Demonverse Interlude #1 - RoyEd - PG
Title: Demonverse Interlude #1
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack, action/adventure
Pairing: Slightly RoyEd
Length: 2, 239 words
Author: kalikamaxwell
Artist: cofie
Notes: This would go between part 1 and part 2 of the main fic. A reader left constructive criticism saying the time jump was a bit jarring so I forced myself to finish and post this. Hope it helps.
Untraining someone was harder than Edward had expected. He had almost invented a happiness dance when Fletcher had finally told him NO. The fact it meant ‘no you can’t taste the food before I’m done’ had however made him a little sad, especially since it had quickly become the first area in which Fletcher felt confident enough to refuse him all the damn time. It sometimes bordered on cruelty.
Like the cookies.
“Just a taste, come on?” he begged, salivating as he contemplated the tasty-looking golden dough. “I’m starving.”
Fletcher eyed him uncertainly, surely moved by his pitiful expression of near-death.
His hand crept toward the bowl.
The wooden spoon descended on his hand swiftly and painfully.
“Wait,” Fletcher told him, his timid tone at odds with the spoon violence. “We haven’t eaten yet. This is for dessert.”
“But I’m going to die before the food is ready.”
“No you won’t.” Fletcher took the bowl and moved it away from him, resuming his cooking activities.
Edward sighed and laid his head on the counter to wait. He wanted to go ahead and steal some dough, but that would probably be counter-productive to the whole ‘making Fletcher stand up for himself’ thing. They’d made some progress, enough that Fletcher readily wielded the spoon against him and seemed to understand the concept of speaking without permission, but he wished it could go faster. He blamed the slowness of the process on the stupid demon bastard, who wouldn’t shut the fuck up despite how often he was told not to speak to Fletcher; whenever Roy said anything, Fletcher jumped to it as though he couldn’t control himself.
It figured that he couldn’t even think of the bastard without said bastard showing up. They hadn’t seen him in two days, but if asked where in the world he went, Roy would only murmur something about ladies that was most likely a lie. It must have had something to do with Greed, Edward guessed.
“Cooking again?”
“We humans need to eat more than once a week, you know,” he said, annoyed by the fire demon’s mere presence.
“I noticed. Keeping you two is rather expensive.”
“Hey, you can let us go home anytime.”
Edward ignored the demon’s reply in favor of turning to Fletcher, who was, predictably, already seeking the teapot. “Oh, come on, he hasn’t even said anything! Why are you serving him?”
“But he’ll want tea. He generally does.”
“I do,” Roy unhelpfully added.
He spared Roy a glare for the interruption. “So? That doesn’t mean you have to make it for him. He made his own damn tea before you came, he can still do it himself.”
And there it was again, Fletcher’s confused ‘who do I listen to?’ face. It was an improvement over its previous incarnation, a fearful and frozen ‘oh god they’re contradicting each other, what do I do?’
Giving up, he pushed himself off the counter and took a seat at the table. “Oh, do whatever you want.”
Shortly after, he had spaghetti and Roy, seated across the table, had tea.
His glowering did not impress the demon. “Don’t be so childish, Edward. You don’t complain when he makes your food.”
“That’s because he forbade me to help.”
Fletcher joined them with a plate of spaghetti of his own and offered an answer when Roy looked at him. “Edward isn’t very good at cooking.”
“I made a mess,” he clarified. “Almost made the oven blow up. So Fletcher said I wasn’t allowed to touch anything in the kitchen anymore.” That was an order he didn’t mind obeying.
“It took a long time to clean up,” Fletcher murmured.
“Is that what happened--?” Roy looked enlightened, eying the black marks on the kitchen wall. “I see. Do stay out of the kitchen then. It would be a bit of a problem if you burned down the house.”
“Shut up.”
Food was consumed hastily, neither Edward nor Fletcher especially enjoying Roy’s company, and the few dishes were piled by the sink.
“I’ll do them. Don’t touch,” he told Fletcher. “Be right back.”
