Chapter Text
Satan wasn’t fond of this idea, not one bit. Sure he wanted to make up with you, but why would he have to move half of his books to your room? Lucifer said it was because his unkempt, personal library proved to be hazardous. He also explained that it would also be a good way for the two of you to reconcile, after an argument that resulted in neither of you speaking to each other the past two weeks. It proved to make mealtimes far from pleasant. In fact, he noticed you usually skipped dinner, relying on one of his brothers to bring it to you. And now, you were standing in his doorway. Your arms were crossed against your chest, eyes peering just past him to avoid his gaze. The atmosphere was so tense, it almost felt like you couldn’t breathe. Neither of you spoke a word for what felt like an eternity, until he motioned for you to come in. After contemplating whether or not to make a run for it, you walked in just enough to close the door behind you with a small click. You could feel Satan’s eyes on you as you found yourself walking to the small armchair in the middle of the room. No matter how nonchalant you acted, Satan could sense the rage that had built up inside of you. He was also angry at you but he couldn’t help but smile. He was the avatar of wrath after all, and seeing you of all people relish in his sin sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to see you explode, to see how far you would go. Would you try to hurt him? Would you scream your frustrations at him? Or would you plan out an elaborate plan to get under his skin? His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of you clearing your throat. “So? Do you want me to help you, or are you just going to stand there daydreaming?”
It had been a couple of hours now. The two of you sifted through his books, only talking to check which books would go to your room or be staying in his. You could feel yourself getting drowsy, not to mention you were starving. A low grumble left your stomach and a blush rose up from your neck. Satan was sitting right next to you, and there was no doubt that he heard that. “Are you hungry?” When you looked up you expected to see some kind of teasing smirk. Much to your surprise however, a look of genuine concern was plastered all over his face. You shook your head. “No, I’ll be okay for another while..” Your voice trailed off as you looked down at the book in your hands. It was a recipe book that was written in a language you recognized to be an ancient Devildom language. Then a sudden idea popped into your head. Satan was still looking at you, his expression unchanging. “Then... make me something from this,” you held the book up to him, trying not to show any kind of mischievous intent. So this was the route you were going to go? Two could play at that game. “Sure, although I’m not sure if there’s any recipes suitable for humans in there,” He smiled sweetly at you, your suggestion becoming the catalyst of his own.
Satan had ordered you to stay put, only allowing you to leave the room after an hour had passed. While you waited, you had found a book written in your native language. It was a fantasy written fairly recently. The story was about a cowardly and naive prince who had set out on a journey to find the missing princess of another kingdom. On his journeys, he had run into a fairy who agreed to help him in exchange for being able to work in the castle afterwards. From what you had read though, you began to suspect that the fairy may be the real antagonist. You were about to start the next chapter, but after peering at the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room, you realized over an hour had passed. You placed the book atop the pile for your room, planning to read more the next time you had some downtime. You thought how if Satan knew you were taking one of his books for your own pleasure, he would deny you simply out of spite. Usually he wouldn’t mind lending you books, but in your current predicament you were unsure. Well, he doesn’t have to know after all.
As soon as you began to make your way down the stairs to the dining room, a strong scent of garlic and rosemary wafted through the air. It smelt amazing. You knew Satan was an amazing cook already, and you placed your pettiness aside as excitement bubbled through your chest. As you sat down at the dining table, you felt your stomach beg for something to eat. Two gold encrusted plates were already set at the table with cutlery to match. You could hear Satan shuffling around in the kitchen. Was he talking? A slight murmur seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Tiptoeing to the door as silently as possible, you put your ear against it. He seemed to be talking in a language that you had heard before, usually when Solomon was summoning something or casting a spell. You shrugged it off however, this was the Devildom and surely some ingredients needed spells cast upon them to work, and you trusted Satan enough that he wouldn’t do anything regardless of how upset he was at you. Plus, the tension seemed to have died down just the slightest bit - probably due to the fact that he had agreed to make you food. You hadn’t expected him to agree to the task. Your intention was only to annoy him by giving him a dumb request. As you walked back to your seat a feeling of unease arose in your stomach. You really did want to trust Satan but something didn’t feel right. That train of thought would have to wait though, as your chef of the night waltzed out of the kitchen. In either hand was a plate, with a shiny, gold covering atop - the kind of thing you’d see in a fancy restaurant which served only the highest standing people in society. He placed the mysterious meal in the middle of the table. Just as he was pulling out his own chair to sit on however, he seemed to have realized he forgot something. “Hold on,” He swiftly turned, running to the kitchen.
