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It wasn’t that Barbatos had gone looking into different futures. He generally abstained from doing so - knowing potential futures either drove a person mad or to commit acts that often caused ripples with vast, devastating consequences. The collapse of many ancient civilizations and realities had been because of time lords in various timelines trying to save someone they loved or stop something inevitable from happening.
And so, Barbatos rarely looked. When he got orders to do so and saw something he shouldn’t have, he tried to file away the information in the back of his mind where he wouldn’t exactly forget it - he wasn’t the forgetful type - but rather where he could safely ignore it. However, when Lord Diavolo had asked him to delve into the timelines on a hunch to find information on what made the human exchange student so special , and then again to send her back in an attempt to save the brothers from more heartache and save Belphegor from himself… He’d seen far more in that vast chaotic multiverse than he’d intended.
In all the viable timelines Barbatos saw (the ones that didn’t simply collapse on themselves or end in absolute destruction of all life), she was there. She came to the Devildom from the human world as part of the exchange program, and she changed their worlds, every time .
Every time, she loved all of the brothers in her own way. Every time, she bonded with them deeply and irrevocably, whether romantically or platonically, and it was the strength of these bonds that cemented the relationship between the human world and the Devildom. Every time, she changed them for the better, made them into better people, happier people.
Inevitability.
He’d said that once to Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath was eavesdropping on the Young Master and Lucifer one night while they spoke of her. “Even if this wasn’t part of Lord Diavolo’s plan, perhaps this wasn’t an accident, but an inevitability?”
How right he had been. Inevitable. She was inevitable. Her bonds with the seven Avatars of Sin were inevitable. Every time.
What was not inevitable, however, was her relationship with the rest of them in the Devildom. In most timelines she and Lord Diavolo were the best of friends, in many they were lovers, and yet in some she was cautious of him and kept him at arms’ length with formality that did not fit the human Barbatos personally knew in this life. There were some timelines where she regarded Simeon with a similar caution as she had once viewed Solomon - a caution he still sometimes caught the faintest glimpses of when she was with the sorcerer - and even some timelines in which she completely distrusted all angels.
Frankie and the exchange program were inevitable. She and the brothers were fate, as much as fate existed.
She and Barbatos, however, were indeterminate.
Each timeline seemed to hold a vastly different relationship for them, ranging from the deepest distrust and envy, to rigid formality and reservation, to tentative friendship. And then there were the timelines he struggled to look away from, shameful though his voyeurism - his weakness - was. Timelines that showed them kissing, embracing, whispering, touching… connecting on an emotional and physical level he had not thought he would ever dare to delve into, least of all with a human. Those timelines were so few, like a handful of tiny, rare gems scattered upon an expansive beach, so easily lost amidst the grains of sand.
It terrified him.
Barbatos was a demon of experience and composure, of calm rationale and assurance. He knew what to expect, how to react in any situation - he had to, to serve his unpredictable Young Master well in the chaos that so often followed him. But Frankie, and all the implications she carried with her existence, was a magnetic enigma to him. Never had he wanted something so selfish so intensely, nor had he ever cherished someone as dearly as he cherished Lord Diavolo. And never had he felt so unsure of himself in doing so.
Yet here he was, standing in his chambers, staring at his DDD and taking deep breaths to calm his unexpectedly frayed nerves. He’d sent Frankie a message barely an hour ago asking her to meet him here. Her response had been quick, not questioning why he wanted her to come to his room, and he felt his throat tighten as he read her words again: “I just need to shower and get dressed and then I’ll head over! :)”
He purposely did not think of her standing under the running water, eyes closed, lathering soap suds in her hands and spreading them across her tattooed skin, fingers firm as they scrubbed–No. He was not thinking about that. It would be improper.
He returned his focus to his DDD, scrolling to their correspondence from the week before. The texts sparked both shame and excitement within him. He’d messaged her asking forgiveness for what had happened during the Devil Day festivities, when he’d gotten intoxicated on Demonus in the kitchen and thrown himself at her much like he’d seen Asmodeus do plenty of times, without a care to the consequences or indecency of it.
