Archive of Our Own ^beta

Honestly?

This was such a mistake.

Really, the moment I held a cat’s skull in my hand, asking the cashier who – thankfully – had been high as a kite, whether he was sure it was from a black cat ("No, kind of dark or striped doesn't 'cut it'!") should have been the wake-up call.
At least that’s what the little voice in my head kept saying and I couldn’t blame it. It’s right, after all!

But now I was here, only pausing and thinking when I already dug up a hole and put the spell box into it. The moment I covered this with earth, I wouldn’t be able to go back on it. I never heard of anyone trying and surviving.

With shaking fingers that totally were just because of the frigid night’s air, I opened up the old, used notebook. It wasn’t mine, but it eventually would be. I’d rather get it later than sooner.

For the umpteenth time, I checked the conditions for this to work and for the maybe 27th or 29th time, I went over the details of the sigil drawn on the page, an identical, upscaled circle right beneath my feet on the dirt crossroad.

My mentor would be proud of how well I had prepared if the thing I had been preparing for wouldn’t be summoning a demon to sell my soul.

He’d understand, I kept telling myself, it would take some time, but he’d understand. We’re family, after all! And family means no one gets left behind.

I hit the little mountain of dirt with a shovel, then jammed it into the ground beside it. I wondered how long I'd have to wait. I wondered if it would work at all.

I clutched the notebook close to my chest and reminded myself that he’d understand.

I had to do this.

He'd be fine.

"Little lost girl, on a crossroads of decisions. I mean, that's not the reason we're at a crossroads, but don't you think it's ironic?"

I wasn’t sure what I had expected.

Popping out of thin air? Sure.

Making fun of me? Alright.

Sauntering while spinning poetry? Nope.

I managed not to jump but bit the inside of my cheek, the wince apparently being enough for the summon to grin in a way that can only be described as self-satisfied.

I could almost mistake it for a regular privileged asshole if it wasn’t for the soundless arrival and these deep, deep red eyes.

“Aw, bit off your tongue? Too bad. ‘S so much more fun with one.”

Ew.

“I’m fine”, I spat, tasting copper. And I was! I swear I was.

“Are you here to make bad jokes or to make a deal?”

“Straight to business then? Ugh.”

He – IT – rolled its eyes, looking as if it was genuinely annoyed at the prospect of working.

It was so… human. I mean, it looked human, possessing a body and everything.
Poor guy. Must have been forever, with the blond hair standing on end like that.

“Fine, then, lost lamb. What’d’ya want?”

The demon shoved its hands into the pockets of the jeans the guy was wearing, tapping his foot impatiently.

I met its gaze, red like hell itself.

“I need you to save someone.”

“You gotta be more specific than that”, it immediately said. “Come on, what from, who exactly, what do you want in the end?”

It surprised me, and for a moment I wasn’t sure how to reply. As impatient as it was I didn’t expect any kind of… customer service?

“Well?!”

“Uhm… M-My mentor, he’s… he’s dying”, I finally got out, trying my best to get my shit back together.

“I can’t bring people back to life”, the demon deadpanned, and then its eyes widened.

“I mean, I could, of course, I could, but there some things some high-tier ones just don't like seeing. You know? Like rules and the like."

It was backpedalling, putting an awful lot of emphasis on how it absolutely could, but… ultimately wasn’t allowed to. With souls both in heaven and hell…

"So no bringing people back to life. …Sorry?"

The last part was added clearly not even as an afterthought and the demon looked as confused as I felt.

If we weren’t standing on an abandoned crossroad in the middle of a freezing night and he didn’t have eyes like hellfire…

This would almost be awkward.

As it was, it was mostly just weird.

Weird and a very bad idea.

“He’s uh. He isn’t dead", I eventually said.

“He’s just sick. But he will die. I can’t… I can’t let him. …Wait, here.”

I tore a piece of paper from a blank page in the notebook, writing down the name of the hospital I visited just this afternoon.

The demon took the scrap but didn’t look at it.

“You’re a hunter.”

Oh.

The book.

It laughed.

“You’re a hunter and you’re going to sell your soul to save your mentor? How will he like that?”

I gripped the book tighter – a demon wouldn’t understand and it didn’t need to either.

