We lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful morning and each other’s warmth. Eventually, Malphas sighed and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“The gutters won’t clean themselves,” he said reluctantly.
“Pretty sure you could summon some demonic minions to do it,” I pointed out. “Pustule seemed eager to help last time he visited.”
“Pustule tried to ‘help’ by suggesting we replace the gutters with channels carved from human bone,” Malphas reminded me. “Not exactly homeowner association approved.”
“Fair point.” I stretched and sat up, resigned to starting the day. “I’ll make coffee while you battle the leaf detritus.”
Malphas smiled, that soft expression that was reserved only for me. “Deal.”
* * *
Our day unfolded with the comfortable rhythm we’d established over months of living together. Malphas cleaned the gutters (without demonic assistance) while I worked on a website design for a new client. Later, we collaborated on the supernatural garden that had become our shared passion.
The garden was Malphas’s pride and joy—a seamless blend of earthly and otherworldly plants that somehow managed to coexist harmoniously. Fireblossom with its ever-shifting colors grew alongside mundane roses. Shadow ferns that moved subtly even without wind provided a mysterious backdrop for everydayhostas. And the centerpiece, a brimstone lily that glowed softly at night, stood tall among ordinary sunflowers.
“The moonshade is spreading again,” Malphas observed, crouching to examine a plant that resembled ivy but with a silvery-blue hue. “It needs to be trimmed back before it overshadows the petunias.”
I watched him work, his large hands surprisingly delicate as he pruned the supernatural plant. He wore cargo shorts (which still made me smile) and a simple black t-shirt, his imposing horns at odds with the gardening gloves and sun hat he’d donned.
“I love you,” I said suddenly, overwhelmed by how perfectly imperfect our life together was.
Malphas looked up, surprise giving way to that soft smile again. “What brought that on?”
I shrugged. “Just thinking about how bizarre and wonderful my life has become. Demon boyfriend, hellish garden, occasional visits from infernal lieutenants who are now oddly invested in our relationship.”
“Pustule asked if we were considering a commitment ceremony,” Malphas admitted, returning to his pruning. “He offered to provide traditional demonic binding chains.”
I nearly choked. “Are those what I think they are?”
“If you’re thinking ceremonial artifacts used to symbolize eternal union, then yes,” Malphas said innocently. “What did you think they were?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat. “What did you tell him?”
Malphas was silent for a moment, focused on a particularly stubborn tendril of moonshade. “I told him that human-demon relations are complicated, and that we’re content with our current arrangement.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure why I felt a twinge of disappointment. “Good. That’s… good.”
Malphas set down his pruning shears and looked at me directly, his expression serious. “Are we? Content with our current arrangement?”
The question caught me off guard. “I am if you are,” I replied carefully. “Why? Are you not happy?”
“I’m happier than I’ve been in millennia of existence,” he said without hesitation. “I just wondered if you might eventually want something… more official.”
My heart did a little flip. “Are you asking if I want to marry you?”
“Technically, marriage is a human institution with certain legal parameters that might be difficult given my non-human status,” Malphas pointed out, ever practical. “But a commitment ceremony of some kind… perhaps.”
I stared at him, this impossible being who had become the center of my world. “Are you proposing to me in the garden while wearing cargo shorts and pruning demonic ivy?”
Malphas looked down at himself, then back at me with a rueful smile. “Not intentionally. I had planned something more romantic. There was going to be a dinner, candles, possibly a string quartet.”
“Of course there was,” I laughed, feeling a bubble of joy expand in my chest. “But this is perfect. It’s us. The demon prince and his human, discussing eternal commitment between mundane and supernatural gardening tasks.”
“Is that a yes?” Malphas asked, a rare uncertainty in his voice.
I moved to him, kneeling on the garden soil without caring about staining my jeans. “Yes,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “But I draw the line at demonic binding chains.”