He was in the bathroom for the whole of two minutes, yet it was enough time that when he came back, Roy was standing suspiciously close to Fletcher, and saying something that made the purple eyes stare at nothing very very hard.
He could guess what kind of something that was; Roy never seemed to knock it off despite being repeatedly and firmly rejected. He wasn’t going to have sex with that bastard, not ever. Perhaps it was beginning to sink in, because he’d never seen Roy harass Fletcher before. The horny bastard would have to learn he didn’t have a chance with Fletcher either; Edward wanted to walk over and punch the demon in the face for trying.
“Fletcher, let’s go to the library,” he called instead, restraining himself, and saw his suspicions confirmed when Fletcher all but flew to his side, his expression as calm as usual but his shoulders stiff.
He briefly met Roy’s eyes and let his icy gaze do the talking. Don’t even think about it.
Going to the library turned into going to his bedroom because he’d left all the interesting books there as bed time reading material, meaning there were two book towers by the wall. They remained sprawled on the bed until the light outside faded, forcing them to light a lamp against the deep darkness. A few dozen pages later, yawns from both of them indicated it was time to sleep.
In Edward’s case, that meant he had to pull the covers over himself and put the book down; for Fletcher, it was a short trip to his room down the hall.
He tossed his clothes on the ground, something he perfectly knew irritated Fletcher; the younger boy would surely find the courage to say so sooner or later, but until then, there were no reasons to stop doing it.
“Good night, Fletch.”
“Good night.” Fletcher opened the door slowly and peered in the darkened hallway with caution. “Did you hear Roy leave or is he still here?”
“Don’t know. Why does it matter?” Belatedly, he realized what Fletcher was thinking. “Don’t worry about him. He just likes messing around. He does it to me all the time. Just hit him. If he doesn’t get it, I’ll hit him too.”
There was a moment of silence before Fletcher dared to point out, “He’s stronger than you.”
I’m still not going to let him touch you, he thought peevishly. “That’s not a reason to put up with his whims. Don’t worry about it,” he repeated firmly, but Fletcher didn’t look convinced, only resigned.
It made Edward wonder, not for the first time, just what that Pride guy had done to Fletcher. He didn’t truly want to know, but he meant to both ensure it didn’t happen again and undo whatever damage could be undone.
For now, keeping Fletcher in his sight seemed for the best, considering how that exasperatingly submissive boy always obeyed Roy without protesting. If Fletcher required protection from both Roy and himself, Edward could provide. “You can sleep here if you want. He knows better than to show up here.”
Fletcher closed the door, this time without hesitation. “Thank you.”
He rolled to the other side of the bed: since it was large enough for two boys to sprawl over it with books, there was no lack of space for a visitor. Fletcher extinguished the lamp and undressed in a rustle of fabric, though he seemed to be placing everything neatly on the chair against the wall instead of allowing his clothes to touch the floor. As the person who did the laundry, Fletcher was more mindful of his clothes than Edward.
He felt rather than saw Fletcher climbing in bed: night in this world was almost pitch black, only the dimmest of light filtering from…wherever it filtered from. The human world, most likely.
“Seriously, you worry too much,” he spoke into the darkness. “Nobody’s going to get upset at you for whatever, so just act normal already.”
“I don’t remember what acting normal would be.”
“More like me,” he helpfully provided.
Fletcher made a choking sound that could have meant he was appalled by the idea-or that he was trying not to laugh. What was funny? He was perfectly normal, wasn’t he?
“Hey, are you laughing at me?”
“No, absolutely not,” came the meek reply, the accompanying flinch almost audible.
There was only one thing to do in reply to this grievous insult.
Attack.
Fletcher yelped when Edward’s hands suddenly grabbed him, seeking-
It turned out Fletcher was ticklish. Awfully so, considering the involuntary kicks.
“Stop! Please! Ed-ward!”
“Not until you start defending yourself!”