"He's family", I said but knew it was a weak and pointless protest. "He'll understand."

“This is- You humans are ridiculous.” It calmed its laughter and gestured to the warding circle around us. “You’re clearly not stupid, honestly, it looks like you’re really good. But still, you do something so incredibly dumb… Ridiculous! Not that I'm complaining."

I was torn between being offended, being humiliated, and pointing out that it very much sounded like complaining, when it lunged at me.

I managed to dodge backwards, but unprepared as I was, fell flat on my bum.

And it had the audacity to look at me as if I just disappointed my algebra teacher!

“What are you doing?”, it asked, standing just inside the circle.

“What are you doing?”, I shot back, sitting just outside the circle.

“We have to seal the deal, genius. The whole thing you came here for?”

“Then why did you attack me??”

“I didn’t attack you, it’s not my fault your first instinct clearly is to run when someone’s trying to kiss you.”

“K-Kiss??”

What?!

“Yeah, kiss. How did you think we seal deals? Sign old paper in virgin blood? Please.”

“Well, I… I didn’t-“

“Yeah, that’s it, you didn’t. Now stop blushing and come here.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but not a single coherent word came out, though I wasn’t blushing and not even his hand, stretched out to help me back on my feet, hovering at the edge of the circle, would make me admit anything.

I swallowed down my embarrassment, my fear, and my pride, smudged the circle with the heel of my boot… and took the hand offered to me.

“This time, don’t ditch, okay? You’ll hurt my feelings.”

He smirked and his joke helped to ground me just a bit more. I remembered who I was doing this for. My mentor. The man who was like a father to me.

The demon lightly took my face between his hands, holding it steady and burning his gaze into my memory.

“Alright now, little lamb, hold still”, he said so much more quietly than either of us had spoken before and I’m sure I was shaking.

My vision sure was, with my heart pounding in my ears and when he leaned close I could smell the smoke and sulphur.
Hellfire, as red as his eyes.

In a last effort to not ‘ditch’ or pass out, I closed my eyes.

And then we kissed.

All I really remember is how warm he was, in the icy night. He was so, so warm.

“Hmmm…”

I distantly felt him wipe something from my lips, a crooked grin on his own.

"You're bleeding, little lamb."

And then he was gone, leaving me to find my way back to the motel in a daze, unable to get the smell of sulphur out of my nose.

The spot on my cheek, where I bit myself, sopped hurting somewhere on the ride back, and I slept for a very long time. I found multiple missed calls the next morning, from the hospital, and called them back before even getting water.

It was about my mentor. He woke up, they said. He was going to be fine now.

I left immediately, the day being so, so cold.

------------------

I keep clicking through the old newspaper articles on my laptop. The pattern is obvious and as terrible as it is, I’m pleased I did follow the right track. Vampires, up here, I knew it. The locals only confirmed it, whether they know it or not.

With what I have, I can call my mentor and the others that decided to follow another lead in a different direction. I did promise not to engage on my own.

But first, another tea.

I close the laptop and the old notebook – my notebook – and walk to the counter at the front of the mostly empty diner.

“Could I get another, please?”, I ask the woman behind it, putting down the empty mug.

“’Course, sweetheart. Would you like to make that two?”

I pause, but her face is genuinely friendly.

“I’m sorry, two?”

“Why yes, I’m sure your company would like one too. He just got here and looks thirsty!”

I turn around and surely, someone is sitting at my table, a spiky head of blond hair bent over my notebook as he idly turns the pages.

I wonder how I could have missed the stench of smoke and sulphur in the air until I realise there is none.
Just a memory.
Just like a pair of hellfire eyes.

“Excuse me, please.”

I pick my way through the rows of seats and tables, time slowing to a sticky crawl. Like honey or bog mud.

My heart is just about ready to jump out of my throat when I reach the table with my things… and the demon who owns my soul. All I can see is red, red, red, until he looks up at me, a smirk on his face, a pair of crimson eyes – that are absolutely normal.
Red, but… normal.

“What’s the matter, little lamb?”, he asks and I can feel the chill of the night air and the weight of the black cat’s skull in my hand. “Bit off your tongue?”

I’m back in the diner and carefully lower myself into my seat. It is really him.
It!
Argh, whatever.
Now the question is: Why?

