Warning: This story has some darker themes.

Francis opens his eyes lazily into the red room around him. The ceiling's stalactites are pointing rocky daggers down at him. He lets a feral sneer break across his face when the screams reach his ears. He lets out a low chuckle as he rolls over in his bed to lay on his stomach, the black satin caressing his skin. He snuggles a fluffy pillow to him and sighs in content. With a groan he stretches his wings up, the tension easing out of his muscles. He flops them back down to splay across the blankets. Another chuckle graces his lips when another yell is heard. He yawns.

He pushes off the comfort of his bed, groaning again as he does so. He runs his hands through his white hair, letting his sharpened nails graze across his scalp and the base of his upward pointed horns. He spreads his wings wide, flapping them twice to lift him off the bed. His toes touch the floor. Clothing starts to encase him. Boots lace up his legs and pants materialize around his tail onto him. He lifts his arms up to stretch, a ripped black shirt wrapping around the skin. He shakes to get used to the feel of clothes again. His wings wiggle against the fabric around them. He lets out a low hum and pushes open the black doors to his room. Hell surrounds him.

He chuckles again, picking the last of sleep from his eyes. The doors behind him close with a bang and disappear in a puff of smoke. He struts along the path surrounded by jagged rocks. Screams come from all different directions. He enjoys them all. He reaches the end of the path and another pair of doors, silver in color, become visible through a mass of fog. They open with a ding when he gets closer.

Francis steps into the elevator, folding his wings in close. He doesn't have to keep them out all the time, he could hide them if he pleased, but he's where he belongs, why would he want to hide them. His wings are black, dragon like in their size and shape. A symbol of his position and power. The larger the wings are of a demon, the higher position. The more strength of the wings, higher the power level. Francis is very proud of his wings. As he should be.

There's another ding and he steps off the contraption. He walks through the red lined halls, easily stepping through a door that pops up in his way. He's greeted by the bustle of lesser demons. They move around with scowls on their faces, or twisted smirks. Some are sitting at desks, other are carrying papers back and forth. One demon is enveloped in a red fog and disappears. Francis walks through them without a care. No one speaks to him.

At the far end of the room is a large office. Francis steps in and moves to lounge in his larger than necessary chair. He kicks his feet up on his desk. There are a few papers on his desk, asking him to decide the proper technique for certain.. 'residents'. He picks up a paper and reads it with a soft smile on his face. A murderer case. He looks over the facts of the crime, a very slow and painful stabbing. He rolls his eyes. He jots down the name of a torture room for 20 years, then jots down the name of a training room for the next 20. He could always use more torturers, besides, the training is worse than the actual torture. There is always more pain to be had in Hell.

"Good Morning sir," He glances up from the paper to the doorway. A large man is standing there, a simple black t-shirt covering his chest and chain tattoos snaking up his arms. His own wings are large, but not as thick, not as strong. His dark grey horns curling around his ears and a pointed tail flicking back and forth behind him. A pure white scarf around his neck. Francis has no idea how his torture chief manages to keep his scarf sparkling white, one of the brightest colors in the underground chambers. Francis smiles at him letting his pointed teeth show.

"Morning Ivan," The large man steps forward, a childlike smile on his face. Francis has known Ivan most of his otherworldly life. A few hundred years at least. They met each other in passing at first, moving about the work room just outside his now office. Francis tried to seduce the man, and got promptly punched in the face for it. It's taboo to mess with a incubus's face. They need that to do their job. Francis retaliated by taking the man's scarf. Ivan went on rampage, hurting and ruining as many people as he could. That's how Ivan went up the demon position ladder. His wings grew as he tore through the workplace, scattering papers everywhere and throwing chains around other demon's necks.

Francis had laughed so hard when the old Chief of Torture caught the bloodthirsty demon. Ivan had scars all over his neck, probably from his own torture time before he went into training. Scars that are now exposed since his white scarf went missing. Ivan stood twitching and snarling at the torture chief. Francis raised an eyebrow at the lack of professionalism from his coworker. He had stepped forward and pointed out the size difference in wings from the second in command compared to Ivan's. Ivan hadn't gotten the second in command position that day, but the fourth. A significant difference from his lackey position from before. Francis snuck into his room and returned his scarf, with a note saying 'you're welcome~'.

