Of all the things he'd been subjected to in the time he'd been stuck here, contracted to this teenager- this child!-, he didn't think he was ever as annoyed as when these nights rolled around. He'd been forced to do inconprehensible levels of bullshit tasks, including anywhere from taking care of her when she was sick, to household chores, to charity work. He'd been forced to perform acts so demeaning they made his blood boil; she'd even grounded him at one point. Honest to Hell grounded him, him! The fucking Devil! Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't actually mentally deranged. No sane, intelligent, self-preserving individual would be so at ease angering the King of Hell. Then again, she wasn't any ordinary human, or girl for that matter.
Which was one of the reasons she'd managed to coerce him onto the floor in front of the couch once again, fingers in his hair as she wove small braids, barrettes, and who-the-fuck-even-cares into the dark locks, her eyes bouncing up every few moments to the television placed in front of them. Some copy-written, carbon copy horror thriller was playing, the stereotypical group of friends on a trip into the middle of nowhere to enjoy a vacation and the trip inexplicably turning to shit. Too easy to predict and boring to the point of tears. He debated breaking the things he could reach, maybe see how long it'd take for the brat to notice. He eyed the remote by her leg questioningly. A sharp tug on a corner of his temple snapped his attention away from the ill-fated remote though, and he glared over his shoulder.
"Hey, watch it! Not that something like that little tug could even hurt me, but it's annoying if you lack even the basic concentration skills to not continuously rip my hair out while you're indulging yourself and your idiotic little games Girl." he spat, lip curling over his blunt, human teeth. He hated having to sit around as "Kid Stan", he really, truly did. But her dad was unpredictable in the way he always popped around corners out of nowhere, and it was better to not have a 6'2" demon with horns and tattoos sitting on the living room floor at his daughter's bidding. Might send the old geezer straight to the ER. Or the Morgue. And as funny as it was to imagine, it wouldn't be worth the repercussions.
"Sorry, don't be a baby about it." she hummed back happily, perfectly unaware, or maybe just uncaring, of his soured mood.
"Why the hell am I even sitting here? This is fucking stupid." He growled, turning back to the tv and crossing his arms. He slouched back into the couch, her knees knocking against his shoulders as he did.
"Because you just look so 'purty'~!"
"I will rip your favorite sweater to shreds when you go to sleep."
"No you won't, I forbid it!"
"Fucking shit."
His scowl deepened as he pouted, indignant and annoyed. She just grabbed another plastic barrette and pinned his bangs to the side of his face.
"Why do you enjoy torturing me like this, I haven't even misbehaved lately! I've been good, I don't deserve this for once."
"Oh will you stop complaining already, it's not that bad. It's fun!"
"For you maybe, but I can guarantee what I am experiencing is far from any semblance of enjoyable."
"Wait, what; do you not like having your hair played with?"
"No, why would I?" He turned his head again, angling it to glare at her again, though his gaze held less heat than confusion. Her own eyebrows knitted together, her fingers stopping in their quest of his skull, settling on top instead.
"That's weird, everyone I know likes having their hair played with."
"Well that's weird to me. Do you like it too or something?"
"Yeah! It's really soothing, and it feels nice. I love when people play with my hair, but no one really does it anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because it was usually my mom that did it."
At that his eyes widened, his frown and angry expression slipping off his face at the mention of her mom. It always threw him whenever she brought up little things about her mom. She never really talked about her mother unless it had to do with the situation at hand. He sat quiet for a moment, the annoyance from earlier melting away.
"Well I don't see why it would be such a big deal. It's just hair, it's not something anyone I've known has ever really cared about before." He said, voice gentler than his growled sentences before.
"I guess you have a point, it does seem like a weird thing to do when you put it that way. But a lot of people enjoy it. I guess for some they even consider it intimate."
"Gross." His face twisted in a grimace, and she laughed. He could feel her hands move over and through his hair again, but now he could feel locks of hair falling loose as the snap of hair barrettes being taken out filled the air. After only a moment they were all gone and her fingers combed through his hair one last time, freeing the tiny braids and combing it all back into semi-order.
"What, you aren't going to keep messing with my hair?" he asked, the confusion actually leaking into his words this time.
