Chapter 10: Thrall

No matter what anyone says about him, Satan knows he's not nearly as shallow and petty as people think. When he wants to be.

Satan was dancing.

It wasn't anything fancy, more the simply the sway of his body to a tune that sounded watery and far away. No, the music that drifted in and out of focus wasn't nearly as important as the delicate body held in his arms. Tiny and breakable, but also filled with a deceiving power and fiery will that was so strong and bright his heart ached with even a glance. She's scorched his hands before, looked him in the eye as her equal, and, somehow, they'd reached the understanding he'd always fantasized he'd one day find. Too perfect, too amazing to be his, and yet she held him back, rocking with him to the slow hum of the tune. And this time, it was real.

As if sensing his thoughts, Yuri smiled sweetly and squeezed their entwined hands just a bit tighter. She didn't shy from the hidden claws that still lightly poked her hands, didn't flinch from his pretty blue flames that likes to reach out and tickle her, and didn't so much as bat an eye as his other very inhuman features. She stole his breath, embraced him, and was more than he'd have ever let himself expect.

They made quite an odd pair, honestly. Anyone else would have thought Yuri was simply pretty at best, but too homely to really give a second look. To be perfectly honest, Yuri couldn't hold a candle to the lines of absolutely flawless demonesses that would throw themselves at him, with plump chests and shapely hips and a perfect face. So very few would ever truly understand why he'd picked Yuri of all the women in the worlds, never even considering his heart. That he'd had a heart he'd buried until the woman just as fiery as his flames dug it up and, somehow, found beautiful.

He loved her, so it was stupid, really, that'd he'd never gotten around to it until now. It was a tiny little thing he'd never done that kept nagging at the back of his mind. Three little words, as cliché as it got, and yet he'd never said them.

Yuri didn't mind, instead tittering cutely whenever she said those words to him and he only mumbled something incoherent back. She knew how he felt, probably before he'd even admitted it to himself, and it was enough for her that he was honest through actions instead of words. But he didn't want him to be 'enough' for her; no he wanted, more than anything, to be her 'everything'.

Well, ok, maybe not her 'everything'. That wasn't exactly possible when he could see his two (adorable) brats peaking in from one of the doors to the side. Even less so when Yuri was taking the initiative and had decided she'd round up his estranged children to have "family bonding time" with. Normally he'd laugh himself sick at the dumbass who tried to order his kids to do anything, some of them had tempers that put his to shame, but Yuri was a completely different case. Considering how she'd single-handedly thwarted his original plans to possess her with nothing but shitty stick shift and environmental (in)convenience, he was sure at least half of the menaces would be here within the week.

Because a law of the world was that somehow, someway, Yuri would always manage to have her way. And because she was ridiculously sentimental and determined to somehow be even more perfect, she'd learn every one of his weakness and faults and fulfill even the faintest of wishes he refused to voice. She was amazing and perfect, and Satan knew she deserved to hear his love for her. It was only fair he finally granted one of her unvoiced desires.

"Yuri…I-"

Without a word, Yuri dissolved, turning to ashes in his hands. Like always, she'd never hear it, because he'd was-

Satan awoke and knew, without any doubt, what day it was.

He sat up slowly, taking time to rearrange the tiny arms around his waist. Honestly, the separate beds did nothing to stop Yukio from crawling under his covers every night, and Satan was in no rush to stop it. He was precious and tiny and it made it all the easier to protect him if something ever went wrong. Shiro was too soft and far too invested to ever suddenly change his mind, but he knew damn well he'd done little to endear himself to the other exorcists. He was pretty sure they all respected the shitty priest too much to ever try anything (for some reason) so he was fairly confident nothing would change when it'd be eight years now. But he couldn't ever be too careful.

The faintest trace of pink licking the sky told Satan how early it was, and he sighed. He always had the same dream on this day every year. It wasn't unpleasant, but it felt like his own soul was mocking him.

'See, see what you'll never have? You should have tried harder. But because you were afraid, you lost everything.'

Not everything, Satan remained himself. He spared a moment to admire Yukio, his first real child. He'd had many children, but they'd never truly been his children. A contradiction, since Yukio had so little demon in him he'd be human for the rest of his life unless something drastic happened. It had nothing to do with his apparently uninheritable fire, and everything to do with a level of nuance he was sure few expected him to be capable of.

Grinning, Satan lightly shook Yukio awake. The boy was groggy and stared blankly ahead as Satan slipped the glasses on. The sudden sharpening of the world seemed to do the trick and Yukio yawned, rubbing his eyes under the glasses. Then, with a grumble, Yukio buried his face back into Satan's chest and did his best to fall back asleep.

Now it was time for the magic words that would surely do the trick.

"Yukio, it's your birthday today."

Shiro's pained yelp as sixty pounds of excited child woke him up via flying tackle always brightened Satan's day. Yukio was shouting excitedly for him now, probably to get his help in physically dragging Shiro out of bed and ready so they could open presents a whole two minutes sooner. Obediently, Satan trotted into the room, laughing at the resigned look at the shitty priest's face as he did his best to deal with an excited and newly-minted eight year old. So Satan might have done his best to work up Yukio last night about his birthday and the presents.

It was all about being there, in the end.