Chapter 2: Jealousy

Author's Notes:
I hope everyone enjoyed that first chapter. Here's another.
Just for some clarity, most of these events take place between the events of the official episodes. Anything romantic or sexual happens after the events of my other Satan and Me story, "Satan's Lullaby."
Anyway, back to the program.

Natalie burst through her bedroom door to find Satan lounging in the beanbag, reading a book, as usual. He didn't pay her the slightest bit of attention, which was his first mistake. Suddenly, a shoe appeared in his field of vision. A Doc Marten boot, he noted with curiosity, before the force of the throw knocked him backwards over the beanbag and into the corner in a heap. The boot plopped to the ground and sat next to Satan's head, looking as smug as a boot can look. Across the room, Natalie bent over, clutching her forehead and her nose. "That really hurt," she grunted to herself, before straightening up and facing Satan.

"What the hell did you do that to Michael for?" she shouted. Still upside down in the corner, Satan had to crane his head, as Natalie stood over him, furious. "You turned him into a werewolf or something!"
"What the hell are you talking about, girl?" Satan asked, teleporting himself to a standing position.
Natalie stood her ground, her arms crossed firmly. "You made his eyebrows grow until he was covered in hair everywhere." She shuddered slightly. "And I mean everywhere."

At this, Satan entirely lost his composure and doubled over laughing, which was his second mistake. "So his eyebrows finally ate his face! That hair-growth charm that old witch sold me works like a dream!"
Natalie stepped up to Satan's chest and poked him with enough force that he stopped laughing and started coughing. This also set Natalie off on a coughing fit, due to their connection. Once Natalie had regained her breath, she faced Satan down, such a fierce look on her face that the Devil took a step back from the angry redhead.
"Look," he began his final mistake, "It's Michael's fault he's such an easy mark. I've been fighting my brother so long that I know exactly what makes him-"

Natalie lost her temper. "Shut up!" she yelled at Satan. To his credit, Satan actually did shut up. His horns turned yellow as Natalie actually advanced on him, her other Doc Marten clutched in her hand, ready to beat his head in.
"My friend Michael is not your brother," she hissed, all trace of her normally bubbly self gone. "You don't get to torture my friend like you did today. Now, I order you to fix what you did to him, or you won't be allowed to have anything sweet for a week."
Satan's mouth fell open. Nothing sweet for a week? I'd rather go to hell.
Picking up on his thoughts, Natalie paused, before deflating slightly as the anger left her. "Neither of us want that," she said in a small voice. "Just fix Michael, okay? He didn't do anything to you, so he doesn't deserve the Archangel Treatment."

But he did, Satan thought as he disappeared. He told me he loves you. And, Dad help me, I'm jealous.
Half a second later, Satan appeared at the door of the Panagakos house, disguised as 'Freshman Stan.' He conjured up a small box and placed some power inside it, before ringing the doorbell. A second later, a striking blonde woman answered the door. "Yes?"
Satan looked the woman up and down before answering. "I'm here to see your brother, Michael?"
The woman blushed furiously. "Michael's my son, actually. But he's feeling a bit sick."

Satan nodded, knowing full well the 'disease' Michael was suffering from, and passed Michael's mother the small wooden box. "Just tell Michael it's a present from his friend Nat."
Michael's mom nodded. Still flushed, she closed the door. Satan took a second to consider the possibility of sleeping with her to spite the brat further, but a disturbing thought forced its way to the front of his mind. She'd hate you for it.
Satan growled and disappeared.
Back in Natalie's room, Satan sat in the beanbag chair and kept reading, until the phone rang. Natalie hopped off her bed and grabbed the phone. She answered brightly. "Hi Michael!"

A second later, the girl's features shifted to a confused expression. "You want to talk to Stan?" She passed the phone to him as though she was holding a live grenade. Satan took the phone from Natalie's hand and braced for an explosion.
"Thanks, Stan!" Michael's voice came through the phone. "I don't know where you found that thing, but it really helped!"
"It was just something from home," Satan replied coolly, hanging up on Michael before ha had the chance to say anything else.
"That was really mean," Natalie pouted from her newfound perch on her bed.
"That wasn't mean," Satan replied, covering his face with the book again.
What I wouldn't give to really be mean to that asshole," Satan thought with a growl.

However, the door opening again interrupted Satan's thoughts. Alex McAllister walked into the room, blinking sleep out of his eyes. His gaze quickly traveled over Satan, sitting there in full demon mode, and came to rest on his daughter. Panicked, Satan just managed to finish turning into 'Kid Stan' as Natalie's dad whipped back around; the image of the devil only just registering in his brain.
"Morning." Stan nodded, the picture of innocence. Alex shook his head and looked back at Natalie. "Morning, pumpkin," he began.
Sensing the impending flood of emotion and awkwardness, Stan shot to his feet and slipped out the door as fast as he could.

Stan sat in the living room, fuming. Why the hell can't she just let me have any fun, he thought bitterly. Soon, his thoughts were intruded by barking. The damn neighbors' dog was yapping at the mailman as he trudged along. A minute passed, with Stan's mood getting worse, until he finally teleported off the couch and into the neighbors' yard. The little Chihuahua turned and actually charged at Stan, until he nimbly reached down and lifted the dog into the air. The Chihuahua yipped and struggled and tried to bite Stan's hand as he brought the dog to his eye level. Stan waited a moment, before baring his fangs and horns, hissing right in the dog's face. The rat-like dog froze, its tiny heart likely beating so fast it could explode.
"SHUT. UP." Stan growled, his fangs retreating. He put the dog on the ground, and it took off with a blur of its little legs. His mood fixed, Stan hummed to himself as he went back inside the McAllister house, and idly looked around for the cake that Natalie had stashed somewhere.