"No, not if you hate it. I just liked it, I won't do it anymore." True to her word, her hands left his head and settled in her lap as she leaned back into the sofa, returning her attention to the movie once more. It left him disoriented. Not only because it'd been that easy to get her to stop something, but because it felt… weird, making her stop now? Which he didn't enjoy feeling. At all. He turned around once more, trying to ignore the feeling and focus on the blonde chick that was currently trapped in some sort of closet, screaming and sobbing as the killer's ax beat against the door. But not even watching her get hacked to pieces could hold his attention.
He glanced over his shoulder at Nat, watching her instead. She was toying with her own fingers, but she was watching the movie, same insufferably cheery grin on her lips as usual. His eyelids drooped a fraction as he watched her restless fingers, thought about how he made her stop. The whole situation was dumb. It was just hair, he stood solidly by that fact. It didn't feel good, at least not to him, and he didn't understand how it was supposed to. But he questioned validity of his decision none the less and it ticked him off. His eyes darted past her fingers, up her arms to where her own hair cascaded over her shoulders. She had let it out of it's bun earlier, so it was curled at the ends, rings of strawberry-blonde looping around her neck gently. He started at it for a bit, thinking how she'd said her mom had done it to her as a kid. That's why she'd enjoyed it.
Without really stopping to think about his actions, he raised a hand and reached back, taking a lock of hair between his fingers. She jumped a bit, her eyes darting down to him in confusion and surprise, but he diligently avoided her gaze. He toyed with the strands, looping them around his finger and gently pulling his hand away so they unraveled and fell limply back into place, before taking it again.
"What the heck are you doing? You were saying I was being weird, you want to talk about weird you can look at yourself." She joked, but he could see the unease in her eyes, apprehensive at the way he was acting. He almost allowed himself to smirk. Apprehension was usually the closest he ever came to scaring her, and it wasn't often.
"Trade me spots Kid." He said simply, avoiding her question and gaze.
"What? Why?" She said, confusion taking over her face. Letting go of her hair, he pushed himself to his feet, stepping aside.
"I'm going to braid your hair, sit on the floor. Don't argue just do it." He gestured to said spot, specifically avoiding her eyes. If he didn't he didn't think he'd be able to go through with it. He was already fighting the urge to flush at his behavior. What the fuck was he thinking why did he think this was a good idea? As he waited for her to give an argument, he was surprised to see her face merely scrunch up, before she scooted forward, easing down into the spot he'd been sitting a mere moment before. Blinking, he swung a leg around her and settled onto the couch behind her. Without having to meet her eyes, he felt calmer, less out of his element, and he let his fingers wrap around tendrils of her hair, combing through from root to tip and gently undoing the few tangles she'd gotten.
"Don't even think about pulling strands of my hair out. Or cutting it. Or anything that would be damaging to my hair." her words pulled his attention back, and he blinked in surprise. He hadn't even thought of doing that to her. Why the fuck hadn't he? Even if he had absolutely no intention of doing so, the opportunity to imagine it never went neglected. Merely grunting in acknowledgement, he set his attention back to her hair, splitting it up and braiding it slowly. The way her shoulders went slack and her head tipped back the slightest bit did not go unnoticed, and he watched as she relaxed into the little niche his legs and the couch made. He worked slowly, lacing each piece carefully over the other and back again until the braid was done.
Hesitating, his eyes flickered over Nat before his fingers retraced the pleats, undoing them all and combing them back out. Nat's head inclined back as she felt him undo the braid, looking back at him.
"What are you doing?"
"It wasn't even, I'm redoing it. Hold still Kid." he lied smoothly, fingers scraping gently over her skull. She turned back to the movie, leaning back into him with a soft hum. His hands retraced the motions, combing and rebraiding her hair, watching as she sighed in content when he messed with certain areas. When it was rebraided again, just as perfect as the first one had been, he again untied it, repeating the steps over and over again. When she questioned him again he retaliated by throwing out some lame half-assed excuse that it had to look right if it was being done by the Devil himself. She just smiled, and he knew she understood and saw through him to the real reason. He was relieved that she made no comment, and secretly, even more pleased that she let him continue. She didn't say anything else after that, instead letting her eyes droop shut and inclining her head back to give him room.
After a while he stopped braiding it at all, just combing his fingers through her hair and twisting pieces here and there. He twisted his power around his fingertips, sharpening the tips of his fingernails just enough that he could gently scratch them over her skull, and the purr of appreciation she gave was definitely something he enjoyed. The movie was long since over and a new one was on behind it, but neither paid it any mind. Natalie's head drooped to the side, landing on his leg as he scratched over the back of her head. He glanced down, seeing a small smile on her lips as he tucked some hair behind her ear, unable to look away. She could have very well been asleep for how calm she was and how soft her face looked. If he didn't know better he'd have thought she looked pretty like this, relaxed and happy.