Fletcher might have mistaken it for an order; whatever the reason, he complied. The hostilities intensified and the bed became a war zone.
It took Roy knocking on the door asking if they were alright to get them to stop, and even then, just one look at the demon’s bemused face peering at them from the doorway sent them back into helpless laughter. Roy had brought light with him under the form of fire dancing around his hand, allowing Edward to see that Fletcher looked horrified with himself, but didn’t seem to be able to stop anyway.
“Humans are mad,” Roy concluded. He opted for a careful retreat, perhaps fearing their madness was contagious.
“I hurt,” Edward gasped, trying to stop the laughter before it killed him.
“You’re terrible,” Fletcher told him with a wheeze.
He collapsed, slowly regaining control over his breathing. “It was fun.”
“Oh, go to sleep.”
He did so surprisingly fast, lulled by the low steady breathing beside him, and slept better that night than he ever had in the several months since he’d woken as a prisoner.
He woke feeling too hot and realized why as soon as he recognized the mop of fuzzy blond hair emerging from the covers at his side. He sat up, a yawn almost unhinging his jaw, and pushed the covers off to rise, meaning to cool down before returning to bed.
He took a few steps to the window: the weak light indicated it was early morning, much too early to be awake in his opinion. Roy visibly didn’t think the same: he was outside, sitting with-oh, how surprising-a cup of tea and scrutinizing the horizon.
Edward changed his plans: sleep could wait. He opened the door carefully to keep it from creaking and walked down the hall to the living-room, and from there stepped outside.
The demon didn’t need to look to identify him. “Edward,” he said, surprised. “You’re not generally up this early.”
“Of course not. Who’d get up this early? There’s hardly any light out. You don’t sleep or something?” He’d never seen Roy sleep, but he assumed the demon did, since he had a personal bedroom and spent more time in it than Edward in his own.
“I sleep when it’s possible. I was busy tonight. We had unwanted visitors.”
“Enemies of yours? Bet you got a lot of those.”
“Demons looking for a fight. It’s an uncivilized world out there. Nothing unfortified lasts very long.”
“Uh huh.” He eyed the fire demon up and down, noting his clothes were as ridiculously fancy as usual, even so early: it almost made him feel self-conscious for being half-naked. The ridiculously fancy clothes matched the plush armchair too: who needed to bring that kind of furniture outside?
“Did you want something?”
“Yeah, I want you to keep your hands off Fletcher.” There. He’d said it. He tried to look threatening, nonetheless expecting Roy to laugh and give him a ‘or what?’ His mind raced to find a suitable answer to that.
“Alright.”
He opened his mouth to reply to what he expected Roy would have said, belatedly realizing it wasn’t what Roy had actually said. “…what? That’s it? You agree?” Suspicious, he asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
Roy sipped his tea. “If you’re that jealous, he’s all yours.”
He gagged on the insult. “…what? Hey! I’m not-- That’s--” He stopped himself to breath in order to be able to give a coherent answer. “I wouldn’t take advantage of him like that!”
“But I would?”
“You’re a demon.” That said enough, didn’t it?
Roy eyed him oddly, as though his words weren’t as logical as he thought they were. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but there is no such thing as pure evil, even among demons. Rape isn’t one of my sins, I’m afraid.”
“You kidnapped me,” he reminded Roy accusingly.
“I never pretended to be perfect.”
“So you’re ‘just’ a kidnapper. Other than that you’re a perfectly nice guy, right?” he mocked.
The demon didn’t blink. “Mm, mostly.”
He found himself lacking a good reply. “I still don’t like you.”
“Shocking.”
He was cold and out of ripostes: time to retreat. He turned, spat, “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep well,” Roy merely called after him, and it pissed him off, like every time the demon was civil to him.
That evil depraved bastard didn’t make it easy to hate him as much as he deserved, but Edward didn’t have a choice: if he stopped hating Roy with all his might, he might have to admit the jerk was attractive, and only somebody sick in the head would think that of their captor.
