head where you crashed into the vanity, again. âto stay here.â
His eyes widened, you taking his face before he could stand. Cradling his cheeks, foreheads pressed together. âFor you, Barbatos, anything. Only if itâs for you.â
He leaned into you. â⊠Yes⊠For me.â
âHeh, guess I gotta get myself injured so you can take care of the woun-â
âIâd rather you didnât joke like that MC.â
â⊠Oh no, I suddenly forget how to put on foundation.â You didnât even try hiding that droll playfulness from your tone.
âThen I suppose we have no choice but for me to demonstrate on you for you to remember how it feels and should look in the end.â Huh, and it seemed Barbatos couldnât either.
âYeah, and Iâm kinda dizzy from hitting my head before.â
âI may need to lean on you to keep balance.â
âOf course, I wouldnât allow for anything else.â
âAnd we might have to walk slowly. Like, really slowly.â
âI see. Rest assured, no matter how long it takes Iâll make sure you get back safely. "