But rather than admonish him, or politely reject him and move on with their lives, pretending it had never happened… she'd responded with a joke, had encouraged his behavior, outright said she wanted more of it. He'd responded to her message before thinking properly and had asked her out to dinner. Before he could give the safe, decorous pretext of it being an apology dinner, she'd excitedly replied: "I'd love to go on a proper date with you! Though I'm not against more partying in the kitchen with some Demonus whenever you're in the mood ;)"
Her clear flirting made him swallow hard, trying to cool the steadily warming embers of his excitement. Somehow, she'd found Barbatos's actions that night charming rather than off-putting. He shouldn't be so surprised - she loved the Avatar of Lust, after all. And yet he found himself wondering how she could be alright with such behavior from the Demon Prince’s steward, someone who was supposed to be courtly and respectable at all times. Was that simply the sort of personality she preferred? If so, she would be sorely disappointed, for such behavior was the exception rather than the rule with Barbatos.
But no, she’d always seemed joyfully content in their time together before the Devil Day party. When venturing out to buy new teas or tracking down a rare bottle of Demonus for the Young Master, when cooking human dishes for the brothers or joining baking lessons with Luke, Frankie always seemed happy in his presence. No matter how quiet or reserved he may be, often fading into the background by habit, she always had a smile to spare for him, or gentle humming of some human song as they enjoyed comfortable silence, or eyes full of hopeful anticipation as she held out a sample of a homemade human world dish for him to try.
Somehow, by some miracle, it seemed that this timeline was one of the rare gems where she grew to care for him. That knowledge felt dangerous. Fragile. Barbatos couldn’t be sure that this trend would continue, that she would grow to love him, that what he’d seen and so desired in the cosmic soup of realities would come to pass. There was always the chance her feelings could change, that something would happen and they would no longer get along, that she would begin to look at him with distrust and fear instead of affection and excitement.
That thought pained him more deeply than he cared to admit.
Barbatos once again smoothed out the miniscule wrinkles in his clothing - neither the butler uniform nor RAD uniform he nearly always wore, but rather more comfortable clothes for his rare off-duty hours that weren’t devoted to sleep. They were still finely tailored and well-fitted, but with less stateliness than his professional attire warranted.
A knock at the door, a musical rap of knuckles against wood, broke him from his intense focus on finding every speck of dust on his sleeve. Somehow, she still sometimes caught him by surprise, even when he was expecting her.
When he opened the door Frankie’s face lit up in a smile and she let out a breathy “Hey!” Her purple hair was still damp, its usual waves now downright curly from the moisture and clinging to the side of her face where it grew longer. One lock of hair clung to her lips, painted a rich maroon that drew his gaze, and he fought the urge to brush it away and replace it with his own lips.
She was wearing a summer romper, he noted, and not her typical skirt and crop top. It was made of a beautiful, flowy gray material patterned with tulips along the bottom where the shorts ended temptingly high on those exquisite thighs. The neckline was rather low and teased the top of her breasts in a way that reminded him of how they’d felt pressed against his chest as he kissed the taste of macarons right out of her mouth. Her cheeks, littered with freckles that Barbatos found downright distracting, were burning pink, as if she’d jogged the whole way there… or perhaps she was nervous?
Barbatos, ever the host, stepped back enough to let her in and gestured gracefully with one arm. “Welcome, please make yourself at home.”
Now that he closed the door behind her and turned to watch her look about his room with wide-eyed fascination, he remembered that this was only Frankie’s second time seeing his room; the first time she’d been too preoccupied with the concept of going back in time to save Belphegor to pay any attention. But with her gray eyes now trailing over the myriad stairs and the wall of windows looking over the Palace gardens, he realized just how inadequate his main chambers were for entertaining guests. Although he kept it immaculate, the stone floors were bare of any rugs and the wall sconces bearing torches were not bright enough to fully light the room; human eyes were so weak compared to demons’. There was only one couch and a tea table, and no other furnishings in this room - not that his bedroom was much better, containing only a bed and an armoire of clothes. He didn’t spend much time in his chambers.
Clearing his throat to mask his embarrassment, Barbatos gestured to the couch. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?”
As she always did whenever he asked her such, Frankie smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, thank you.” She was being a bit more formal than she usually was, and she perched on the edge of the couch politely as she watched him retrieve the kettle from the fire, which only served to reinforce his theory that she was nervous. He had plenty of reason to believe that it was nervousness borne of excitement (her flirty texts, her smiles, her manner of dress… he mentally ticked all the boxes) but the uncertainty he’d seen in those other timelines plagued him.
