Chapter Text
Shoulder to shoulder, Satan and Solomon stood, eyes glued to each other’s name on the page at the front of the classroom. For weeks, they had prepared for the presentation, nights spend side by side in Satan’s book invested bedroom. They had shared pizzas together as they stormed up ideas to discuss. Textbooks lined the corner of his room. They had it planned right to the final dot.
“Well,” Solomon hummed, rubbing his chin with his hand, “this isn’t ideal.”
A cluster of designated groups on the page stared back at them, specifically written by Lucifer and his perfectly neat handwriting.
“There has to be some sort of mistake,” Satan spoke, arms crossed over his chest. “It wasn’t like this last year.”
There, on opposite sides of the white page, lay Satan and Solomon’s names.
Mammon’s heavy hand pulled down on Satan’s shoulder as he peeked at the sheet. “Aw, sweet, Levi we’re gonna ace this!”
Poking between their heads, Leviathan stuck his head through. “We’re with Solomon?” He pulled back and behind Satan, he heard their high five. “Awesome!”
Satan dug his nails into his arm, listening as they walked back to their seats. Indeed, this was not ideal.
“Aww, I wanted to be with Solomon!” Cooed Asmodeus, hanging off said man’s arm.
Solomon chuckled, patting his hand, “you should consider yourself lucky, Satan’s on your team.”
But Satan was having none of it. He glared across the room to where Lucifer stood above his sleeping brother. As if he could sense it, he looked up and met Satan’s eye. Sighing, he left Belphegor to snooze, making his way to the front.
There was not a chance to put a word in before Satan erupted. “What is this?”
“The designated groups for the assignment.” Cool and calm, it made Satan want to punch him.
“I know that. Why?”
Lucifer did not falter under the spite. “This is an opportunity to give everyone the equal chance for top place.” Without missing a beat, he said, “it is fairer this way.”
“Fair? This isn’t fair. Fair is letting us choose our own groups.”
“Fair is making sure you two don’t steal first place. This allows other students to try and improve their scores. It is their final opportunity to secure their rankings for the year.”
Satan scoffed, snapping his eyes away. Of course, Lucifer would pull something dumb like this. He knew it was a way of getting back at him. The stupid page with the stupid names for some stupid project that Lucifer wouldn’t even remember this time next year. Why did he have to cause so many problems?
And to be paired with Asmodeus and Belphegor? It would have been fairer to let him do the assignment alone. There was no bother even going to the effort to write their names down. Asmodeus would bother over the stress of it and Belphegor would doze the whole time.
An elbow to his side brought him back to reality. While he had been in his head, Lucifer had walked off, leaving him and Solomon remaining by the sheet. Solomon gave him a grin. “It appears we are rivals.”
“It appears so,” he felt the smile creep onto his face. The competitive spirit already burning in his blood. “I’m assuming we’ll ditch our initial proposal?”
“It’s only fair, isn’t it?” Mocking words of Lucifer never failed to cheer him up. Satan turned to face Solomon head on. “Just so you know, I won’t be holding back.” Solomon leaned in close, sneering at him.
“I wouldn’t want you to,” said Satan, taking a step forwards. Eye to eye, hardly much of a height difference between them, not that it mattered much. Truly, they were equals. “Sours the taste of victory if it was too easy, wouldn’t it.”
Solomon crooked a brow. “Victory? My, you’re confident.”
“Naturally. We both know I’ll be getting first place anyways.”
“Is that so?”
Satan nodded, “you better get used to second best, Sorcerer.” He jabbed Solomon’s chest with his two fingers.
Solomon swiped the fingers and tugged Satan close. They were no more than a breath apart. “We’ll see about that, Kitty Cat.” Their chests almost touched. Smirks donned their faces. A beat passed before they set off to their groups.
“A presentation is so much effort. Can’t we just submit a video or something.” Belphegor lay stretched across his desk, hands hanging off the edge, head buried in his arms.
Satan shook his head. “Has to be presented, as stated in the word.”
“But we could use costumes and make-up in our video! Oh! And we could play a romantic song during the sexy parts.”
