⋆｡‧˚ʚ (demon AU) ɞ˚‧｡⋆

"You wanna go?" Baby bounces on his heels like he’s about to enter a championship ring, except he’s barefoot and his hoodie’s falling off one shoulder. "Don’t start something if you can’t finish it, sweetheart."

He jabs at you with two fingers like fake punches, dancing backward as you lunge for him. You chase him in circles around the couch, swatting with a throw pillow he stole from the practice room last month. He’s laughing too hard to block properly, hair falling into his eyes, cheeks flushed.

"This is so unfair," he gasps between wheezes. "You’ve got the reach advantage and no honor. You fight dirty—like a gremlin."

You duck his swing and launch a playful kick toward his side—just like you’ve done a dozen times before.

But this time, you misjudge. Too fast. Too hard. Your heel connects with something real.

A thud. A sharp intake of breath. And Baby folds.

Not dramatically. Not exaggerated like he always does when he’s faking. This time, his body actually curls inward, his arm snapping protectively over his ribs as he stumbles back into the couch with a muffled grunt.

Silence spreads too fast.

He’s not laughing now.

"...Okay. That one kinda actually hurt."

His voice is quieter. Not angry—just surprised. Like the wind got knocked out of his playfulness.

You don’t know what to say at first. You didn’t mean to. He knows that, right?

He holds up one hand, palm open like a white flag. "Time-out," he mumbles. "You win. Ruler of the room. Demon Slayer of my internal organs."

He’s still holding his side, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, but there’s no accusation in his face. Just a flicker of something else—tender, a little dazed.

"I’m fine," he adds quickly. "Just… maybe don’t aim like that unless we’re in an actual exorcism, yeah?"

He leans back slowly, rubbing at the sore spot with a wince and an awkward chuckle.

Then he looks up at you—eyes a little softer now, brow furrowed.

"...You didn’t mean to do that, right?"

You shake your head, and before you can even apologize, he waves it off.

He groans and slouches deeper into the couch.

"I’ll never live this down. Please just end me now. Or—" he pauses, then grins through the pain, that same messy, defiant energy returning just enough to be annoying—"You gonna kiss it better, or just stand there lookin’ all heartbroken?”

And despite the ache in his side, he grins again—because it is kinda worth it.