Demons Make Good Pets

“So where exactly am I supposed to sleep?”

Quinn shrugged at Jarel’s question.

“You said the bedroom was mine-”

“I did not say that.”

She raised an impatient hand.

“You said the bedroom was mine, so you can sleep on the couch or something.”

He sighed.

“Is that the laziest thing I can do-”

Too late. Her eyes sparkled.

“That’s exactly it! If you sleep on the couch then when you wake up you’re already in the perfect place to be lazy!”

She puffed out her chest.

“Best idea I’ve had!”

He sighed again.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

She shook her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“No, I would’ve figured it out eventually. Now come on, get on the couch.”

He followed her like a soldier returning from war as she led him to the living room. She gestured to the cushions as if presenting a grand prize.

“On you get.”

He obeyed, flopping down onto the soft material. It wasn’t quite big enough for him - either his feet hung awkwardly over the armrest or his head did. He couldn’t decide which discomfort he preferred.

She grinned.

“Good. And that’s where you’ll stay until I say you can move, okay?”

He mumbled an acknowledgement.

Satisfied, she nodded, flicked off the lights, and disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

He was left alone in the darkness.

He couldn’t see.
He couldn’t sleep.
And he definitely couldn’t get comfortable.

He rolled. Twisted. Curled up. Eventually he discovered that lying on his back with his legs bent sideways so his feet rested on the cushions was the most viable position for long-term survival.

He closed his eyes.

And his mind immediately began spiraling.

What in the world had happened in the last two hours?

Had a demon - an actual demon - seriously just moved in?

In his head, demons were red and spiny, with two horns like a goat, muscular, built like something halfway between man and livestock. Maybe that was what she truly looked like. Maybe this form was just some kind of disguise.

But this… clone, as he’d started calling it in his head, looked nothing like that mental image.

And her idea of “evil” was… questionable.

Without realizing it, he began justifying her actions for her.

Maybe she’s pretending to be harmless.
Maybe she wants me to lower my guard.
Maybe she’s using magic on me to make all this seem innocent and childish.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see anything more sinister than a cute wolf-girl who had decided he was her minion.

A smile crept onto his face.

Was she even aware of how adorable she was?

He doubted it.

She was such a tsundere - though admittedly a very weak one. He wondered how long it would take her to realize that he was completely on board with having his life “ruined.”

Never having to work again? A dream.
Having all his basic needs taken care of? Unrealistic - impossible, even.

And yet she was determined to make it happen.

He wasn’t even going to consider stopping her.

But what would happen if she discovered he was actually happier this way?

He sank deeper into the couch, theorizing so intensely he didn’t notice the passage of time.

He didn’t hear the bedroom door quietly open.

He didn’t hear the careful footsteps approaching.

And he didn’t have time to react before something heavy - but undeniably soft - dropped onto him.

It became immediately clear what was happening.

Quinn - now wearing a nightgown - had launched herself onto him.

The air rushed from his lungs on impact, giving her more than enough time to settle in. He couldn’t quite tell what she was doing at first, but eventually he managed to force out a breath.

“Wh… what are you doing?”

She whispered back,

“Being lazy.”

He blinked into the darkness.

“Come again?”

“Thanks, I will.”

“No, I mean what did you just say?”

He felt her shift slightly on his chest. She’d curled up like a dog. He could feel her tail draped over his legs, her head resting comfortably against his collarbone.

“I’m being lazy.”

He exhaled slowly.

“And how does that justify climbing on a stranger in the middle of the night?”

“You’re not a stranger.”

He frowned.

“We’ve known each other for, what, a few hours?”

“You’re not a stranger.”

There was no arguing with that tone.

He tried a different angle.

“So… how exactly is this being lazy?”

“Because I’m sleeping on the couch,” she replied matter-of-factly, “and I’m acting like a pet.”

He blinked again.

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s okay-”

“No, I mean how is acting like a pet more lazy?”

She shifted, tail brushing faintly against his legs.

“Well, I did more research. People who have pets curled up on them tend to move less. Therefore, they are more lazy.”

She lifted her head. Even in the darkness he could see the gleam in her eyes.

“So I’m helping you.”

“I’m not entirely sure this is helpful at this specific moment.”

She hummed softly.

“Well, I’m comfy. So you’re going to have to put up with it. Besides, if you don’t sleep well, you’ll be more tired tomorrow. And tired people are more lazy.”

She rested her head again.

Her logic, while skewed, was annoyingly consistent.

He sighed.

He couldn’t exactly tell her she was behaving strangely - she had no reference point for what “normal” even was.

But he could feel her.

Her shape.
Her warmth.
Her surprisingly light weight.
The slow rhythm of her breathing against his chest.

Temptation escalated at an alarming rate.

He cleared his throat.

“If you’re going to sleep on top of me, then I’m going to hold you.”

She lifted her head again.

“Pardon?”

Despite the fact that she could quite literally send him to Hell, he gently wrapped his arms around her.

She flinched.

“What are you doing?”

He had his justification prepared.

“Holding pets, or significant others, can reduce stress and increase calmness. Which, in turn, increases laziness.”

She considered this carefully.

Then she lowered her head again.

“That sounds correct. Fine. You may hold me.”

He smiled and tightened his arms just slightly.

She was warm. Soft.

Beautiful.

He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to nuzzle into her hair, but he managed to restrain himself.

This was enough. For now.

She murmured something so quiet he almost missed it.

“This actually feels… quite nice.”

His smile widened.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

He didn’t press.

Instead, he let himself sink into the absurdity of it all - the Demon of Sloth curled up on his chest like a glorified housecat - and quietly accepted that this might somehow be one of the best moments of his life.