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With his eyes closed, his hearing engaged better. He heard his demon shuffle off the bed. He was sure he was heading to the bathroom, but Melchom was a master at playing with his senses so it was never a sure bet.

There was some… clinking, involved? Dove frowned.

His mouth watered before he registered the smell hitting his nostrils.

It… it couldn’t be, right? A moan escaped him before he could remember he was supposed to obey Melchom, and he opened his eyes.

“You…” Dove’s eyes darted from the demon to the tray he was holding.

He must’ve gotten it from the portal, Dove’s head supplied in its usual oh-so-helpful fashion.

It was a giant tray with… everything, from fries and cheese rolls to Chinese takeout—cartons included—to biryani and a glass of horchata with way too much cinnamon. Probably because his demon had been diving in his head to find every meaningful meal Dove had ever had.

“But…” He blinked. When that didn’t work, he rubbed his eyes. This had to be some kind of illusion, right?

“I know you don’t need it, and you haven’t really craved it, but I thought it would make you happy.”

“I didn’t even know I could have food.”

“It’s not an everyday kind of thing,” Melchom warned while placing the sinful tray in front of him.

“But it’s possible?”

“I’m not going to become your maitre d’, tiny Dove.”

Melchom probably would if Dove asked, but he didn’t say it. Besides, as weird as it was, Melchom had been right when he said Dove hadn’t craved anything. It had been strange at first, but food had been the last thing in his list of priorities. Probably because he’d never really reached the point of adulthood when food became a habit. Dove had missed way too many lunches—and breakfasts—because his head was everywhere but in the present moment.

This, though…

It was thoughtful, and fuck, now he wanted to have all the nice meals.

“I’m sure you can assign me a minion or two, though.”

His demon grunted. Melchom could be so grumpy when he thought it could get him out of the mushy stuff.

“Within moderation. I don’t wanna be cleansing your body every day.”

Another thing he would totally do, but Dove shrugged. He saw through it, caught the inner grumbling about all the poison and chemicals in human’s food in recent years. It was adorable.

“Deal.” He grinned while he snatched one of the cheese rolls. “I’ll even brush your hair for an hour straight after.”

The look in Melchom’s face. He reminded Dove of a cat that was loving their human’s touch but they were too proud to show it.

“I expect all the brushing.”

“And you shall have it, Your Grace.”

Melchom loved calling him and referring to Dove as his gift. He didn’t know Dove felt the same way. He didn’t even care anymore if it had been a misguided cult or the universe, or pure randomness, but Melchom was the best gift he could’ve been given.

Hell and all.