The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Honey, Honey

Mabel couldn't help but laugh at those particular words. "No," she'd told him through her giggles, "not necessarily. It depends on what the couple likes. So, for example, I was thinking we could go to the beach."

He'd stared at her in silence for several long beats, before repeating, "The beach . . . With sand?" He had scowled at the mere thought, and Mabel couldn't blame him. After all, while Aleron was used to the fires of Hell, he was not used to gritty sand, stunning sunshine, and rowdy humans.

Of course, he hadn't cared about the location when Mabel said, "I could always go by myself . . ."

It had been a dirty trick, but it had gotten him to agree, which led them to where they were now:

On the beach, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere underneath a striped umbrella that Mabel had borrowed from Kellan and Jake.

"This is so nice," Mabel mused, peering at the glittering ocean through her large round sunglasses. "Just what the doctor ordered."

Aleron, sitting on the towel beside her with his arms crossed and a scowl directed at the latest human who had gotten too close for his liking, a toddler who was chasing down a seagull (very threatening), stopped glaring and spun to face her. "Your physician ordered this trip? Why? Are you unwell?"

Laughing, Mabel waved him off. "No, Al; it's an expression."

"You humans and your expressions," he grumbled, watching closely as the toddler finally wandered back to her parents. "It is far simpler to say what you mean without unnecessary, confusing comments."

Mabel hummed in acknowledgement, and then changed the subject. "How'd you like the shrimp?" She'd forced him to try the seafood for the first time the previous night, and it had been kind of hilarious when he tried to eat it without peeling off the shell.

As she expected, his nose wrinkled with distaste at the reminder. "I do not understand why humans would eat such small creatures—it is far too much effort for so little meat."

"Maybe," Mabel grinned at him, "but I'd eat anything if I was trapped on an island with no hope for rescue, including shrimp."

Aleron frowned. "You need only call for me if you become trapped somewhere, Little One—you know that."

Ugh, he's so precious.

Leaning to the side, Mabel kissed his pale shoulder. "I know. Thank you, Al."

At her words, his lips finally curled into a small, tender smile. "For you, Little One, it is never a problem."

Her own grin turned mischievous. "So, if I asked, you'd try octopus too?" She'd told him about the dish only an hour previous, and he had been beyond disgusted by the mere idea.

He shifted away from her as though she'd slapped him. "No." the word was firm. "No creature with that many legs should ever be consumed—it would be like cooking a bukavac, and they are horrid whether they are dead or alive."

Laughing, she poked at his abs—for a demon who believed human exercise was pointless, he was quite fit—and shook her head. "Alright, I won't make you try octopus. Do you want to go into the water at all?" She'd been in earlier, but he had hovered on the shoreline, watching her swimsuit-clad form intently (and rather lustfully).

Aleron stared at the water for a moment, and then sighed. "Would it make you happy?"

Knowing perfectly well that he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant going into the water or eating shrimp, Mabel shook her head. He seemed wary of the water, and she suspected that, since Hell was noticeably void of ponds, lakes, or streams, he wasn't exactly comfortable around the stuff.

She wasn't about to force him into a situation that made him overly anxious. "Nah, I just wanted to make sure. I'm going to go back in. Keep an eye on me?"

Scrutinizing her carefully to no doubt gage her truthfulness, her demonic husband relaxed when he determined she was being genuine. "I will keep both of my eyes on you—not just one."

Chuckling at his words, Mabel hopped off the towel, straightening her black one-piece swimsuit and tying her hair up in a sloppy bun atop her head.

No sooner had she stood was Aleron sneering at something over her shoulder. "What is it?" she asked, twisting around and groaning when she saw the kid from earlier, watching Aleron with an expression torn between awe and terror.

Setting her sunglasses on her head, Mabel shot Aleron a stern look of her own. "He's a toddler, Al; he's not going to hurt me."

Steadily avoiding her gaze, Aleron huffed, looking like a pouty grizzly bear when he crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, "It could be an illusion—it is impossible to know for sure."

"Aleron," she set her hands on her hips, "you can't scare kids. How are we supposed to have children of our own if they run away when you show up?"

Aleron's entire body stiffened, and his eyes snapped to hers, no trace of brown to be seen in the swirling red. "Children," he repeated, his voice a growl.

Blinking dumbly, Mabel nodded. "Yeah. Like, tiny humans, you know? Kids. Children."

He stood slowly, like a predator cautious of scaring its prey, and invaded her space, hovering so close that she had to crane her head back to look at him properly. "Children."

"Yes . . . Are you okay?" What had come over him? Sure, they hadn't really talked about having kids other than a brief discussion concerning the question of, "can a demon and human even have kids together?" (The answer, according to Aleron, was, "of course, Little One. Would you like to practice now?")

"We are married according to human requirements," he began, his hands sliding down her back and landing on her butt. "It is normal for them to have children after marriage, yes?"

Mabel shrugged. "Sure. That's how I've always planned it, but humans are crazy nowadays—they have babies whenever feel like it."

Aleron grunted, dipping his head down and nuzzling the side of her neck, causing Mabel to shiver in delight at the feel of his cool skin against her sunbaked self. "And you told me once that this 'honey-star'—"

"Honeymoon, you goon."

"—is often the occasion in which tiny humans are created, correct?"

Mabel pulled back with a bark of laughter. "Children, Al; not 'tiny humans.'"

He hummed low in his throat, kissing a line from her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and to her jaw. "I think, Little One," his eyes caught hers, and she gasped when she saw how wide and dark his pupils were, "that we should attempt to make some children of our own."

And then he plucked her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her shocked squeal as he spun around and sprinted up the beach, towards the cottage they were staying in.

Mabel had a feeling she wouldn't be back in the water for a couple of days, but she was alright with that. 

***

A/N: Bow-chicka-wow, amirite? 

LOL.

2 . . . 

A.R.