“There are no sexy parts. This is a presentation about the Devildom, not one of your gross fantasies. And you can wear a costume any time, you don’t need a video for it.” Satan rapped his pen against his page. “Now think! We need to come up with something good.”
Asmodeus held his head in his hand, slouching on the desk. “Can’t we just use your original idea?”
“No!” Satan groaned, “I already told you we can’t. Solomon and I agreed on it.”
Muffled from below, Belphegor turned his head, “But it makes this so much easier.”
He let out a harsh breath. “It goes against the principle. We need an original idea. Something interesting. Top grade worthy.”
“We don’t even want the top grade, that’s just you,” Belphegor muttered. Satan ignored Asmodeus’s chirpy ‘yeah!’ of approval. “See? We’re happy to just pass it.”
“And I want first place.”
“Nerd.”
Satan chewed the inside of his mouth. His fist balled by his side. He knew better than to retort – it would drag things out longer than it needed to be. He sighed, shoulders dropping. “How about the Royal Museum? There’s a tons of historic artefacts we could-”
“Lame.” Belphegor bleated and turned back into his arms.
His brow twitched. “Alright. Then how about the history of the Devildom’s relations and the surrounding nations? We could talk about the former King’s-”
Asmodeus groaned, “that’s so boring!” He yawned, rolling his eyes. “Let’s do something fun! Like fashion! Or how they get this red blush so vibrant!” He pulled out a small contained and pushed it across the desk. “Look at it! It’s so pretty!”
“What about the best mattress company.”
Satan balked at Belphegor. “You have to be joking.”
“How many times has someone presented something about the Devildom’s lame museum? Probably a million. Then compare that to mattresses.”
“No one would do that.”
“Exactly.”
Satan dropped his face to his hands and moaned. Why these two? Why? He was losing his mind! This has to be some sort of prank. Surely! Lucifer was doing this as revenge.
He rose from his chair almost immediately, leaving his two teammates staring at his shadow. Lucifer was passing in the hall, arms stacked with loose sheets of paper. The force in which Satan opened the door sent pages fluttering off the top and falling.
Lucifer turned his head slow. “May I help you?”
Satan froze for a second before dropping to the floor and plucking the sheets up. “Here,” he said, standing again and setting them back on top.
“Thank you,” said Lucifer, peering at the blond. “Allow me to ask again, can I help you with something?” Confusion did not look good on him and nor did sucking up to Lucifer, but drastic times called for drastic measures.
“The groups-”
“No.”
“But, Dad!”
The twitch on Lucifer’s face never failed to make him laugh, yet he couldn’t dwell on it for long. Lucifer hoisted the papers so they rested comfortably on his arms. “I said no. If you cannot work with your team, then maybe first place isn’t for you after all.”
“You don’t understand! They’re impossible.”
“I know very well how hard it can be to work with them. They’re my brothers.”
Satan threw out his arms, “so change the groups!”
“No.”
He spun on his heel, grasping at his hair. Satan let out a growl. Two weeks of this? There was no way he could live that long working with them.
“When you are finished lamenting, please send Mammon to my office. Diavolo’s golden candelabrum has went missing.”
His clipped steps echoed as he strutted down the hall. Damn Lucifer.
Satan glanced back into the classroom to see Asmodeus plaiting strands of Belphegor’s hair as he doodled aimlessly on a page with his cheek smushed against the desk. Damn Asmodeus and Belphegor too.
His eyes flickered over to the corner of the room where Mammon and Leviathan were flipping through a rather large history book, pointing at what Satan assumed to be photographs and jabbering amongst themselves. Leaning on the wall next to the two, Solomon spoke, pointing out a page and the two brothers scrambled to turn to it. Cool as ever, arms crossed over his chest, smiling as he talked, he looked up to find Satan staring.
Without stopping, he winked, and returned to the brothers.
And damn Solomon.
“Well?”
Finally released from class, it was time to go home. Students of the Academy poured out into the halls, bustling and pushing their way through the crowds. Solomon stood by the doorframe waiting for Satan to pack his bag. They were the last ones remaining in the room.
“Well, what?” Satan slipped his notes into the bag’s inner pocket and folded the fabric over.