That same indeterminate nature, that bold taking-life-by-the-horns-and-fate-be-damned aura about her that drew him inexorably to her was also what scared him the most. How could he know he wasn’t making a tremendous mistake? Possibly ruining the exchange program and Diavolo’s reputation?
“What sort of tea do you have in store for me tonight?” she asked, breaking him once again from his brooding. He smoothly recovered without giving away how absorbed he’d been in his thoughts, opening a ceramic jar from the fireplace mantle and pouring it with an expert eye into the teapot.
“I was thinking of an Infernal Cinnamon-Gyokuro blend I recently created. It melds human world and Devildom flavors together quite beautifully and should make for a fine evening tea.” As he began the process of steeping and re-infusing he could feel himself becoming more composed. Brewing tea always calmed him.
“Hmm, combining human and demon flavors for the evening does sound quite fine indeed, I’m excited to try it.” There was a lilt in her lowered voice he’d come to recognize as her holding back a sly grin, but when he lifted his head from his work and glanced over at her she had her eyebrows raised and an innocent smile on her face. What a cunning little coquette she was proving to be… He had to admit he quite liked her temerity in teasing him. Most didn’t have the desire or courage to be anything but polite or nervous of the butler, but Frankie had always done things her own way.
Barbatos made a small noise in his throat, an acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t rise to the bait. As he brought the tea tray to the table and poured them each a cup, Frankie’s eyes followed with keen interest. Those stormy eyes were far sharper than most gave her credit for. Her easy laugh and playful, carefree demeanor belied a wit that was cunning enough to put even Lucifer and Solomon on their heels at times. She was perceptive, with a curiosity unrivaled by all but the most tenacious of lesser demons and pixies.
Still, he would not be swayed by those beautifully kohl-rimmed eyes no matter how intent they were on him. He had to measure his approach, always. Barbatos was not one for brash action. He sat on the opposite end of the couch a polite distance away - neither too close nor too far - and watched as she took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes to savor it. “The tea, is it to your satisfaction? Is this combination one that suits your tastes?”
Frankie’s eyes slit open and he could see the way her cheeks colored and she swallowed hard. The tip of her tongue darted out to capture a rogue drop of tea from her bottom lip, and though he knew it would be obvious, he couldn’t resist lowering his eyes to fix on it, watching its caress. “I find it…” she paused just long enough that he lifted his eyes to hers again in time for her to murmur out, “Intoxicating.”
A shiver ran down his spine and it was all he could do not to bury his hands in her hair and pull her into a bruising kiss right then and there, to devour every last inch of her until she was trembling and utterly spent, until the only thought in her mind was him, his fingers, his mouth, his tail... Instead, he dipped his head in a nod and raised his cup to take a sip and cover how maddeningly greedy she made him.
“I am glad we seem to be of the same opinion,” he said in measured tones once the hot tea had relaxed him a bit. She looked like she was gearing up to say something bold and he found that his doubts still had not left him. He spoke up, changing the subject. “I invited you here as there is something I would like to give you.”
Frankie paused for a moment, and he could see in her eyes a mirror of his own doubt for just a moment before she covered it with raised eyebrows and a polite, “Oh?” He cursed his cowardice for making her think, even for a moment, that he might not want her. He remembered nearly two years ago when she’d expressed interest in him and he’d told her that they didn’t know each other well enough, that he didn’t feel that way about her and couldn’t guarantee he would even if they got to know each other. He remembered the small, graceful smile she gave him, her respect for his boundaries, but also the hurt she hid beneath it all, the extra space she gave him for weeks afterwards, the cautious optimism in her eyes whenever he gave her a genuine smile, her polite but guarded expressions whenever they were alone together. Expressions that shouldn’t have bothered him as much as they did.
At the time he had been conflicted, trying hard to forget what he’d seen in the other timelines, trying not to assume that this Frankie was one who would want to be with him, trying not to confuse what he’d seen in the other timelines with his own feelings. He had hardly known her at that point, had only spent a few scattered hours alone with her here and there. The temptation to feel close to her because of what he’d spied in the cosmos had been the very thing that had driven him to keep her at arm’s length. Truly, he was slow to form attachments, slow to trust. Letting her down gently was the safest way out of that uncomfortable, dangerous conversation and back on track with her Sorcerer’s test.
