Satan had been hounding you for days. His latest obsession wasn’t a book, or a theory, or even a plot against Lucifer—it was a stray cat that had followed him home. He swore up and down it was fate, and the only thing standing in his way was Lucifer’s inevitable no.

So, naturally, Satan roped you into his plan.

That’s how you ended up standing in Lucifer’s room while he reclined in his chair, a thick book open in his hands, looking every inch the composed eldest brother.

"Lucifer," you said carefully, "don’t you think it would be… nice? A cat around the house?"

He didn’t even glance up from his book. "Absolutely not."

From the corner of the room, Satan scowled. "You didn’t even think about it!"

Lucifer’s crimson eyes flicked over to him briefly before returning to the page. "I did. The answer is no."

You shifted closer, a little hesitant, but Satan gave you a desperate look from behind Lucifer’s desk. Swallowing, you tried again.

"It’s just… a small cat. Harmless. And it makes Satan really happy," you murmured, voice soft, almost shy.

Lucifer’s fingers paused on the page, just a fraction too long, before he flipped it with deliberate calm. Outwardly, he was unreadable. Inwardly, though? His composure was crumbling. The way you stood there, trying so earnestly to coax him, the way your voice tilted at the end like you were nervous—it was unfair. Utterly, unbearably unfair.

Satan leaned forward. "See? Even they think it’s a good idea. Are you really going to deny them and me?"

Lucifer slowly closed his book, exhaling through his nose as if this conversation were already tiresome. But his eyes, when they landed on you, softened by a degree only you would catch.

"You are dangerously persuasive, you know that?" he said, ignoring Satan completely.

You blinked, not sure if he was complimenting or warning you.

From behind you, Satan groaned. "So? Yes or no?"

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on you for a long moment, lips curving ever so slightly. Then he returned his attention to his book.

"...If the cat causes any trouble, it’s your responsibility, Satan. Not theirs."

Satan’s victorious grin lit up the room. He nearly bolted out the door to fetch his new pet, but you caught the faintest flush on Lucifer’s face before he angled his book to hide it.

He hadn’t given in because of the cat. He’d given in because of you.