Chapter Text
“I don’t think it would kill you to help out a bit.”
That was Ashiya.
“We can’t be sure, though,” another, younger sounding voice responded dryly, “Best not to risk it.”
That was Urushihara.
The blonde was stood at the sink, drying some dishes, and making huffy noises loud enough that the purple haired boy could most definitely hear. The purple haired boy, clicking away on his outdated laptop, didn’t care. At one point, Urushihara heard shifting and could imagine his housemate turning to glare at his back, but the fallen angel didn’t move or even acknowledge Ashiya’s existence. An exasperated sigh, more shifting. Water running.
Ashiya might leave him alone now.
Urushihara smirked, scrolling down a website idlily. This was the routine every day while Maou was at work. It was disrupted when they had guests over, and was complicated when Maou joined the mix, but thankfully, the Demon Lord was so preoccupied with his menial job that most days, this was Urushihara’s normal. It wasn’t entirely ideal; he was subjected to constant beratement and couldn’t really leave the cramped apartment, but it was better than other situations he had been in.
“Could you at least clean up around your computer?” It wasn’t really a request, but Urushihara chose to take it as one, “Our majesty will be home any moment now and I doubt he would appreciate being greeted with your untidiness.”
“So you’ve said,” the boy drawled.
He clicked to another tab.
An irritated “hmph” from the kitchenette, and the wet sound of a damp towel being thrown into the sink.
“Don’t give yourself an aneurism,” the smaller demon muttered.
Ashiya fully turned toward the boy with fire in his eyes, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the clicking sound of a key unlocking the front door. The tall demon’s head snapped in the direction of the entryway and he rushed over to properly greet their ‘master’, saving Urushihara from any verbal dressing down he may have otherwise received.
“Urushihara.”
Or maybe he wasn’t saved.
The voice of his Lord was low and dangerous; named demon tried not to flinch.
“What’s this?”
Urushihara didn’t dignify this question by turning around, instead opting to lean backward far enough that he could make out Maou, expression unimpressed and hands holding a box.
Oh crap.
“How should I know?” he tried to keep his tone even and bored, but his voice pitched upward nervously halfway through the sentence.
“It’s addressed to you,” Maou scowled, stalking over to the ‘teenager’.
With the swiftness that came with being a demon general, Urushihara sat back up and turned toward his leader, eyes wide. Maou stopped directly in front of his former general, holding the package out so the other could see the name.
“It’s…not an uncommon name,” Urushihara mumbled, looking to the side, “there’s lot of Urushiharas in Japan.”
Maou raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe someone sent me something.” As he said this, Urushihara made a grab for the box, but tumbled to the floor with a short shout when Maou moved out of his way.
“Yeah, right,” Maou started to open the box, “Who would send you a gift?”
Urushihara stood and jumped forward, reaching again for the parcel, but he was blocked by the black-haired demon.
“What is this, anyway?”
“It’s nothing; give it back!”
“And how much did it cost me?” Maou asked suspiciously.
He was so close to snatching it away from his leader, although he didn’t know what exactly he would do with it afterward. But that didn’t matter anyway, because a pair of firm hands grasped him by his skinny arms and pulled him back before he could achieve this goal. At the same time, Maou released the tape from the box’s seam and started to pry it open. Urushihara looked up at the blonde, but Ashiya was evidently more interested in the contents of the delivery than the troublesome fallen angel.
“Let me go!” he shouted, voice cracking. His legs kicked and stomped and he tried shrugging his arms free, but Ashiya’s grip was a vice, and Urushihara was bitterly reminded of what a powerful warrior Alciel had always been.
“Urushihara,” Maou’s voice sounded calm, but the shorter demon knew better. That tone was dangerous. “What is this?”
It didn’t escape Urushihara’s notice that Ashiya was now looking down at him, although the contents of the box were yet to be revealed to him; he probably just assumed that whatever it was, it was expensive and unnecessary. To be fair, he would be right. Urushihara looked at both of his roommates, swallowed, and then laughed nervously.
“Well, you see….they were having a sale-“
“What is it?” Maou asked again, more forcefully.
“It’s a Shift,” Urushihara said quietly.
“A what?”
“It’s a game system,” he clarified.
When he dared to glance up at his former king, he wished he had kept his eyes lowered. The Demon Lord looked as though he wanted to throttle Urushihara. Which, honestly, he probably did.
“Like I said,” Urushihara swallowed, “It was on sale.”
The games also included in that box weren’t, but the boy wasn’t about to bring that up. Nor would he tell his already cross housemates that “on sale” was still around 17,000 yen for the console.
When this still didn’t appear to ease the others’ concerns, he continued, “I had to! They aren’t making any new games for the PASTA anymore and that stupid computer-“
He was going to complain that any game beyond a platformer would crash the whole system. That the internet was slow and trying to download anything would take longer than a human’s natural life. All of these words died at his lips when he saw the face of the Devil.
