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Barbatos didn’t consider himself a nervous demon or the kind to double-guess himself.
But this was the fourteenth time that he had done this. There was something about the witch that made him strive for nothing less than perfection ; there was something about the witch that made him fumble every time.
This time he’d knocked over the tea. She was tucked in the corner of the conservatory with one of the latest popular novels (“
I fell in love with my husband’s butler but will this wreck the space-time continuum or the kingdom’s internal politics?”
which felt eerily on point). Barbatos thought that she looked absolutely precious there, curled up like a contented cat with the book held up almost a little too close to her bespeckled nose as her dark eyes took the words in at a surprising speed for one of her kind.
He couldn’t help himself.
There had been the faintest chime of porcelain against the metal table in front of her as he placed the teapot down and leant in, his gloved fingers oh so gently guiding her chin to him so that he could place a sweet kiss to her mouth. His chest moving closer had knocked the teapot to the ground and the terrible noise caused their mouths to part.
When their eyes met, his heart plummeted right to the pits of his stomach. His mortal queen looked horrified. Perhaps he had miscalculated it once again - he thought that their playful conversations had been more akin to flirting. In the previous loop, she had simply rejected his advances for the time being ; her feelings had been the same but she didn’t want to compromise her marriage, no matter that it was simply a political marriage, until an heir had been produced for the throne.
He couldn’t bring himself to have another conversation, or a straight refusal. So here he was again, resetting the loop.
It was not often that Barbatos chose to sit in the nothingness. It could be a dangerous pastime, to get caught where things did not change and time did not pass… but he couldn’t help himself this time. The demon’s heart was cracking and he wondered if he could allow himself to be delusional from time to time.
“Barbatos!”
The butler turned and couldn’t help the wide smile as he saw the young woman with the picnic basket in her arm. She waved enthusiastically from her spot in the long grass and he waved back in return until she was in hearing range, “I’m glad you found me. I hope you don’t mind a bit of seclusion?”
“A librarian worried about seclusion? I think not, good sir!” Once side by side, she linked her arm in his, “But should your lord be worried about you wandering off to secluded areas with women? There will be gossip about his loyal butler at this rate.”
Barbatos smiled warmly and put his hand on hers, leading her over to the oak tree where he had placed a blanket down for them, “Let them gossip. Besides, you are the only one who I try to find secluded corners with.” Oh, how the glow of her burning cheeks warmed his heart and her bright smile brought him joy.
He took the basket from her to place beside his own, “It was very kind of you to bring something for lunch…but I did prepare enough for the both of us.” His brazen lady turned timid for a moment, looking away as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, “Ah, well, I promised you that I’d bring bread if I baked any didn’t I?”
The demon shamelessly cozied up to her side, unable to hide the glee at how she became even more sheepish and her blush deepened. She was positively adorable in this timeline. His demonic instinct wanted to literally eat her right up ; his heart wanted to lay her down on the blanket and ravish her for a metaphorical lunch instead. But for the second option, there was something he’d have to do first.
“You did. And as thanks…” His finger led her head to face him and he delighted at the cheeky smile that greeted him, “Perhaps you’d allow this poor butler to kiss you?”
The sound of her laughter was the sweetest thing in the world, “You are most definitely not poor. But perhaps I’d allow it.”
For the first time in all of the times that he’d tried, he kissed her eagerly waiting and smiling lips. When he pulled back, her expression was brighter than the sunshine that bleed through the treetops above. “My lord, that was a pathetically short kiss. Don’t tell me that you’re as tight with your kisses as you are with Diavolo’s pocketbook?” She pulled him in by the lapels of his jacket, “I demand the interest that I’m owed for the many months that you’ve flirted with me.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
It only took a hundred odd tries for him to find the perfect spot, the perfect timeline, where he could kiss his mistress to his heart’s content and have her happily return them. Barbatos decided that he might stay here for a few decades - Diavolo would surely understand.