Title: Open Hand Or Closed Fist Would Be Fine
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: Hell
Pairing: Damien/Phillip "Pip" Pirrup
Characters: Damien, Pip
Genre: Romance/Angst/Horror
Rating: M
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 564
Type of Work: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Warnings: Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Gore, Theology of Hell, Headcanons Implied, Suicide TW
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Every bruise, every death, it was just Damien's way of telling him that he was his, and he was Pip's.
AN: I had a hard time sleeping when I originally wrote this. Just getting it typed up, now, when I'm also unable to sleep. xD This was inspired heavily by Cherry Wine by Hozier. His music just really speaks to me. I hope you guys enjoy!
Open Hand Or Closed Fist Would Be Fine ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pip's sin, if any, was his trusting heart. He had 'befriended' Damien what felt like eons ago, and since then he hardly knew a day of peace. Sure, he'd always been bullied before, but nobody else had the abilities that the spawn of Satan did. NObody knew of him what Pip did, either, which was a good enough trade for the optimistic Brit.
When he started showing up with mysterious bruises and scratches, no one questioned it. Even Mr. Mackey let it slide. Soon after his sixteenth birthday, wets and bitemarks added to his unexplainable wounds, displaying a claim even Kenny wouldn't bother. From the first time they met, Pip belonged to Damien, even if it was an unspoken deal. While he took great pleasure in smacking the blonde around, the other bullies at school had slowly begun to back off, some even showing up with black eyes and split lips. By the time he was thoroughly, irrevocably the demon's property, people would even go so far as to be nice to him.
Belonging to Damien was a tricky business, though, to be sure. If his demon couldn't come up to Earth to visit, he sent little nightmares to bring the Brit back to him. Slim wrists became scarred with all of the impromptu deaths he'd taken to do just that. Sometimes, when the noiret thought he was asleep, he'd tenderly kiss the rapidly healing scars, expressing regret when he was sure he wouldn't be caught. If he was, it usually meant a solid punch to his sensitive stomach, so the blonde often feigned sleep for these gentle moments.
The day that changed him forever came when he was eighteen, and, with a sinking feeling that he'd be forever damned, he knew this was his destiny.
"Pip." The demon's voice came to him in a dream, deep and menacing, but he couldn't find it in himself to be afraid.
"Yes, Damien?" He questioned, the darkness in his sleeping mind blossoming with the light of thousands of black candles. His lover stood before him, wearing a black turtleneck and inky jeans, holding out his hand.
"I want you to be mine. Forever." Damien told him, taking his left hand and kissing his ring finger. "What do you say?"
"Yes, Damien." The choked up, tearful blonde knew what this meant, but even he couldn't have expected what came next. A startling burn overcame his hand as a silver band seared around his wrist, a snake breaking into diamond studded tendrils as it slithered to wrap around his ring finger, making a beautiful slave bracelet that bound them together.
"Good boy." Basking in the praise as the candles all went out at the same time around them, plunging them into darkness until he shot up in bed. Jerking his arm, he noted the burnt flesh and silver jewelry there with a similar boiling in his blood. Pulling a beautifully decorated dagger from his bedside table, he licked his lips and gulped, knowing this would be the last time he would ever use this knife. Dragging the blade down his arms, and then across his hips for the last time, he braved the ceremonial fall into Hell with a light heart.
"Welcome home, love." Almost immediately he felt cool arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close. Yes, this was always his favorite part.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: