"Dancing with the Devil." | Larry Stylinson. TRANSLATION

Extra 2.

"Dear Parents:

We are pleased to invite you to the little essay that will be presented by each 1st and 3rd grade student for the Father's Day celebration.

Day: Friday 16th.

Time: 11 a.m"

Death himself, also called Harry Styles, looked up, curious to see the look of his husband, who was the Devil himself.

He looked neutral -as usual- without much to say about what he had previously heard coming out of his favorite boy's mouth.

—What are you trying to explain?

—Louis... —Harry complained, closing the little notebook from the institute his older son attended and leaving it on the nightstand in the room of both supernatural beings. —...we have to go.

—No.

The Devil refused, he really did. There was nothing special about that day! It was a day like any other, but school made it special and caused the children who attended it to feel bad because of the absence of "something so important". He even found it offensive on the part of the worldly to commemorate such a thing.

Adding it all up, Louis didn't think he could stand so much human stupidity. He didn't think they were all like that, but the few who had ever come along -except for Harry- had really disgusting thoughts, and believed themselves to be more than the others. He didn't want to be so close, and he was going to raise his children in the right way, even if he barely knew how.

However, he had to endure the face of indignation coming from his husband when he finished confirming his absence from the event.

—I can't believe you're being like this. —He threw a tantrum, as he had done since he was eighteen years old, although he used to be quieter and more submissive. Louis liked the change his boy had had, in every sense of the word because, well... he looked really handsome all the bloody time. —Viktor's gonna feel really bad if we don't go. I'm sure he's written an essay and everything. We've never been to an event like this, —he continued, sitting up in bed slowly and turning away from the Devil's warm body.

None of them were sleeping, of course. Harry used to do it a little, he still didn't get over it, but it was because of the boredom when Louis wasn't around at night, even though they were few. It also happened to him in the afternoon, when his children were napping and the exhausting work as king of souls wasn't calling him.

He was with his hair disheveled, wearing pajamas he had bought for the winter -even if he no longer felt the cold temperatures as he used to- covered with the blankets and his lips forming a little pout. Louis, on the other hand, had nothing but underwear, which he rarely wore. If it were up to him, he would walk around the room naked, but Harry thought he should be wearing underwear now that the children were and could enter their parents' room at any time. They -many times- forgot to put the lock on.

—Harry, Viktor hates doing homework. —He tried to calm his husband, bringing his ring-filled hand to his arm and gently pulling him closer. —I bet he hasn't even done a paragraph, mainly because he still has trouble writing on the line.

—You're cruel. —Now Harry looked annoyed, with a slight frown. It was rarely that Death didn't understand that, despite being the Devil, Louis didn't say that in an evil way. He put his arm away and went back to bed, turning his back on his husband. —Let's go to sleep.

The Devil's brow furrowed. —We don't sleep.

—Then let's pretend to sleep because I don't want to talk.