Work Text:
Esther stares from where she stands at the entrance into the hotel at the old man slowly crawling away from the beating Abaddon had just given him. Her mind is still reeling over the words: ‘Death cult trying to start the apocalypse.’
Abaddon is huffing and panting raggedly, his usually stoic face carrying an expression she does not know how to name—but it causes butterflies to erupt in her tummy, especially when he grabs her hand, his palm a warm comfort against her own as his fingers thread through hers, holding tightly.
She opens her mouth a few times, trying to settle on a sentence, but her brain is just rebooting like an old computer past its prime—Abaddon is never usually so open to touching... If anything, she thought he hated it.
“Why are you holding my hand?” she squeaks out, wincing in embarrassment at how small her voice is—why is she so flustered? It’s just Abaddon.
He looks at their linked hands as if just realizing that they are indeed holding hands. Maybe it’s a trick of the lighting from the sun making it hard for her eyes to focus—but is Abaddon blushing?
He clears his throat, not meeting her eyes as he says, “so I can’t lose you again.”
A look of confusion crosses her face she opens her mouth as so many questions pop up into her brain, especially one that rings out against the others like: what did he mean again?
But he starts pulling inside, a familiar impish grin stretching across his face. “I put marshmallows in Benjamin’s pockets,” he says out of nowhere.
Esther raises a brow. “Why?”
The grin never leaves his face. “So Jessica can get him.”
A huge smile that is identical to the demon’s lights up her face, and she guesses her questions can wait till later.
They both share a giggle as they expectantly hear Ben screaming and her mother and uncle scolding the tentacle monster, demanding Jessica let Ben go.