It couldn't be time for him to..? No, not yet. I researched it. Usually, those who made deals would be taken about ten years after. Sometimes later. Some even only upon death.

But it’s barely been four years. It is… unlikely. So I am gonna go with ‘no way’.

“Why are you here?”, I croak out after far too long, cursing the betrayal of my voice. His smirk widens.

“For you, of course.”

…Unlikely. Deny, deny, deny.

“No, you’re not.”

He blinks at me. I blink back. Both of us are caught off guard.

“Oh!” Something dawned on his face and he shakes his head.

“No! No, that’s not it. It’s only been… Ah, no matter. But no, not because of…”

He gestures vaguely and clears his throat.

“See, I’m not here because of that, I’m here because you’re here and all I need is you.”

Oh, absolutely deny THAT.

"Then what do you want?" I keep asking, refusing to think too much about what he just said, about the why.
Because it's obvious, isn't it?
To mess with me, duh.

“Right now? Ask about this.”

He pushes the notebook to my side of the table, tapping the notes in my mentor’s handwriting while doing so. I know them, of course. I’ve read the entire thing multiple times over.

I don't think I had used these ever before, though, nor seen my mentor use them. Then again, I don't get a good look, since at this moment the waitress steps up and in a panic, I pull the notebook close and smack it shut.

“Your tea, sweetheart.” She is entirely unfazed, putting down two mugs. “I got your friend one too. You two are friends, right? Or colleagues?”

The demon picks up one of the mugs, smelling at it as if suspicious. As if I could poison him.

"I like to think we're a bit more than that", he answers her, though, causing me to choke on hot tea.
The woman giggles, clearly getting the wrong idea.

“Then I won’t interrupt you sweethearts any longer! But do call me if you need anything else.”

And she left. Left and left me behind with a smirking demon and lungs not entirely free of tea.

“What the hell?”

“Me the hell”, he replies dryly, swirling the tea. “You didn’t happen to put anything in this? Say, holy water?”

“When was I supposed to do that? Besides, it wouldn’t do me any good anyway, now would it?”

I grabbed for a napkin to wipe the tea off my lower face.

“You are still quite smart”, he hums and takes a drink of his own tea. “Hm, not too shabby.”

I glare, but when all he does is grin in response, I pick up the notebook, looking for the page he had shown me prior.

“What do you need to know this for anyway?”, I ask, squinting at the runes in an unfamiliar language. Some kind of banishing sigils? Quite specific, though. And specific almost always means powerful against this specific thing.

When I look back up, his eyes are trained on me and they burn with the same intensity as I remember.

“I need your help, hunter.”

For the first time today, I act the right way.

“No.”

I close the book and start to gather my things.

“Wait, what do you mean-“

“I can’t- I won’t help you”, I state firmly, trying not to make a scene of leaving, but very much preparing to do so.

“Wait- Wait. Please.” He physically stops me, hands grasping my own. I try to pull away, but I clearly don’t have a chance. He could probably break my spine with his pinkie, now that I think about it.

“I should have thrown salt and holy water at you the moment I knew you were here, demon”, I hiss, not with half as much venom as I would have liked.

“But you didn’t. So let’s at least talk.”

He’s warm, I notice.

Eventually, he lets me pull my hands back and I, once again, open the notebook, turning it towards him.

“From what I understand, it’s some form of banishment ritual. Not just from a single vessel, area, or body, but of the entity itself, away from this realm. I think more accurately it’s actually more that it’s being… locked into a specific place. It doesn’t mention where, though.”

That’s what I could gather from the notes in the languages I could actually understand.

“It’s tailored to one entity and one entity only, too. Again, it doesn’t say what that entity is, it’s all pretty vague-“

“Decay.”

“What?”

His eyes are focused on the runes I couldn’t decipher.

"Its name. In its actual language, I couldn't even begin to pronounce it, and you couldn't even begin to understand it. But if you were to translate it… Decay."

It clicked.

“This… Decay. It’s after you, isn’t it?”

He nods, without hesitation. This is what he needs help with. Somehow, for some reason, a powerful and dangerous entity is after a crossroad demon.