Fucking demon.
Onward to interlude #2.
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack, action/adventure
Pairing: Slightly RoyEd
Length: 2, 239 words
Author: kalikamaxwell
Artist: cofie
Notes: This would go between part 1 and part 2 of the main fic. A reader left constructive criticism saying the time jump was a bit jarring so I forced myself to finish and post this. Hope it helps.
Untraining someone was harder than Edward had expected. He had almost invented a happiness dance when Fletcher had finally told him NO. The fact it meant ‘no you can’t taste the food before I’m done’ had however made him a little sad, especially since it had quickly become the first area in which Fletcher felt confident enough to refuse him all the damn time. It sometimes bordered on cruelty.
Like the cookies.
“Just a taste, come on?” he begged, salivating as he contemplated the tasty-looking golden dough. “I’m starving.”
Fletcher eyed him uncertainly, surely moved by his pitiful expression of near-death.
His hand crept toward the bowl.
The wooden spoon descended on his hand swiftly and painfully.
“Wait,” Fletcher told him, his timid tone at odds with the spoon violence. “We haven’t eaten yet. This is for dessert.”
“But I’m going to die before the food is ready.”
“No you won’t.” Fletcher took the bowl and moved it away from him, resuming his cooking activities.
Edward sighed and laid his head on the counter to wait. He wanted to go ahead and steal some dough, but that would probably be counter-productive to the whole ‘making Fletcher stand up for himself’ thing. They’d made some progress, enough that Fletcher readily wielded the spoon against him and seemed to understand the concept of speaking without permission, but he wished it could go faster. He blamed the slowness of the process on the stupid demon bastard, who wouldn’t shut the fuck up despite how often he was told not to speak to Fletcher; whenever Roy said anything, Fletcher jumped to it as though he couldn’t control himself.
It figured that he couldn’t even think of the bastard without said bastard showing up. They hadn’t seen him in two days, but if asked where in the world he went, Roy would only murmur something about ladies that was most likely a lie. It must have had something to do with Greed, Edward guessed.
“Cooking again?”
“We humans need to eat more than once a week, you know,” he said, annoyed by the fire demon’s mere presence.
“I noticed. Keeping you two is rather expensive.”
“Hey, you can let us go home anytime.”
Edward ignored the demon’s reply in favor of turning to Fletcher, who was, predictably, already seeking the teapot. “Oh, come on, he hasn’t even said anything! Why are you serving him?”
“But he’ll want tea. He generally does.”
“I do,” Roy unhelpfully added.
He spared Roy a glare for the interruption. “So? That doesn’t mean you have to make it for him. He made his own damn tea before you came, he can still do it himself.”
And there it was again, Fletcher’s confused ‘who do I listen to?’ face. It was an improvement over its previous incarnation, a fearful and frozen ‘oh god they’re contradicting each other, what do I do?’
Giving up, he pushed himself off the counter and took a seat at the table. “Oh, do whatever you want.”
Shortly after, he had spaghetti and Roy, seated across the table, had tea.
His glowering did not impress the demon. “Don’t be so childish, Edward. You don’t complain when he makes your food.”
“That’s because he forbade me to help.”
Fletcher joined them with a plate of spaghetti of his own and offered an answer when Roy looked at him. “Edward isn’t very good at cooking.”
“I made a mess,” he clarified. “Almost made the oven blow up. So Fletcher said I wasn’t allowed to touch anything in the kitchen anymore.” That was an order he didn’t mind obeying.
“It took a long time to clean up,” Fletcher murmured.
“Is that what happened--?” Roy looked enlightened, eying the black marks on the kitchen wall. “I see. Do stay out of the kitchen then. It would be a bit of a problem if you burned down the house.”
“Shut up.”
Food was consumed hastily, neither Edward nor Fletcher especially enjoying Roy’s company, and the few dishes were piled by the sink.
“I’ll do them. Don’t touch,” he told Fletcher. “Be right back.”
