Green eyed walking disaster

Tea has to brewed at four pm sharp is what comes to Barbatos’s mind.

All chores for the afternoon have been completed: the Young Master has consumed lunch and is now reviewing the audits that are due tomorrow, the kitchen and the palace dusted and cleaned, rat traps set up in every nook and corner. Now what remains is this one guest room that needs to be cleaned; its sheets changed and floors washed thoroughly. 

There's dust collecting on the vases, clearly the little D's have been negligent in their duties, and oh this simply won't do. The demon pulls his gloves taunt and attempts to begin.

And only when the moonlight filters through the window and falls on the lump underneath the covers does Barbatos raise an eyebrow.

He doesn't need to look underneath to know who it is.

The demon puts aside the duster in his hand on the shelf, steps forward with slow footfalls to not wake you up. 

Such a troublemaker, as always. Barbatos smiles as he gazes at you, deep in slumber, oblivious as to where you are. There’s only the quiet stillness of the afternoon in the room, given that at this hour most denizens choose to nap or involve themselves in activities suited to their nature.

Your left arm hangs out of the bed, pillows ruffled and thrown about. You must have attempted to make yourself comfortable. 

There’s a certain fondness in his eyes when he places the blanket over you: ensuring that the soft fleece covers your neck and legs, gently places your outstretched hand back into the warmth of the blanket. 

You murmur in your sleep, a frown settling on your lips before you bury your face into the pillow. A chuckle spills past his lips, and Barbatos can't help but run his fingers through your hair.

He’s got to be more quiet now.

Sheets can be changed later, dusting can be done later. 

But then what needs to be done now?