"Why me?"
There are other things I should rather ask. Why was it after him? What did he do? Why was this any of my concerns?

“You’re the only one I know who would know how to do this and who I had even a remote chance with to not be torn apart on sight.”

Well.
He has been right about that, it would appear.

“Alright, here.” I tear out the page.

He takes it, but he isn’t looking at it. He is looking at me, surprise a first unmistakable emotion written in his features.

“Take it. Find your ingredients. It’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I mean. But- I can’t do this myself. Here, it says – okay, it’s all kind of vague – but I know that this part means that a human has to perform the ritual. And I’m… quite limited on friends.”

Oh.

“I… I can’t, I have a job to do-“

I tried to avoid this, I really did. I didn’t want to help him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him any longer! I really did.

“Vampires, right?” He stops me, placing the torn-out page back where it was.
“I’ll help you clear them out.”

“I promised I wouldn’t needlessly face them alone.”

"But with me, you wouldn't be alone. I'm a demon, I can take on some vampires."

“I couldn’t possibly go on some quest without explanation, either! And I certainly can’t explain what I’m leaving for.”

“Then don’t! It won’t take long, we can easily decipher this riddle, with our combined knowledge, and I can get us in and out just like that.” He snaps his fingers.
“And you’d even be doing your job as a hunter, wouldn’t you?”

I’m not convinced yet. I couldn’t be.

“Why would I help you anyway?”
Okay, there is a train of thought.

“If it wants to kill you, then why shouldn’t I let it?! At least then you won’t be able to take my soul when it gets to that!”

We had fallen into a whisper-yelling, frustrated and agitated, but doing our best not to alarm any of the few other patrons. Now, a silence stretched between us and I almost don’t recognise what the demon just said.

“I’m sorry, what..?”

“You can have it back! Help me and your soul is yours again. Your mentor stays fine and you’ll be free to go to heaven, it’s wins all around.”

I swallow thickly. That sounds too good to be true.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

He groans.

“We can make it a contract! Works the other way around, too.”

I search his face, his eyes, for something, anything. I trust him to stay civil while speaking.
How much further can I trust him?

"…I'll think about it", I finally whisper, seeing him prepare to protest and hold up a finger.
Surprisingly, it works.

“I have to take care of the vampires beforehand anyway. Tonight. If you want to prove you can be trusted… Meet me at the old factory.”

He doesn’t stop me this time when I scoop up my things.
The waitress is the only one even looking at me, mouthing a ‘Didn’t go well?’ to which I smile tightly.

If only she knew.

Nights were almost always cold and I don’t bring coats anymore. Far too expensive for how regularly I’m ruining them. Yes, the plan is to talk first, but it seems unlikely this pack would back down and cooperate without a fight.

The demon was standing under a broken light just off the street, hands in his pockets. Unfazed by the cold.

“You’re late”, he says instead of any greeting and I tighten the straps of the machete sheath on my back instead of greeting either.

“I never specified a time”, I say, earning an annoyed huff. I hope it was annoyed, at least. Hard to tell in the dark, but he better not be amused.

“The plan is to talk to their leader first and only fight if they can’t be reasoned with.” Satisfied with the straps, I rub my hands together against the cold. “We don’t know the story behind the attacks, it might be the work of a few and in our experience, it yields better results when everyone's given a chance to explain themselves. Everyone deserves that."

He has his nose scrunched up, evidently not agreeing. But he isn’t human, he doesn’t need to understand.

“Even vampires who kill people?”, he asks.

“Their pack does”, I affirm. “They can feed other ways, so we talk.”

“…Even demons who buy souls?”, he asks.

“Have I exorcised you yet?”, I counter and he finally concedes.

“So we just waltz in and wait for their leader to come and talk?”

“We let them find us and then request to see the head. If they attack, we fight. You’ll have to pretend you’re one of us hunters, so…” I clear my throat and draw another machete from my belt. “Could you give me a name?”

I don’t feel entirely comfortable handing this demon a weapon, but I reason that if he really wanted to kill me, a blade wouldn’t make the difference. He weighs it in his hand.

“Katsuki”, he then says. “Katsuki Bakugou.”

“That’s… a peculiar choice in origin”, I comment.

Bakugou.