He was in the bathroom for the whole of two minutes, yet it was enough time that when he came back, Roy was standing suspiciously close to Fletcher, and saying something that made the purple eyes stare at nothing very very hard.
He could guess what kind of something that was; Roy never seemed to knock it off despite being repeatedly and firmly rejected. He wasn’t going to have sex with that bastard, not ever. Perhaps it was beginning to sink in, because he’d never seen Roy harass Fletcher before. The horny bastard would have to learn he didn’t have a chance with Fletcher either; Edward wanted to walk over and punch the demon in the face for trying.
“Fletcher, let’s go to the library,” he called instead, restraining himself, and saw his suspicions confirmed when Fletcher all but flew to his side, his expression as calm as usual but his shoulders stiff.
He briefly met Roy’s eyes and let his icy gaze do the talking. Don’t even think about it.
Going to the library turned into going to his bedroom because he’d left all the interesting books there as bed time reading material, meaning there were two book towers by the wall. They remained sprawled on the bed until the light outside faded, forcing them to light a lamp against the deep darkness. A few dozen pages later, yawns from both of them indicated it was time to sleep.
In Edward’s case, that meant he had to pull the covers over himself and put the book down; for Fletcher, it was a short trip to his room down the hall.
He tossed his clothes on the ground, something he perfectly knew irritated Fletcher; the younger boy would surely find the courage to say so sooner or later, but until then, there were no reasons to stop doing it.
“Good night, Fletch.”
“Good night.” Fletcher opened the door slowly and peered in the darkened hallway with caution. “Did you hear Roy leave or is he still here?”
“Don’t know. Why does it matter?” Belatedly, he realized what Fletcher was thinking. “Don’t worry about him. He just likes messing around. He does it to me all the time. Just hit him. If he doesn’t get it, I’ll hit him too.”
There was a moment of silence before Fletcher dared to point out, “He’s stronger than you.”
I’m still not going to let him touch you, he thought peevishly. “That’s not a reason to put up with his whims. Don’t worry about it,” he repeated firmly, but Fletcher didn’t look convinced, only resigned.
It made Edward wonder, not for the first time, just what that Pride guy had done to Fletcher. He didn’t truly want to know, but he meant to both ensure it didn’t happen again and undo whatever damage could be undone.
For now, keeping Fletcher in his sight seemed for the best, considering how that exasperatingly submissive boy always obeyed Roy without protesting. If Fletcher required protection from both Roy and himself, Edward could provide. “You can sleep here if you want. He knows better than to show up here.”
Fletcher closed the door, this time without hesitation. “Thank you.”
He rolled to the other side of the bed: since it was large enough for two boys to sprawl over it with books, there was no lack of space for a visitor. Fletcher extinguished the lamp and undressed in a rustle of fabric, though he seemed to be placing everything neatly on the chair against the wall instead of allowing his clothes to touch the floor. As the person who did the laundry, Fletcher was more mindful of his clothes than Edward.
He felt rather than saw Fletcher climbing in bed: night in this world was almost pitch black, only the dimmest of light filtering from…wherever it filtered from. The human world, most likely.
“Seriously, you worry too much,” he spoke into the darkness. “Nobody’s going to get upset at you for whatever, so just act normal already.”
“I don’t remember what acting normal would be.”
“More like me,” he helpfully provided.
Fletcher made a choking sound that could have meant he was appalled by the idea-or that he was trying not to laugh. What was funny? He was perfectly normal, wasn’t he?
“Hey, are you laughing at me?”
“No, absolutely not,” came the meek reply, the accompanying flinch almost audible.
There was only one thing to do in reply to this grievous insult.
Attack.
Fletcher yelped when Edward’s hands suddenly grabbed him, seeking-
It turned out Fletcher was ticklish. Awfully so, considering the involuntary kicks.
“Stop! Please! Ed-ward!”
“Not until you start defending yourself!”
Fletcher might have mistaken it for an order; whatever the reason, he complied. The hostilities intensified and the bed became a war zone.
