Work Text:
Satan had been learning a dead language.
It all started because of this one book he wanted to read that had been written in said language. To be fair, there were a number of translations available, but he didn't believe that any of them could do it justice. It was an immense compilation of love stories the author had come across in his lifetime, written five millennia ago, and it was almost as thick as his head.
Learning a language was nothing new to Satan, but this one was particularly hard to tackle, because not even Lucifer had heard of it before, which meant that he didn't really have a partner to practice with.
But he found a way eventually.
It was just another day in the house, with the two of you spending the afternoon away in the library. You were working on something assigned by Diavolo while he buried his head in the old, worn pages. The silence was broken when a chuckle escaped him. He'd read a particularly sweet line.
"What is it?" You looked up from your notes for a split second, a small smile on your lips.
"This line here: You're the brief caress of the wind. You're the blinding sun in the sky, lighting up my life. You're the raging… " He trailed off at the foreign word and hastily flipped the dictionary. " Storm . You're the raging storm, and I'm flooded by your waves. "
You stared at him a bit longer than necessary before laughing, "You know I can't understand any of that, right?"
"Oh, right," he clicked his tongue. "It translates to, you're the brief caress of the wind. You're the blinding sun in the sky, lighting up my life…"
By the time he finished reading out loud, his face was already a crimson mess. For some reason, knowing that you could actually understand the sweet words that were coming out of his lips made him incredibly nervous, even though those words weren't technically directed at you. He wished they were though, because he doubted that he'd ever come up with something as beautiful.
"That's really well-written," you said, paying no mind to his red cheeks as you leaned in. "Are there more?"
"A lot more, actually." He flipped the pages mindlessly. "This author had such a way with words. Oh, here's one. Do you know that I love you ?"
"And what does that mean?"
"Diavolo's work awaits." He smirked, and you threw him a playful glare.
Of course he wasn't going to tell you what it actually meant. He wasn't ready for that yet. But this new discovery was like a gift bestowed upon him by the highest heavens. It basically gave him the power to say whatever he wanted, which meant that…
… he was going to abuse it.
–
Satan had to admit that he was getting a real kick out of this situation.
For the past week, he'd been sneakily commenting on anything and everything in the language only he could understand, a dictionary in hand and a proud smile on his face, and today was no exception.
"Satan, look at me when I'm talking to you," Lucifer ordered with a scowl, looking down at the demon who was flipping through his book idly. You stole a glance at the two of them before returning to your phone, pretending to be invisible.
" I'm not looking at you and your receding hairline ," the grin that came with the insult was hard to conceal. Lucifer unfolded his arms and plucked the book out of Satan's hand.
" Asshole !"
"I'm going to figure out what you're saying to my face, and then you'll be up on the ceiling for a whole week."
"What if I'm actually saying something nice? Something like, stop frowning or those wrinkles will become permanent ?"
Lucifer scoffed. "Do you really think I can't tell from your tone?"
There he went again, acting like he knew everything. Satan was about to throw out some foul words from the ancient age when Belphie yelled from the other room. "Luciferrrrrr!"
"What is it now?" Lucifer sighed and threw the book onto the space next to Satan before walking away. "Don't think that I'm done with you."
The two of you looked at each other with excitement and turned to watch him head for the door. Every step he took was a heavy thump against the floorboard, every second agonizingly prolonged. With anticipation, your eyes widened simultaneously as he crossed the threshold–
BOOM ! Satan's carefully concealed spell went off, and a glitter bomb exploded right on top of the dark-haired demon, staining him with colorful sparkles from head to toes. You screamed out in victory and went for a high-five with Satan that left your palms red and stinging. Belphie's cheer could be heard from a distance. It was a rare win for the Anti-Lucifer League.
After your ecstasy'd died down, the two of you looked to Lucifer, who was still frozen in his spot. His shoulders seemed to be trembling.
With slow deliberation, he turned on his heels. The moment your eyes met, a chill ran down your spine. The air around you seemed to have dropped by ten degrees, and you felt yourself shrinking under the looming rage of the firstborn.
"You have five seconds to run. Five,"
It was a cruel trick-- letting you flee, even though there was no way you could actually escape him. You could run as much as you wanted, but you couldn't hide. He was giving you hope and then snatching it away from you.
"Four,"
"Let's go!" Satan grabbed your hand and pulled you up with ease, darting for the other door in the room. You ran like your life was on the line– no, your life was in fact on the line, but for now, you were just happy that the prank actually worked.
"Threetwoone."
"Shit!" You could hear Lucifer's wings flapping from corridors away, catching up with terrifying speed. Satan stopped abruptly in his tracks.
"What are you doing– woah!"
Your heart leaped in your chest as he hoisted you up in his arms, bridal-style. "Hold on tight!" He shouted before breaking into another sprint. Without having to drag you, he was significantly faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins like he'd never run out of it. And all the while, he was laughing like a little kid.
