Page 10 of How Not to Date an Angel

That was justrude.

Food was a… luxury to Rami, and they weren’t ashamed to admit it.

So they gathered an item from the freezer and added it to the tray with a single bowl of reheated carbonara, the remaining breadsticks, and a healthy glass of water before making the trek back upstairs. They counted the steps again, telling themself to remain calm.

This might be a demon, but he was also someone in need.

The last time someone had been at Rami’s door, knocking that frantically, they hadn’t been able to help.

Rami didn’t want to live that again, so they’d be damned if they wouldn’t help this demon, no matter how frustrating he might be.

Maybe once the demon was well enough on his own two feet, Rami could return to their regularly scheduled program of operation.

They could taste the freedom already.

But for now, they would help this demon get back on his feet.

Much to their surprise, when Rami knocked on the wall at the top of the stairs and was granted entry into their own bedroom, the demon had dressed properly.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, palms pressed into either side of himself as he eyed the stairway.

Rami became the focus of that stare, those deep golden eyes practically flaming. His mocha hair framed his strong cheekbones, brushing at his chin and shoulders as he tilted his head in Rami’s direction.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Pasta carbonara,” Rami answered reflexively. “And breadsticks, water.”

They crossed the room and placed the food on the nightstand.

“Up you get,” Rami directed, and motioned for Julian to sit against the headboard.

Julian narrowed his gaze, but did as he was told. “What’s that?” he asked, and Rami lifted an oven mitt, letting it hover over Julian’s knee as he stilled.

“An ice pack for your knee. The mitt is so you don’t get cold burns,” they explained as they balanced it.

“Cold burns,” Julian scoffed. “Please.”

Rami’s lips twitched as they raised up and stepped away. “Right. You’re from Hell. Probably used to all kinds of burns.”

Julian pursed his lips, and it was quiet for a moment. His attention trailed to the nightstand containing the bowl. “Actually, we did away with the hellfire a few centuries ago.”

“Really?” Rami asked, their voice three octaves higher in surprise. “Marvelous. I’m sure that’s been quite the improvement to morale.”

“Morale,” Julian echoed, shaking his head up at the angel.

“Yes, quite. Here,” they said, and handed Julian the bowl. “Let me know when you’re finished. I can come get the dishes.”

Julian’s lips twitched. “You make quite the little servant.”

If Rami’s wings were out, they were certain they would’ve bristled.

“How long do you anticipate staying?” they asked sharply.

“I dunno,” he said, and messily dragged a bite of pasta to his lips.

Hemoanedrather dramatically at the first bite. “Holy shit, this is good.”

Rami’s eye twitched.

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