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It had been another long day in the Devildom. You were tuckered out from all the cramming you’d been doing that week in preparation for exams, and now that it was Friday, you just wanted to rest. You starfished on your bed, basking in the stillness of your room. Your gaze traced over the leaves of the ivy growing from the rafters and weaving their way towards the walls and the grounds, like a slow emerald rain that was reaching out towards you. True, it was a little unsettling, but it was oddly charming for how unsettling it was – as tended to be most things here in the Devildom.
You shifted in bed, trying to will your muscles into relaxing. …Speaking of charming, your mind drifted over to a certain demon a few doors down the hall. Your eyes unconsciously sought out the things he had left behind in your room over time. Beel really was right – it was starting to look like Mammon lived here. One of his many phone chargers was near an outlet on the wall, the wire having gotten entangled with yours over time. You craned your neck towards something on the floor next to it and silently cursed at the sight of another black t-shirt of his that you must have forgotten to pick up in your hurry to rest. You groaned and thumped your head back onto your pillow softly. Honestly…for one of the most powerful demons in the world, Mammon was not what you would have expected. Maybe you should just start wearing his clothes if he’s going to leave them around your place like that. Then maybe he’ll get so embarrassed, he’ll finally put some more care into avoiding trashing your place.
…Ha, right. That’s not likely to happen.
*DING*
Your D.D.D. chimed from its place on the bedstand next to you. Who would be texting you at this hour?
Begrudgingly, you reached over and cracked open one eye to check…
…Ah, speak of the demon.
You sat up a little further in bed, rubbing your eyes, as Mammon’s texts started flooding in.
- That was the worst nightmare ever…
- I heard that talking to someone about a nightmare keeps it from coming true.
- So I need you to listen, MC.
He was coming to you about nightmares? That was…oddly endearing of him. As you typed out a response, you slowly got up and put some slippers on before heading towards the door.
I’m all ears, what happened? -
- 
- What would I do without ya, MC?
- Okay so, the witches were extorting me again, but it was worse than usual!
- . . .
You caught yourself grinning at the first few lines before becoming self-conscious and schooling your face into a more neutral expression. This sounded like it was going to be a long explanation (why he didn’t just call you, you didn’t know, it’s not like he was averse to invading your privacy to begin with), so you started sneaking your way into the kitchen to grab some hot chocolate. Maybe a little comfort would help you sleep after whatever crisis you needed to help Mammon with.
Upon entering the kitchen, you looked around for any sign of Beel, but he was nowhere to be found. Ah well, no hot cocoa buddy tonight. Or…maybe you should bring Mammon a cup, too? You glanced back at your phone, and the little animated pencil was still going, indicating he was still typing. Either he was sending you an entire novella or he was having difficulty talking about the nightmare, likely typing and erasing and typing and erasing.
“Don’t spoil him,” the voice of Lucifer rang in your head. …Yeah, but he was too cute to spoil. Besides, sometimes the boy just needed some spoiling, no one else around here did it for him anyway, so why not. You added another cup worth of milk to the small pot on the stove to heat it up before adding the hot cocoa powder.
Your device dinged from the kitchen counter where you had set it down. You leaned over to pick it up and read what Mammon had finally sent you, idly stirring the pot of milk with a wooden spoon in the other hand.
- First, they were all ❤️❤️❤️❤️ so I thought it was 👍👍👍. But then they had to resort to their old habits and it was all about the 💰💰💰 again.
- Just thinkin’ about it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up…
What…what did that even mean? You squinted at the screen, as if focusing your eyesight would make the meaning of the emojis come through better. You weren’t exactly sure what the relationship was like between Mammon and these infamous witches you kept hearing so much about. You suspected that they probably weren’t kind to him (although that was probably a two-way thing, too), possibly even manipulative, but…this felt different. Weird. Why did it make you angry?
Clearly, Mammon wanted to talk about this with someone, otherwise he wouldn’t have reached out to text you. But something about this felt like it was hitting too close to home, why mask all the verbiage with emojis when he had been typing for minutes now? Surely he’d have more than that written. Did…did the witches do this kind of stuff to him in real life, too? Use him and manipulate him for money?
