#mostly fluff though

Just then Troy had the horrifying realization – the insurmountable fear – that this could well be a child. A child, all alone out here!

The second he’d thought that his body was already moving, running towards the child – he had to be careful though as he was moving partly through the horde – had to make sure not to make too much noise, had to cut down infected right in front of him. And he wasn’t even feeling a pang of regret as he did, as he saw them falling, part of his work destroyed.

No, suddenly the only thing that mattered was reaching that child in that group of infected. The child who was mumbling terrified things, voice coming out almost inaudible and gasping. The child’s eyes were almost hidden by dark locks, but Troy could still tell they were closed just as he’d had predicted and tears were streaming down those dark cheeks.

As he came closer, he started to doubt that it was a child, after all. Though it was incredible hard to tell how old the kid was. Not a small child, as he’d feared at first, that much was clear. But whether the kid was fifteen or twenty-five, Troy could not say. And somehow he had the sudden, deep-seated sense that neither was right.

No matter, he wasn’t about to let the kid – helpless, confused, terrified as he was – she was? (Troy couldn’t tell the gender either) – be torn apart right in front of him. The kid wasn’t in any condition to fight, wasn’t even running. And even though Troy might’ve argued that getting eaten in this situation was just evolution at play, seeing it, being right there in front of it, he could not just stand by and watch it happen to someone that defenseless, that scared.

Snarling at himself he started cutting down the infected one by one, making quick work of them.

He expected the kid to calm down, to realize that they weren’t alone anymore, weren’t in danger anymore but they were still in the same position, still gasping fearful sounds even as Troy stuck his knife into the last infected’s head.

As the infected fell, Troy just stood there, undecided. The obligation he felt towards the kid not in the least bit abated but – shit, what could he even offer them!? He couldn’t take care of himself right now, how was he supposed to make sure the kid was alright?!

But leaving them here would guarantee their death.

And try as he might to tell himself this wasn’t his responsibility, he could not make himself leave. In the face of such need, he could not leave. Could not get back to herding the infected again, not when he knew the kid would be torn limb from limb without his protection. It was only a matter of time. They would not survive out here. That much was clear. Not even the day, Troy wagered.

The kid that was still sitting there on the ground, trembling, silent tears streaming down their cheeks, arms clasped tightly around themselves.

Troy’s heart gave a pang he wasn’t comfortable examining closer (that pose being something all too familiar) and so he walked closer to the kid, crouched down in front oh them, whispering a quiet

“Hey.”

The kid was still mumbling in that fearful tone – and Troy could only make out a few things that didn’t make much sense to him.

“...so cold… can’t see, why… it’s too – much… I can’t, I can’t… I… don’t understand…”

Troy carefully put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, trying to get their attention, another soft “hey” accompanying his action. The kid flinched and shivered, as if trying to shake Troy off – but their eyes opened, two deep-brown frightened things and they jumped around.

“It’s ok,” Troy said slowly, feeling completely out of his depth, “They’re gone now, they can’t hurt you anymore—you’re not, are you?”

He’d be stupid not to ask though he grimaced, imagining what he’d had to do if the kid said ‘yes’. But the kid just continued to look frantically around.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Troy asked, sharper now.

“I don’t… don’t feel good… Everything’s so…” The kid broke off with a violent shudder.

“You’re sitting in infected guts,” Troy said without much empathy, “You should get out of there.”

For a moment nothing happened. Then the kid tried to stand – struggled to stand. It worried Troy instantaneously.

“Hey, you sure you aren’t hurt? Did they get you?”

“...n-no.” The kid shook their head and stood finally – still wobbly on his their legs. Even now Troy couldn’t tell their age nor gender. The kid was shorter than himself, the clothes on their back ill-fitting. Too big. It made the kid look even more lost – and so young. Or was it the fact that they weren’t moving from the spot. As if they had trouble holding their balance. Troy’s brows furrowed just as he thought that and he turned around to leave. But before he’d fully turned he stopped and threw an impatient,

“You coming or what?” over his shoulder.

“Coming… where?”

Troy shrugged with just his face before he answered,

“Away from here.” Then his lips curved into that half-snarl, half-smile he did whenever he was scoffing at himself and he added, “To safety.” Safety. The ranch used to be safety. The ranch he was exiled from. But still the kid took a wobbly step towards him, convinced it seemed, and Troy turned back to fully face him as he said,

“I’m Troy.”

