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Barbatos is difficult to read.
He always has been, from the moment you met him. He is a closed book; he hides his thoughts behind the cover of a polite smile. Every move he makes feels deliberate. Every word he speaks, weighed and chosen with care. It is rare to see him get angry. Rarer still to hear him give a genuine laugh. He is Diavolo’s shadow, fading into the backdrop until his services are required, ever-present and watching with eyes that are forest-dark and forest-deep. Sunlight blotted out by trees.
Those same eyes are on you now. You can feel Barbatos studying you even as you gaze down at the cup of fresh tea in your hands. Steam mists up from the hot liquid, dissipating as a cool evening breeze carries it away. Around you is the sound of birdsong and chirping crickets—or what would be crickets, were you not in the Devildom, seated at a small table in the palace garden. Artificial light reflects through the jeweled prisms nestled in the otherwise dark foliage; a stray glint draws your attention back to Barbatos, who stands by your side and waits expectantly with a smile that has turned faintly amused.
“I am in no hurry,” Barbatos says, humor slipping into his voice at your distractedness, “but I did invite you here to try a new type of tea. If you wait much longer it will be too cool to drink.”
You glance back down, turning the cup in your hands. Heat still radiates through the porcelain, warming your palms. You have time for a request, so you look up once more. “Won’t you join me?” you ask. Barbatos blinks and opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can speak. “At least sit with me. You’re Diavolo’s butler, not mine. You standing there while I relax and drink tea feels… wrong.”
After a moment, Barbatos chuckles softly. He takes a seat in the chair across from you, crossing his legs and leaning forward over the table, elbows propped on the edge and gloved fingers laced together beneath his chin. The table is small enough that if you were to lean in as well, you would be touching him. “Is this satisfactory?” he asks, and perhaps you are getting better at reading him, because you’re fairly sure he’s teasing you.
Instead of answering, you take a sip of tea.
It’s perfect, as Barbatos’s tea always is. Neither too strong nor too weak, and with no need for honey or sugar to disguise the bitter with sweet. Smoky without being burnt, with heady flavors coming to the surface, caramel and rooibos and something strange yet pleasant that you can’t quite name, a deep, earthy taste you’ve noticed in other Devildom teas. It makes you feel comfortably warm from the inside out. But…
“Is something wrong?”
Your confusion must have shown on your face, because Barbatos is frowning at you when you lower your cup. You quickly shake your head. “It’s delicious,” you tell him, taking another sip to support your words. You aren’t lying; you could drink the entire pot with ease. “But I thought you said this was new. I’ve had this before.”
Barbatos’s smile returns. “Indeed, you have,” he acknowledges, only furthering your bewilderment.
“…did you tweak the recipe or something?” you ask, sniffing the dark liquid, and Barbatos gives another soft chuckle.
“I did not.” He stands, expertly pours more tea into your cup, and sits once more, this time without being asked. Watching you take another tentative drink, cautious of the freshly hot tea, he explains, “It is a new type of tea, one I created myself. The ingredients are simple. It’s nothing more than a blend of a few spices and leaves. However – ” Barbatos leans in your direction, taps a finger lightly on the rim of the porcelain cup – “it is imbued with a spell I created to make it taste like whatever type of tea the person drinking it likes most. I would prefer not to cut corners like this and instead make you your favorite tea from scratch, but under the circumstances…”
Barbatos trails off at your look of realization. No wonder it tastes so familiar. No wonder it makes you feel warm, in a way even a magical tea shouldn’t have the power to. Barbatos is correct; it is your favorite tea. Not because of the flavor, but because—
“It tastes like first tea you ever made for me.”
For all that Barbatos is difficult to read, his surprise is obvious. His brows furrow; his mouth opens then closes once more, carefully chosen words not appearing. He catches himself after only a small handful of seconds, smoothing his face back toward polite curiosity. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he admits, and it’s your turn to be surprised.
“Why wouldn’t you think one of your teas was my favorite?” you ask. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met at brewing tea.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but it isn’t a matter of skill,” Barbatos replies, corners of his mouth quirked up in an honest smile. “The brothers had expressed concern that you had been missing the human world lately. I had hoped to give you a taste of home. It appears I was unsuccessful in that regard.”
“You weren’t unsuccessful,” you say. You take another sip; the warmth settles comfortably in your chest, reassuring.
“Was I not?”
“You wanted to give me a taste of home, right?” you repeat. “You did just that.” Barbatos tilts his head; one of his hands comes to rest on the table, and you take it, following impulse. “The Devildom is my home now.”
(‘Anywhere you are is my home.’)
Barbatos’s fingers give the slightest of twitches against yours. The smallest spark of emotion-prompted movement. You would likely have missed it if you weren’t holding his hand. “…the young master will be happy to hear that,” he says carefully. Unused to having attention directed at him, you think, so you push a little further.
“And you?”
Barbatos’s eyes—forest-dark, forest-deep—have gone softer, his gaze fonder and less analytical. “Me?” He curls his fingers around yours, brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. “Do you really have to ask?”
You don’t. It’s evident in the press of his fingertips on your bare skin, in the easy nature of his smile, the gentle tone of his voice. It’s in the soft of his lips when you kiss him, pulling him toward you as you lean closer, passing the distance that remained between you. It’s in the sound he offers you, low in his throat. The faint dusting of pink on his cheeks when you part. Desire, and amusement, and happiness.
After all, Barbatos may be difficult to read.
But with each moment spent together, you are learning.