Oh, shit, you should probably reply now, right? If you leave him hanging too long, he’s going to regret being vulnerable and close off or panic again. Your finger hovers over the reply button, just as your other hand touches something hot and your whole body jerks at the pain. Your hand on the D.D.D. clenches as your knee-jerk reaction topples the scalding hot milk you had forgotten in the pot and spills some of it all over you. It fucking burns and you want to cry out in pain but your brain helpfully reminds you last-minute that Lucifer would probably hear you, and that’s the last thing you want to deal with right now. You bite your lips from keeping the groan of pain come out and look down at yourself as you see the milk all over your freshly washed pajamas.
You groan out load in despair, “Ughh, really?” These were your comfiest pair (and your only clean pair) and now you had spilled milk all over them, all because you thought you’d indulge in an innocent cup of hot cocoa to relax before bed, but now you can’t relax because the stress of the week has now starting churning into a deep frustration and you want to fling the pot of milk across the room and – okay, deep breaths. Deep breaths. It’s just milk. It’s not irreparable. What’s that saying again? No crying over spilled milk? You close your eyes and let out a deep exhale, momentarily wondering if this is how Satan feels all the time. Thankfully nothing got on your D.D.D. and you set it on the counter again, away from the splash zone. Upon a quick glance in the pot, you realize you’re also in luck that not much of the milk flew overboard. Throwing a spare towel on the ground, you start to mop up some of the milk on the ground with your socked foot (great, now you have to throw that pair of socks in the washer, too) while you grabbed some more milk from the fridge to top off the amount in the pot.
It doesn’t take long for the milk to become warm again, and you prep two mugs with some hot cocoa powder before carefully – carefully ¬ pouring the hot milk into each mug and stirring. You suddenly realize your D.D.D. has been going off this whole time, one ding after another. It’s only now in the silent aftermath of the cleanup that you notice the absence of the dings. Is everything okay with Mammon? You grab a tray to put the mugs on and then bring it over to the counter to see 14 missed texts from him. What…?
Oh, really? -
- “Oh, really?” That’s it?! Is that really all you have to say?
- Don’t you even wanna know what they put me through?
- We’re pals, right? If ya really wanna know the details, I’ll tell ya for 500 Grimm.
- If you’ve got the cash on-hand now, I’ll tell ya for half the price.
- So, what’ll it be?
- Hey, what’s wrong?
- You better not have blocked me!
- MC!
- You listenin’?!
- Come on, I was just kiddin’ around!
- Now go on and unblock me. …I’ll tell ya a funny joke if you do.
- “Who’s got two thumbs and needs some company?”
- 👍”THIS GUY!”👍
- At least gimme a pity laugh, will ya?!
Oh god. Oh no. Poor Mammon, you hadn’t meant – but you didn’t even text him that? Your brain is frantically searching the screen, scrolling up and down through the texts for some explanation until you realize the little voice reply button right next to the text reply button and dread washes over you.
“Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” you groan, thunking your head on the counter. This was almost Simeon-level of technology incompetence. No time to wallow in self-pity, you needed to reassure him and stat. You could practically feel his panic from here.
Not ignoring you! I’m so sorry!! In the kitchen right now and spilled hot milk all over myself! -
-
You hope the crying demoji will lessen the blow somewhat. You do feel as miserable as those little sprites after all. You stay glued to the screen and see the read receipt…but Mammon doesn’t answer. Ah fuck. Time to fix this Mammon-style, by barging into his personal space and giving him all the affection you can muster. You rush towards the stairs before a thought hits you and you quickly search the cabinets for the heart-shaped marshmallows you remember seeing there before. You grab a few from the bag and sprinkle them onto one of the mugs before putting everything away and rushing upstairs.