“Maybe I considered it might be right up your alley, Hebiko Hatake.”

His grin is sly and I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he knows my name.

"Very well then, Mr Bakugou. Shall we?"

This is such a mistake.

"Please. I think we're very much on a first-name basis, wouldn't you agree?"

Fine, Katsuki then.

I head in first.

“You did notice that we’re being followed, right”, the demon – Katsuki – murmurs into my ear, his smell of smoke washing over me. We have been walking through the old factory complex for some time now and quite early on, we have gained some company.

Two, maybe three vampires stalking us intruders. Not necessarily the same two or three all the time, but never less than one.

Of course, he probably had noticed it a good bit before me.

“As long as they don’t attack, we won’t make a move either”, I murmur back. “They’re just assessing us.”

He makes a sound I have quickly learned was generally of displeasure. Commonly annoyance, sometimes disapproval. This time, he seems tense, eyes trained in the dark, not moving more than a foot away from my side.

As if he is looking out for me.

It takes another half hour and deliberately heading towards the heart of the factory for them to show themselves.

One of the two standing in our way I recognise from a newspaper clipping. A creak above us gives away the third. It is safe to assume that more are gathering where I can’t notice them anymore.

“You are trespassing”, the one I recognise says, his teeth not yet obvious. But I could hear the growl of a predator when he spoke. I have plenty of experience.

“We came to talk”, I replied, calmly. I always wondered how well I could mask my tension.

“Hunters don’t talk”, he spits and his companion creeps closer.

“We do.”

The one above us doesn’t move, but something behind us does. And it certainly isn’t a rat.

“Further east, we came to multiple agreements with packs before. You might have heard of them.”

He looks over my shoulder. Katsuki flexes his fingers beside me. A second turns into two turns into four.

“Alright”, the one I recognise says. “Follow me.”

I have to jab Katsuki with my elbow to get him moving, but then we are following the vampires into a hall, more vampires following us. I can’t keep count.

I really shouldn’t have come alone.

I almost forgot I wasn't.

I don’t know when or why it happened, only that we were in the dark, dusty hall, waiting for some big important vampire alpha to show up so we could talk. Then I heard the flutter of a coat approaching far too quickly.

I knew this would have been a possibility, I was prepared. I even had my machete drawn, but – as much as I hate to admit it – I wasn’t ready. I could have been history.

But I am not alone.

Before the vampire can reach me, a hand closes around their face and Katsuki brings their head down with enough force to leave a fireworks-shaped splatter on the floor.

“I guess that means ‘No’ to the talking?”, he asks into the room, utterly elated. A chorus of hisses answers him from the shadows.

This time, I am ready.

It didn’t take long.

Maybe that is the advantage of a demon having your back, maybe it is because he isn't exactly patient. It might be a bit of both, I decide when I wipe my blade on the shirt of the lady vampire whose head I least separated from her shoulders.

Some haven’t lost their heads; I left it to Katsuki to finish them off. He is enjoying this immensely anyway and a happy demon was… granted, a very bloody demon, but less likely to turn carnage towards the one who arranged it. I attempt to clean my face, but I'm probably only spreading everything around. I wonder if I'd ever get my boots properly cleaned again. Good shoes are hard to come by; and expensive.

“Look at you!” I’m interrupted in my lamenting by a laugh that should make my blood freeze, but I am just on the brink of an adrenaline crash. Yeah, that makes sense.

I turn to Katsuki. He has a strange look in his red, but normal eyes, grinning widely.

“I thought you were a lost little lamb this whole time! Have you grown into a fierce ram after all?”

"I can't even start to make sense of you", I sigh and slide my blade into its sheath.

“Now now, don’t be mean.”

I close my eyes to gather myself. Happy demon also means insufferable demon, then?

Something touches my face, warm and gentle.

Wrong.

I can’t do much more than stare at the demon as he tilts my face this way and that between his hands. I now know what that strange look in his eyes is. Somehow, something about this situation left him dazed.

Must be the blood.

“You’re not bleeding, are you, little ram?”

He is so quiet, I can barely hear him over the rushing in my ears.

“No”, I answer, my own voice distant.
“No, it ain’t mine. …I think.”
I’m pretty sure.

