Title: If the Devil Has His Way
Author: Moonchild
Fandom: Reaper
Pairing: Devil/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Devil's talking, Sam's trying to listen
Now I ain't getting into heaven
If the devil has his way
Jon Bon Jovi
There is a part inside of him that feels flattered by the Devil's attention. Even demons thought there was something special about him! Another part, the one that seems to get smaller and smaller everyday, must be his brain, really is still screeching that the Devil's attention is the last thing a person whose soul is scheduled for Hell needs.
He is not sure what demons would make of the attention he is receiving these days. Maybe they already figured it out. For all he knows, their pictures could be all over Hell Weekly or whatever media they are using. Best not to dwell on it.
"More wine, Sam?"
He shakes his head, both a response to the offer and an attempt to get rid of the buzz in his ears. Even without alcohol, these meetings have been leaving him shell-shocked, more so than all his previous interactions with the Devil. Mind games he got used to, mind games accompanied by sexual harassment will probably require years of psychotherapy.
His memories of the first time are hazy, so hazy that sometimes Sam doubts there had been a first time. He suspects that the Devil screwed with his head at some point, while giving him one of those strangely intense looks. One quarrel in a cheap cafeteria, the next one in a gorgeous hotel suite, with Sam forgetting what he was objecting to. He must have missed a few chapters in that story. He does not want to ask for the fear that the Devil will start telling him something ridiculous about Sam sending him lovesick messages with the soul-filled vessels and calling for him in his sleep. The one thing he will certainly not hear from the Devil is the truth.
That issue aside, Sam is more or less okay with the way things are. The sex is amazing, something to come back to even without the contract. Their conversations always leave him reeling, thinking of them for hours afterwards and coming up with the best arguments once the Devil is long gone. And spending time together can be fun too, when he manages to annoy or amuse the Devil to the point of demonstrating very human emotions. He does regret the dissipation of his relationship with Andi, the relationship he had dreamed about for so many years, but this was his own decision, for the Devil absolutely loved the idea of infidelity and would not move a finger to encourage the break-up. In the long run, this is better for Andi. They are still friends, though not quite as close as they used to be, but she is safe from the inevitable pain his death would cause her. And his death is not that far away. With the hunts growing progressively more dangerous, he will soon be heading down the road of the souls he catches.
All right, it was definitely smart of him to refuse the extra wine. Beer never gave him such morbid thoughts.
The hand resting against the small of his back is heavy and very warm. A few hours ago Sam could have sworn those hands were blisteringly hot, searing right through the fabric, burning his skin, restraining and branding him. Now the contact just feels a little uncomfortable, not painfully so, more like a reminder of the recent touches and a hint at future ones.
The Devil is talking to him. Sam had made an honest effort to concentrate at first, just in case the Devil was delivering important information about his next hunt, but in the end decided not to bother. He would figure it out along the way or, most likely, half a second away from getting slaughtered. This approach usually works just fine for him.
"You used to be such a good listener," the Devil comments sadly, the change in his tone drawing Sam's attention.
"I was listening, I swear!"
"Ignoring me and lying to me. I can see now that I have been going all wrong in my attempts to help you develop as a human being. All it took for my lessons to stick was..."
"I'm listening, okay?! You were droning about some meaningless stuff, of course I got distracted!"
"And insulting me. Oh Sam, you make me so proud."
Sam sighs. He knows there is zero chance the Devil will tell him anything useful about the escaped soul tonight or in the foreseeable future. Not until he decides Sam has been punished enough for his inattention, and that punishment might include, but not be limited to, heavy bruising, incarceration, mortal danger and, without doubt, extreme humiliation. Reluctantly, he gets up from the couch. He cannot help feeling that the cosy atmosphere is ruined and, to a certain degree, he is to blame.
"Listen, er..." It is very difficult to make a graceful exit when you have to stop and ponder how to address the one you are saying goodbye to. Sam tries anyway and hopes the Devil will ignore the stumble. "I'd better go, don't want the guys to interrogate me about where I've been."
"By all means, Sam. Just don't forget how much I am looking forward to the return of our little adventurer. Work hard."
Sam decides to take this as an encouragement and not a veiled threat. He nods and takes a step to the door. As usual, the Devil has transported him to some unknown location. Lately these locations vastly improved in terms of comfort but that did not make finding his way back home much easier. He only hopes that they did not leave the city and that there are bus stops in the vicinity. Owing to Sock's newly discovered passion for Kinder Surprise (and apparent determination to collect every toy that had ever been placed inside a chocolate egg, with complete disregard for the cost of the imported candy), his remaining money will not cover anything but climbing into the taxi.
As he is about to shut the door behind him, he hears, "For now, while you are still up here, you may call me Jerry."
The End