The footsteps of an overly annoyed person stomping their feet approached the library, announcing Mammon's visit several seconds before he walked in and yelled, "Hey! Which of you is on dish duty this week?"
"Lower your voice," Satan growled with a mad glare. He slammed his book shut. "You can't go around disrupting the peace just because this isn't a public library."
You hoped they wouldn't fight. You were just trying to relax. Breaking up a fight was the last thing you wanted to do.
Mammon didn't back down from his younger brother's intimidation. "Well one of you" — he pointed at you and Satan in turn — "is disruptin' the peace of this house by not doing your damn chores! The sink and counter are covered in dirty dishes!"
"Why us?" you asked. "If someone's slacking off, isn't it probably Belphie?"
"It's probably you and you're trying to push the work onto someone else," Satan theorized. "You've pulled this a hundred times before."
"It ain't me!" Mammon insisted. He began pacing around the carpet. "I was in charge of the dishes last week, and I know Belphie's in charge of dinner this week. I've been askin' around because Lucifer's comin' back tomorrow and he left me in charge! So it'll be me who gets strung up if this place ain't spotless!"
Satan said, "So it should be you who does the dishes."
"Beel's on Cerberus walk duty. Asmo's on laundry. Levi's in charge of breakfast. I'm s'pposed to sweep the floors and keep an eye on all of ya." Mammon stopped pacing and put his shoe on the arm of Satan's chair. He put an elbow on his knee and leaned forward, getting right up in his brother's face. "Tell me, Satan. What's your chore for the week?"
Satan did not back down. He met Mammon's gaze and spat the words "Mopping the bathroom."
The two stared intensely at each other for a few seconds before their heads simultaneously whipped around to you. You felt like prey. Mammon put his leg down and headed your way.
"It's not me," you claimed quickly. But, what was your chore for the week? You couldn't remember. It was breakfast last week and mopping the week before that. When was the last time you'd been assigned the dishes? Your face was starting to heat up.
"I think I'm actually on laundry duty this week, so maybe Asm—"
"Hmmm?" Mammon loomed over your chair, looking down on you with the toothy smirk of a bad cop who just caught their perp. "What's that now? You think my intel's all wrong?"
"You can't be on laundry. You helped me with the stain on my shirt when you did it three weeks ago." Satan stood up and crossed his arms as he came to look at you.
You silently cursed Satan's excellent memory. He bent over to eye level and asked again, "What chore did Lucifer assign you this week?"
There was no choice. You doubled down. "Laundry! I told you! You don't believe me?"
"We don't," Mammon said. "That sounds like bull."
"Yeah, we don't," Satan agreed.
You were pretty sure you might've been on dish duty this week and straight up forgot. You were guilty. This left you with no options. There was only one thing to do. It was the right thing.
You gripped the arm rest and tried to fling yourself out of the chair to have more momentum when you ran out of the room. You went from calmly sitting one second to sprinting with everything you had the next. You'd find a way out of this mess if you could just get to your room and lock the door.
It was foolish to try and outrun two demons. They caught you before you even made it three steps. Your feet lifted off the ground. Mammon picked you up by the armpits and held you at bay as you thrashed, kicking your legs and careening your neck to try and bite his fingers.
"I'm innocent! It's not me!" you yelled.
"Shut up! We're in the library! You have the right to remain silent!" Satan yelled back as he wrestled your legs into his arms and pinned your knees together. You flicked at his chest with the tip of your shoe.
As struggling got more and more difficult, Mammon could hold you closer and wrap his forearms around your chest. You swatted at his shoulders and ears as he cackled. "You thought you could pull one over on The Great Mammon, didja? Think again, punk!"
They started carrying you out of the library. It was very undignified.
"Where are you taking me?" you cried.
"Somewhere you're gonna be for a long, long time," Mammon sneered.
"Even a hundred dishes would be too light for a criminal like you," Satan teased.
"Noooo!" You wiggled in their grasp to no avail as they took you towards the kitchen. There was no escape.
