Burning Up

Author's Note: This story is completely gratuitous. If you're looking for deep plot, this isn't it. Enjoy!

Cover image was commissioned from rociozero on Twitter. Do not repost this image.

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"Ahhhhh that was so gooood!!" Fu flopped down on the right side of the couch in the lounge of their hideout, patting his stomach happily, "I didn't know you could cook, Zamasu!" The demon leaned with his elbow on the armrest so he could rest his chin in his palm as he watched Hearts sit down in the large armchair while Zamasu sat down on the left side of the couch, effectively placing him between Hearts and Fu.

"Tch, why wouldn't I know how to make something so simple? You're just used to such crude meals that it seemed far better than it really was." Zamasu waved a hand to dismiss him.

"I'm just glad we have more than Fu to cook for everyone now. I was sick of eating burnt food every day." Hearts popped the cork out of the wine bottle they'd brought into the lounge and poured a glass for Zamasu, then a glass of whiskey for himself. "Did you want some, Fu?"

"Hm? Oh, nah . . . I don't like the taste." Fu watched with mild interest as Zamasu first studied the glass, then took a shockingly-large gulp of his drink. Wasn't it meant to be sipped slowly? He wasn't too familiar with it, but that had always been his observation in the past.

"Why did you follow us in here if you didn't want to drink with us?" Zamasu crossed his legs, turning his head so he could see Fu with his uncovered eye.

"Oh? I didn't realize that was a requirement to be in the same room as you, lord Zamasu." Fu grinned at the god, "Though, shouldn't you slow down a little? Drink too much and you may do something you'll regret." He'd been curious as to what these two did when they disappeared into the lounge after dinner each evening. They just came here to drink together? Wasn't that boring?

"I know my limits."

"No you don't." Hearts peered at the god with knowing eyes from over the rim of his glass as he took a drink.

"I most certainly do!" Zamasu grit his teeth before huffing and sinking back into the couch to continue nursing his wine. These mortals tested his patience daily. How long before they could get on with this damned mission? He would go crazy if he had to remain cooped up in this hideout for too much longer.

Hearts only shook his head. He'd had to put Zamasu to bed a few times by now because the god got either drunk or tipsy. Sure, he could have easily taken advantage of him, but . . . he couldn't bring himself to do it. Fu, on the other hand . . . Hearts would need to keep an eye on him. The way he was watching Zamasu so intently suggested he had other reasons for following them.

They eventually strayed on to other topics; the mission, mortals, gods, and then onward to more unimportant subjects such as favorite foods, favorite dessert, battle experience, and the like. Times like this were nice. There wasn't any real arguing, no animosity. Just three grown men enjoying each other's company.

"I think I need to cut you off, Zamasu." Hearts clicked his tongue and wagged a finger at the god when he saw him finish the last bit in what was his second glass. Regardless of what the god might say, Hearts knew how much of a lightweight he was. "Any more and I won't be able to stop myself from doing something unmentionable to you."

Zamasu's cheeks were flushed and he was pulling at the collar of his shirt from the warmth caused by the alcohol, "Tch, you always say that, but then you do nothing but tuck me into bed. You're a coward." The god narrowed his silver eye at Hearts, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he set his empty glass down on the table in front of him.