Work Text:
Some days, Maeno hates working, which is pretty out of character for him because he loves his job. The thing is, Maeno had barely been given any patients, so his boss made him do paperwork instead. This includes sitting at a desk and reading the hospital’s medical (kind-of-boring) records. So, logically, the only thing he was looking forward to was his break.
But then his coworker, Ushirono, stormed inside of his office and had the nerve to say, “you’re taking over my shift.”
Maeno wanted to just tug at his hair and rip it out completely. “What?! But I’m on break now—I didn’t agree to that!”
”Unless you want my patient to drop dead, then you have. I have business to handle on another floor,” Ushirono told him with a straight face,—which yeah, makes sense, but he could’ve asked and Maeno would’ve maybe still agreed—sliding his hands into clean rubbery gloves, and leaving as fast as he appeared.
Now, all Maeno wants to do is drink. So in the comfort of his own home, that’s what he does.
His life isn’t all terrible. He has an above average salary and a nice house, and there’s foods he’s really fond of and treats himself to sometimes. Sure he only has two friends, that being his mean coworker and his sister that’s in high school, but it’s not that lonely.
(It actually is—Maeno doesn’t mean to flex, but every time he speaks, he can hear his voice bounce off each wall of his house. That’s a lot of walls.)
Maeno fills a recyclable cup with expensive wine because his glassware has created the tower of pisa in his sink, and reusable plastic is an easy loophole. The drink is sweet on his tongue and he feels the buzz instantly. The taste is so enticing that he pours himself another.
And another, and another.
”I’m so fucking lonely,” Maeno bemoans after a full bottle. “I really want company…!”
When Maeno gets drunk, he uses his genius for good—or maybe, evil. Yes, he does get company because of his own abilities, but not in the most conventional way.
The next morning, he wakes up with the most blaring headache ever that tightly sucks out all of his energy. Thank god it’s Saturday, or else he’d be fucked.
He stubbornly shuts his eyes closed as if they weren’t already while he was asleep, and rolls over onto his back, groaning. The hangover spills over him like scorching hot water. And when he embraces the morning, his eyes are meeting someone else’s—vacant, void like, like a lost soul.
He screams.
“You summoned me because you wanted company,” the demon—Tsugino—explains to him innocently, but Maeno is just so embarrassed that it sounds withering. “Don’t you remember?”
“No,” Maeno admits, pulling up his bangs to feel his forehead. It’s overheating, and so is his face. “I was really drunk, so I…”
Tsugino’s tail flickers. “Ah. That makes sense…I thought you were just passionate about making friends with a demon.”
Maeno cringes. “Why are you smiling about that? The whole thing was an accident—I told you, I was drunk—“
”It didn’t seem like an accident last night,” Tsugino says wistfully, but still wearing that simper on his face like a mask. “You were really happy to see me, you know!”
”No, I don’t know!” Maeno pouts. “Look, I’m sober now, so whatever I called you here for was by accident. Sorry for the inconvenience, but can you please just—“
”I can’t leave,” Tsugino interrupts him. His face looks soft, but it could be carved into stone at the same time. “Once you summoned me, I became attached to you.”
Maeno blinks, baffled. His day—no, his whole entire life—can’t get any worse than this. “This is a joke, right?”
Tsugino snaps his fingers. Red, otherworldly handcuffs are melted into both of their wrists. He snaps again, and then they’re gone.
”Isn’t this great? We’re bound to be together forever!~” Tsugino celebrates.
”What the fucking fuck,” Maeno exclaims. He runs an exasperated hand down his face, and gets out of bed to go take his fucking medicine.
Tsugino floats over him inquisitively. “What’s the matter, master?”
“Please don’t call me that,” Maeno says tiredly. He walks over to his nightstand and twists open a bottle of pills. And like someone who has truly lost all hope, he swallows one dry.
”Sorry,” Tsugino says, presumably to fill in the silence. His small wings flutter rapidly as he follows Maeno’s footsteps into the kitchen. “I remember you telling me to call you that. It was about eight hours ago…”
”It was an accident!” Maeno cries.
Tsugino smiles. “That’s okay. I like your accidents. You giggled at my horns and tail for ten minutes straight and asked me to wash your dishes.”
Maeno turns around. His sink is empty, and his bowls and cups glint underneath the morning sunlight.
”Ah,” Maeno says, eyes wide. “Did I really…?”
“Yes, but I did it in favor of you calling me out from Hell. And it was all because you wanted a friend,” Tsugino reminisces over those eight hours ago like it was Christmas. “You’re really sweet, master. I like you.”
Maeno goes red. So, clearly, the don’t-call-me-master rule has been thrown out the window. Big whoop. But he really can’t be mad when Tsugino speaks like he’s gliding on air—soft and harmless.
And then Maeno remembers that Tsugino is a demon. A blood-sucking, parasitic demon.
Alcohol really is the devil’s beverage.
”Thanks,” Maeno manages to cough out, “I guess…?”
Tsugino nods. “You were so cute, all those hours ago…”
Maeno chokes. “Okay, now you’re really pushing it!”
”But I’m being serious,” Tsugino puffs out his cheeks, brows knitting. “I’m immortal, but you’re my first friend. Everyone in Hell is mean to me.”
Maeno falls into the loop of sympathizing with him again. “Oh, I know how you feel. I’m sorry.”
”It’s not your fault at all!” Tsugino insists, leaning over the counter, forehead pressing against Maeno’s. He latches hands with him firmly like a locket, eyes sparkling. “I’m so happy that you’re my friend!”
Maeno feels his hot breath glaze over his face. It’s comparable to intoxicating sweets, and it gives Maeno the opportunity to really let his current situation sink in—the contact on his forehead causes it to pound harder, and he feels like passing out.
“Tsugino…” Maeno’s eyebrows crease.
“Sorry,” Tsugino laughs knowingly, and finally lets go after what seems like a lifetime. He’s grinning, eyes half crescents and dark. “Master, this is where our friendship begins!”
A contradicting statement, really. Calling him “master” implies that theres a power imbalance—the wrong one, actually, Maeno is pretty sure it’s reversed—but he doesn’t say anything about it.
Instead, he just sighs and thinks about how, apparently, every move ever made in his life has led to this one.