“You mean the computer that I bought for you?” he demanded, “Which you’ve done nothing to repay us with?”
“If you want to keep squandering our money on trivial entertainment,” Ashiya continued the lecture, letting go of his arms, “you could always contribute to the household funds. Until then, you should just be happy we continue to let you stay here.”
“Dude, you can’t have it both ways,” he whined, “I’m not allowed to leave the apartment, remember?”
Instead of responding, Maou simply put the box next to the computer set up and ran a hand down his face.
That might have been the end of it, but Urushihara couldn’t stop himself from continuing to speak. Humans, he later discovered, called it ‘having to have the last word’.
“They weren’t supposed to delivery it right now, anyways,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.
“So you were trying to sneak behind our backs. Is that it?” Ashiya demanded.
“Duh.”
Ashiya looked about ready to throw the other demon, who maintained a bored, uncaring expression, out the window. Maou, however, interrupted any impending murder by putting the game system back into the box and setting it by the door.
“It doesn’t matter; next chance I get, I’m returning this.”
“You can’t do that,” he tore over to the box, but Maou stepped in front of it, hands on his hips. Urushihra looked up at him and then tried a different angle, “You’d still have to pay for shipping, anyway.”
“That’s fine,” Maou declared, grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the package. “Maybe I’ll take that money into consideration next time I’m getting food for you.”
“You can’t do that,” Urushihara whined again.
“And I’m taking that other game system of yours too, so hand it over. If you want to prove that you can be useful, you can go ahead and do your job by finding us a way to get home.”
The purple haired demon looked like he was about to lose his one joy in life, which, to him, was accurate. It took a moment for Maou to be standing in front of him with a quite pissed off expression for Urushihara to finally, sheepishly, grab his PASTA from his cupboard and reluctantly hand it to his leader.
“Good, now get to work,” Maou handed the game system to Ashiya who, in turn, put it in the pocket of his apron, “You can take a break when dinner is done.”
Urushihara grumbled and plopped down in front of the computer, propping his elbow up on the little, portable table, and resting his face against his palm.
It was midday. Maou was at work and his other troublesome housemate would be leaving soon, too. Urushihara was pointedly, bitterly ignoring his housemate, who was, at the moment, hanging up his apron and grabbing his housekey, seeming to not care about how incomparably bored the smaller demon was.
“While I’m gone, please refrain from causing any trouble.”
“Dude, what am I even gonna do? I’m stuck in here, remember?”
Ashiya kept going as if he hadn’t even spoken, “And please try to keep in mind that we have a budget to maintain. So none of your internet shopping excursions.”
No response.
“If you want something to do, you could always cut up the cucumbers for dinner.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever, Mom,” Urushihara huffed, not looking away from the screen of his laptop.
Ashiya made a discontented noise but said nothing further as he left the apartment.
Urushihara counted the time that had passed, waiting to make sure the blonde wouldn’t come back for anything.
Alright, he was in the clear. Now to find his PASTA.
He knew that Ashiya had a penchant for keeping it in places that not even Maou could reach, and that he moved it around frequently when the shut-in was sleeping or not paying attention. That was one of the disadvantages to being turned away from the rest of the house; maybe he should invest in a little camera he could put around the kitchen area.
Not anytime soon, though. As much as he loathed to admit it, he shuddered to think of Maou’s reaction if anymore packages arrived. Even in his pathetic human form, the Dark Lord wasn’t without intimidation if he made an effort.
His wings would have come in handy right about now, but aside from not having enough power to manifest them at the moment, the space was too cramped. He would have to do this the human way it seemed. The boy hoisted himself up onto the counter into a kneeling position. Hopefully it wasn’t on top of the fridge, because the sink created a bit of an obstacle from where he was. Worst come to worst he could probably find something to give him a boost, he decided. For now, he would check the cabinets…that he probably should have opened before he was up here, he just realized.
It shouldn’t have been too much of an issue. He leaned his body backward just enough to pull the cabinet open without smacking himself in the face, but he realized too late that just enough to not get hit, was also just enough for gravity to take a hold of him and start to pull him to the floor.
“Uwaaaaa!” he grasped onto the cabinet door, praying that this place was at least put together well enough to hold his weight until he could right himself.
A crashing sound could be heard underneath him and his purple eyes widened. That was the unmistakable sound of cheap dishes breaking against the floor. The problem was, in this household, cheap dishes breaking got the same reaction as throwing priceless china against the wall for kicks.
Damn.
Still hanging onto the door as a lifeline, he used his other hand to grab one of the bars over the kitchen window, just in case, as he pulled himself forward. Okay, crisis semi-averted. He spotted the portable system on the very top shelf, just within his reach if he stretched. Curling his fingers around the side of the PASTA, he hopped down from the counter and closed the cabinet door. His bare feet narrowly avoided broken ceramic, which he observed with nervous eyes.
Damn.