Now he regretted it as he saw a glimmer of that same uncertainty in her eyes as he changed the subject. Somehow, in the years since, Frankie had become incredibly dear to him - irreplaceable - and he regretted any distress he might cause her.
He stood and retrieved the bundle of cloth from an alcove in the wall, handing it to her and taking in her bewildered face. “I’d like you to have this kimono from the human world. I came across it while I was doing some spring cleaning. An old acquaintance of mine gave it to me many years ago.” She unfurled the fabric to reveal a dark green kimono with pale teal ginkgo leaves fluttering down its length. “Upon seeing its beautiful pattern, I immediately thought of you.” Ginkgo trees, a symbol of hope and peace and love. No one was more suited to wear its pattern than she.
Frankie’s mouth dropped open ever-so-slightly as she ran her fingers over the silken fabric. She held the clothing as if she were afraid it might tear apart in her grasp, finally looking up with an overwhelmed expression at Barbatos standing before her. “Barbatos… I…” words failed her.
“I’m sure it will look far better on you than me,” he said with a kind smile, hoping she wouldn’t reject the gift. “Please accept it.”
Frankie wasn’t one to turn down gifts out of politeness - that prompting was all it took for her to clutch the fabric to her chest and break out into a wide grin. “Thank you so much! It’s beautiful! I’ll admit I’ve never worn a kimono before, not a real one anyways. The ones in America are usually just silky robes they upcharge by slapping the name ‘kimono’ on them. But this… this looks like the real deal.” She looked down at it again and then back up at him, her eyes glimmering. “Truly, this is wonderful, I’m so happy!”
“And I am happy to see your smile,” he responded, his own smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He gestured to the kimono, “Would you care to try it on?” She hesitated for just a moment, looking sheepish, and he guessed at her troubles, having just admitted she’d never worn one. “If you don’t mind, I would be happy to assist you.”
She bit her lip and nodded as she stood, looking a mix of excited and jittery, and he had to force himself not to look at her mouth, not to replace her teeth with his own. “That would be great, thank you.”
Barbatos slipped the kimono over her shoulders, letting his touch linger for just a moment. Humans were naturally warmer-bodied than demons, and right now she felt like a small sun drawing him in. Her scent was heady: musky with a hint of some human world plant he didn’t know, and he longed to close the inches between them and breathe in deep of her.
Instead, he continued to dress her, neither of them speaking, absorbed in the moment blossoming between them. Every touch of his fingers at the hems, every slide of his palms across her abdomen, was like tasting a storm on the wind - electric, hair-raising, and simply not enough . Her breath grew shaky and she swallowed thickly as he reached around her waist from the front to wrap her in the obi. He was so close he could see the pulse leaping in her neck, could feel her breath ghosting across his cheek, could imagine how her skin would taste under his tongue.
When Barbatos pulled away and slid around behind her, he didn’t increase the distance between them, leaving only just enough space for him to tie the obi. Though his hands were deft and practiced as he coaxed the fabric into a bunko bow, he took his time, savoring the way she subtly leaned into him whenever his hands slid along her back, the way her breath hitched when he gently tugged the knot tight and she was nearly pulled into him, caught off-guard.
And yet it was over too soon. Barbatos smoothed down the fabric at her back and ‘hmm’ed quietly. “I also have acquired a matching hair pin, if you would like me to put your hair up?” he suggested, his voice a soft murmur as he reached into his pocket for the pin.
Frankie nodded and was barely able to whisper out, “Yes please.”
He could see the way her chest heaved with every breath, watched with avid fascination as goosebumps - a purely human phenomenon - raised all along her neck when he carded his fingers through her hair. Her hair was exquisitely soft, smelling faintly of sandalwood and sea salt, and Barbatos found himself running his fingers through it a few more times than necessary before pulling it up.
A small sound escaped her, what might have been a whimper, and Barbatos paused, concerned. “Have I hurt you? I apologize, I will try to be more gentle.”
“N-no, you don’t have to!” she blurted out, and he could practically feel the heat of her blush from behind her. “I-It’s not…” she paused, breathing rather heavily, before finally whispering, “I like it.”
A thrill went down Barbatos’ spine at her breathy admission and his fingers tightened just slightly in her hair, eliciting another small, throaty sound from her. The sheer willpower it took him not to pull her to him and see what other sounds she might make was monumental. Now it wasn’t just Frankie whose breath was becoming labored. “I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured before deftly finishing with her hair, placing the hairpin just so, and moving around to stand before her and see his handiwork.
Deep emerald eyes roamed up and down, wanting to absorb every minute detail of her. Frankie stood draped in his signature colors, looking at once utterly resplendent and incredibly flustered, her cheeks red and chest heaving, licking her lips with no longer a care for propriety. His throat felt dry. He could hardly believe the vision before him; she was truly radiant, a work of art he could drink in for the rest of his days and never grow bored.
Frankie licked her lips again and tugged lightly at the neckline of the kimono, her movements tracked by demon eyes with a detached fascination. Finally she spoke, once more breaking him from his trance. “How… do I look?” Her voice was soft but not the least bit meek. He knew now that she knew the effect she was having on him. She knew how alluring he found her; he could see it in her gaze. Her gray eyes were dark and bold, daring him to speak the innumerable improper thoughts racing through his head.
Barbatos started, his eyes growing wide for a moment before he composed himself, though he could not keep the heat from blossoming on his cheeks at having been caught so thoroughly ogling her. He cleared his throat and gave a small bow out of sheer habit, though he maintained eye contact as he spoke, “As I thought, it suits you very well. I am truly captivated by your beauty."
The way her eyes lit up and she took a step towards him with a smile warmed his heart and he found himself closing the distance between them until there were mere inches of space remaining. The dark, selfish part of him coveted her, wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hide her away, a treasure for his eyes only… And yet, he knew she was a free spirit and would wilt with such treatment. She deserved to be flaunted, a priceless piece of art displayed at the finest museum for all to see.
No, not a piece of art. She was like a human world mustang, beautiful and wild and so very alive, meant to feel the wind in her mane and the earth under her hooves, to run free and not be tamed, blessing the lives of those who earned her trust with an open hand. He wanted to give her that freedom, to taste her wildness, to bask in the light of her affection as long as she saw fit to shine it upon him.
It was at that moment that Barbatos knew he loved her.
The realization washed over him and something must have changed on his face, for Frankie’s expression sobered and her lips parted ever-so-slightly as if entranced. In her eyes was something she'd never shown him before, something soft and vulnerable, offered to him tentatively as she gazed up at him.
He lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his fingers feather light, some part of him still afraid she might bolt if he made the wrong move. At his touch she sucked in a small, sharp breath and her eyelids fluttered shut. From this distance he could see each individual eyelash splayed across her cheek, could count the smattering of freckles across her nose, could smell her excitement and nervousness.
“Barbatos,” she whispered, and he watched with rapt attention as she breathed her next words. “Please kiss me.”
His restraint broke, his doubts fleeing in the face of her demand, and never had he been so delighted to fulfill a request. His mouth met hers in a collision of lips and tongue, no delicate preamble of close-lipped pecks. Her tongue melded with his as if he were her salvation, her scent and taste filled his senses, at once maddening and soothing. Frankie's hands were in his hair, clutching at the back of his shirt, her body glued to his with reckless abandonment. He pressed one hand to the small of her back, just under the bow of her obi, and with the other he cradled the nape of her neck, pulling her closer even though there was no more distance to close.
She was everything, everything in this moment. The small whimpering moans she made, muffled by his mouth, the taste of the tea on her tongue, the scent of her shampoo filling his senses, the feel of her warm body growing hotter under his touch… Barbatos couldn't hold back a low groan as she hooked one leg around his thigh and grinded herself against him. Even through the layers of her clothes, through the fabric of his pants, he could feel how hot she was for him, could smell the cloying scent of her arousal. His restraint faltered and his hand slid down to cup her ass and pull her tighter against him. He was rewarded with the surprised noise of delight she made and considered how he might elicit another such sound from her again…
When a song began playing so loudly that both of them jumped in surprise and broke their kiss to look for the source of the noise. Frankie's chest heaved with labored breath, her face flushed, her lips deliciously swollen and wet. Barbatos's breath wasn't much better, his cheeks red as he watched Frankie fumble beneath her kimono as startlingly lewd lyrics echoed about them.
She finally pulled out her D.D.D. and silenced it, giving him a sheepish grin and tossing it onto the couch. “Sorry, that’s Asmo’s ringtone… WAP seemed appropriate at the time I was deciding which song to pick for him.”