He’s very close, just as he has been four years ago. Though, this time, both of us are covered in blood from head to toe.

It’s nauseating.

Yep. That's it.

Smoke and sulphur and blood.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Look, I can’t help it. He’s right in my face and speaking nonsense.
I just… look at him.

His eyes, his hair, his lips.

He could be handsome. If it wasn't someone else's body, I mean.

“…We should leave”, I say, whisper, really, and reach up to remove his hands. I think he was even closer now.

The dazed look on his face bleeds away and he lets go of me.

“Right. Yeah…”

He doesn’t sound offended, not exactly.
More… lost?

We have that in common.

I am no stranger to dumpster diving. The luxuries of a hunter are limited and eventually, you'll just take what you can get. But this is about the first time I considered staying head first in a metal box full of bags with discarded, worn-out clothing people so generously decided to donate to those in need. I am in need and technically I perform community service, so I don't have a moral dilemma on my hands.

No, my dilemma is sitting in my motel room, hopefully getting cleaned of vampire residue.

If they found me, covered in dried red, stuck in a clothing dumpster… would they give me adequate care in a mental asylum for the criminally insane?

Tempting.

But of course, here I am, opening another bag for the gathering pile of clothes that look about the right size for the demon’s… body? Host? Vessel? The more I think about it, the worse it makes me feel. There is a person in there, that’s how it works. Shouldn’t it be my duty to free them? Instead, I’m thinking if the… creature possessing them, in their body, like-

I drop my head to the metal floor with a grown. I don’t know the person whose body he inhabits. Maybe their name really was Katsuki Bakugou. Maybe they had been a terrible person. Maybe an excellent student. A doting husband. A father.

I don’t know, though.

…That’s it!

I bang my head on the ceiling when I sit up. It doesn’t hurt enough to stop me from thinking.

If I knew more about the person, I could differentiate between the two – the demon and the possessed – and thus… be less confused!

Yet all I could do to… find out was… ask him…

Oh, he could just lie! Then again, I could probably find out more once I have a name or a home or something.

I hurriedly stuff the clothes in the bag I brought. A plan. Something I can work with.

When I arrive at the room, he’s not there, the only light spilling in from the small bathroom. It’s how I instructed him. Less light, less attention, less likely to be spotted in the middle of the night and soaked in blood.

I toss the bag on the armchair, the only bad being occupied by my own things already. I hadn’t expected company when I booked the room, but it should be alright. Demons don’t exactly sleep.

“Katsuki?”, I call into the room, dead set on asking him now.
“I need to talk to you about your body.”

“You’re being very forward, aren’t you, little ram?”

I had my back turned to the bathroom, looking for that one shirt I know I had packed in my backpack, so I only heard his footsteps, muffled by the carpet.

“I like your horns”, he says, now right behind me and I am so focused that I don’t even jump at how quick he is.
“Go right ahead, find out for yourself.”

So focused that I fall right into his trap.

“That’s not what I-“

I turn around.

I mean, I should have expected it. I told him to get rid of his clothes, I’d get him a change. Of course, he only has a towel, he just left the bathroom.

I could kick myself if I wasn't staring.

“Y-You’re uhm- uh, you- God dam-“

I almost reach out to touch one of his many scars. Scars and wounds that would never really heal, stretched out over-

I do the only thing I can think of and bury my face in my hands, hoping the ground will open up for hell to take me already. And he dares to laugh!

I can feel him leaning into my personal space.
Smoke and soap.

“There’s my little lamb again”, he murmurs, right into my ear and I immediately push him back.

“Get dressed, I need to- " I gesture wildly, not looking in even his general direction, certain he’d only make fun of a very natural bodily reaction, thank you very much.
Blushing. I’m talking about blushing.

I simply scoop up my entire bag, making a mad dash for the bathroom door, hitting my knee on the bedframe and my hip on the table edge, but bruises are the very, very least of my problems now. Have enough of them already anyways, so a bit late for complaints there.

“Hey-“

I lock the door. God dammit.

I slide to the floor and burrow my face against my knees.
Deny, deny, deny.

A knock.

“Hebiko?”

That… was the first time he uses my name, except for the time he gave me his.

He knocks again. I don’t move.

His sigh sounds agitated.

