Work Text:
You pad softly down the hallway on bare feet, pillow clutched to your chest, jumping at every creak and groan of the house. Had it always been this dark? Did the shadows always move like that? Creeping through the dark halls in the dead of night was not helping the anxiety squeezing your chest.
You had woken from a terrible nightmare, heart racing, eyes desperately searching the gloom for anything out of place. The details of the dream faded quickly, the only thing you remembered was the feeling of hiding, alone, waiting for death to come find you. As you sat with your knees clutched to your chest, the only thought that brought you comfort was him. You wanted to see him. You considered texting him first so as to be less obtrusive, but when the window creaked, sounding like claws scraping over glass, you snatched your pillow and were out the door and several steps down the hall before you could even think about it. Looking back towards your room, the shadows seemed darker, like they were oozing out the door. Mind made up, you turned and headed towards Satan’s room.
You pick up your pace, trying to keep it just this side of a run, you don’t want to make too much noise and wake anyone up. Or draw the attention of anything that might be lurking in the depths of the shadows. You shake your head.
“Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing there, everything just looks scarier cause you’re already jumpy,” you scold yourself. “The worst thing you’re gonna run into is Lucifer, lecturing you for being out of your room at this time of night.”
As you continue to his room, wishing it was closer to yours, you wonder how he’s going to react. Will he be angry at being woken up? Will he tease you about being so scared over a nightmare? More importantly, will he let you stay? You know it’s a lot to ask, but you really don't want to go back to your room. You shiver slightly, not certain if it’s due to the spooky atmosphere or the fact the halls are a bit cold to be wandering in nothing more than your nightgown, a baggy, knee length t-shirt.
Arriving at his door you pause, letting your pillow dangle beside you from one hand while you lift the other to knock. You take a deep breath and knock lightly, eyes flicking to the shadows around you, feeling a bit more exposed now that you’re standing still. While you’re anxiously eyeing the darkest spaces in the hall, the door opens, startling a slight squeak out of you. Satan is still dressed, but his hair is mussed and he looks slightly groggy. He must have fallen asleep reading. At least you didn’t get him out of bed.
“MC? Is everything alright?” he asks, all traces of sleepiness gone as he looks you over, noting every detail.
You stare at the floor as you speak, “I couldn’t sleep. And I thought that maybe... I was hoping that.... Can I stay here with you? Just for tonight?” You finish in a rush, but when he says nothing after a moment you continue. “I know I won’t be able to sleep, but I promise I’ll be quiet. And I don’t take up much room.”
You are about to swallow your pride and admit you’re afraid to be alone, when a hand settles on your head, interrupting you. You look up to see him smiling softly at you. Instantly some of the shadows nipping at your heels are banished.
“Of course you can stay. Come in,” he says, stepping back to let you in.
You hurry into his room, happy to be out of the lonely halls and into the security of his domain. You’ve been in his room on a few occasions, so the sight of towering stacks of books no longer startles you, and you’re careful not to trip over any as you move further into the room. You see a book on his chair, it appears you were right about him reading until late into the night.
“You’re cold, you should get into the bed where it’s warmer,” he remarks, apparently having noticed your slight shivers.
The bed. Satan’s bed. You look over at the object in question. Although it’s why you came here, somehow while you were focusing on finding respite from the fear the nightmare left in its wake, you didn’t actually think about the fact that you were going to be in his bed. Although it looked warm and inviting, you stand frozen, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.
“I will join you momentarily, after I get changed.”
*Wait, changed? Well of course he’s going to get changed, he’s not likely to sleep fully dressed. But then, that means he’s going to take off...*
With a squeak you launch yourself into the bed, shuffling over as far as you can to the other side with your pillow, facing pointedly away from him. You ignore his chuckle and squeeze your eyes shut for good measure. You quickly realize that just because you’re not looking, it does not make you oblivious. Although you try not to listen, it’s as though your hearing is amplified, and your mind won’t stop analyzing every sound. Was that rustle him pulling his shirt off? That faint clink must be a belt buckle. With every sound, your imagination paints a picture in your mind of his actions, until you’re sure your cheeks are scarlet. You’re very grateful that he can’t see your face and guess what you’re thinking. You feel the covers lift and the slight movement of the mattress as he gets into the bed. You open your eyes and are surprised to note that all the lights are still on, and wonder why he didn’t turn them off before getting into bed.
