Work Text:
"Sy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
You step into the room, hands behind your back. He quirks a knowing eyebrow as you cross over to his desk. You offer him a smile. It's a poor mask for your anxiety; rocking on your feet, biting your lip, struggling to hold eye contact with him. "I made you something~"
Sylus smiles, silently trying to assuage your fears as he leans back in his chair. "Do I have to guess what it is?" he teases lightly.
You laugh nervously. "No."
"Then, can I see it?"
You purse your lips and nod slowly. Still, you hesitate. It's only when his face drops into something more serious that you feel the window rapidly shutting on giving him your gift. So, quickly, you toss it onto the desk and make your way for the door.
You don't make it very far before tendrils of energy are lifting you off the ground and carrying you through the air. "Ah! Sylus, let me go!"
He tsks. You plop into his lap, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist to keep you there even as you squirm. "You're acting like you've rigged the place to explode. If that's the case, I should keep you here as collateral."
"Well, I didn't, so you can let me go now!" You shove at his arm. It doesn't so much as budge. All you manage to do is feel up his muscles, that he is certainly flexing just to get a rise out of you.
His other arm wraps across your chest, pulling you back into him solidly. He rests his chin on your shoulder. "Then stop squirming, kitten. You're only making yourself look more guilty."
You huff, but you stop. You glare at the floor, the wall - anywhere but him or his desk. Really, it's stupid. You made this damn thing for him, after all. It was your idea to gift it to him. And now you're trying to run away.
He kisses your cheek. You hear rather than see his Evol pick up the gift you left on his desk, as it comes to his hand at your shoulder. He loosens his hold on you to look at the item, his chin still resting on you as he flips it over in front of you.
It's small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Though, it's dwarfed entirely in his own palm. Little melted beads come together to form a crow, with black and grey feathers. A red eye stares up at him.
He chuckles fondly. "It's Mephisto."
You nod slightly.
"Why were you so scared to give it to me?" His voice is a low rumble, soft and soothing. There's no teasing or judgement. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face.
You sigh. "It's just... I realized how stupid it is."
"What is?"
"To give you something like that. 'Cause it's supposed to be for kids. And you're, like, an awesome, badass mob boss."
You can feel the grin curling his lips as he kisses your skin again. "And you think those are grounds for me to not like it?"
When you don't speak, the answer is all too loud and clear. He holds the bead crow carefully in his hand as he wraps his arm back around you, hugging you closer, pulling you further into his lap so you have no choice but to sink into him.
"I will always love and cherish anything you give me. Whether it's a screaming toy flower or a rock you found." You want to hide in his neck, but he doesn't let you. His forehead finds yours, blocking your hideout and forcing you to meet his eyes. "If one day I don't wholeheartedly appreciate something you give me, don't hesitate to shoot me, because it must be an imposter."
You snort. "What if it is you?"
"Then I hope it's enough to bring me back to my senses. I'll have deserved it."
There's nothing but honesty and love in his eyes. Red irises shimmering with unbridled affection. You follow the line of his nose to his mouth, and the beautiful curve of his cupid's bow, before wriggling yourself loose. Just enough for his arms to be more lax around you, so you can open his hand and look at the little crow inside.
"You really like it?"
He chuckles. "Sweetie, weren't you listening?" He kisses your temple, lingering for a moment, as though he could transfer all his reassurances directly into your brain. "I love it. You should make it into a keychain for me. Then, I could always keep it on me."
You trace a finger idly along the melted beads. Some are more melted than others, a consequence of uneven heat distribution from the iron you plucked out of a closet and holding it on for a little too long. It's charming. You wonder if Mephisto would like it, or if he'd just try picking it apart like a toy.
Sylus's hand closes around the crow and your finger, drawing your attention back to him. "Can you show me how you made it?"
You blink dumbly at him. "Don't you have work to do?"
"It can wait. I'm much more interested in my dove's hobbies."
The embarrassment and anxiety from before feel like distant memories, fading away as you get up from his lap and grab his hand to drag him along to your makeshift setup in the dining room. He listens diligently as you explain the process to him and show him all the other little things you made. The little plastic tweezers look strange in his large hand as he picks the beads out of a container and aligns them on a pegboard. And seeing him carefully ironing the design is all too domestic. You can't help pulling him into a kiss once he's finished and his masterpiece is being pressed flat under some books.
A week later, while you race side by side on your motorcycles, a crow hangs from his keys in the ignition. And from yours, a little white dove.