The kid stopped walking (or trying to walk – at least that was what it looked like to Troy) and Troy felt something shift, something in the air maybe or… he couldn’t quite place it. But it felt quite profound. And then the kid was looking directly at him. Staring at him, those brown eyes focused in a way they hadn’t been before, no fear remaining.

Normally, Troy had no problem with people staring at him. In most cases he actually provoked it himself just so he could revel in it but... this stare, the way the kid was looking at him, that was different to anything he had ever experienced.

It was the most penetrating stare he’d ever seen; he felt almost like the kid was looking deep into him, into his soul, leaving no secret unturned and it made him feel utterly uncomfortable.

Just as suddenly, the stare vanished and the kid told him with strangely kind smile,

“Yes you are.”

What??

Troy had to shake his head, absolutely flummoxed by that reply. What did that even mean – yes you are? How would the kid even know if he was or wasn’t Troy??

“N-no…” he said slowly, at a loss of how to reply to that, “I meant… who are you?”

“I’m angel!” the kid said with a suddenly enthusiastic smile.

Angel. Troy almost laughed at the absurdity of that whole interaction, did very much not listen to that little voice in his head that whispered that the kid being just that would explain a lot of their behavior. He’d been out here too long, had been without sleep too long if he was thinking things like that.

“Come on, Angel,” he said with a head-tilt.

“What do you plan on doing now?” Angel asked and Troy didn’t even notice what a strange question this was to ask of someone they’d just met, didn’t realize how the truth just spilled out of him – no walls, no filters.

“I…” he shrugged a little, “normally I’d take you home. It’s safe there but – I can’t return home.”

“…me neither,” Angel said and Troy felt an eerie bitterness at that.

“Well, we can’t stay here. It’s dangerous with all these infected around.”

“Infected?”

The question startled Troy. Sure, not everyone used the same terms but not knowing at all what he was referring to – that was even stranger than him admitting to his exile so readily. And this time he did notice.

“Those things that attacked you.”

At once he saw the fear returning to Angel’s face.

“They… what are they?” Angel asked in a scared whisper. Much too scared for someone living in the apocalypse, Troy thought. Ah, but maybe they’d been sheltered, same way most of his people – well, not his anymore, he supposed – had been.

“They were human,” Troy explained curtly, “When we die… we now turn into those. No idea why. For some it’s fast, for some slow. But we all turn, in the end.”

“Human?!” Angel exclaimed, horrified. So it was completely news to them. How strange, again.

“Yeah. Let’s go before they turn you, too!” Troy urged with head-tilt towards the approaching horde – which had already shrunk some. He didn’t waste another thought on that though, instead grabbed Angel by the arm and pulled them along, up, up the hill. Only when they reached the top did he stop, sure that Angel needed a break.

“We can rest some here,” he announced, “The infected should disperse soon.” And should any of them make it up here, he could take care of them. He sat down and Angel right next to him, again looking at him with that strangely piercing gaze that felt like Troy could not hide a single thing. He swallowed and suppressed the urge to turn away.

“You need sleep, Troy,” Angel said decisively.

“Huh?” Again Troy was perplexed by the things Angel said, not that it was wrong. But still a strange thing for Angel to notice, he thought.

“Come here!” Hands grabbed him from behind as Rui exited the main room. The Lower Moons had been summoned for their yearly quota, so he figured he wouldn’t run unto any of the upper ranked. “There you are, little spider! I’ve been looking for you!”

“L-lady Daki?” He yelped upon seeing her grinning face. Her hair was still stained black- she must have just gotten back from the district. “Can I help you?”

“I thought I told you before- drop the lady part! I hate it.” Something dark passed over her expression before she was grinning again, pulling him in her arms and spinning him around. “If you want to call me anything, call me Big Sister Daki! You’re only what- a few centuries younger right?”

Big sister. So many spiders in his forest call themselves that by his order, but they didn’t feel genuine. This…this did. “B-Big sister, Daki?”

“There you go! And Gyutaro- he’s your big brother. I’ll get him to go with it, don’t worry.” When she put him back down, he was slightly dazed- more so at the claim then the twirls she pulled. “As your official big demon sister- I want in on this whole game you got going on with Lord Douma and Akaza.”

“Game?”