“Fine, okay. My body? I took it, but you knew that, you’re not stupid. I took it from a person. I don’t know much about who he was. He didn’t have many people. I found some family pictures, something about a death anniversary? I think it’s his father’s. A couple missed calls from colleagues, about getting drinks. Look-“

I do.
Look up, I mean. At the ceiling. He just… took over someone. Some regular person, grieving the death of a parent.

“See, I… I found him in a hospital, back then. Seven, eight years ago? Coma. They were gonna pull the plug on him. Of his life support.”

…What?

“He’s virtually dead. Braindead. He’s… not in here, anymore. I don’t think and I’m pretty sure I’d notice.”

Okay, that’s… unexpected. I tap my head against the door, leaning back against it.

“Lamb?”

“I will fact-check that later.”

“Of course. I’ll give you his name, then.”

I know he stood there a bit longer, but eventually, his footsteps move away and another while after that I drag myself into the shower. The water never really reached the temperature I'd like, but that's okay, as long as I get clean. Less likely to sink into thoughts. I should just sleep, everything hurts. Including my brain.

I get dressed in the bathroom before I step into the dark motel room. A towel is hung over the back of the chair and the tinny hum of the small fridge is the only sound. I pick up the scrap of paper that's lying on my laptop. A name is written on it, in the splotchy ink of motel ball pens. I flip it over.

The name and address of a hospital, in the dull grey of the pencil I still use today.

I boil water in the plastic kettle, pour it over the teabag and settle on the covers of the bed before I even turn on the computer. It doesn’t take long and my tea still has to stew when I find the articles describing a young man’s workplace accident and hospitalisation, followed by his miraculous recovery.

The face from the pictures looks back at me differently from before the accident and after the recovery. One of them is very familiar.
But they are undeniably the same face.

My tea goes cold when I doze off, the article still open. When he comes back, I don't hear him arrive. He's simply there from one moment to the next, filling the room with a breeze of sulphur.

“Where were you?”, I ask quietly, eyes closed, afraid to disturb this breeze right after waking up.

“Burned the clothes”, he answers the same way. “Don’t ask how I got yours.”

I agree I shouldn’t.

The curtain isn’t drawn shut all the way and when I open my eyes, he’s standing in the sliver of light falling in from the lamps on the corridor.

"Have you…?" He gestures to the laptop, the screen still glaring in my face.
I put it down so he can see it when I sit up.

“You were telling the truth, yes.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He hasn’t yet.

“Why him?” I stand up.

His gaze wavers for a moment, but in the end, stays on mine.

“It’s nice having a body to yourself”, he says with half a shrug and I know he’s being genuine.
“I’m sure you understand.”

“A contract, then.”

“…Pardon?”

I step towards him.

“You said we could make another contract. I help you banish Decay and you relinquish ownership of my soul. A deal.”

I hold out my hand to him.

Many expressions pass over his face; I think I catch relief, maybe joy. He looks from my hand back to me.

“Any extra terms?”

I think.

“Safety”, I then suggest.
“You won’t harm me or any of the other hunters and I will prevent them from harming you too, in the event that it ever comes to that.”

He sneers.

“You still don’t trust me.”

“That’s not it. I just can’t risk their safety and this might be more substantial to you, too, than a simple promise. And to them.”

I think I could trust him. They, however, probably won’t.

"Okay."

He looks at my hand again, waiting to be shaken, and smirks.

"You know that's not how we do this."

I drop my hand and my shoulders. I was hoping for too much there. But it’s fine! This is fine.

His eyes blink to solid red, copied directly from my memory. I step right up to him and his hands frame my face, touch feather-light. Just a reminder.

“Hold still”, he whispers, the smell of fire on both his skin and breath. Hellfire and bonfire.

I’m not shaking, despite the pounding of my heart, and when I close my eyes I don’t listen to him. I move, lean in, seal our lips and seal our deal.

The kiss is hot with a contract being forged.

I’m certain it doesn’t take as long for this to work as it lasts and when it stops, we don’t part, not really. His hands have settled on the sides of my head and I don’t push him away.

Deny.

“You’ve improved since last time. Quite a bit, actually”, he says, so much quieter than earlier, even.

“Is that really what you were focusing on?”