Solomon chuckled, leaning his weight to the side of the frame. He took too much joy in seeing Satan suffer. “How’s your presentation going?”
“Swimmingly,” Satan huffed, taking the strap and swinging it over his shoulder. He reached for his folders and stuffed it under his arm. He peered over to Solomon, “how’s yours going?” he asked, hand brushing the textbooks on his desk.
Solomon kicked himself from the frame and wandered over to Satan. Before Satan could grab the books, Solomon lifted them like they weighted nothing, and let out a short laugh. “It’s going well. Your family are eager to get started.”
Satan frowned. “I could have carried those.”
He tucked the textbooks to his side, “then I would have taken your bag.” Solomon tugged on the strap teasingly, “you have too many books in here. If you took those out, you wouldn’t need to be carrying that,” he nodded to Satan’s arm. Satan pushed his seat under the desk and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. Solomon’s hand fell from the strap, giving a shrug. “I’m just saying.”
Like some show of strength, Solomon offered to carry Satan’s stuff every day. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he didn’t. It all depended on how many books Satan decided to bring to read at lunch.
As they walked to the door, Solomon tugged the folder from Satan, alleviating the weight from him.
“You’re lucky this was all I brought today,” Satan said, giving the folder up without a fight. His hands gravitated to the strap. “I was about to bring my detective novel too to show you, but I figured the fantasy was enough.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he laughed.
Few students milled about the halls, hanging around club rooms or finishing up conversations for the day. He knew Asmodeus would be at the theatre club and Belphegor probably fell asleep in the bathrooms by accident, waiting for Beelzebub to stumble in and find him to carry him home. Obviously, Mammon had scurried off into town and Leviathan to home, unwilling to socialise more than he had to. That left Lucifer. Knowing him, he was probably in Diavolo’s office, proving how loyal he could be. Satan shuddered at the thought.
An elbow hit his. “Have you forgotten your way home?” Solomon lay his palm outwards, a warm invitation which conflicted with the shady smile.
“As if.” Satan swatted the hand away. “I’m thinking about the project.” At this rate, it was looking to be him working by himself on the presentation while Asmodeus and Belphegor were left to their own devices. What they occupied themselves with would ultimately outweigh their desires to work with Satan, no matter how much it meant to him. It wasn’t the first time Satan took a team project for himself, often it checked out better when it was him alone. There was none of that friction that naturally came with groups.
But watching the weeks of other teams’ efforts to create something never failed to make Satan wonder what he had missed in building relationships as he sacrificed it for a grade.
“Ah, the project.” Solomon nodded, eyes fixed on the distant trees. They walked through the dark streets, lesser demons rushing past them, bustling with commotion and desperation. It was a stark contrast to the two of them strolling mindlessly. He adjusted Satan’s belongings in his arms, stepping closer to avoid an oblivious shopper heading straight for them. His arm brushed against Satan’s. He could feel the heat of Solomon against him. In the clear, Solomon remained by his side. “There’s no need to start worrying about it now, it’s a while away. For now, we can relax, worry about it later. What do you say to a visit to that café you like? My treat, of course.”
Satan pursed his lips, returning the weight and leaning against Solomon as they walked. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Knowing my luck, I’ll need all the time I can get with those two on my team.”
Solomon turned his head to look at him. “Come on,” he nudged, a mocking pout on his face, “if not for you, then for me? I could really use it.”
He chuckled, “well, if that’s the case, then I guess a short visit wouldn’t hurt.” Solomon gave him such a smile that it had Satan looking away. His face felt warm despite nothing deserving it. “But you’re paying,” he threw in quick with the hopes of diverting attention away from himself.
“Brilliant.” Solomon grinned, snagging Satan’s hand and made a sharp turn down an alley.
It was a homely old café with antiques decorating the walls. Every corner was filled with bookshelves lined with hundreds of novels. Tables were scattered, few patrons visiting at this time of the afternoon. As they entered, the small bell above their heads rung, the elderly receptionist with her back to them turned and greeted them.
From behind the desk, a cat leapt to the table, slowly moving towards Satan who drifted towards the creature.
“Good evening, Sir Cat,” Satan cooed, hand already rubbing under the cat’s chin. It let out a loud meow to which Satan nodded, “I agree, it has been too long.”