“Yeah! They always play with you whenever you come by- I want to play too! We both do, right Gyo?” She grinned as her brother emerged from her back, landing on his feet with ease.

“Don’t speak for me so easily, Daki! But…yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged, eyes curious as he looked down at the wide eyed spider. “Why so shocked? Don’t like what you see?”

“No…No, that’s not it.” Was he hearing this right? Two moons willingly seeking him out to play! “I just..I guess I’m a bit happy.”

“PFFT! Just a bit?” Gyutaro laughed, slapping his knees as he doubled over. “I guess we aren’t as grand as the big three, are we sister?”

“That’ll change. Come on- I know a fun game!” Daki reached out, taking Rui’s hand in hers as they began walking to wherever. Rui felt his hand trembling some in her own, his reflection in the red polish of her nails.

He looked…alarmed, but also…happy.

With a hesitant move, he squeezed her hand back.

~~~

“Okay- this is the deal. You come right here…yeah, good. Now- stay still and close your eyes.” Daki brought his hands up to his face, using his sleeves for extra coverage. “Count to ten, and then look.”

“Hide and seek?” Rui asked behind the thick fabric of his sleeves.

“Not exactly. We call it ‘Bat Vision.’ The goal is to figure out where we are before we tag you, okay?” She squeezed his shoulders once before backing away. “Ready…go!”

“Erm…1…2…3…” As he counted, the smell of Daki’s perfume faded. Gyutaro must have returned to her back-he couldn’t hear or smell him either. There were no footsteps, no sounds at all behind his cocoon of sleeve.

“4….5….6…”

Was he doing this right? Were they nearby?

“7….8…”

Did they…did they leave? He wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

“9….”

Still no smell, sound, or indication they were near. They left. Rui felt his lip quiver.

“....10.” He brought his arms down, fighting off tears in the still room.

“GOTCHA!”

“AH!” Rui squawked when hands grabbed his waist, digging into his ribs. “Aheahhahhahahaha! Whahahahhat?”

“Like my new trick? Even demons can’t detect me!” Daki laughed from behind, pulling him back until he was squirming in her lap. “Even with all those spidey senses of yours! I figured you’d set a web up so you’d sense me, but you played fair!”

“Whahahahhait, yoohohohohu diihihiihihihdn’t leheahhahahhahve? Ahehahahhahahaha I tohohohohought yoohohoohohu juuhuhuuhuust ghahahahhahve uhuuuhuhp!”

“Pfft- like I’d do that! Where’d I go?” Daki rolled her eyes, something soft entering her voice as she carried on scratching her nails along his belly. “You really thought I’d leave you?”

“Ahehahahahahaha! Ahehahahahhahha, I dhooohohohn’t knohohohohohw!”

“Well- that makes me mad! Gyutaro- get out here! We got a spider to squish!” Daki called out, her brother running out from around the nearby corner.

“Oi, so little spider boy thinks we’d be asshats and leave him, eh? Tch, tch tch. Shameful.” Once there, he gestured for Daki to roll him over. “Come here- you little runt!”

“AH! Ahehahahahaha, nohoohohoohohooho I’m sahahahahhahharry!” Rui squealed as his feet were grabbed, Gyutaro wiggling along his kicking soles as Daki carried on pinching his ribs. “Aheahhahhahahah sthahahahahhhap, pleahahhhahahse!”

“Heh- alright, alright. Daki, reel it in.” Gyutaro scribbled a hand against Daki’s chin, making her jerk back with a short squeal. Rui slumped, arms around his belly as his skin tingled. “But seriously- you didn’t think we’d leave you behind, did you?”

“I…I did.” No point lying- they must have heard his voice crack while counting. “I’m used to people doing so, I guess.”

“Huh.” The siblings shared a look over him in silent conversation. Then Daki’s arms pulled him up so she could hug him properly, resting her chin against the top of his head.

“That makes you like us officially then. We’ve had people leave us behind too.” She squeezed him gently. “That’s why you’ve got us now.”

“Yeah. No matter what happens, we’re a trio going forward.” Gyutaro reached out, wiping a stray tear that fell down the spider’s cheek. “Unless a fourth guy shows up- then we’re a square.”

“Why the hell does it have to be a square? I say we’re a diamond! And also- what if she’s a girl?”

“You know what I mean! And besides- squares are better. They hold more things.”

“Diamonds are prettier.”

“Eh.”

“Oh you wouldn’t know good jewels if they were stuck up your-”

Rui giggled in his hands as the siblings argued, snuggled back into Daki’s arms with a happy sigh.

Just like that- his pretend family became a little more real.