You’re about to head for Mammon’s door immediately when the smell of milk reminds you of your current state of disarray. …Yeah, he’s probably not going to accept any hugs from you when you smell of dried milk. You groan for the 50th time that evening and head into your room first to change quickly. You quickly disrobe, pull on some sweatpants that were on the chair, and grab the first thing you see off the ground to pull over your head, before grabbing your favorite blanket and the tray of hot drinks off your bed. You exit your room and make your way over to Mammon’s, knocking gently on it as to not alert Lucifer or anyone else to your presence.
“Mammon?”
Silence.
“Mammon? I’m really sorry, I didn’t see your texts in time. I was dealing with a…situation.”
Still silence.
“Hey, who’s got two thumbs, is really sorry, and would like you to please open the door for them?”
Nothing. Okay, you were about three seconds from busting down this door, consequences be da-
The door creaks open slightly, revealing a very disheveled looking demon peeking out from the crack.
“Ah…this guy,” you half-heartedly gesture to yourself with one thumb while your other hand balances the tray.
A beat of silence before a raspy voice mumbles, “That joke doesn’t even work. It’s too long.”
You let out the breath you were holding and smile a bit. “Yeah, well, I clearly need to work on them then… Care to help me?”
The door opens just a little bit more before he blearily takes the sight of you in, noticing the tray in your hands. “Whassat?”
Oh! Right, you half forgot you were holding the tray. “The product of the aforementioned hot milk spill,” you sheepishly mutter, “…I thought it might cheer you up or at least help somewhat with the…nightmare.” You trail off, should you have mentioned it? Ahh maybe he’s not going to let you in now because you mentioned it so blatantly…
You try to make eye contact with him through the gap in the door, but his expression is guarded. You can tell part of him really wants to let you in, but that wall he always likes to keep up is rapidly trying to reassemble itself. You’re hyper-aware of every microexpression you make. Suddenly remembering it’s the middle of the night, you quickly glance around you to make sure there’s no looming demon with leather gloves in the hallways before looking back at him and smiling, trying to make yourself look very non-threatening. Very human.
The urgency to avoid Lucifer might be what cracks him as he relents and opens the door with a heavy sigh, clearly not waiting for you to come in as he stalks back into his room. Okay, this was progress. You enter his room and slowly close the door behind you. He’s sitting on one of his leather couches, looking miserable and…sweaty? You know you’ve had your share of anxious-ridden dreams that have left you drenched in sweat upon waking…the dream was definitely not as light as he tried to make it seem emoji-style. You clear your throat slightly as you approach him from behind, aiming to make him aware of your presence so you don’t startle him, and you set the tray of hot drinks on the coffee table in front of him. He trains his gaze on the drinks, avoiding your eyes.
“One of them’s yours, the other is mine,” you say quietly, if only to fill the silence as you sit down on the couch adjacent to him and hand him the blanket. He tried stealing this blanket from your room before – it was devilishly soft (“what’s that suppose’ ta mean?” he had asked when you described it) and fluffy – until he found out you had a hard time sleeping without it. It’s stayed in your room ever since, and you know it’s his favorite, too, because he always beelines for it when he comes over.
“Here.”
His eyes widen a little in surprise. “Wha-what are you handin’ me this dumb human blanket for?”
Ah. He’s retracted into himself that much, has he? You sigh internally.
“It’s not just any dumb human blanket, it’s my dumb human blanket, and your dumb human is trying to give it to you because it’s soft and comfy, and I want you to feel safe and comfy.”
What are you even saying at this point? You’re exhausted and trying to comfort this precious demon in front of you but all you want to do is cuddle into him and hug him and tell him it’ll be okay but you’re holding yourself back because maybe he just wants some space right now and –
“Okay! Okay!! Geez, enough with the – “ he gestures wildly at you, face fully flushed, “ – the not so inner monologue. I’ll take your dumb human blanket!”
…Oh no, you had been saying all that out loud.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t – I’m so fucking exhausted, man. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, clearly,” he’s looking at you now, with your head buried in a hand.
You rub your face again to clear your mind and sit up, smiling tiredly at him and feeling a sense of pride in the full blush dusting his cheeks. His blush intensifies at the eye contact and he looks away towards the mugs, “What’s this dumb human drink you brought into my room?”
You laugh lightly and catch the edges of his lip turn up a little at the sound. “I’ll have you know that this is actually a drink made from Devildom hot cocoa powder. …I have no idea where they get the milk, though. Do you guys have cows down here? …Come to think of it, I have never seen a cow down here. Or fields. Farms? Do you guys have farms?”
“What’s this?” he interrupts, his voice soft.
“I told you, hot cocoa – “ you start, before realizing his hand is hovering next to the mug with the marshmallows in it. “Oh, that one’s yours! I put some marshmallows in there for you, thought you’d like it.” You happily take the other one and get comfy on the couch, cradling the reassuring warmth in your hands.
“Yeah, I know that, human. Why – why, uh, why are the marshmallows heart shaped?”
“Uh…well, they’re – because it’s…because it’s for you?” You were so confused.
His blush that had been dying down started back up again. …Ah. You were not so confused anymore.
“Come on, drink it while it’s hot, it’s no good otherwise,” you gently urged.
He took the mug and tasted it.
“…Thanks, MC.”
“Ah, I’ve been promoted again, have I? Not just any old human, now, but a human with a name at that!” You chuckle lightly.
He smiles despite himself. “That’s right, not just any old human. You’re my human, got it? And you should be so honored to be THE Great Mammon’s human, you got that?”
“Sir Great Mammon Sir, yes sir,” you fake salute as you two start laughing.
“I swear, ya got no respect for ya seniors. I mean, what kinda human of mine are ya if you can’t even answer the texts I send you? You really left me hangin’!” his tone is joking but you can sense a little bit of hurt still in it.
“Ah fuck, sorry, Mammon. I didn’t – oh god,” which earned you an eyebrow raise (you had still not gotten over the habit of saying the name down here), “I…I mean who even designed this stupid thing anyway?” You take your D.D.D. out of your pocket and wildly swing it in the air. “Like, who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to put the voice reply and the text reply so close to each other that like…like a bat’s eyelash away from each other so that when you’re fucking…when you’re fucking spilling hot liquid all over yourself, you press one over the other and end up totally ruining what was meant to be a legitimately comforting conversation with your best bud and – “ you pause to glance at him and he’s silently chuckling into his hot cocoa, his eyes clearly reveling how riled up you are over this. He probably feels some satisfaction over how bad you felt, which you’d let him have, to be honest.
“Geez, I have no clue what ya just said, but it sounded like one of Levi’s long-ass anime titles,” he quipped as you very gracefully snorted into your hot cocoa.
“Actually, if it was one of Levi’s animes, it would probably be titled something like That Time I Spilled Hot Milk All Over Myself While Trying to Comfort My Best Friend, But I Accidentally Hit the Voice Reply Button and Now Seriously Fucked Up, But I’m Hoping My Best Friend Won’t Hate Me Forever Because I’m Genuinely Really Sorry and Want to Make Amends and Be There For Him Whenever He Needs Me.”
“Okay, okay, geez, I get it, I get it!” Mammon breathes out in between chuckles, as you catch your breath. A comfortable silence starts to ease in and it isn’t until your favorite demon’s voice, oh so soft, interrupts it that you realize you’ve been smiling dumbly into your hot cocoa.
“…whenever I need you?”
You glance up at how soft, how small he sounds and see him insistently staring at the heart-shaped marshmallows in his hot cocoa instead of meeting your gaze.
“Whenever, Mammon. Always and forever.”
He looks up at that, clearly taken aback. …And instantly flushes again, averting his gaze.
“Wh-why’d you have to say it like that? Like some kinda wedding vow or something?!”
You start cackling and continue teasing, “In sickness and in health, with or without Grimm, always and fore-“
“Ahh, enough, human! Enough!” His ears are red now and he’s squirming on the couch. “Wh-why would you even stick around with someone if they don’t have Grimm anyway, that doesn’t make any sense!”
You hum thoughtfully. “Hmm, that’s true. When you first met me, I didn’t have any Grimm at all. And you didn’t want to be around me…” you tease.
“Oi! That-that’s different! You were a weak human who just showed up here outta nowhere, ‘course you didn’t have any Grimm!”