Solomon spoke to the receptionist, putting in their orders and tugged Satan along to their usual seats by the window. He set Satan’s books to the side and sunk back into the seat, throwing a leg over his knee. Opposite him, Satan, attention still on the cat across the café.
Under the desk, Solomon kicked out his foot. “Oi.”
Satan turned around. “What?” he pouted, drawing his leg back.
Solomon chucked out a laugh. “Did you forget I was here?” He returned to his previous position and folded his arms. “We can move closer to the cat if you want.”
“No,” he shook his head, “it defeats the point. He’s meant to come towards us. It’s a sign of trust. I wouldn’t want to make Sir Cat uncomfortable.”
“Ah, of course.”
A light jingle played from the café, soft tunes relaxing them into their seats. Soon, their drinks were delivered and they gave their thanks to the lady.
Satan held the drink under his lips, it warmed his face as he wrapped his fingers around the cup. After letting it cool slightly, he looked up to Solomon, sitting with his hand on the handle, watching him. “So,” he started, blowing some steam from the top. A prickle of heat dusted his cheeks, but he put it down to the drink. “What’s your presentation on?”
Solomon hummed, slipping his hand from the handle and brought a finger to the rim of the cup, circling it slowly. “I don’t know whether I should be telling you.”
“What?” he frowned, setting his drink down, “why not?”
“You may be inclined to copy.” Solomon’s foot kicked his again, he smirked. “What’s yours on?”
Satan rolled his eyes, finding Solomon’s foot and hooking his around the ankle, “can’t say either,” he said, a wicked grin on his face as he snagged Solomon and pulled him closer. “Team secret.”
“Ha,” a short outburst, “I saw the way you looked at my team, you have nothing.”
“Do I not?”
“You don’t.”
Satan sipped from his cup. Not once did he leave Solomon’s stare. “That’s interesting,” he said, heart beating faster than it should be. Was he already caught out? He was not one to back out of a competition, especially when his competitor was none other than the shady sorcerer himself. He had something to prove, not only for himself, but to Solomon. Sure, maybe he had drawn the short end of the stick, lumped with two people who couldn’t care less about some stupid presentation, but if that didn’t present itself as an impossible challenge in need of solving, then Satan didn’t know what was.
It was up to him now. Even if it meant carrying the team, he would beat Solomon.
“We’ll have to see when it comes to presentation day.”
Solomon twined their feet together even more. “I suppose we shall.” He lifted his drink, holding it out to Satan, “may the best win.”
Satan shuddered, insides tingling like nothing he ever felt before. Quickly, he grabbed his cup and met Solomon half way. “May the best win.”
How was he going to win?
His desk was littered with old tomes and ancient encyclopaedias documenting the history of the Devildom, but nothing stood out to him. Nothing as good as his and Solomon’s original idea. Satan slammed a book shut – why couldn’t Lucifer let him be with Solomon? Why did he have to make his life so difficult?
He reached behind him, lifting his D.D.D. from the shelf and checked his notifications. Everyone apart from the ones he was wanting were messaging him. Barbatos and his messages about teaching Luke how to bake some fancy dessert; Beelzebub writing to ask if Satan wanted to help clear through his room’s old books; hell, even Lucifer was messaging something about missing dinner.
His group chat with Asmodeus and Belphegor looked terribly lame. At that moment, there was a wall of one-sided conversations with himself. Belphegor failed to respond and Asmodeus hadn’t even opened it.
He tossed the phone to his bed and he rose sluggishly from his desk. How long had he been researching? His bones ached and his pangs of hunger struck his stomach.
It was late, there was no hopes in anyone replying now. Everyone would be busy sleeping.
Satan dragged himself from his room and to the kitchen. Sitting in the yellow glow of the fridge was a small container, a heavy spell surrounded it. Satan looked at it, curious, bending over to read the sticky note attached.
Satan. Don’t get too caught up in your work. Please Eat. Use the spell I taught you to open this. Lucifer.
Lucifer. Satan frowned, lifting it out and sliding it on the counter. Of course, he would have something to say about all this. It was his fault Satan was in this mess in the first place. With a quick muttering of his words, the magic wore off and he took it to the microwave to heat it up.
