#;; so I'm sharing what WAS soft before it goes down the accidentally angsty path it's leading me to all by itself

[dcvilgrams]

I Wasn't Expecting Pillows

a random OM! comfort piece pairing: platonic siblings Asmodeus & my MC (Xhura) [he/him] word count: 975 rating: general

notes: this is just a general 'my fic is my comfort' little snippet. today's been rough and it would be nice to feel like asmo would always be there for me~ some general notes: this is platonic asmo & my mc xhura, xhura is an mc who became a demon, he is married to lucifer, & asmodeus is dating a handsome athlete named zelphrem (oc demon) none of this is really necessary to know but i can't not over-complicate the explanations

hope the short-&-sweet sillies make you smile like they did for me 💗

“I did a lot of crazy stuff back when I was human.”

“Oh Petal, I know~ You’ve regaled me more than a few times with stories of your… less-than-savory adventures.”

Xhura chuckles, tucking his hands under the impossibly fluffy pillow. How in the world has Asmo managed to hide this thing from Belphie for this long? Surely at some point or another the former youngest of the Lords of Hell has managed to ‘Goldie Locks’ his way through every pillow in the House. Xhura knows at the very least he’s rifled through some of Lucifer’s old throw pillows when his usual one is in the washer.

Hmm… Maybe it’s the perfume. That’s probably a decent Sloth-deterrent.

Or would it be a Cow-deterrent…?

“Petal? Hell to Petal~ Can you read me Petal?”

Xhura blinks several times, only to see Asmodeus staring down at him from right above. He’s smiling that usual ‘I’m here for you darling’ smile, but there’s a hint of something concerned behind his honeyed eyes. It doesn’t go away even when Xhura offers up a smile of his own.

“Sorry, spaced out there for a second.”

“Uh-huh…” Asmodeus doesn’t sound all too convinced. And given Xhura’s history with ‘spacing out’ being a whole lot more than just your everyday daydreaming, he has every right to feel even a smidgen of concern. “Promise that’s all it was?”

Xhura nods and reaches down for his brother’s hand, making a show of linking their pinky fingers together. “Pinky promise.” Their eternal promise — their brotherly bond. Something so simple but maybe it’s the simplicity of it that makes it mean so much. Anyone can make a pinky promise. But it’s those who keep them that truly bring meaning to sentiment.

Asmo huffs and falls back down on Xhura’s left side. He knows he’s basically lost all ability to voice his worries now. But he also knows Xhura wouldn’t swear on a pinky promise if he wasn’t absolutely certain.

“Then what were you thinking about?”

Xhura chuckles. “Belphie stealing your pillows.”

“Petal! Now why would you put such a horrible thing out into the universe like that?” Asmo reaches and grabs the first thing he touches; another throw pillow, albeit smaller, in the shape of a heart. Xhura vaguely remembers Asmo gushing about how Zelphrem won it for him at Devil’s Coast or something like that.

And… THWACK!

Xhura gets a carnival keepsake pillow to the face.

“You’re just asking for bad juju now!”

“Hey!” protests Xhura with a laugh, trying in vain to cover his face but when Asmo can’t hit him there he just goes for all the other soft squishy bits. “You can’t get mad at me! You asked!”

“Well I wouldn’t have if I’d known you were trying to turn me into an unknowing victim of Belphie’s sticky pillow-grubbing fingers!”

“How does that make any sense?!”

It doesn’t, and that’s why they’re both laughing so hard that breathing becomes more of a wheezing exercise. Not like either of them are out of shape — not by a long shot. They both get plenty of strenuous physical exercise thank you very much. But maybe because it’s been so long since they’ve laughed like this. Without a care in the world, all the things normally hanging over them and the family like a grey storm cloud abandoned for one moment of pure mirth and joy.

Thankfully for Xhura his brother stops before the pillow—which is a sentimental gift, as opposed to a gift of real quality—falls to clumps of stuffing and scraps of fabric under the slightest duress. Even if Asmodeus would have no one to blame but himself for it. Xhura would of course feel responsible for being the tangential reason a gift from Zel ended up needing replaced.

The pillow falls on the other side of the bed without a sound. For several long moments the only noise in Asmodeus’ bedroom is the combined effort of their labored breathing.

Xhura and Asmo wordlessly lace their fingers together in the scant space between them.

It’s not really a shocker that Asmo is the one to break their breathy concert. What is a shocker is what he decides to say to do it.

“I wasn’t expecting pillows. Since you started talking about your crazy wild human years… I wondered if maybe you were remembering something you wished you hadn’t.”

Slightly out of sync Xhura and Asmodeus turn to face each other with their elbows bent and their heads propped on their free palms. The perfect position for a deep and emotional staring contest. Asmodeus casually fiddles with Xhura’s wedding ring. Xhura taps his nail against Asmo’s new acrylic set.

Finally, Xhura sighs and looks down. The first to break eye contact. No doubt that worries Asmo more… Xhura loves winning staring contests.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, you don’t need to be,” says the youngest Lord of Hell quietly — so quiet even Asmodeus’ demonic ears require a little focus to catch it all. “I’m okay.”

“I’m sure you are, Petal,” because the fifth brother is all-too-familiar with recognizing his baby brother’s tells these days; like where ‘I’m okay’ doesn’t actually pertain to anything specific nor does it have to be about the topic he’s trying to bring up; “but you seemed like you came in here and wanted to talk about… something. So even if you’re okay, I need you to know I’m here for you however you need me to be.”

The barest hint of a smile quirks up at the corner of Xhura’s mouth. A good sign.

“Like you always are.”

“Exactly, like I always am~” Asmodeus grins, unlacing their fingers only as long as it takes to BOOP the tip of Xhura’s nose. Then it’s right back to platonic comfort-touch hand-holding.