You’d sit on the edge of the guard tower platform, legs dangling beneath you, eyes on the horizon, while he stood a few feet away, elbows resting on the railing, scanning for threats. You’d stoke up the fire as he worked on making his bolts. You’d sit next to him, shoulders centimeters away from brushing as you ate your meals in comfortable and contented silence. When he left on runs you’d attach to other people, but for the most part you would spend the time trying to keep busy and be helpful. He’d come back home to a full wood pile, sticks and feathers for making bolts, his room tidied, and a single wildflower in the beer bottle vase you’d put on his dresser when he’d first moved in and expressed hesitancy to sleep in a cell. Neither of you acknowledged any of it, save for the occasional appreciative grunt and obliging nod you’d exchange. You preferred it that way. You both hardly spoke to begin with and you liked it like that. Words got messy and confusing and could mean a million different things at once. Actions felt clear.

He was leaving for a particularly long run. Something about having cleaned out a lot of places nearby, wanting to go further out. The specifics didn’t bother you, he knew what he was doing. You were more concerned with how to busy yourself for the next few days. You began by sharpening the knives he’d left behind, too dull to consider bringing with him. You cleaned up his little room a few times over, and spent a day gathering plenty of material for his bolts. It felt like you had been moving around non-stop and yet you still felt restless. You were on your fourth or fifth aimless walk around the prison when you ran into Maggie who was on her way to the makeshift school in the library. She convinced you to join and spend some time with all of the kids to take your mind off of everything. You followed happily. “They just make you feel optimistic about the future, don’t they?” She said, staring off into the distance with a haunted smile. You could easily track her gaze to the gate that Glenn had left through a couple of days ago with Daryl and the rest of them.

The kids were doing arts and crafts today. Glenn had found a little jewelry making kit somewhere and brought it back, so everyone was making little necklaces and bracelets for themselves and their loved ones. As you sat down and sifted through the materials, a small pendant caught your eye. It was a little silver arrow in the midst of all the trinkets and charms. Without hesitation you scooped it up, running your fingers over it. You grabbed a few strands of leather cord and began to weave a little braided rope. At what felt like the middle, you slid the pendant onto one of the cords and finished braiding, keeping it in place. After it was all tied off you held it up in front of your face and studied it with a satisfied smile. Later that night, you slipped into his room and placed the little necklace on the pillow of his bed. You left no note, no signifier of who it was from, and stepped back out into the cell block.

When he finally returned, most things were as they usually were, the pile of bolt materials, the neat room, but this time there were three, vibrant blue wildflowers in the vase instead of a single one, and a small necklace laid on his pillow. After a long bit of contemplation, he came bolting out into the courtyard in a wild search. He could see the unmistakable legs dangling over the edge of the guard tower platform and wasted no time rushing up there.

You jolted as he slammed the door open and dangled the pendant in your face from his shaking fist. “Th’ hell is this?” he asked, voice trembling, but not with fear. Your brows furrowed but you didn’t flinch or move away.

“I made it for you, thought you’d like it.” You said, voice steady and even.

“God dammit woman! Whatever ya want with me, why don’t ya just tell me?!” He turned and paced away before coming back again. Your voice came to you still in low tones but it now dripped with intensity.

“What?” you asked, your confusion genuine.

“Come on! Ya know what ‘m talkin’ about!” He said, getting angrier. “I was just stood there fer the last five minutes tryna figure out what kinda game yer playin’!” You just shook your head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m not playing any games.” You responded, but he just shook his head, disbelieving.

“Followin’ me around, cleanin’ ma room, makin’ me this, don’t know if yer tryna make fun of me or laugh at me, or tease me, or tryna get me to feel like I owe you special favors, but ‘m sick a it.” Your brow furrowed somehow even further before abruptly softening as his words truly sunk in.

“Daryl, I do that stuff because I care about you, and you’re my friend. I’d never make fun of you.” You paused for a moment before hesitantly adding “Unless you deserved it.” He stood up straight and sighed, before tossing the pendant into your lap.

“Find someone else to mock.” He spat, before sulking out of the tower, leaving you alone, arrow charm enclosed in a shaking fist. A few days went by and you didn’t see him much. He always turned away when you tried to make eye contact with him or hurried out of any space that you entered. You felt your heart crack a bit more with every encounter.

