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I Sold My Soul For This?

Summary:

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” Is the first thing she says when she comes home from school.

The ‘man’ in question peers up at her casually, quirking a brow. “Baking, despite the horrid state of said kitchen. What died in here, your will to clean?”

Or the story of a sad girl and the aftermath of some of her choices.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” Is the first thing she says when she comes home from school. Her school bag drops to the tile floor of her apartment. The sound it makes is a loud thud in the otherwise quiet home. She feels like she should run far away and never stop running, even when her legs collapse and her lungs give out, but her feet are frozen in place from the doorway, refusing to move. No longer is her mind thinking of homework she won’t do, exams she’ll probably fail, and what food she won’t eat. Her attention is solely on the single monster before her who stands in front of her oven. She feels her form tremble in the very presence of him. She stares at him, too terrified to even blink.  

The ‘man’ in question peers up at her casually, quirking a brow. “Baking, despite the horrid state of said kitchen. What died in here, your will to clean?”

“No,” she whispers, swallowing down her nerves only to have them come back up. “No, I mean, what are you doing back? Is it about our deal?”

The Devil seems to find her terror humorous, as he did before. With a smirk he replies, “Yes, it is in fact.”

The girl frowns, unsettled and angry. “What about it? Are you saying you won’t do it? Why not? I gave up the right to my soul for this! You can’t just back out now!” She shouts, fists clenched at her sides, but she’s still too afraid to come any closer.

Something in the being before her changes in less than the shortest possible length of time. A second would be too long. The temperature of the room drops to Arctic winters, contrasting to the heated intensity of the demon’s gaze. His furrowed brows seem to narrow the entire world onto her, leaving her exposed without a place to hide or run. A cold shiver rakes down her spine, yet feels as if she’s about to burst into smoke and flames until there’s only ash left behind.

“You would be smart to watch your tone and remember your place.” He tells her, leaning against the counter. “Do not forget that while we share a contract, I will always have the power to rip you to utter shreds, molecule by molecule, until you are nothing but a foul aftertaste of a memory no one will care to even remember. Understand?”

She nods mutely, feeling faint. The devil smiles pleasantly, and just like that everything seems back to normal. The sun is shining through the kitchen window and birds can be heard chirping outside. It was as if the previous moment never occurred, but she’s sure she’ll never forget it. The look he had on his face just then, it’ll forever be burned into her mind.

“Now,” Satan chimes in at a ding from the oven, “I believe the cake will be done soon. Go wash up.”

“I─ what?” She blinks in dumbstruck confusion. She watches as he opens the oven door and pulls out a pan without needing a mit, closing the door with his foot. He sets his creation down on the counter to cool and the smell of warm red velvet fills the air. “Holy hell, you actually have cake recipes,” she gaps.
The Devil frowns at her in disapproval while retrieving a bowl of white frosting he must have made himself. “I can have hobbies, you know,” he tsks, shaking his head. He grabs a large wooden spoon from one of the drawers by the sink. She briefly wonders how he knows her kitchen so well. “All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy,” he says briskly.
“Who the hell is Johnny?” She asks, reaching over the counter to try and get a swipe of the leftover cake mix in a separate bowl. Her attempt was cut short by a harsh slap of the spoon.

“I never cared to know,” The Devil shrugs, “And by the by, the term ‘holy hell’ is rather contradicting isn’t it?”

“I guess…?” She trails off, unsure, rubbing at the new pink blotch on her hand.

“Don’t use it again.” He warns, flickering the spoon in her direction.  

She pauses, frowns in bewilderment, then nods. “Okay,” she promises and turns to leave the kitchen, picking her bag up on the way out and dragging it as she goes.

 

When she comes back, she does so in sweats and with a cleaned face and hands. She doesn’t really know what ‘wash up’ actually meant, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Still a bit off put about the satanic lord of darkness being in her house, making a cake, she sits down quietly in her seat. No need to disturb the guy, who has finished lathering on the icing and is now cutting the baked good. A plate full is placed in front of her, but she doesn’t reach for her fork.   

“Is it poisonous?” She asks, staring at the cake with all the distrust in the world.