“Wha- huh? Satan?”
Satan jumped at the voice, spinning around to find Mammon standing with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“What are you doing here at this time?” Satan casted a glance to the clock. It was late.
“Don’t tell Luci, please.” Mammon held his hands in front of him like a prayer and stepped towards Satan like he was a saint.
“Why would I tell him? I’m not going to help him – especially after what he did today.”
Mammon tossed his bag onto the counter and pulled Satan into a tight headlock. “Yer the best, kiddo.”
Struggling, Satan grabbed Mammon’s arms, trying his best to pry them from him. “I’m not a kid, get off me.”
“Give yer favourite uncle a hug,” he cooed, pulling Satan close to his chest. He laughed at Satan’s attempts to free himself.
“Mammon, get off,” groaned Satan, finally worming his head out of Mammon’s grip. “I’ve got work to do.”
“At this time? Ya should be asleep by now.”
“Same could be said for you.”
“I was busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah, busy. Ever hearda it?”
Satan rose a brow, slinking back and working the wrinkles out of his clothes. “Busy doing what?”
Mammon’s eyes fluttered to the ceiling, hand tugging at the back of his neck. “I dunno. Stuff?”
“Stuff? Well shouldn’t you be working on your presentation?”
Shocked at the mere mention of it, Mammon crunched his face up. “Presentation?” he gave a sharp laugh, “no way.” He tugged the zip to his bag and opened it, ruffling through for who knows what.
The microwave dinged. Satan did not move. “Why not?”
“We got plenty of time b’fore we gotta be thinkin’ of that stupid thing. We’re chillin’.”
“Have you got an idea for it?”
Catching on, Mammon pulled his hand free of the bag and wagged his finger in Satan’s face. “Ah, I see what yer doin’. Yer spyin’ on us.”
“S-spying?” he spluttered.
“Yeah. Spyin’.” Mammon planted his hands on his hips. “‘cuz yer jealous.” Even though the kitchen was dark, Satan feared the rising red on his face would give him away. Until Mammon opened his mouth again, “ya wanna be with me, doncha?”
At first, Satan gawked, almost choking in surprise, but through willpower alone, he held face. “Y-yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I want to be on your team because I know you’ve got good ideas.”
Mammon’s face melted into a sweet smile. “Aww, Satan,” he cooed, reaching out to ruffle his blond hair. “Yer too cute. But ya know ol’ Luci won’t be changin’ his mind. Ya got better luck stealin’ from the palace then ya got dealin’ with him.”
How Mammon fell for it, Satan would never know. He leaned into the lies, nodding with the hand in his hair. “Yeah, I know. But I thought he’d at least let me work with my favourite uncle. It’s the least he could do.”
“Don’ let the others hear ya sayin’ that; they’ll flip.” Mammon grinned. He looked behind Satan to the microwave. “Yer foods prolly gone cold.” Satan suddenly remembered his dinner, stomach growling to emphasise it.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping towards the microwave. He pressed for another blast of heat as Mammon yabbered on.
“It’s a shame ya got Luci as a dad. I mean, he means well, but he’s got the stick so far up his own ass that I don’t even think he knows he has one. The whole presentation thing ain’t even a big deal, though. Jus’ some excuse to get us doin’ somethin’ worthwhile. Levi’s been playin’ games all day, so it’s not like he cares much. Heh, we still don’t even have a clue what we’re doin’, so don’t fuss too much.”
The microwave pinged again.
What?
Surely he heard that wrong.
“Levi’s wantin’ to do it on some sorta game or anime girl, but that shit’s wack. No way I’m goin’ on stage and talkin’ ‘bout some chick’s bust or somethin’.”
Satan threw open the microwave door and hauled his food out.
He fought to remain composed. Carefully and casually, he asked, “you don’t have an idea of what you’re doing yet?”
Mammon shrugged, “yeah, but I’m not worried- h-hey Satan, whereya goin’?”
Satan, plate in hand, sped from the room. Mammon stood in the dark, confused as when he first walked in.
There was no way.
Solomon had been bluffing the entire time as well.