He was only brave enough to stop outside the house, where Lucifer couldn't be heard anymore. He put you down promptly and doubled over. "That was," he panted. "That was–" his throat felt like the Sahara desert, parched and rough like sandpaper.
"Fun?"
He nodded. You took the word right out of his mouth.
It was a whole five minutes before he could calm down. You laughed and slumped to the ground next to him.
"We're not gonna get out of this one, are we?" You said.
"Definitely not."
"Do you think he'll starve us?"
"I'd be surprised if he doesn't."
"Yea."
You sat in silence for a while, feeling a moment of tranquility even though a raging demon was probably upending the whole house just to look for you. When you looked at Satan, his eyes were already on you.
"What?" Your lips curled.
" You make me so happy ," he said, the smile giving way to a serious expression. " I feel like the happiest demon alive when I'm with you ."
There was a moment of suspended silence as you watched his face, then you raised your brow, "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," he smiled bitterly. His hand reached for your hair and gave it a brief ruffle before he stopped himself.
He wanted to tell you directly how he felt, but he would need some more time to build up his courage.
–
"Those bastards!" Satan hissed as he stormed into your room, throwing the first aid kit onto the table. The blow it made would've startled you had you been unaware of his arrival. One by one, he slammed the bandages and bottles against the wood like he had a vendetta against it. You could see that his demon form was already creeping up on him, threatening to burst out. "Those inconsiderate, brainless bastards–"
"Satan," you called out. He stilled, as if he'd just been woken up, and looked down at the tools in his hands. He couldn't face you for a second, mortified at the idea of you looking at him with disappointment, or worse, fear.
"Satan?" You called again, and he swiveled around. You had a comforting smile on your lips, one that always lit up the room you were in. You gestured at the spot next to you, and he complied.
"Show me your hand." He said, and made sure to handle it with gentleness.
The cut on the back of your hand had already stopped bleeding, but it didn't look like it was going to heal any time soon. With a shake of his head, he grabbed the ointment and scooped it out with his finger.
Mammon and Asmodeus had suggested a pillow fight, and everyone was on board at first, except that it soon turned into anything but a pillow fight. There were books and shoes flying in the air, and when Levi launched the bunch of flowers into Beel's plate, the latter was so furious that he swung the plate away, only for it to head directly at you. Had you not reacted in time, it would've got you square in the face.
Not that cutting your hand was any better.
Rage shimmered under his skin just at the memory of your pained hiss. If it hadn't been for you, he would've gone into a real fight with his brothers.
As if noticing the cold, steely look on his face, you leaned into his line of sight. "Are you okay?"
"I should be asking you that." He muttered.
"Well, you look more shaken than I am."
"I was scared, okay?" He frowned at you before resuming his work.
"I know. I just don't want you to get riled up because of me. It's a small cut anyway."
"You were on the brink of tears."
"Wounds hurt."
"If it hurts, it's not a small–"
"Alright, alright," you said, chuckles filling in the gaps in your words. "Sorry for worrying you."
He stayed quiet, his sole attention focused on getting the ointment evenly spread around your wound. After it's done, he reached for the roll of bandage and started wrapping it around your hand, ensuring that it was neither too loose nor too tight.
"You're good at this."
"I read my first aid manuals."
"Of course you do." You flexed your hand after he's done. "See? It's good as new. Don't take it out on your brothers, alright?"
"Well, it's hard not to." He got up to put back the items.
"Mm. Why?"
"Because–" he trailed off, not a single word willing to come out of his hanging mouth. "Because I… damnit. Because I care about you, and seeing you get hurt hurts me too. Is that so hard to see?"
He must've sounded frustrated by the end, because you caught his hand and pulled him toward you, even though he couldn't face you with his face flooded with blood.
"I hope you weren't cussing me out,"
He scoffed. As if he would ever do that.
Then you brought his hand closer to your face, and his hope flew up as it inched towards your lips, but you stopped right before his they could kiss his knuckles.
"Thank you for caring about me, Satan."
He swore, there were times when he thought that you could understand him regardless of the language he was speaking in. It was both a warm and terrifying thought.
–
Cats and you. These were the only two things Satan needed to stay alive. And right now, he had both.
"Oh, he's such a sweetheart!" You cooed as the black cat bumped his head against your face, trying to squeeze himself into your arms, which were already full of other kittens.
You were a cat magnet. The moment you stepped into the cat cafe, the little fluffballs were already swarming toward you, so excited that you couldn't even move your feet. If it had been any other, Satan would've felt jealous. After all, he was the regular of this cafe, and he was the one who had previously met these cats! How was it that they would abandon him for someone they'd never met before?
Well, it was you, so perhaps it was just your natural charisma at work here. And to think that he'd stayed up all night imagining how he would act like a gentleman and share his cats were you to be neglected... he hid his blush behind the teacup.
"That's Mr. Cow," he said after composing himself.
"What? Him?" You nudged at the same black cat, and he nodded. "That's a… unique name."
"To be fair, I have no idea how they were named. The owner probably just spinned a wheel of random words–"
"We dedicated time and consideration to each and every cat during the naming process!" The owner yelled from behind the counter.