Barbatos raised an eyebrow with an amused smirk, unable to do anything but agree with her choice considering Asmodeus was the Avatar of Lust. Frankie gave a small laugh that held a hint of awkwardness, moving back into his space so he could feel the heat still radiating off of her. She cleared her throat and peered up at him through her eyelashes. “Could we continue our… hmmm… melding of human and Devildom flavors?” Her lips curled into a wry grin.
Her words, her desire for him, made his heart thunder. She wanted him , wanted to touch him, wanted more , and he found that knowledge utterly ambrosial. He wound an arm around her, pulling her tight against his body as his other hand pulled her chin up until their lips were mere millimeters apart. “It would be my pl–”
Frankie’s phone went off again, even louder now that it was no longer in the confines of her clothes, and she let out a frustrated growl and pulled away. “Damn it all, Asmo, fix your own broken nails,” he heard her muttering under her breath. She snatched up her phone and silenced it again, but as she was about to throw it back onto the couch she stopped, staring at the screen for a moment, her anger melting into concern.
“Is everything alright?” Barbatos asked, stuffing down the small flare of jealousy he felt over how quickly her attention left him; this wasn’t about him. Clearly something was wrong.
She sighed and ran a hand over her face, scrolling through her phone quickly before turning back to him, her eyes full of regret. “Would you believe me if I said Asmo really is going through something and needs someone to be with him right now?” She chewed on her lip, glancing between her phone and Barbatos. “Something serious happened between him and Solomon, and he’s in a bad place. Everyone else is busy, it seems - everyone’s ignoring his texts in the group chat.”
He kept his expression neutral, masking the frustration he felt that tonight of all nights would be when there was a problem that couldn’t wait. He could feel the greed welling up within him, wanting to wrap himself around her and not let her out of his sight. But no, that’s not what he would do; it’s not what would be appropriate or right. His wild little mustang would wither away with such treatment. He gazed into her eyes, so full of compassion and tenderness, and released his grip so she could run free.
Barbatos gave a small, gentle smile and took one of her hands in both of his, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I understand, Frankie. Please don’t fret.”
Immediately her face relaxed with relief and she gave him a grateful smile that made it all worth it. “Thank you, really.” She rose up on her toes and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, and when she pulled away her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling with clear affection. “I’d really like to continue this soon,” she murmured.
He’d had an idea when he’d first found the kimono and thought to give it to her, an idea he hadn’t quite fully formed so as not to get too carried away with himself before even knowing if she would be interested. Barbatos cleared his throat quietly. “As would I. I was thinking we might celebrate the new year as they do in the human world. Perhaps the type of celebration in which kimonos are the proper attire?”
Frankie’s eyes lit up with excitement and she practically bounced on her feet. “I’d love that!”
Barbatos smiled and gave a small bow as he gently extracted himself from her grasp, trying to regain some control over himself lest he never let her go. “Excellent. I’ll need some time to prepare. All I ask of you is that you come wearing that kimono on the day of.”
Something in Frankie’s expression changed, her lips curving into a devious smirk, her eyes becoming heavy-lidded and dark with promise as she sidled past him close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest. Her voice was low and unmistakably sultry when she responded over her shoulder with a wink, “Oh, I would love to come in this kimono, Barbatos.”
And with that, she was bidding him a grinning farewell and was gone, leaving Barbatos sucking in a shocked breath at her innuendo and blinking in her absence. What a sly little vixen she was, indeed… His face felt hot, his clothes restricting, and oh did he want so badly to call her back and punish her for such provocative behavior.
Next time.
Barbatos cleared his throat in his empty room and sat down to finish his now cold tea, his mind swimming with all sorts of plans for their new year’s celebration - from what food he might make for her to how he might make her cry out his name in rapture. It wasn’t until he’d cleaned and put away the tea set that he realized that his previous nervousness, his trepidation, about Frankie had all but washed away.
Barbatos’s love for her was not inevitable, nor was hers for him, and yet that was what made it more beautiful to him, more precious to this time lord who could potentially know his entire future if he so chose. No, his love for her was a rare gift, a brave choice, not knowing the outcome or if she might reciprocate. A risk.
Uncertainty .
He rather thought he could live with such a thing quite happily, if it was with her.