“Oh yes, completely. I thought I’d sneak into your home, again, and go through the trouble of making you a cake, only to kill you in the most idiotic way possible. Even though no matter when or how you die, I get your soul in the end anyways.” He says, taking a bite of his own slice of sweetness. He didn’t bother to wait for her before eating himself. “Brilliant deduction, truly, how did you ever figure me out?”

“The amount of snark that comes out of your mouth every time you speak is astounding.” She huffs, stabbing her fork into her own red velvet piece. As soon as the treat touches her tastebuds her eyes widen in amazement. “This is… oh my God. This is delicious! It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Of course it is, you overgrown hairless primate,” he grumbles around his fork.

 

They eat together without speaking another word. She shuffles awkwardly in her seat, uncomfortable with the loudness of the silence. She always liked some sort of noise in the background, be it the softly playing tv or radio. With that in mind, she stumbles for conversation. “So you’re Lucifer right?” A stupid question, but anything was better than nothing at all.

“I would hope so, considering that’s who I’ve believed myself to be before this corrupted place was ever even created,” Satan says idly.

She bites her lip, eyes raking over at him. A thought occurs to her then, “So if there’s a Devil, then there has to be a God, right?”

The Devil waves a hand at her question, dismissing it. “Let’s not talk about the big man upstairs. Besides, why ponder on someone you’ll never see? Nor a place you’ll never go?” He inquires, raising a brow to her. She grows quiet, staring down at her half eaten cake. It doesn’t look as appealing as it once did.

“Any further questions?” He asks. She doesn’t answer him. “No? Very well, down to business then.” He pushes his plate aside, placing his intertwined hands where it had been. He sits gracefully with his right leg crossed over his left. The posture ironically brings her back to when they first met. “As I had said before, I am here because of our deal.”

Slowly, she lifts her head to him. She can never look the man in the eyes, afraid of the horrors she would see in them. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, what lays in his? She stares at his stubbled chin, wishing to never know. “Are you breaking it?” Her voice quivers as she speaks cracking at the end. After everything she’s done, everything she’s given. Was it all for not?

The Devil scoffs, sounding offended. “I don’t know what unprofessional swine you take me for. No, I am not breaking it. I’ve come to let you know I’ve actually taken care of it.”

She jerks her gaze back to him, gaped in amazement and shock. “Really? Who are they?!” She exclaims, her heart's beating out of control and adrenaline shoots through her veins. It’s been so long since she’s ever felt this excited. Her mind races with questions. What are they like? What’s their gender? What are their interests? How will she meet them? For once she’s practically bouncing in her seat. She hasn’t had companionship in so long. Back in high school she didn’t have any friends, her parents were long gone by the time she turned eighteen, and she can’t quite figure out how anyone can make friends in college.

The Devil grins wide, like a cheshire cat, like a glasgow smile. “You should know, you’ve met them before.” He leans back in his seat coolly, staring at her like he knows something she doesn't.

It causes her to falter, her shoulders slowly dropping. “Oh, I have?” She worries her bottom lip again, suddenly feeling anxious. “Well… who are they?” She asks.

“Close your eyes,” he orders simply. “You will see your friend when you open them again. I swear it to you.”

She blinks oddly at him, but complies. The girl is practically vibrating with anticipation. He is going to bring them here? To her apartment? She takes a deep breath, bracing herself in the silence.

“Open them.” Comes a command. She does…

To no change whatsoever. She frowns, looking around the entire room, but finds not a soul save for the Devil’s and her own damned one. She looks to Satan, who’s smile is smugly satisfied, and feels like a fool. She’s been tricked for Lucifer's amusement, hasn’t she?

“Well, where are they?” She scowls, fist clenching in her lap.

The Devil chuckles, “I told you did I not? You saw your new bestie the moment you reopened your eyes.”

“But all I can see is you ,” she sneers. What's his game here? That her friend is imaginary or thin air? Really?

The Devil sighs unpleasantly, resting one of his cheeks against his fist. “The intelligence of mankind will always seize to amaze me.” He says with the expression of someone less than impressed.

She blinks at him, “what?”

Satan scowls, “oh for the love of– it's me , you clueless dult. I'm your new bff. Chum. Pal. Mate. Whatever.”

Color drains from her face. “What?!”

Lucifer gives a dazzling grin, “surprise.”




End

 

Notes:

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Until then.