[ I am sorry dear anonymous friend. I got sent a request / idea from years ago that had talked about a human who loved this hunk of a man and thought a story with a house-wife role would be really lovely. I tried looking for the original ask but it has been buried. I needed to write something floofy and sugary sweet, and I hope this finds you. <:D ]
Music was softly playing in the other room as you stood on a step stool at the kitchen counter. The rhythmic sound of a metal knife thocked against the wood cutting board. Two separate portions of chopped vegetables lay on the table, one cut more finely than the other. Glancing up to check the time on the clock you hop down from the stool, humming softly you push it over to the sink with the side of your foot. Gingerly stepping back up to wash your hands.
You let the previous conversation from this morning wash over you.
”Baby.” The gruff but affectionate voice had given you butterflies as a clawed hand took the large coffee cup you offered. “I know you said you’re okay with that step stool, but money ain’t a problem. Tell me how I can fix the kitchen for you.” The bright yellow and neon green eyes have cat-like pupils, the sharp slits widen slightly as they watch you.
”It’s alright, honest. It’s how I get my steps in! How else will I get my exercise?" You twitter with mirth as he squints and rolls his eyes in exasperation. Moving to playfully spin past him, his claws wrap around your arm and you look up.
”Baby.” He says again, leaning down, “Just so you know. If you keep disvaluing yourself, it’ll give me just cause to take matters into my own hands.” You blink as you receive a quick peck on the forehead. Instinctively your hand slides up his chest and gets a hold of his silk green tie. You tug down on it, and he moves his head just enough for you to place a soft kiss on his lips.
”Okay, bye Barbie, have a good day,” You whisper, he pulls back looking flustered,
“Bah!” He grumbles, “I should have never let ya meet Zelle. I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck for that nickname.” You cover a smile with the back of your hand, shoulders shaking.
”That‘s funny huh?” He huffs, his voice sarcastic but you can tell he is playing along and your shoulders shake harder, sides heaving from trying not to laugh. A big ringed hand reaches down, playfully musing your hair. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, wise guy.” His voice loses the sharpness then, “Not sure when I’ll get back tonight Sweetheart. You don’t worry about me alright? If you don’t wanna wait around for dinner, I can order something for us both.”
You tilt your head, peeking up at him as he straightens and adjusts his tie. “You know I like cooking, big boss man. Besides, you can’t live on buying food from restaurants all the time.”
He raises a brow. “Yeah? An‘ why is that?”
”Home cooking is better,” You say simply.
The corner of his mouth twitches in the ghost of a smile. “S’long as it makes you happy Sweetheart. Do whatever ya want.”
Your hands linger on a glass casserole dish, thinking. The suite at the top of the building Barbeus owned was your home. It was a gorgeous space. Tailor fit for the demon that resided within. The serious, down to earth businessman who mostly lived and worked in one place and rarely went elsewhere. Everything could be ordered in from the outside, and you lived very similarly. Yet, there was a little thing you had entertained in your mind for a while now. A thing you had wanted to ask for, but couldn’t bring yourself to speak the words.
You run a finger across your lips, nail scraping against the skin.
You loved showing your affection with food and keeping the place tidy, but there was a fear that if you asked for too much, or took up too much space, the loving life that had been crafted around you would split into a thousand glass shards. Even after all the reassurance Barbeus would give you, an old sharp wound still lingered. It had been there so long you hadn’t even realized it existed until he had noticed it.
”Maybe today I can ask…” You mumble softly to yourself, sliding the step stool back around to a new spot, you gather ingredients for the casseroles. Grating cheese over top of the two different sized pans then placing them into the oven to cook. Setting an egg timer you wander out of the kitchen. In the parlor of dark blue jewel tones trimmed with a vibrant electric green you pause in front of a full length mirror. Chewing on your lip you reach out and caress the glass. The black and green art deco surface ripples and clears, Barbeous is at his desk. Horned head bent low, his expression dark as he skims over the papers in his clawed hand.
You open your mouth to speak, but the words stick to your throat like molasses.
