@aiixen Here it is! Sorry it took me so long, I was stuck on mobile for a while, and I refuse to publish this without a read more!
1k words & 4 scene changes ahead!
Cyn manages to escape the party, finding refuge skirting the edge of the woods behind the stranger's house. Their jacket hangs from their shoulders, keeping off the night’s chill. Their D.D.D. vibrates once in their back pocket. They pull it out, swiping up to read the text.
It's from Belial, "Where are you?" Mammon, Asmo, and Solomon all came with them, but it's him who notices they're missing?
Whatever. They take a picture of the woods, and send it with "Come and find me." They continue their meander along the edge.
It doesn't take him long to find them. "No drink?"
"Left that inside." They look to his empty hands, raising a brow. "Shouldn't you be cradling a glass?" He usually is, white wine if they have to guess.
He shrugs, easy, like he isn't breaking a pattern. It shouldn't matter, but it sends their mind thinking. Usually he spends parties ignoring them, in favor of antagonizing Mammon and Asmo with his presence. Unless he's found a new way to do that, using them.
Well then.
They nod their head forward. "Walk with me." They could use the company.
He skips ahead a bit, walking backwards to face them. "With a demon who isn't part of your guard? How scandalous~"
Cyn' rolls their eyes, and let some of the smile slip through. How he does this, they don't know, but... Well... His attitude towards the brothers is refreshing. Too many demons care about how much time they spend with them, and, while he may as well, his way of showing it is different, instead of... Well, let's not think about that right now. After all, there's a clever devil with them right now, and he gets pouty if he doesn’t have attention.
Cyn's laugh comes easy in the cafe. "So what wine am I bribing you with next time?"
Belial hums. "How about a Barsac?"
Of course he asks for something they've never seen at the bar. They sip their decaf coffee.
He brings his cup to his lips. Great, he's thinking, or at least acting like he is to make them fret. "Why do you play this game with me?"
Huh, "explain."
He points his drink at them. "You're stalling."
They huff. Per the rules, calling one out on stalling means the one called out must answer, no explanation required.
Of course, they're the only one who obeys the rules. They take another sip, noticing the caramel, chocolate, and that one flavor they keep forgetting to ask about. How is he going to take their answer? Their rules say they either answer honestly, or risk getting called out again.
Fuck it. "Your answers still give me insight into what you think I'll believe, even if I'd be stupid to believe anything 'personal' you tell me." Their turn. Why not lighten the mood again? "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"
His face makes them laugh again.
Cyn' sees Belial at the bar, probably flirting his way past last call. Let them guess, Asmo found someone to bring home, and asked Solomon to walk them home, but Solomon doesn't want to, so he's taking advantage of his 72 pacts to find someone willing to do the job for him. Given certain responsibilities the Brothers were given, showing up arm-in-arm with Belial of all demons was too good an opportunity to pass up.
They roll the comfort candy from one side of their mouth to the other. At least, that's what they've been assuming. They'd never ask though; better their guesses than another lie to try and decipher any meaning from.
They dry off another glass as the demon winks over the glass of what they now know is white wine. Did he go with a Riesling this time? Why's it matter, anyway?
Cyn' hands Belial the Chardonnay, places a glass on the end table next to the couch, then plops down on his other side. Having pacts with six out of, if you include the Demon King, ten of the Devildom's most powerful demons gets you some privilege, it appears. They're certain it has more to do with Solomon telling his demons to keep an eye out for them, though. Whatever. Who cares, really? They bring his arm around their shoulder, pulling out their cell to scroll through Facebook, of all things. It's the only way they've kept in contact with their family this whole time.
"Who pissed you off this time?”
They groan. He won't let up, he never does. He likes attention, and apparently can't appreciate silence.
"They all did," they put their phone away, it's what he wants. "I can't get a moment's peace with them!" If Mammon isn't tearing through the house running from Lucifer, then one of the brothers is trying to steal their alone time, or the Lucifer, you S*CK club is planning a new lame prank, or something! It's always something, they never have a moment to themselves any more!
He laughs! Really, at their misery! He turns them to face him, a finger under their chin. "And you thought being around me would get them to leave you alone?"
Well, he has a point there. They're always more clingy after they find him around them, in their own ways. "I..." Yeah, this really was a stupid decision. They shrug. Oh well, "I've already given you the wine, might as well make use of the bought time." Oh, that rhymes! Maybe they could make a poem-
His thumb traces the bottom of their lower lip. "You like the attention, don't you?"
They really don't. He should know this, he's mentioned how they can't keep their desires hidden around him-
There's a light pressure on their lip, from his nail. "The no-strings-attached facsimile of affection," oh, "the comfort of being honest with me." They swear there's some venom in his voice, but they brush it off. Why would it be there in the first place?
They shrug again, so what if they do? "You can always tell me to stop," if he wants them to.
They pride themself on catching the flash of emotion his crimson eyes give, even if they don't have a name for it. "Maybe I like having your attention too."
They scoff, resisting the urge to elbow him. They settle into his side again, keeping their devices put away. "You like making their lives difficult."
He chuckles this time, "you know me so well."
They roll their eyes, ignoring his hand under their shirt, so long as it stays at their waist. "Could you help me with this thing I'm writing?"
He hums, and the two fall into an easier conversation then feelings, and who they might be pining after.