Gradually his hands slowed to a soft brushing, nearly petting her hair with the care he took. His fingers looped behind her head, wrapping around the back of her neck, gently kneading into the muscles there as his other hand caressed the back of a finger down her cheek. When she didn't react, he did it again, and then again, watching her face for any flinch or reaction. There was none; she was fast asleep. Aside from a light fluttering of her eyelashes, she seemed content to stay as such. Smirking a bit that she'd fallen out on him, his thumb rubbed soothingly over her cheek as his fingers framed her jaw, his other hand still massaging her neck, watching her slumber.
He could very easily exploit the opportunity given to him. There were so many ways he could mess with her, ways he could take advantage of no supervision, ways he could reek havoc long since overdue. But he felt no desire to do so. It almost startled him, how satisfied he was with merely staying there with her sleeping against him. He could easily pick a hundred different points in the last few months that he would have thrown her off. He would not want her anywhere near him, especially sleeping on him. But now, the prospect of moving and waking her up was something he did not want to happen.
What the fuck was this girl doing to him? He couldn't understand.
Sighing, he traced her lower lip with his claw tipped nail, eyes transfixed on her lips. When had he started leaning down? He didn't know. But he moved slowly, being sure to not jostle her awake as he tilted his head down. He could feel his horns poking out of his forehead, rising up over the crown of his head as he angled her chin upward, his eyes falling closed just as he pressed his lips to hers-
"NATALIE! STAN! Are you kids awake? It's after 3 am, you two should be getting to bed!" Shooting straight up again, Satan barely avoided cracking skulls with Natalie as she woke up, her dad coming around the corner just as Satan managed to pull his horns and claws back in, his hand flying to his chest and gripping his shirt tight. If he were capable of having a heart attack, he had a feeling he'd be experiencing one now.
"Dad what the hell!" She shouted, eyes still unclear from being woken so suddenly. Her dad merely blinked, confusedly glancing between the two teens.
"What? What did I do?"
"You scared the Devil out of me, for one!" Satan griped, managing to dig a joke in even in his disheveled state. Natalie's unamused glance at him was worth it. His hand still gripped at his heart. Laughing, Mr. McAllister merely waved a hand at them, apologizing before telling them again that it was late and they should get to bed. Agreeing just for the sake of getting him to leave, they gathered their things and turned off the tv, escaping to Natalie's room and locking the door. Stretching her arms above her head, Nat grinned as Satan switched back to his actual form, stretching his arms as well.
"Man, I can't believe I fell asleep! I'm not stiff though, that's surprising." Raising her hand to her neck, she rolled her head and felt for any sore muscles in her neck, but found none. Shrugging, she walked to the bed and sat down, glancing back over to Satan. He wouldn't meet her gaze. Confused, she tilted her head at him, questioning what was wrong. He gave excuses, claiming that nothing was wrong, but she could tell he was lying. He wouldn't answer her though, and there was nothing she could do about it. Regardless, she turned out the lights and burrowed under the covers, bidding him goodnight. He returned the sentiment in his usual clipped way, sitting down against the wall and crossing his arms.
"Thanks for that by the way. I appreciated it a lot. I haven't had anyone take care of me and look over me like that in a long time, it was fun. We need to do that again, a lot more often too!" she mumbled tiredly, before turning over and going back to sleep.
Satan squashed down the excited content feeling the prospect brought, as well as the nasty twist of guilt and disgust deep in his gut. He'd tried to kiss her. He nearly had but her father had unwittingly both ruined and saved him from that fate. What in the hell had made him do it? She was human, she was a kid, she was annoying and aggravating and idiotic and so air-headed sometimes he thought she'd end up floating away. There was nothing to like about her, there shouldn't be anyway. He wasn't supposed to like her, he wasn't even supposed to care about her. Fuck, he wasn't even supposed to be here to begin with! This was all a fluke, a misunderstanding that she refused to rectify by releasing him. He was supposed to despise her, just like every other human on the planet, just like every other soul he payed not even a single glance at. So why was he feeling sick at just the idea of hating her? Why could he feel himself lying about all of it to himself? Why was he still watching her sleep even now!?
…What was this girl doing to him? He couldn't understand…