Well, that part was true, but he wasn’t denying the second half… As if sensing you weren’t fully satisfied with his answer, he stumbled on, “A-and I didn’t even know ya that well when you first got here, so ya can’t be goin’ and takin’ that personal, alright? I know ya now and it should be clear how much I like ya considering you’ve been awarded the title of The Mammon’s favorite human!”
“Uh-huh.” You supposed you’d take what you could get. You were supposed to be reassuring him tonight anyway, not hoping for him to – whatever this was, validate your feelings? Wait, feelings? What feeli-
Mammon huffed, “Look, I’d still stick with ya even if ya didn’t have a Grimm to your name, alright? That’s not – that’s not why I hang out with you.” You look up at him, and something in your eyes makes him panic and backtrack like the demon you knew and lo-, “I-I mean, Beel doesn’t hang out with you just because you’ve got snacks on you all the time, right? He hangs out with ya ‘cause you’re, like, nice and everything to him…and stuff.”
He falters suddenly, talking about you interacting with his other brothers, mouth opening and closing, eyes flitting back and forth in front of him like he’s trying to redirect his train of thought.
You take a sip of your drink and step into the silence in the meantime, “I mean, I do always keep snacks on me now, in case Beel gets hungry – honestly, I’m more surprised that all of you don’t, considering you’re all much more familiar with his sin than I am – but you’re right, I used to think Beel only hung out with me because of that. But I think we’ve actually grown closer over time… And we have the most interesting conversations sometimes because, you know, Beel is way more observant than people catch on and – “
“OK! OK! Enough about how great a guy Beel is! I know! If he’s so great, why don’t ya bring him hot cocoa in the middle of the night instead?!”
Honestly, how was this golden boy not the demon of jealousy? Although, you supposed greed and jealousy did go hand in hand… You held out your hands placatingly, as if trying to soothe a wild beast (which was not far off).
“Alright, I’m sorry, Mammon. I didn’t mean to – “ you can’t say the words “make you jealous” out loud because he’s already on the defensive this evening, and it’ll cause him to backtrack even further, so instead you leave it at that and take a new line of thought, “But I’m not, am I?”
“Huh? …You’re – you’re NOT sorry?!”
“What? No! No, I AM sorry! I mean, I’m not bringing him comfort drinks in the middle of the night! …I’m bringing them to you. Only to you, Mammon.”
“Oh. W-Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t be going around doing other things for those guys, you know? They-they’ll take advantage of it.”
“Uh-huh,” you give him a knowing glance and smirk as you take another sip.
To his credit, he looks a little affronted. “O-oi! I don’t, I do NOT, well, I – but I don’t – “
You allow yourself a little chuckle before trying to calm him back down again, “It’s ok. I’ve learned to make an exception for you, Mammon.”
Yep. He is a full tomato now. “Oh. Well. G-good. As you should!”
You smile at him, and his eyes flicker to your gaze and back before letting out a breath, his face relaxing a bit and his body snuggling the blanket you gave him even closer. Seeing him snuggle into the blanket makes your body subconsciously realize how cold it is in his room, and you instinctively curl up and rub your arms, which are exposed to the cool air. Mammon notices and looks between you and the blanket, before relenting and clearing his throat to ask, “Do ya want the blanket instead? Or…d-do ya want to maybe share it?”
“Would you mind?”
“No. I-I can’t be lettin’ my human freeze to death in front of me, so come on. I’ll make room,” he mutters the last part as he scoots over on the couch.
Snuggles between you and Mammon weren’t rare. After all, he was always in your room, always in your personal space. But so often, it was just a consequence of the situation. You were watching something, and he fell asleep next to you, or he was tired and came barging into your room to rant about something, flopping on your bed and groaning while you snuggled him closer in an act of comfort. It was comfortable, snuggling with Mammon, but never really…intentional like this was. A deliberate ask, especially in such a sensitive moment. Something about it felt…different. But right now, Mammon was already as red as the hot sauce he put in the Devil’s Ramen he was so fond of, so you tried to play it off as a normal, everyday, platonic, snuggling with your buddy situation as you got under the blanket with him, curling your hands around your mug.