It took Roy knocking on the door asking if they were alright to get them to stop, and even then, just one look at the demon’s bemused face peering at them from the doorway sent them back into helpless laughter. Roy had brought light with him under the form of fire dancing around his hand, allowing Edward to see that Fletcher looked horrified with himself, but didn’t seem to be able to stop anyway.
“Humans are mad,” Roy concluded. He opted for a careful retreat, perhaps fearing their madness was contagious.
“I hurt,” Edward gasped, trying to stop the laughter before it killed him.
“You’re terrible,” Fletcher told him with a wheeze.
He collapsed, slowly regaining control over his breathing. “It was fun.”
“Oh, go to sleep.”
He did so surprisingly fast, lulled by the low steady breathing beside him, and slept better that night than he ever had in the several months since he’d woken as a prisoner.
He woke feeling too hot and realized why as soon as he recognized the mop of fuzzy blond hair emerging from the covers at his side. He sat up, a yawn almost unhinging his jaw, and pushed the covers off to rise, meaning to cool down before returning to bed.
He took a few steps to the window: the weak light indicated it was early morning, much too early to be awake in his opinion. Roy visibly didn’t think the same: he was outside, sitting with-oh, how surprising-a cup of tea and scrutinizing the horizon.
Edward changed his plans: sleep could wait. He opened the door carefully to keep it from creaking and walked down the hall to the living-room, and from there stepped outside.
The demon didn’t need to look to identify him. “Edward,” he said, surprised. “You’re not generally up this early.”
“Of course not. Who’d get up this early? There’s hardly any light out. You don’t sleep or something?” He’d never seen Roy sleep, but he assumed the demon did, since he had a personal bedroom and spent more time in it than Edward in his own.
“I sleep when it’s possible. I was busy tonight. We had unwanted visitors.”
“Enemies of yours? Bet you got a lot of those.”
“Demons looking for a fight. It’s an uncivilized world out there. Nothing unfortified lasts very long.”
“Uh huh.” He eyed the fire demon up and down, noting his clothes were as ridiculously fancy as usual, even so early: it almost made him feel self-conscious for being half-naked. The ridiculously fancy clothes matched the plush armchair too: who needed to bring that kind of furniture outside?
“Did you want something?”
“Yeah, I want you to keep your hands off Fletcher.” There. He’d said it. He tried to look threatening, nonetheless expecting Roy to laugh and give him a ‘or what?’ His mind raced to find a suitable answer to that.
“Alright.”
He opened his mouth to reply to what he expected Roy would have said, belatedly realizing it wasn’t what Roy had actually said. “…what? That’s it? You agree?” Suspicious, he asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
Roy sipped his tea. “If you’re that jealous, he’s all yours.”
He gagged on the insult. “…what? Hey! I’m not-- That’s--” He stopped himself to breath in order to be able to give a coherent answer. “I wouldn’t take advantage of him like that!”
“But I would?”
“You’re a demon.” That said enough, didn’t it?
Roy eyed him oddly, as though his words weren’t as logical as he thought they were. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but there is no such thing as pure evil, even among demons. Rape isn’t one of my sins, I’m afraid.”
“You kidnapped me,” he reminded Roy accusingly.
“I never pretended to be perfect.”
“So you’re ‘just’ a kidnapper. Other than that you’re a perfectly nice guy, right?” he mocked.
The demon didn’t blink. “Mm, mostly.”
He found himself lacking a good reply. “I still don’t like you.”
“Shocking.”
He was cold and out of ripostes: time to retreat. He turned, spat, “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep well,” Roy merely called after him, and it pissed him off, like every time the demon was civil to him.
That evil depraved bastard didn’t make it easy to hate him as much as he deserved, but Edward didn’t have a choice: if he stopped hating Roy with all his might, he might have to admit the jerk was attractive, and only somebody sick in the head would think that of their captor.
Fucking demon.
Onward to interlude #2.