"Sure you did." Satan retorted, then waited for your reaction. He was obvious, sure, but his goal was always just to make you laugh, which you did. He was satisfied.
Leaning back in the fluffy chair, he closed his eyes and drank in the moment. Just him, you, and cats. What a perfect day. The air smelled like freshly made tea and tooth-rotting pastries, with the purring of cats and your voice as the cherry on top. What's more, his brothers were nowhere to be seen. They would never find the two of you here. There was nothing that could ruin this perfect moment, and nothing that could top it.
"Are you sad?"
His eyes shot open. "What?"
"Are you sad because the cats aren't giving you attention?" You teased.
"That's nonsense. The cats here have mood swings quite frequently. It just so happens that they are shy around me today."
"Just admit that you're losing your charm!" The owner yelled again.
"Hey!"
The peal of laughter coming out of you was like honey to his ears. "Lucky for you, I don't mind sharing. Come on," you moved to one side of your king-sized seat. "Come on. What are you waiting for?"
"Fine." Satan mumbled and walked over, squeezing himself into the space. It might've looked real big at first, but when there was already a person and a bunch of cats occupying it, it suddenly felt crammed.
"Here you go," you placed Thyme– white cat with bright green eyes– onto his lap.
"Just one?"
"Now you want more?" You shook your head, and moved Mr. Cow into his outstretched arms. His heart melted as they curled in his embrace, looking for a comfortable position.
He really should take the opportunity to play with the cats while they were still giving him attention, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from you. Your hands were busy scratching their heads, an innocent smile was spreading across your cheeks, and you were just glowing, so purely happy, and–
"I can never get tired of looking at you."
Your head whipped towards him, and he panicked internally. Did he just say that outloud? Was that in dead language? Why did he have to blurt out like that? What–
"Mm?"
He exhaled in relief. So you couldn't understand after all.
"I hope that was something nice." You gave him a side glance.
"They're always nice when they're about you."
And that was the closest thing to a confession that he could say.
–
Satan had made up his mind. He had a plan, he'd done his research, read dozens of romance novels, and wrote a bunch of scripts.
Today was the day he would confess to you. In a way you could understand.
His foot tapped impatiently on the cobblestone as he scanned the leaving crowd, trying to pick you out. Seconds passed, then minutes, then he started to worry that you weren't coming at all.
A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped a great height in the air, and heard you laughing at his reaction.
"Geez, what were you thinking about?" You walked around him, hands balled inside your pockets. While his head felt light just by seeing you, his chest was suddenly so heavy that he couldn't mutter a word.
"Satan?" You waved your hand in front of his face.
"There's something I have to tell you."
"Okay," you mirrored his solemn expression. Even when you were doing barely anything, you still looked as radiant as ever.
He shook his head. This was not the time to get sidetracked. He had some serious business to do.
"I've been meaning to tell you," he's taken aback by the slight tremble in his voice. "That I… we've been spending a lot of time together, you know, and I enjoy your company."
You waited.
"I enjoy your company more than I do others',"
You nodded unsurely. His shoulders slumped.
The scripts he'd prepared were slipping his mind, and so many things were swimming inside it that it felt blank instead. What was all that reading for if he couldn't even elicit a single word of his own?
"This has no reason being so hard," he said.
"Do you want to write it down instead?"
"No, no. I have to say this face-to-face. It's important." He stopped pacing, something that he didn't realize he had been doing. He grabbed your shoulders so he was forced to look into your eyes.
"The truth is, I-" he paused. "I… Ugh! The words are right at the tip of my tongue." He pulled away and buried his face behind his hands. It was embarrassing how he couldn't even be honest about his love. "I just– I love you. Perhaps I just can't say it because I'm scared that you'll reject me, but I love you. I don't know if I'll ever be enough, but all I can give you is my devotion."
He was so caught up in wallowing in his feelings that he missed the way your brows went up. A beat of silence passed, then the next, before you spoke up.
" You'll always be enough for me. "
" I could only –" he stilled. "What?"
You laughed at his reaction. "I said, you'll always be enough for me, Satan ."
"...Have you always known what I was saying?"
"Nope." You said. "Only just now. I told Solomon earlier about how you kept talking in a foreign language, so he concocted a potion that made me fluent in all the languages in the world,"
"But it's a dead language," He said, as if bargaining with reality.
You squinted. "Is it still dead if you're saying it?"
"Okay, that's a good point." Satan sighed, running his fingers through his bangs. The tips of his ears were burning bright red. They looked like they could burn you upon touch. "And you meant what you said? That I'm enough for you ?"
" Of course. And also, I love you too ."
You loved him.
Relief filled his chest, and the grin that broke out on his face was impossible to hide. Without another word, he swept you into his arms with such eagerness that revealed just how long he'd waited for this. You yelped as your feet were lifted off the ground and threw your arms around his neck. He had this fantasy of living in this moment forever.
"Finally," he hid his face in your shoulder, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "My love has been heard."