When he came back, he was holding two glasses and what seemed to be a bottle of champagne. Champagne? Is he apologizing? Now that you thought about it, you had only challenged him to make something for you to eat, and all of this seemed far too extravagant for a late night meal. But why? Satan wasn’t the type of person to apologize, let alone for something as petty as the argument you had. It didn’t make sense, but before you could figure out why he was spoiling you like this he uncovered your meal. It appeared to be some kind of Devildom fish similar to a salmon. It was coated in a herb and garlic oil, two slices of lemon to each side of the fish. On the other plate was a mix of char-grilled vegetables and potatoes with their own special seasoning. Satan seemed to be playing the role of both chef and waiter, taking your plate and dishing up the delicacy for you. Your mouth began to water as you watched him perfectly pour a glass of the bubbly liquid for you. “This champagne is very popular with the rich in the human world it seems,” he didn’t take his eyes off you as he sat across from you. He raised his now filled glass to you and you both said your cheers. You wanted to ask him why he had gone out of his way to make such a meal, but your starvation took over as you dug into your food. The salmon melted in your mouth, perfectly soft and the flavour neither too weak or too strong. The vegetables were crunchy but in the best way possible, the taste something you couldn’t even begin to explain. Satan had really outdone himself now, and you made a mental note to ask him to at least translate some of those recipes for you. You sighed in glee before taking another small sip of champagne. Satan must have been starving also as he seemed to be eating at a much faster pace than usual. It was still a normal pace, but leave it to you to notice things like that.
Both of you were almost finished your meal when you decided to inquire on why you were being spoiled in such a way. “So... why all this?” You motioned your hand towards the now almost empty plates. “What do you mean?” You could tell he was trying to hide something, but what was it? You bore into his eyes, neither of you breaking eye contact. “I mean, I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me right now,” You bit your lip in doubt. “I though you hated me right now.” An expression of hurt flashed over his face. “I could never hate you! I just wanted you to be hon-” He flung both his hands over his mouth, his eyes pleading with you to not question further. Of course you would. “You wanted me to be what?” Satan already knew what he had done. He had never made such a stupid mistake in his life. His arms slowly dropped back down to his sides, a look of defeat plastered over his face. “I wanted you to be honest by coating your champagne glass in an honesty potion. I mixed them up though, and drank it instead.” His cheeks warmed slightly and it looked as if he was about to cry. Was it really so bad that he drank the truth potion? “Why did you want me to drink it? I’m sure if you just asked I would’ve told you what you wanted to know...” You looked down towards your hands. Chipped black nail polish embellished your bitten nails. You were half lying and before Satan even spoke you could tell he knew. Sure, if he asked certain things you would tell him something. That doesn’t necessarily mean the truth though. “Because I want to know everything about you,” You could hear his chair dragging and looked up. He was standing now but his face was turned towards the side. He couldn’t bare to look at you right now. You would never let him rest if you got to see the embarrassed expression he wore. “I told myself I just wanted to see what you would do if I made you furious, but in reality I just wanted to you to act true to yourself.” If he could pass away right now, Satan would take the chance. But then, there it was. Your initial shock faded away, and now you were completely outraged. Satan only dreamed of making you this mad on a normal day. Your pure, unadulterated rage felt like electricity running through Satan’s veins. If only it wasn’t just after he told you how he felt. “You wanted me to drink a truth potion?! You deceived me with such a nice dinner because you wanted to know my thoughts that are only for me!?” You knew his intentions weren’t truly bad, but it still hurt. Here you were, an idiot for thinking he just wanted to pamper you for a bit. “What do you mean be ‘true to myself’!? Of course I am! And don’t you think you’re the last person to be saying that, seeing as you do everything with some kind of weird hidden intent!” You felt your eyes burn with tears, but you would never let Satan know he made you cry. He opened his mouth to say something, but you turned right on your heel and ran upstairs. Only when you were completely out of sight would you let the dam of tears rush down you cheeks.