After almost a week of this agonizing distance, you began to feel like you were going to throw up whenever you saw him. Your heart felt sore and aching and your soul felt heavy. You would rub your thumb over the pendant in your fist and hold back tears as he rushed away from you while avoiding eye contact. You couldn’t take it anymore, but he wouldn’t even let you face him to tell him that. As a last resort, you wrote a quick and simple note, very your style. It read- “D. You’re my best friend. I mean it. I miss you.” You signed your initial and folded the pendant up in the paper. When you knew he was out, you placed the note on his pillow and hurried away, knowing that whatever was going to happen, it was close to done now. All you could do at this point was wait.

You knew he liked to sleep outside, often staying out of his cell whenever possible, so you had no idea when he might find the note. A few days later you as sat on the ledge of the guard tower, you saw him emerge from the cell block in  a rush, his strides hurried and purposeful. You saw him spot you and make a beeline for the tower. As quickly as possible your eyes set on the treeline, as you tried to give the impression that you were just casually on watch, not watching for him. The door flung again in the same startling manner, but he didn’t rush at you this time. You turned to look at him and immediately spotted the arrow pendant hanging from a leather braided cord around his neck, the little piece of paper in his hand. You sat, frozen, unsure of exactly what he was going to say. He closed the distance and held out a hand. You took it and he all too quickly pulled you to your feet, wrapping you in a hug before you could even process what was happening. You sighed against his chest and felt a hand reach up and brush your hair to the side. “I’m sorry.” He whispered into the top of your head, and you smiled. “‘M not any good at this... at havin’ people give a damn. I’m so sorry I didn’ trust it... that I didn’t trust ya... god Y/N I’m so sorry... I shouldn’ta yelled or gone off like that... I’m sorry.” He continued repeating himself a few times before you pulled back and shushed him.

“Dixon I’m gonna need you to stop right there. I forgive you, ok? We’re good. As long as you’ll be my friend again, we’re good.” You buried your face back into his chest immediately after speaking and his arms wrapped around you even tighter.

After a few moments of stunned silence, you felt him move back ever so slightly. “Hey” he began, before you felt an extremely gentle hand on the bottom of your chin, tilting your head upwards so you could meet his eyes. As you made contact you could see the red rims and streaks of tears down his face, and your heart broke all over again. You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “Hey.” you spoke with a smirk in your voice, “It’s all ok now. We’re ok. I promise.” He smiled the slightest bit in response and nodded. His hand on your chin moved to your cheek, and you watched his eyes scan your face. “Shoulda said it a million times. Every single time ya did somethin’ nice fer me I shoulda said it. But I’ll say it now. Thank you.” his voice shook as he let it out.

“Hey.” You said with a slight laugh, “You’ve said thank you! You’re just not great at saying it with words, Dixon” He smiled at that, a real, full smile that filled in the cracks of your heart.

“In that case,” he began, a bit sheepishly, “can I say something else?” You simply nodded in response and he didn’t wait before gently bringing his lips to meet yours. It was soft and sweet and nothing like what you’d imagine from Daryl. He held you like the most precious thing in the world and kissed you like he needed to savor you forever, like you were the thing keeping him alive.

And when you pulled away, rosy cheeked and breathless, he simply raised an eyebrow at you and whispered “get it?” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

The first thing Mammon noticed about them, and not in the way one notices the color of someone’s hair or what shirt they’re wearing, but in the way where you have to be around them for a while and really look at them to see, was the way they always covered their mouth when they laughed. The first time it happened, Mammon had said something stupid while he, the exchange student, and the rest of his brothers (minus Belphegor, of course.) were gathered around the dinner table. He couldn’t remember exactly what he said these few weeks later, but he still remembered the sweet sound of their laugh, the first laugh they let out during their stay. It bounced off the walls of the dining area, filling Mammon’s ears with the delectable noise. Mammon couldn’t help but stare, wanting to catch a glimpse of the smile that accompanied the laughter, but their hand had made their way over their mouth, denying Mammon access to it. 

