Work Text:
“Why do you hide your face, Mystery?”
Zoey doesn’t remember the train of thought leading her to inelegantly blurt out her question in the middle of their media share night. All she knows is that it’s nearly two in the morning, she’s loopy as hell from working her butt off on tour, and her TV is casting a soft, silver light across the princely features of the dozing demon resting his head in her lap. Zoey’s half-asleep herself, her hair frizzy and unbound and her mouth dry from all the midnight snacks she’s been subsisting off of for the past few hours, but she’s feeling a little wistful and Mystery is thumbing such electric circles under the waistband of her PJ bottoms that vulnerability seems the name of the game tonight.
When his fingers stop moving in response to her question, Zoey giggles a bit nervously. “I mean, I get it if it’s like a brand thing. Like, I didn’t use to wear my hair up all the time, but the fun buns got fans of their own before I knew it. Heh. In hindsight, I should've probably picked a style a little less brutal on the ol’ scalp, huh?”
She combs back some of Mystery’s hair again. Her heart does a giddy little skip as the glow from the TV lights up his illegally gorgeous features. He looks soooo good, even with his pretty little lips pursed in thought. Can a guy look any hotter?
“…don’t remember.”
Zoey blinks. “Sorry?”
“I don’t remember why I cover my face,” Mystery says. “It’s been centuries since I surrendered my memories to Gwi-Ma. I’ve been like this ever since.”
“Huh.” Zoey wriggles her butt so she can peer super closely at Mystery’s face. He blinks owlishly at her as she studies every feature of his face, examining every eyelash, pore, and demonic flash of patterns.
“Go chompy for me,” she requests, and Mystery frowns at her.
“Just for a little bit!” Zoey whines. “For science?”
His look of continued incredulity lingers until she starts to bat her eyelashes at him coaxingly. His defenses worn down, Mystery sighs and with a poof! of infernal magic reverts to his demonic form.
“Hello, tusks!” Zoey giggles.
Mystery rolls his eyes, but he’s rumbling like a freakin’ motor engine, so Zoey just beams at him and then resumes her super important scientific research. His elongated teeth are quite monstrous in nature, extending far beyond even what regular dogs usually possess in their jaws, and Zoey hums in curiosity as she examines his teeth.
“Were you a wolf in a past life?” she asks, and Mystery audibly snorts.
“So scientific,” he murmurs, and Zoey flushes red as a beet.
“Shut up,” she growls at him. “Now let me focus.”
The thing is, even with the tusks, Mystery is still quite good-looking. His demonic eyes flare a bright yellow in the darkness of her room, his skin is a rather horrid purple, but he’s still conventionally attractive all things considered. Certainly not anything to write home about compared to his human illusion, but the differences are negligible!
“You must’ve been good looking all your life,” Zoey decides with a snap of her fingers. “Pretty as a picture, I'll bet. Maybe you did one act of insanely good karma before the whole, um, surrendering your soul to become a full-fledged elite demon of the underworld thing.” Her voice wavers a little as she stumbles to a rather confused stop.
“Hmm.” Mystery gazes back up at her. His eyes are still bright, demon-yellow, but he’s slowly manifesting elements of his human illusion again. Poof, poof ; gone are the purple skin and the monstrous tusks. The only hint to his demonic nature are the flare of his eyes and the suddenly dark expression on his face.
“Whatever I had done to warrant this appearance,” he says so softly that Zoey has to lean in to catch his words, “I’d rather not remember.”
Zoey blinks at him. “Why not? Don’t you want to know?”
Mystery shrugs. “I knew sorrow. I knew shame. Now that we’re trying to reform, I really don’t want to know more.”
“Oh.” Zoey can’t quite think of a response to that. She droops back onto the mattress, her heart clenching. “I feel bad for pushing you now.”
“It’s okay.” Mystery touches her cheek. His eyes flicker as they resume their human softness. “You like my face. That’s all that matters.”
Zoey flushes bright pink. “Oh, come on. You know that’s unfair.”
Mystery raises an eyebrow at her. Even that little gesture is enough to make her heart start pounding at a mile a minute. She’s so at a loss here.
In lieu of saying anything further, Zoey resumes combing her fingers through his soft hair. Mystery’s eyes flutter shut, his throat rumbling with a contented sigh. The TV continues to chatter away about crocodilians, the rise and fall of the narrator’s voice providing a lulling background noise.
“Tell you what,” Zoey finally says. “You keep your face covered for the fans. Keep up the mystery and the image. But I get full dibs on your real face. Front row seats. Deal?”
Mystery’s eyes blink open. “Full dibs meaning, what, exactly?”
“Special privileges,” Zoey says with a grin. She leans in to peck him on the cheek. “Like so!” On the forehead. “And so!”
Zoey leans back up, beaming, but squeals as a hand grips her by the neck firmly and Mystery pulls her down to kiss her on the lips. Zoey flails with surprise before she melts into the kiss, cradling Mystery’s face in her hands as he licks deep into her mouth with an appreciative eagerness.
“Like so?” Mystery asks after he pulls away, his eyes flickering over Zoey’s beet-red face with ill-concealed amusement.
“Haaah,” Zoey gasps, staggering. “Hold on. Brain shortage happening. Call back in six to seven business days.”
Mystery laughs, his hair scattering across his face, and Zoey, blushing, gets an answer to her question. He can, unfortunately, get hotter.
.
.
.
fin