The warmth of the kitchen quickly enveloped Mina's body as she stepped down from the portal. Across the room on the table was a lavish display of dinner. Steam rose from each dish, piping hot and ready. Chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a bottle of red wine in the center, surrounded by tall candles. Mina couldn't help but let out a small giggle, “It's just a regular dinner, what's special about it?”

  Asmodyr's grin remained from earlier, “How do you say it, ‘Just like mom used to make it’.?”

  He ushered her to the table, pushing gently against her back. “Come, sit. You question too much, you’ve had nothing for lunch or breakfast, so I know you're starving. “

  “How-"

  “It’s my job to know, darling, after all what kind of boyfriend would I be?”

  She gently dropped Asmodyr's coat onto the living room couch and made her way back into the kitchen. Before she could touch the chair, it pulled out from behind her. Asmodyr stood across the table with a smile, and with a wave of his hand, it pushed back in, seating her comfortably at the table.

  Mina froze for a minute, stunned by the action. For some reason, the portals didn't really solidify his otherworldly nature, but a chair moving on its own was enough to have her hairs standing on end.

  He made a few more adjustments to the table before seating himself. He cleared his throat before looking up to Mina with a wide smile on his face. “Would you care to say grace?”

  “Wouldn’t you explode? Like, even Marilyn Manson would burst into flames just walking into Sunday mass.”

  “No, no explosions. Just mild discomfort. Depending on how hard you lean into the whole ‘God’ thing, it could range from stepping on a Lego… to tripping face-first into a wasp nest.”

  Mina snorted, covering her mouth and stifling a laugh, “Good to know, I'll keep that in my back pocket for when I really feel like ruining your day.”

  “Lucifer bless. You’re just a latex bodysuit and whip away from giving me flashbacks.”

  Mina raised an eyebrow. “Flashbacks?”

  Asmodyr hesitated, a beat too long. “Terrible metaphor. Forget it.”

  Mina stared at him. His eyes had already shifted away to a corner of the room. She chalked it up to nerves and just took her first bite, her eyes lit up.

  “This is amazing,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It tastes just like how my mom used to make it.”

  A smile bloomed across her face, unplanned, almost guilty.

  Each bite brought more than flavor. It brought memory. Laughter at a crowded table. The warmth of hands passing plates. A time before things went wrong. And now here she was, across from a demon, tasting joy again. Happiness. Comfort. Pleasure. It didn’t feel like Hell’s work.

  It felt like grace. Like the work of an angel.

  “Thank you, Asmodyr,” Mina said, brushing her cheek. “I really appreciate this.”

  He smiled, the yellow in his left eye glowing faintly. “Of course, love.”

  Asmodyr reached for the wine and poured himself a small glass. He offered it to Mina next, who mirrored his motion wordlessly.

  He raised the glass, the motion precise like he'd done it for centuries.

  “To our love. May it flourish, even in the dark.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Their glasses met with a quiet chime, simple but resonant.

  As the night went on, the bottle held less and less wine. Asmodyr sat proper and unaffected. However, Mina slouched, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with a tipsy glaze. She hiccuped, smiling devilishly towards Asmodyr. “I don't trust tall people, you all act like you know it all—” She pointed a lazy finger at his face. “—but it's not fair that you actually know it all, stupid—frickin’ tall guy.”

  Asmodyr took a long sip of his wine, swirling it once before speaking. “Knowing it all isn't all it's chalked up to be.” He stared into the wine, eyes narrowed slightly. “Forgetting is a gift you all take for granted."

  “You say, ‘you all’. There are a lot of things I wish I could forget. My stupid ex, stupid peeping eyes all over me when I’m working.” Mina blinked, one after the other, as if trying to keep up with her thoughts. “But you get me, you act like you're above it all. And it works for me.”

  “I’m not in competition with humans; that's quite an unfair fight.”

  She burped, then grinned. “You're cute when you go all ‘holier-than-thou’.”

  Asmodyr turned his head, his gaze searching for a new subject. “That is neither here nor there.”