“Bar-Barbie? Honey?“
He looks up sharply, his scowl rearranging to worry. “Sweetheart?
“Is this a bad time?” Your eyes drop immediately, darting around and unable to look at him. “I can call later or-or.”
”No, baby, it’s fine. Did you need something?” His voice is the same tonation, but slightly flatter than you expected. Chewing on your lip more leaves the tang of metal on your tongue.
“I was… wonder-wondering, if we could eat out for dinner?”
“I can order something, what would you like?”
You swallow hard, “I want-ted. To. Know.” The words came out stiff and warbling, “If. We. Could-could. Go to a Rest.Tur.Ant. Tonight?”
“You want to go out to eat?” Your knuckles go white squeezing your hands together and you nod mechanically, not daring to look at his expression.
”Yanno. It has been a while. I think I know a nice place we can go. Unless, you have somewhere in mind,”
”No!” Your words come out in a relieved rush, “No, no, I mean. I would love, if…” You picked at your nails, “I would love it if you picked the place...”
”I think you’ll like what I have in mind. Quiet. Not a lotta people. I have a little more to do, then I’ll be home to pick you up, alright Sweetheart?”
You nod, looking up with a relieved and hopeful smile before your image fades.
Barbeous watches the glass go dark and leans back in his chair. Steepling his hands together. His brow knotted with worry and confusion. Sweetheart was usually a pretty happy person. Cheerful and mild tempered compared to his gruff personality. But every once in a while, something like this would happen and it would make him worry. Sweetheart would act as if they were waiting for him to take a swipe at them. This meek terrified side would surface and he felt ill-equipped to deal with it. Against every rule he had laid for himself he begrudgingly had asked his whackjob of a brother Zelle to help him assess the situation. Zelle was a certified lunatic in charge of a lunatic asylum of a zone, but had an uncanny knack for unraveling how intelligent beings' minds worked. The conversation however had been less than insightful.
Zelle grinned widely and rested their slender hands on their chin. “The main take is this, brother of mine! They have baggage. Like all of us do! If they open up and tell you, you can support them. But if they continue to leave you in the dark, weeeeell you can only do so much! So you have to let them know, you want to know what’s going on! You have to get all warm and fuzzy with all those big warm and fuzzy feelings!”
“Great.” Barbeus snarks, “Just what I wanted to hear.”
Zelle shrugs, “You can’t help if you don’t know what’s wrong. It might not even be something you’re doing that scares them. It may just be the past.“
”Tha past…?” Barbeus had glared into the distance.
“Yup! Could be. I don’t think I can tell you anymore unfortunately.”
Barbeus glances at them with a brow raised, “An’ why is that?”
Why Barbie, don’t you know? I’m crazy in the Cocomelon!” Zelle sang in an offkey voice.
”Th’ hell is a… no. No.” Barbie raised a hand, as if he could push the cursed phrase away. “No. Nevermind. Don’t wanna know.”
“Welp. Good luck sport!” Zelle winked and gave a thumbs up before his image faded from the glass.
And this is why Barbeus tries to avoid Zelle like the plague if he could help it. He blinks back to focusing on his office and growls. Shuffling his paper work.
The casseroles are cooling on the table. You sit in a high chair, feeling like a child as you swing your feet and stare at the two dishes. One larger than the other, they sit side by side, cozy and at rest. You let your vision drift out of focus, the soft warm yellows and oranges hazing into a molten smear.
You thought rousing the courage to ask for something you deemed as fun and romantic would be exhilarating. Give you more courage, but the opposite happened instead. Fingernails drumming on the table as you glance up at the clock. Only five minutes had passed from the last glance at the time. Your stomach twisting into a series of knots. Sitting here wasn’t doing much for your psyche, and you needed to try and think of something else.
Sliding off the chair your vision comes back into focus. You look around the space. Dishes in the dish rack, one set big, the other small. The coffee cups are the same, the chairs. Barbeus bought these things for you because he wanted you to fit. Your fingers grabbed onto that line of logic and stared at the space around you. He wanted to install a ridge of small steps around the counter so you didn’t have to drag around that wooden stool. He wanted to fit you in comfortably, and more than that, the effort to do so was here. It was in the furniture, the pots and pans, the dishes. The sets of things, one large and one small that sat nestled together. A tear rolled down your cheek, and you took a shaky breath.
