Work Text:
A lot of interesting people went in and out of the kitchen. Many more interesting people than went in and out the manor’s front doors, anyway. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the pervasive sense of gloom that lingered everywhere else in the house had absolutely given up on the kitchen, or maybe it had more to do with the fact that there was almost always food in the kitchen. That was probably it.
Still, the demon paced and growled and made threats that were half-hearted at best and tried to make the shadows darker and only succeeded at making the light brighter and the sweet smells of good food and clean dishes more apparent. He cared less than he thought he would, and more often than not found himself hanging around as well, listening to stories and happy conversations and trying, he promised himself he was trying, to steer his young master away from the path they hinted at. As the sun went down, he reminded himself time and time again that he did not want this contract nullified by his own incompetence. He didn’t.
It was not a classically beautiful day when the mostly unexpected visitor arrived. The air outside was cold, and raindrop drummed on the roof and windows and stung when they hit bare skin. The sun was obscured by enough clouds to make it seem as though it had never risen to start with. But, indoors the oven was warm and the smell of freshly-baked bread and cider wafted through the house. All the living things in the manor, including a half dozen cats and the young master’s fiancée, had found their way to the kitchen and decided to make themselves at home. That was enough to make the demon mostly sure that the knock at the door heralded the arrival of someone who was supposed to be there.
He unlatched the door and pushed it open, then froze in place at the sight of the familiar, sopping wet figure standing just outside. Blank yellow eyes fixed on his face from behind thin-framed spectacles.
“It is ‘Sebastian Michaelis’ now, is it not?” asked his visitor bluntly. The demon took a moment to get his own voice back.
“That is so. You are still ‘Faust’ presently, correct?” Faust, who called to mind too many conflicting memories for him to be comfortable with, nodded curtly.
“Yes. I have no contract, so I have no other name.” His gaze flickered over the older demon’s shoulder. “... It is warm in there. Would you let me in?”
“After your delightful tour de force last month? Surely you speak in jest.” There was a limit to what was allowed in his kitchen, after all. He had to draw the line somewhere.
“I do not. Let me in.” The demon called Faust shifted uncomfortably. “Please.”
“How touching,” he growled. “Have you any reason for me to accommodate you?”
“... Please let me in,” repeated Faust, tugging at the collar of his heavy coat, which had come undone to reveal a military uniform. “It is cold here, and I mean no harm.”
“How do you intend to prove that?” he pressed. Faust looked away. When he spoke again, he did so very slowly, as though he was trying to pick the correct words from a list that was longer and more complicated than he was used to.
“I recall... a day when you ran away ran away from death. I was too weak to follow. I... we were still very young. Do you have a similar memory?” Of course he did. It had haunted him for nearly a month at this point, so he turned his back and stepped aside.
“Death will catch you again if you linger in this weather. You can dry yourself in here, though you are not a welcome guest.” He did not notice the gesture until Faust’s hand brushed against his perpetually messy hair.
“... You are much the same as then. Herzlichen Dank,” Faust said softly, empty eyes warming for a brief moment. It was an expression he remembered from happy (?) days gone by.
“Bitte. You are equally foolish,” he replied cooly. Faust made no reply to that, but accepted the mug of hot apple cider he was offered and the crown of ribbons and leaves that was forced upon him without question, and gave up his coat when someone tugged at it. The pleasant atmosphere settled over them once again, and the next time the demon bothered looking over at him, he was fast asleep with a cat on his lap.