The Devil Named Deimos

Marinara

fun fact: i'm in love 

...with pasta <3

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"Finally," I take a deep breath, "it's done." I was starving, and Chef Deimos here wouldn't even let me try the pasta until we finished. I was going for some simple shit, like pasta with some cheese and marinara. Deimos, on the other hand, was set on making a six fucking star dish. 

"No thanks to you," Deimos mutters to himself while wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. While cooking we didn't have much of a conversation since we were too focused on making some fine ass pasta. Now, I have no idea what to talk about with him. My awkward, people-hating personality is beginning to creep in. 

"I handed you the ingredients," I narrow my eyes at him and cross my arms. Deimos mimics my position, except when he did, his biceps bulged, and I'm sure my eyes did too. His perfect form leaning against my counter was pissing me off. "Could you go set the table?"

I hear Deimos putting plates on the table, and I realize how odd this is. We're having dinner together. Alone. And we're not even friends. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grab the dish of pasta and make my way towards the table. 

Suddenly, I bump into a wall. A wall I didn't know I had in my apartment. The pasta falls to the ground, and my hands fly to my mouth. 

"What the fuck, Aurora?" A deep voice rumbles from above me. I look up only to find that Deimos is staring down at me with fire-filled eyes. My eyes travel down his form to see his whole torso covered with sauce, as well as his crotch. 

"Shit." My mouth falls open as I see how much damage I created. There is pasta on the floor. The dish is broken. Deimos is covered with sauce. 

I burst out into laughter. This whole situation is a fucking mess. I laugh at the beautiful, dead pasta on the floor. I laugh at how I'm starving. And I laugh at how Deimos' abs are splattered with marinara, not to mention his sweatpants too. 

"You think this is funny?" His voice is rough with what I presume is anger, but all it does is make my stomach flip. He steps closer, over the broken dish in between us. I sober up, somewhat, and bite my lip to keep my laughter under control.

"Not at all, Mr. Themis," I whisper, letting a hiccup of laughter escape my lips. Deimos continues to step closer, and I finally take a step back. His angry eyes drawing mine to his. A strand of black hair hangs in front of his forehead, and his strong jaw is clenched, just calling for me to touch it. 

Why is the Devil so hot when he's furious?

"You can make up for it," Deimos mumbles quietly. He slowly lowers his head to be closer to mine. His voice is almost conspiratorial, and my ears perk up. Deimos' face is merely inches away from mine, and it takes every ounce of the will power in me not to look at his lips.  

"How so?" I stare up into his golden eyes which seem to intrigue me endlessly. I swear, I could get lost in them, and I wouldn't even mind. 

"I think," Deimos' moved closer till his lips were nearly touching my ear, "a hug would do." I stood in confusion as I felt his lips tug up into a smirk. Why would the Devil want a hug? Unless-

"Don't you fucking dare," I whisper as his arms begin to encircle my waist. This son of a bitch wants to rub all the marinara onto me. Ain't gonna happen, buddy. I quickly duck under his strong arms and make a run for it. 

"Karma is calling, Aurora," Deimos taunts, "time to pick up." He remains at a fast walking pace, while I sprint for my life. We make rounds around the couches and through the dining room, and basically throughout the whole first floor of my apartment; all the while, his deep chuckle echoes through my house. 

"This," I pant heavily as I search for directions to run, "is a thousand dollar dress." I run blindly until I find my ass in the kitchen again. Fucking awesome. I panic, turning in circles, unsure where to go. 

"Come on," Deimos playfully whines, "just one hug." It was tempting, to be wrapped up in his toned, warm arms; but this dress was worth more than a fucking hug. I turn around only to see him a few steps away from me. 

"I'll hug you some other time," I say nervously, my eyes shifting around for escape routes. I keep on stepping back until my back hits the counter. Dammit. 

Deimos keeps stepping towards me while I look every where else but him. His arms go on either side of me, caging me in. Thankfully, he keeps his torso from touching mine. 

"Looks like your trapped," Deimos cocks his head, an evil glint in his eyes. His hair is messed up from chasing me, and my fingers twitch to touch it. I bite on my lip while I think of ways to get out of this situation, and unless fear creates hallucinations, his eyes flicker downwards briefly. 

"Let's make a deal," I say lowly, allowing my body to move close enough to him where we are inches apart, but our torsos aren't touching. 

"Business as always, Ms. Vulcan," Deimos mumbles through his tempting lips. His head coming closer to mine and his eyes locked on mine. 

"I'll hug you and get covered with marinara sauce," I roll my eyes, "if you re-accept the merge." Rosalind's words never left my ears, and I had no other plan on convincing him to reinstate his offer. Deimos' raises his eyebrow at me, this was not what he was expecting. 

"Why are you suddenly so keen on the merge?" Deimos asks me, his face calculating, and all traces of playfulness gone. 

"Why are you suddenly so against it?" I argue, tilting my head. He's so damn confusing all the time. 

He gives me a chilling look and steps back. Deimos walks over to the wall which portrays a view of the city, and I feel his warmth leave me. In a way, I miss his proximity. 

I slowly pad over to him, my arms wrapped around myself. Tentatively, I stand next to him, looking over the dancing lights and bustling crowds. We stand in silence, and the waves of melancholy that wash off of Deimos make me want to comfort him. 

"What's wrong, Deimos?" I inquire softly, and as his name slowly rolls off my tongue I see his body tense up. He remains silent, and his face is stoic, not giving me anything to work with. 

"I have to go," he suddenly turns, avoiding eye contact with me, and makes his way to the door. I look after him in confusion, and frustration, until I know what I have to do. 

Right before his hand can touch the knob, I slide in between Deimos and the door. Swiftly, I bring my arms around the back of his neck and pull him into a hug. I feel him tense under me, and completely still, and I start to regret my spontaneous action. 

I begin to pull away in shame, but then his arms start to wrap around my waist, pulling me even closer against him. Deimos brings his head down to the crook of my neck and I momentarily stop breathing.

Slowly, I bring my hand to the hair I've always been tempted to touch. I tentatively run my hands through it, appreciating the softness of it and how easily it falls through my fingers. Deimos mumbles something incoherent against my skin, and I shiver at the feeling even though I don't understand his words. 

I hate hugs, but suddenly my opinion has drastically changed. 

I revel in the moment, since for once he isn't completely closed off. Since, for once I feel as though I have somewhat of an effect on him; though minuscule compared to how much he affects me. We remain comforting each other in silence, until Deimos whispers,

"I accept."