  Mina encroached over the table, staring devious daggers into Asmodyr. “Did you just get flustered?”

  “Silence. You're just seeing things because you've drunk Zinfandel like it's apple juice.”

  Mina giggled, and slouching, reaching for the bottle, grasping the top with both hands. “Oh my god, you're so right. This is so—” she hiccuped. “-good.”

  “Mmmm— I think not, darling.” He stood up, gently pulling her hands from the bottle. “I think it's time for you to sleep.”

  She crossed her arms and turned her head, pouting. “No, I don't wanna.”

  “Mina..”

  “Hmph.”

  “If you keep acting like a little terror, I'm going to be forced to carry you to bed.”

  Mina opened one eye, and turned her nose up. “HMPH.”

  “Alright, you asked for it.” Asmodyr stood and reached his hands out to grab her. Mina nipped him and bolted out of her chair.

  Ten paces. Like an old western.

  “You think I can't wrangle you? I've seen worse from a pubescent Cerberus.”

  Mina chomped at the air. “Yeah. Well, I'm wuh-orse.”

  Asmodyr stood still, arms by his sides, somehow more intimidating than if he were ready for battle. Mina, on the other hand, swayed like she was on a ship. One tank top strap hanging down her shoulder.

  His eyebrow raised, challenging. “Your move.”

  Mina put her right foot forward, leaning in. Ready to pounce. Growling. In a second, she crossed the room, arms outstretched.

  Asmodyr turned on his heel effortlessly, dodging her lunge and wrapping his arm around her waist, while his other snapped up to catch her mouth before she could bite.

  “Aww, so close,” he said, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

  Her mouth worked up and down in his grasp as she made aimless bites at his fingers, giggling.

  “You know the rules, bedtime now,” Asmodyr whispered triumphantly.

  Mina huffed. “Fine… I guess so.”

  He hauled her into the bedroom under his arm like she weighed nothing. A chore to put her to bed — a ride for her. “Wheee!” she shouted.

  Asmodyr made quick work tucking her in, only having to gently push her down a handful of times.

  “I'll clean up dinner,” Asmodyr said, folding the sheets neatly around her waist. “Is there anything I can get you before I retire?”

  “Wine!” she chirped, letting out another giggle.

  “Water,” he corrected smoothly. “Of course, darling.”

  Asmodyr exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  He moved like a machine — clearing plates, washing dishes, and resetting chairs back to their proper places.

  He stopped momentarily, looking over his shoulder.

  Like something should be there.

  But nothing was there.

  Just peace.

  ‘Pious’ — his gold eye — hummed gently once again. His body relaxed, like a weight finally slipped off his shoulders.

  “Tandem,” he murmured.

  The bedroom door opened quietly, Asmodyr stepped inside, a glass of water in one hand, a book in the other.

  Mina looked at him, smiling warmly. “Hi~. I missed you.”

  A pinprick behind the heart — sudden, gone.

  He set the glass down on her side table, then moved to his side of the bed, slipping his shoes off before carefully climbing into bed. Mina watched him like he was a magician setting up his next trick. Quiet. Watchful. She caught the title of his book in the lamp light.

  The Mysterious Stranger.

  “Figures.”

  Asmodyr opened the book, then turned to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mina rolled on her side and looked up at him, “Somebody as complicated as you,” she yawned, stretching her arms out. “Reading such an existential novel before bed.”

  He returned to his book, flipping a page after licking his finger.

  “‘From the cradle up I have been like the rest of the race — never quite sane in the night.’”

  “Shut. Up. Man,” she laughed.

  He continued reading, ignoring her comment. Mina grumbled and moved into him, digging her head beneath his arm into the crook of his shoulder with lazy finality.

  She followed the words along with him, eyes growing heavy. Asmodyr’s scent of pleasant smoke and lilac lulled her to sleep. His deep concentration broke at the sound of her light snoring. He glanced down — his shirt was clutched in her hands, drool already puddling beneath her mouth.