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The Avatar of Gluttony was, unsurprisingly, hungry.
Except that it wasn’t just his normal hunger. The redhead had been trying to hold back because the two of you were spending the day together and he didn’t want you to feel like you were being overlooked for his gourmand needs.
He hadn’t done too poorly, until his stomach betrayed him with its loud complaint (stupid hunger). When you looked over at Beel, he couldn’t contain the look of shame that hotly covered his face. “Sorry. Can we get some food? I’m hungry.”
Your smile brought him to ease almost immediately. It warmed his heart that you were happy to tag along to one of his favourite fast food restaurants and to wait as his piles and piles of sustenance were being cooked. And you didn’t seem to mind that he was constantly looking for more…but you did seem to mind when he was without.
Ravenous, he couldn’t help but dig into his burger as the two of you sauntered toward the house. This was good. Maybe not the day out that you’d planned out, but still good for Beel. He was happy. Food? Good. Bonding time? Good. Bonding time with you? Good. Bonding time with you and food? Gooood.
It was decided that the two of you would finish off the food up in Beelzebub’s room, so you very kindly helped him to carry everything up despite the fact that your own food got lost in the mass.
Once in the room, the Avatar of Gluttony left you to most of the talking. He was genuinely listening, but he was also genuinely hungry. The appropriate sounds left him at the appropriate time while listening to you tell your story as he inhaled.
The chicken was nearly finished when his amethyst eyes caught on to the fact that you were starting to pick at the food. You weren’t particularly hungry, just mindlessly grazing. He didn’t actually mind - until you popped the last fry in your mouth.
The last fry.
“Hmmm,” The humm caused you to stop narrating to look over.
“Beel?”
“Gimme a minute.”
“A minute for what?” You cocked your head and watched as he quickly sucked his fingers clean before he wiped them on the paper napkins from the food bags, his expression solemn.
“I’m going to tickle the shit out of you for taking the last fry.”
Anyone passing the House of Lamentation may have easily mistaken the screeches, cackles, and bangs coming from the abode as some kind of torture; in reality, it was the sounds of you and Beel running through the hallways as the demon chased you down for ticklish retribution.