With an amused laugh he asks, “What are you doing tucked all the way to the edge like that?”
“Well it’s your room, and like I said earlier I’ll try to take up as little space as possib--”
You cut off with a yelp as he grabs you around the waist and tugs you to the center of the bed, tucked in against his body. His head propped on one arm, the other wrapped around your waist snugly, you can feel the heat of his bare chest pressed against your back, and the brush of his soft pj pants against your bare legs. After a few moments you begin to relax, the heat of him next to you chasing away the chill that had seeped into your body, loosening muscles you hadn't realized were tense.
“That’s better,” he says, satisfaction lacing his voice. “You never need to concern yourself about taking up space in my bed. There will always be room for you.”
As usual his teasing makes you blush. You don’t think there will ever be a time that he doesn’t fluster you, at least a little. But you wouldn’t trade the warmth his affection brings you for anything.
“Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?” he asks quietly.
You shake your head, unsurprised he knew exactly what brought you to him. “I don’t really remember anything about it, just that I was alone, hiding from something.”
He leans forward to place a soft kiss on top of your head. “You’re not alone now. Besides,” he continues, a darker undercurrent running through his voice, “I can promise you that nothing will ever touch you while you are by my side.”
To most people, the unspoken threat of violence coming from the Avatar of Wrath would be a source of fear, but to you it makes you feel safe, cared for. Those words, which your mind instantly accepts as truth, dispel the last of the fear haunting you.
Feeling secure and relaxed in his arms, you remember your earlier thought and ask, “You left the lights on?”
“I thought perhaps you might prefer them to remain on,” he answers you simply.
He did it for you, because he thought you might be afraid to be in the dark. It was true, if you were alone back home you would have every light on possible, sitting up and waiting for dawn. But here you didn’t need them, in his presence the darkness was more like a comforting blanket enveloping the two of you, than the spawning ground of nightmares. His consideration in thinking of your comfort first, even though you were the one imposing on him, was typical of him. It was one of the quiet ways he showed his affection for you, and one that always warms your heart. You squeeze his arm lightly and he squeezes you back.
“I don't need them if I have you,” you tell him honestly.
With a whisper of magic from him, all the lights in the room go out. It’s not completely black however, as the moon is bright tonight and spills through the large windows in his room. You can’t help but think how pretty it looks. And how comfortable his bed is, and how nice it feels to be held by him. You didn’t think there was any chance you’d sleep again tonight but you find yourself yawning, drowsiness rising between the adrenaline having worn off and the warm contentment you feel.
“Satan?”
“Yes, my kitten?”
You hmm happily. “I love it when you call me that, you know. It makes me smile every time. I like being yours.”
With your mind fuzzy with sleepiness, you don’t notice him stiffen slightly at your words, or the arm draped over your stomach curling more possessively around you. He leans over to kiss your head once more, only saying “I will remember that.”
When you don’t say anything more, he prompts you, “You were going to ask something?”
“Ask?” you repeat, trying to marshal your thoughts. “Oh right, if I have any more nightmares, can I come see you again? Somehow you can just make it better. Though I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me, just talking with you always makes my day better,” you muse, sleep starting to drag you under.
“Of course you can. I believe I already told you that there is always room for you in my bed,” he answers, then adds smiling, “You are surprisingly honest when you’re half asleep.”
You murmur contentedly to his response, and give yourself over to sleep. The last thing you’re aware of before you sink fully into unconsciousness is him whispering to you, “Sleep well, my sweet kitten.”
***
As he listens to your breathing slow into an even pattern as you drift deeper into sleep, he shifts his arm into a more comfortable position to lay his own head down. Perhaps feeling his movement, you instinctively snuggle back further against him, your rear pushing up against his groin. He sighs and thinks, “This is going to be a long night.”