You weren’t a hurdle, nor something to be compromised. Your happiness wasn’t expected to be put on a shelf for convenience. Some days it was hard to remember that.
You wiped at your eyes with the hem of your sleeve and moved through the house. Stopping at the bedroom before going inside. You rummage through the closet of your clothes, stopping once you find the dress you are looking for. You let the silky blue fabric slide over your hands. It matched the suit and tie he had worn today.
You had slipped on the gown and now stood in front of the mirror, putting on a pair of pearl earrings. Stepping back to look at your appearance. You give your reflection a hesitant smile just as the door opens.
“Baby I’m home,” You glance over your shoulder and Barbeus pauses in the doorway, a cake box in his hands. He stands still for a moment before a grin scrawls over his face.
“...You look beautiful baby.”
He takes the time to carefully close the door. Your fingers fiddle with an earring as you walk over to him. Both of you move slow and hesitant, you wrap both your arms around his middle and lean against him.
“I’m sorry,” You murmur against his arm.
“Sorry? Ya got nothing to be sorry about,” his clawed hand runs up and down your back.
“I made all that fuss about home cooking then asked to go out. I…”
“Fuss?” Barbie chuffs faintly. “We were jokin’ around. I told ya, if ya want something, just ask me.”
You feel movement around your ankle, and peek down to see Barbie's spaded tail loosely draped across your skin.
“I want you happy Sweetheart, you know that, don’tcha?”
You nod, before nuzzling your face into his side. Taking in the smoky scent of his cologne.
“I know. It’s just hard sometimes, to ask for things. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Who said you were a burden? I would like to have a word with them.”
Your lips lift into a weak smile.
“I think gettin’ outta here is exactly what we both need. Let me spruce up a little, an’ then we can step out, alright?”
You reluctantly let him go, but your smile feels more genuine, more you. “Get a wiggle on it, boss man.” you hum, he snorts in response his tail slowly unwinds from you.
He squeezes your shoulder, heading into the kitchen with the box, before returning empty handed and pausing in front of the mirror. He unbuttons his pin stripe jacket to smooth out his rumpled button up. You watch his reflection meticulously collect himself as you join him beside the mirror.
“What was in that box?” you ask,
“I had ordered something special from the bakery, you’re birthday is comin’”
You laugh, “My birthday is almost a month away still!”
Barbeus grins, “You’re telling me you don’t wanna start celebrating early?”
The mirror ripples and you see the city street winking with nightlife.
“After you doll.” Barbie rumbles, your hand brushes against his, holding the tips of his clawed fingers. Then you step through the mirror into the muggy city air. Barbeus’ form joins you a moment after and you let your hand slide up to hug his arm.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask softly,
“I think I’ll leave that as a surprise.”
“Cake surprises, dinner surprises, I don’t think I can handle any more surprises,” you tease and Barbie gives a huff of laughter.
“I think you’ll be just fine, doll.”
You laugh softly, squeezing his arm as he leads you through the city.
Here’s a wip for Wednesday night! I have been designing a desk and other shtuff for my Big Boss Barbieeeee 💖💞 I want to start making nice rooms and filling them with cool furniature uvu )
Barbie doodles! These drawings are originally small enough to be pixel art =‘) And I was debating on taking them and polishing them up that way! (And then I forgot I drew them, and only reremembered about the drawings because of a cute comment that was left in my inbox djfjdjd)
What does a very renouned genius high demon do?? With powers beyond imagination??
Make enchanted holiday hats to take a festive family photo??
Yeah?? YEAH!!
Only Zelle would come up with something this perfectly evil to inflict upon his brothers. . . 😭 Cruel and unusual torture. . . (At least. . . that’s what Barbeus claims.)
Happy Holiday from the demon brothers in any reguards! :’D If you celebrate something, or if you don’t, I hope you enjoy the season from where ever you are!