Seemingly feeling how relaxed you were about the whole situation made Mammon relax, too, he was a mirror that way. Before you knew it, he was leaning into you more, the warmth and spice of his scent hitting you amid the aroma of the dwindling hot cocoa. He seemed to notice your scent, too, as he muttered out loud, “You smell good. Like…lavender.”
“Oh? Thank you. It’s a new shampoo As-“, ah no, you shouldn’t mention another brother right now, “-as you could probably tell.”
“ ‘S nice.”
Mammon sniffed the air again, and something about it made you flustered. “Hold on, you…”
“What is it?”
“…You kinda smell like...my cologne? Why’d’ya smell like my cologne?”
“Huh?” You both looked at your shirt before realization hit the both of you in different ways.
“I-is that my shirt ya’re wearing?!” Wow, you didn’t think he could have gotten any redder, and yet…
“Ah. Yeah, remember how I spilled hot milk all over myself? Figured you’d probably shut the door in my face if I showed up smelling like milk, so I had to change into the nearest thing I saw in my room.” “A-and it had to be MY SHIRT?!” “Mammon, you leave your stuff all over my place, how was I supposed to know that this was your black t-shirt and not mine when I was in a hurry to – mind you – come convince you I was here for you like a best pal should be, without affronting you with the smell of stale milk?”
Mammon hid his face a little in flustered embarrassment, but not before starting again, “A-are those my SWEATPANTS, TOO?!”
You glanced down. “Huh. That’s why they felt weird.”
“Th-that’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t have any more clean pajamas left, Mammon! I was in a hurry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” you start rambling.
“No, I mean, I’m not – you’re fine, I mean, you’re more than fine, you, uh, I mean but not in that, well, I mean, uh, it-it’s FINE, is what I’m tryin’a say!” he blurts out. “I-if ya like my clothes so much, that’s fine, you can, uh, you can wear…them. That. You can wear that.”
He is now actively trying to hide behind his mug, which is not even close to a valiant effort by one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, but you’re not sure if he’s just flustered because that’s how Mammon gets when you get too intimate with him – platonically, of course, super uh platonically, you remind yourself – or if you have genuinely made him uncomfortable but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you and make you feel bad.
“Mammon?” you gently prod.
“Yeah?” he mumbles, opening his fingers a little to peek at you.
“I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll go rummage around in my room for something else to change into, okay?”
You start to get up, not waiting for his placating efforts, but he startles like a small creature and grabs at your shirt, “No! Wait! I mean, you – you didn’t make me uncomfortable…like in that way. It’s really fine, it’s fine. …Please don’t go.”
You stare down at him wide-eyed from where you half-stand, realizing how much effort it must have taken him to say those three little words. So of course, you relent.
“Alright. I’ll stay.”
He breathes out a sigh of relief as you snuggle back in under the blanket with him. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
You two finish off the hot cocoas as you drift into comfortable, idle conversation. Eventually, Mammon starts yawning but then deliberately blinks his eyes hard to keep them open.
“Hey, Mammon?”
“Yeah, human, wassup?”
“If you’d like, I can stay here, or you can come to my room if you want, but I can stay here in case you – or I – have nightmares again. Then we can wake each other up?”
Mammon stares at you wide-eyed. “Yeah. I’d-I’d like that. Would you? Stay?”
Oh. Something about Mammon getting soft and honest like this in the twilight hours is so endearing that it makes your heart clench. He could ask anything of you in that voice, with those eyes, and you’d agree in less than a heartbeat.
Oh. This was…so not platonic, was it? Oh no.
“Sure,” you whisper instead. “Anytime and forever, remember?” you can’t help but adding, smiling softly at him.
“Anytime and forever,” he whispers back with a soft smile of his own. Your heart clenches again, even tighter.
He snuggles into you, putting his head on your shoulder. “Night, MC.”
“Night, Mammon.”
“…Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mammon.”
It really comes as no surprise that it’s the best sleep either of you have in weeks.