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It's my day to make breakfast. I usually hate making breakfast, because ‘making breakfast' is really just code for ‘dragging my ass out of bed three hours before dawn because demons eat like fucking hippopotami', but this morning, it'd take a Louisville Slugger to slam the giddy smile off my face.
I have all the food set out (twenty-seven plates for seven people, and another fifteen for Beel), and am bouncing around the table, humming to myself like an overstimulated twit, when I catch a glimpse of a looming shadow in the corner of my eye and nearly jump straight out of my skin.
“EEP! WHO THE – Lucifer, goddamn it! Make some noise when you walk, for crying out loud. You scared the high holy hell out of me!”
“Good morning to you, too,” he sighs, as he takes his seat at the head of the table and slides his coffee mug towards me. “Mishka, while I appreciate your whole-hearted commitment to the exchange program, could you please stop giving Diavolo ideas?”
“Oh, quit being such a stick-in-the-mud,” I smirk, as I pour his coffee and take his plate, “Pyjama Day is a great idea! You look-"
“Ridiculous.”
-distinguished.”
He sighs again. “Distinguished gentlemen do not wear their pyjamas to the breakfast table.”
I don't think Lucifer's bed clothes would even qualify as ‘pyjamas', technically. They always remind me of what Ebenezer Scrooge wears while he travels with the Christmas ghosts; refined, perfectly tailored black satin that shines with the faintest rainbow iridescence when the light hits it just right, bordered with cuffs and a neckline of the deepest crimson. His shirt's not tucked in (which is probably driving him crazy), and he's left the top two buttons of his shirt undone (which is absolutely driving me crazy).
I finish filling his plate with samples of each dish he favours, set it in front of him, and fetch his morning paper. Once I'm satisfied that he has everything he needs, I take my seat at his right hand and start piling bacon (and only bacon) onto my plate. “Oh, relax. It's just for one day. Besides, you're the one who's always saying that if the exchange program’s gonna be a success, you demons are going to have to be open-minded about appreciating silly human customs. And humans love Pyjama Day!” I punctuate the statement by jamming a forkful of bacon into my mouth, and chewing as loudly as I can.
“I'm sure they do,” he frowns, “but humans aren't demons. We must, by our very nature, hold ourselves to a higher standard. No self-respecting demon would find this shameful degradation appropriate, let alone enjoyable, because-"
“OOOOOH YEAH! PYJAMA DAY! Mishka, you're a genius!” Levi practically bounces into the dining hall, looking every bit as excited as I am (and then some).
I smirk at Lucifer.
He rolls his eyes.
Levi grabs the same three things he always does, then sits across from me. “This is the greatest idea ever! We should do it every month! No, no, no – every week! Lucifer, can Fridays be-"
“No."
Levi's brightly-colored, two-piece ensemble is… well, it's very Levi. The pants are a little too short and the deep v-neck is a little too loose, and I can't help but think they're actually tailored for a woman. Ruri-chan's smiling, anime face is plastered across the front, complete with a text-bubble filled with Japanese writing, and all around her are bubbly, giant-eyed chibi characters.
Levi catches me staring, and that's all it takes. “Pretty awesome, right? They're a limited edition set that followed the season seven finale, when Ruri-chan was put into a cursed sleep and couldn't wake up until she'd solved all the riddles in her dreamscape. And look! They're all here! See,” he twists his shirt around to show off a comatose chibi-Ruri under his arm, “this is where she fell asleep in episode one, and here,” he kicks one of his legs onto the table, “is where Hamato, he's the half-fey tailor from season five, remember, finds the-"
Lucifer drops his head into his hands so hard that all the glassware jingles. “His pyjamas have a backstory,” he groans, before flicking his eyes up to throw an irritated glare at the ceiling. “You already kicked me out. Must you continue to torture me?”
“Hey. Neat pyjamas, Levi.”
“Beel! I know, right! Sit beside me, and I'll tell you the whole story - they've got scenes from all thirty-seven episodes! Even the bonus alternate ending from... oh, and Belphie! Good morning, Belphie! Isn't Pyjama Day the greatest idea ever?! It's perfect for you!”
“Zzzzzzzz…”
Beel, wearing nothing but boxer shorts with smiling, cartoon hamburgers on them, shrugs his snoring brother off his shoulder and sets him gently in the furthest chair, then sets a pillow on the table. “Hi everyone. Sorry we're late. I couldn't get Belphie to stay awake. Lucifer, he told me to tell you, “If I’m staying in my pyjamas, I'm staying asleep. Go to hell.””
“I'm already there,” Lucifer grumbles.
Belphie looks like a fluffy, comatose cow. The hood of his holstein-spotted onesie (complete with floppy little ears) is pulled all the way over his head, and considering that the whole outfit looks like the softest fleece I’ve ever seen, I couldn't imagine a darker, warmer, more snuggly way to enjoy a mid-morning nap.
“Yo yo yo! This pyjama deal kicks ass!” Mammon yawns as he drops into his seat beside me, affectionately nudges my foot under the table, and starts helping himself to my buffet. “Not havin' to squeeze into that stupid uniform leaves lots of time for sleeping late! We should do this all the time!”
Levi lights right up. “That's exactly what I said!”
Mammon's thin, well-worn pyjama pants are hanging off his hips, and not one of the buttons on his shirt is done up. Everything's wrinkled and ratty; there's a coffee stain on his shirt and a hole in one of his pant legs.
And somehow, he still manages to make it look good.
“Ugh. Do we really have to do this,” Satan mutters, as he scowls at each of us in turn. “No self-respecting demon would-"
His unimpressed glare makes it all the way to Lucifer, and stops there.
Lucifer and Satan just… stare at each other.
Levi snorts into his Fruit Loops.
Mammon glances up and starts laughing his ass off.
Satan plants a hand on his hip and rolls his eyes. “Well, one of us is going to have to change.”
“Ooooooh, Mishka, you wonderful, brilliant human! This was the best idea you've ever had!” Asmo waltzes into the room last, stops to give me a delighted hug, then grabs a plate and starts picking out the most delectable morsels.
All while buck-ass naked.
Lucifer's eyes catch fire, and the coffee mug shatters in his fist. “THAT'S IT. PYJAMA DAY IS CANCELLED. EVERYONE IN YOUR UNIFORMS. NOW.”
Well… that was fun for an hour, hehehe.
Hmm…
If I tell Diavolo that humans also love Kinky Leather Day, think he'll buy it?