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“You cheated.” Beelzebub said, stormily, from their position on the ground.
“I didn’t.” Michael climbed down from Gabriel’s shoulders and raised her chin, smug.
Dagon offered a hand to her prince, who shook their head. Beelzebub had no intentions of letting this go.
“That was dishonorable.”
“I thought dishonor was sort of your thing.” Michael examined her nails, and was so haughty, and mightier-than-thou, that Beelzebub was tempted to do something desperate. But they were a prince, and they were never desperate.
But Michael had crossed a line. You didn’t do that sort of thing to a demon, especially not the Prince of Hell. It was unthinkable. Unspeakable.
Beelzebub had been on Dagon’s shoulders, ready to knock Michael to the ground, when Michael had kissed them on their nose! Of course Beelzebub had jerked away from the contact, and had lost their balance and hit the ground.
It was poor sportsmanship, is what it was.
“My lord,” Dagon said. “Are you alright?”
“I am always alright,” Beelzebub intoned.
“I thought it was cute,” Gabriel said. He was grinning from ear to ear. Bastard.
Beelzebub stood up decisively and marched over to Michael.
“Next time, coward, I expect a real kiss,” they said, grabbing Michael by her stupid frilly shirt and leaning up on tiptoes to demonstrate. Their lips pressed together, and Beelzebub pulled away before it went on too long. Before Michael could do something infuriating like putting her hands in their hair, or grabbing Beelzebub by the waist.
“I’m many things, but not a coward,” Michael said, adjusting her frills and lace.
“A cheater.”
“Maybe.”
Beelzebub turned away, and Dagon followed after. They wouldn’t turn back and look to Michael. They couldn’t give her the satisfaction.