I guess I should sound irritated, but I don’t. Mostly just unimpressed.

He shrugs, then his eyebrows rise. I do not like the look on his face.

“Don’t tell me I was your first kiss?”

What a jerk.

“No, you weren’t.”

Deny.

“…But I guess you were the first good one.”

God dammit.

He chuckles and joins his fingers at my nape and shifts closer and his mouth is so, so warm.

“What contract was that for?” I mumble the words between us, unsure of what to make of it, but mostly unsure of how much more denial I was capable of.

“I don’t always need a contract”, he replies in the same manner, eyes blinking from solid red to crimson irises.
“I can kiss people if I want to kiss them for the sake of it.”

And that he does and all I can think of is to slide my hands over the skin of his waist and pull him closer.

This night, I did touch and trace his scars with my hands, forgetting my own bruises.
That voice in my head, the one that failed to see buying the skull of a black cat as a red flag, said something about this being bad, this being wrong. I admit, it was different from what I knew, but I was sick of denying that it felt good.

I know not everything that feels good is right. But this voice failed me before, four years prior.
And ironically, Katsuki hadn’t.

I’m not sure what woke me. But it was warm and it was bright even through closed eyes and it smelled like smoke.

Like-

FIRE!

In a snap, I am wide awake, struggling to free myself from where I am pinned and hit my head hard on something behind me.
The following groan is not mine.

“Yep… AH, a ram.”

The arm that’s slung around me under the covers slides up and behind me, where I find Katsuki, holding his mouth.

“What the hell startled you out of your fleece?”, he grunts, pulls his hand back and checks it for-

His lip is swollen and I slowly start piecing things together.

Sunlight streams in from the gap in the curtain and the demon in my bed has me right up against his body, arms around me. There is no fire.

“I’m- gosh, I’m so sorry.” I sit up a bit and turn to him, holding his chin to take a closer look.
It’s not bad, but I sure hit him.

“Am I really that scary? Hurtful.” His grin betrays his statement. So I ignore it.

“Have you been in bed all night? You don’t exactly sleep.”

“Eh, I can doze a bit. And I get so few chances to see you not being scared, flusters, or angry, so I took it. You’re cute when you’re peaceful, by the way. Like a proper lamb.”

I smack my flat hand over his shit-eating grin.

“Ow! You really ARE out to hurt me! Kick me while I’m down and not even kissing it better.”

Oh for-

I sigh, remove my hand, and – to my own surprise – lean down and press my lips to the spot I hit. He doesn’t move and I linger longer than I think I did. Next thing, he draws me in further and only lets go when we almost roll off the mattress. I feel breathless and good.
Warm.

“And now you’re making me fall for you. Can I still call you lamb?”

“Shut up.”
I pull him back up despite his laugh, even if I know I have my own smile breaking through. And for a moment we stay like this, smiling at each other in the morning light.

The hunter and the demon.

He clears his throat – I missed the look that passed over his face then.

“How do you feel about breakfast?”, he asks, starting to detangle from the blankets, gets up, and picks up the clothes I pulled out of a dumpster for him last night, left on the floor a few hours later.
“I’ll go pick something up for you.”

I pull the covers around me as if they could keep the warmth trapped with me.

"…Sure?"

I can now see it, in his eyes. This is… complicated. It has to be, right? But then he leans down, places a kiss on my temple before he leaves, through the door.

…Oh, god.

I hug my knees. Another contract. I could get my soul back, by helping a demon. A demon I just…

A demon who said he kisses me because he wants to, for the sake of it. A demon who makes me feel good and warm. A demon I know I could, eventually, soon, trust.

A demon I-

I took a shower, turning the handle until the water was freezing. Is it really that relevant that he isn’t human? Isn’t it the same as with anyone?

I find him back in the room, reading the newspaper at the table. He brought me a bagel.

“Okay.”

I open the notebook on the page of the banishment and take a bite of the bagel.

“Let’s start solving this deliberately vague list of ingredients.”

I smile when he looks at me, knowing full well I’m not sure myself. But his red eyes soften and Katsuki and I get to work.

We would figure this out.

We had the time.

And all I really did was trade a soul for a heart, wasn’t it? I never learn my lessons.