Memories were one thing, but Mammon didn’t have to look in the past to see the person inhabiting his thoughts. He looked over to his right, and there they were, an unconscious smile plastered on their face as they read their book. These smiles were the only ones they allowed anyone to see, the slight, barely noticeable smiles. Their smile was filled with teeth that didn’t grow straight. Instead, they clustered together, some growing too much forward or back, some even being squished sideways. They were slightly yellow in color, and one of them even had a small chip in it. That’s why they always covered their smile, Mammon knew. Humans had ridiculous beauty standards and, from what Mammon had learned from the brief moments he paid attention to in his required human study courses at RAD, straight, white teeth tended to be one of these standards. The exchange student was insecure about their smile. Insecurity: something Mammon knew all too well. 

The exchange student noticed Mammon staring and quickly covered their mouth with their book. “What?” They said, a hint of laughter in their voice, “Bored?”  Mammon hummed in agreement, and they let out a giggle, “Just let me finish this chapter, then I’ll pay attention to you, ‘kay?” 

Mammon sputtered, “I don’t need you ‘ta…” the complaint died on his tongue with a playful glare from the exchange student. They had warned him when he sat on the couch next to him that he’d better be quiet or they’d make him regret it, whatever that meant, so he obliged and sat still and silent. 

Perfect teeth were a stupid standard, Mammon thought. Humans couldn’t control the way their teeth grew and… well the teeth on his human were the most perfect set of teeth Mammon had ever laid eyes on. Not straight, not white, but perfectly, unequivocally human. His own teeth, forged by his father to be perfect, were no match for the art in his human’s mouth. It was a weird thought to have, Mammon knew. Who spends so much time contemplating the beauty of someone’s teeth? But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help listing out every part of his human and how beautiful each and every part was, down to every last mole. It had become a sickening habit of his, one that threatened to spill out of his mouth like vomit every time he saw a new perfection. 

Mammon continued to steal glances at the human as they read, and they didn’t notice, or, at least they pretended not to notice. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve the piece of perfection that sat beside him to come into his life like this. Mammon knew, and if he ever forgot he had a chorus of voices reminding him every day, that he was no good. Mammon the scumbag, the horrible, the worst of his fallen brothers, yet here he was with nothing less than a gift from the universe by his side. Mammon had to be good, or at least have done some great deed, to land him with a treasure such as them. Looking back though, Mammon didn’t know what he did to deserve them. Ever since he had fallen, his life had been nothing but stealing, gambling, and spending. Selling everything, anything, for a quick bit of cash. He lied and cheated, even stole a human soul here and there to pay off his debts, nothing to warrant a prize, yet here they were. They weren’t smiling anymore as the half laid down, flipping to the next page of their book, but Mammon could still picture the sight of it. 

The demon knew one thing, though: His human made him want to do better. Every time Mammon thought about gambling or selling one of Lucifer’s dusty old records to make a Grimm or two, their smile flashed through his mind. What would they think? They had never judged Mammon for his bad habits, never berated him for being a greedy scumbag, but one day, they might. He’d push it too far, do something so bad that even his human, his precious human, would see the ugliness that stood out in him, plain as day. Mammon wanted to hide it, desperately cover up his flaws, blotch them out until the exchange student would never be the wiser. And their praise, oh Diavolo, their praise when he did good was unmatched. It was a better motivator than any punishment Lucifer had given him in the past. A small smile (not showing off their teeth, of course) and a pat on the head flooded him with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling anymore. 

One day, Mammon would thank who or whatever brought them to him. Lucifer, Diavolo, the Universe, hell, he’d kiss his father’s feet if he was the one who sent them. Most importantly, he’d thank them for being them. Their perfect, crooked teeth, beautiful laughing self. His pride, the fence he kept around his emotions would be cast aside, maybe not today, but soon. 

A small, almost unnoticeable sound snapped Mammon out of his thoughts. He looked over at the exchange student again. Their book had slipped out of their hands, drooping on the couch, their eyes closed, and their mouth slightly agape. Small snores fell out of their mouth like poetry. Another perfection to add to the list. One day Mammon would probably find the noise annoying, but today it was a beautiful, personal song performed just for him. He stretched to grab the blanket a few feet away from him and covered them with it. Today was not the day to reveal his feelings, this he knew, but that day would come soon. For now, all he could do was tuck them in and watch them, listening to their snores, a smile tugging at his lips.