“You’re not having dessert?” The question slipped out as you looped your arms around his sturdy middle, as you rested your head against his body’s warmth. It was strange for him to leave the dining room so quickly. Usually, he joined you in your room after obliterating whatever sweets Luke had made for him to try. 

“I will be.” His answer vibrated through his frame, buzzing through your skull. 

Your mind went to the gutter, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he leaned down, as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. His exhale rustled your hair, his hands so strong, so large as they covered your hips. 

A violent blush burning your skin, you managed a flustered squeak, “Oh! I didn’t realize it was that kind of night.”

He paused. Straightened up. Blinked twice. The confusion in his gaze was but a brief flash before it was overtaken by sheer enthusiasm. If he was a dog, you were certain his tail would be wagging. As he pulled you flush against him once more, he laughed, “I meant that I’d have dessert when you’re hungry again in an hour, but I could go for that kind of sweet, if you’re offering.”

As you led him to your bed, the last thing on your mind was whether you’d be peckish within the hour. 

However, at breakfast the next morning, you found yourself realizing that you had ended up munching on one of Luke’s cookies after a healthy dose of debauchery. Beel had raced from your bed to return with a plate of goodies in exactly 96 seconds (you timed him on your stopwatch app - a new record!), and you had curled up in front of your television to watch the latest episode of Barbeque Life before Lucifer came by to ensure that Beel slept in his own bed. 

You smiled. Beelzebub was always so attentive and receptive to your needs. It didn’t surprise you that he understood your stomach’s schedule. 

“Tell me, hon,” Asmo sang the moment Beel left the table to retrieve more hell coffee from the kitchen, “Is everything alright with you and Beel?”

Multiple utensils clattered to their plates, wide eyes swiveling from brother to brother. Mammon looked particularly spooked, while Lucifer simply pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Uh, yeah?” You swallowed your devilbee honey pudding, the sweet treat turning bitter on your tongue. “Why? Did he say something?”

Shoulders relaxed instantly, sighs of relief bouncing back and forth like ping pong balls. The table was an appropriate length for table tennis, you supposed. However, while the brothers laughed off the strange question, your uncertainty only grew. 

Levi pretended to wipe sweat from his brow, an exaggerated gesture you were sure he learned from an anime. “Oh? Okay, phew. We were worried he was in trouble lol.”

Your chest felt warm, your heart pounding. “Why would he be in trouble?”

“Well because he-” Levi started, just to squawk as Mammon swatted his face, “Er, n-no reason!”

A beat of silence. Beel’s heavy footsteps as he returned to the dining room, coffee pot in hand. You were keenly aware of the tightness of your throat, your swallow lodging halfway down your esophagus. As Beel refilled Lucifer’s coffee, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the tension hanging in the air.

It was never fun walking into a silent room, acutely aware that everyone had been talking about you. 

“What’s going on?” Beel asked, settling back into his seat. He accented his words by snagging a muffin from your plate, picking at the hell berries crusting the top. 

Before you could ask him the same question, Asmo shrieked, “He just did it again!”

Satan shook his head slowly, Mammon gawking at the giant demon next to you. Lucifer continued to read the morning paper, refusing to participate in such shenanigans. 

“RIP Beel,” Levi muttered, “It was nice knowing you.”

The confusion escalated tenfold, frustration pricking at the soles of your feet. You threw up your hands, huffing, “Okay, is someone going to tell us what you’re all going on about?”

Beel peered curiously at his brothers as they averted their eyes, as they pretended that their meal hadn’t been interrupted. His fingers brought a piece of your toast to his mouth, his brow creasing as he chewed thoughtfully. 

Belphie raised his head with a yawn. “Beel keeps eating your food.”

“From your plate,” Mammon added.

Satan nodded curtly, “Without permission.”

Your stomach dropped. You weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved.

“Oh,” You glanced around the table, noticing at that moment that Beel had moved your plate in front of him. “That’s it?”

Asmo pointed in accusation, protesting, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“No?” This was so absurd. You were used to bonkers conversations at every meal, but their sheer concern was truly comical. “Actually…”

It was Belphie who cut in, propping his chin in his palm. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he drawled, “They’re always done eating. Beel knows when they’re full.”

The looks of disbelief on Mammon and Levi’s faces were so similar, you wondered if they were twins. They spluttered in surprise, the latter exclaiming, “But they hardly ate their breakfast! How could they be full?!”

And Beel - sweet, calm, confident Beel - shrugged. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world, he explained. “They’re sleepy in the morning, and not very hungry. They only eat a little bit. They’ll be hungry in about 2 hours. That’s why I pack the leftovers before we leave for RAD.” 

This time, the brothers weren’t the only ones shocked. Lifting your jaw from the carpeted floor, you gasped, “The leftovers aren’t for yourself?”

A bright vein of pride shone in his eyes, fuschia within the indigo depths. “I mean, I partake, but only after you’ve had your fill.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to respond, your brain too busy flipping through the memories of all the snacks and meals Beel had brought you regardless of request. His fingers curled around your shoulder, amusement brightening his face. 

The gentle squeeze brought you back to reality, just in time to hear Mammon say, “Hey Beel, do ya think you have telepathic abilities outside of you and Belphie?”

“What a stupid question,” Satan scoffed, though you knew he was waiting for Beel’s answer himself. 

Your fingers curled around his, anchored on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. And what a moment it was, for Beel simply snorted, “Nah, I just pay attention to my partner.”

Why Mammon considered that a declaration of war, you weren’t entirely sure. But two hours later, when Beel passed you a container of carefully wrapped leftovers, you knew that you were the luckiest person in the world. 

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