This is the second part of my “when he knew he loved you” series.
Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie
Diavolo | Barbatos | Solomon | Simeon | Luke
Warnings: Cursing
Pairing: Mammon x GN!MC
Words: 983
It’s been almost a month since you arrived. A month of babysitting a human, Mammon rolls his eyes. If only he could find the human. Usually you follow him around, clinging to his side. Well, in reality, he follows you around, but today he lost track of you after RAD.
He’s actually not sure what Lucifer would do to him if he let you get hurt. He doesn’t want to know.
He’s been looking for you for ten minutes. So far he’s checked your room, the kitchen, dining room, and living room. And you’re nowhere to be found. He’s starting to worry. (About Lucifer, not your well-being.)
Finally, as he approaches the library, he hears your voice.
“So… do you think he’ll like it?” you ask, showing off something to his brothers.
“Pfft, MC, he won’t even look at it before trying to sell it,” says Levi, not bothering to look up from his game.
“What?” Mammon’s heart clenches at the hurt in your voice.
“Yeah, if he can squeeze a Grimm out of it, he will. I mean, the thought is nice, but…”
“But I made it myself,” you start.
“Oh, even better. ‘Handmade by a human!’ It’s doubled in price now,” Satan laughs, looking up from his book. Mammon’s face drops.
“Really?” you ask, enthusiasm gone.
“MC, darling, you put a lot of time into it. Do you really want to give it to someone who won’t appreciate it?” Asmo asks. With that, Mammon huffs.
“He… he’ll appreciate it!” you say, holding whatever it is close to your chest.
“Look… to tell the truth, he’d probably try to sell you if Lucifer wouldn’t kill him. He’ll flip that faster than Beel eats a cheeseburger.” Satan turns the page.
“He’s a scumbag,” says Levi, “he takes my things all the time to make an easy buck. And he’s my brother. Why do you think he’d appreciate something from you, a human he barely knows?”
“No, he’s not. He’s a good person,” you say, anger dripping from your tongue. Mammon’s eyes widen. “And he’s my friend! You guys are wrong.”
“I mean, yeah, he likes money. But that’s his… thing. You know, I wouldn’t expect Beel to stop eating. Or… Asmo to stop staring into that mirror,” you say.
The fifth-born looks away from the mirror for a moment, “I’m fixing my makeup.”
You ignore him. “None of you can help your sin. Why are you guys always being mean to Mammon for his? It’s not fair. Fuck, now I sound like Mr. Envy,” you chuckle and Satan smirks behind his book. “Anyway, I’m gonna go give this to him now. But, you guys really suck a lot, you know?”
“Let us know how much he gets for it,” says Mr. Envy himself as you stand. You stick your tongue out at him, which Asmo laughs at.
Mammon’s heart races and he turns to quickly climb the stairs, two at a time, to his room, where you’re headed, with a gift, that you apparently handmade, for him. He shuts the door behind him and leans against it.
They think I’m good. He smiles softly to himself, then it drops when he realizes you just stood up to his brothers, who could’ve actually killed you.
He’s got to have a talk with you about that.
A knock at his door startles him. “Uh… Mammon, are you in there?”
He blinks and wipes his hand through his hair, waiting a second before he opens the door.
“Hey human,” he says, nonchalantly. As if he hadn’t been looking for you and he’d heard none of your conversation and wasn’t internally combusting from your words.
“Can I come in?” you ask. He can tell you’re hiding something behind your back.
“Yeah, I guess.” He steps back from the door to let you inside, then closes it behind you, and takes a seat on his couch. You follow him over and stand in front of him.
“So… I kind of made you something.”
“Oh?” Really? He had no idea. Not at all.
“Yeah. So… here,” you say, thrusting a large gift bag into his lap. He raises a brow.
He smiles and reaches into the bag to pull out a round yellow cushion. “Hey, this looks like Grimm!” he points out when he sees the skull on the front.
He notices how your eyes light up. “Yeah! Yes! I tried. I’ve not really been crocheting long, so it’s not perfect-”
“Yeah it is.” He turns the pillow in his hands. On the back is a small tag which reads ‘MADE WITH LOVE, BY MC.’
“It’s really good,” he says, eyes wet. He refuses to cry in front of a human, no matter how nice they are to him.
“Yeah, ‘course I do. It’s money,” he grins and puts the pillow under his head, leaning back on it with a sigh. “It’s great, MC, thanks.”
You drop onto the couch beside him, before throwing your arms around his shoulders, “happy birthday Mammon! I’m so glad you like it.”
He freezes, breath caught in his throat, then puts one hand on your back. “Uh, yeah.”
You pull away, and pretend not to notice the blush blooming on his cheeks. “I’m gonna go downstairs to help with dinner. See you in a bit!”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, watching you exit his room. He pulls the cushion back from behind his head to examine the tag once again. ‘MADE WITH LOVE, BY MC.’
“With love,” he whispers, tracing the words. Is that how you feel about him? How he feels about you? And he groans, pressing his face against it.
(Just wait till he finds the card inside the bag and reads the sweet message you wrote. He won’t be able to look you in the eyes for a week.)
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