He didn't walk for a week when Ivan found him after. Ivan did thank him, then wrapped chains around his legs and pulled tight breaking them in several different spots. Francis didn't mind too much, he would heal in time. The only problem being his bones weren't setting right, so Ivan took it upon himself to re-break and reset the bones for him. Francis really got to know his coworker, or then, his superior. Ivan's father wrapped a chain collar around his neck and dragged him around the house like a dog. It had shot Ivan's mental health to Hell. Literally. He started his life of torture with his father, hurting him the same way once he got strong enough. He killed his dad slowly. Ivan had been a meticulous sociopath in life, killing and hurting his victims with the same ease as smiling. The same childlike smile he wears now.

He told his story too, though Ivan only enjoyed the pain Francis's showed when his bones broke. Francis had been a decent person in life. He sexed up a few people, maybe a lot. He always wore protection. Even as a man whore he knew to be safe. He broke many hearts, not that it mattered. He always thought of finding the right person, but he didn't care too much. He just liked being able to sex people up. In the end, Francis went to heaven.

He always went slow and sweet with his partners, stopping when they asked and always using protection. He just had sex a lot. Some of the higher angels didn't like him in their space, on their clouds. They thought him dirty. He didn't particularly like it either. He got a lower position in the chain, looking over the young children going through their first stages of sex exploration. He had liked doing that, helping kids accept themselves and liking who they like. He took his time with his job, always caring for the kids and helping them if their parents didn't like what they came out with. The higher angels didn't like that too much.

Francis's job description told him to just get the kids comfortably through puberty. He stayed longer with the kids than he should have, telling them it's okay to have sex, or changed the parent's minds when he shouldn't have. He saw nothing wrong with helping someone out. The higher angels told him to stop. He did eventually. He became bitter about it though. He started to miss his floozy ways and his ability to be free and out in the world. He got punished a lot by his superiors. An angel by the name of Alfred, his direct boss, tried to stick it through his head. He tried coaxing talks and words of encouragement, he also tried soft hearted threats.

Francis has never seen a more bitter look than the one Alfred gave him when he fell. It had been a painful process. He knew he didn't like heaven, it took him 31 years to figure that out. There are rules everywhere and limitations as to how much he can help. He didn't like it. When he finally came to the realization he didn't want to be in heaven, guards came to him along with Alfred to question his morals. His morals weren't in line with what heaven wanted. The guards sneered. A pain started at the base of his feathery white wings. He screamed as the clouds no longer held his body up. Alfred regarded him coldly, watching as his body drifted down.

Pain engulfed him. A burning sensation searing hard at his wings. Each feather plucked from the skin harshly, ripped away in the wind. He screamed and twisted in the air. His wings flapped out and couldn't hold him up. They bent and molded, changing shape. They took on the dragon like form they have now only smaller. They couldn't hold him though. His body lurched as he hit the ground, and kept going. The earth tore through his skin, rubbing it red and raw. He stopped breathing as the pain started at the base of his head and arched forward. His skull fractured as the horns grew into them. Long black bones jutting out of his head and pointing up away from him. A symbol of where he came from, and the place he could never return to.

He hit the ground with a thud, breaking half of his ribs and a leg. He couldn't breath. He couldn't move. His pain subsided for a moment, not having dirt to scrub his wounds, but the small relief was short lived. Hands grabbed him harshly, lifting him off the ground and tugging him this way and that. Francis met the King of Hell that day. A man with white hair and a mischievous smile on his face sat in the office he now occupies. He laughed loudly at Francis's pain. He ordered Francis to be put in solitary confinement for a few years, then physical torture for another few, then sexual displeasure. Francis went through all the torture areas of hell. Some of them twice. He went through a hundred years of training.

He worked the world as a incubus, tempting people to bed and he loved it. He got a stack of papers depicting people who he had to target, but that didn't mean he couldn't do it with other people too. He loved it. The demons above him in position didn't care how he seduced people, just that he did. The longer Francis continued on, the larger his wings grew. He worked them as much as he could, growing stronger and bigger. It didn't take him long to realize his wings resembled the King's. Although that fact had been pointed out to him by one of the greeters to Hell, a young demon sprite by the name of Matthew, who had wings similar to his as well.

One day his wings grew bigger than Gilbert's. There had been a bit of a scuffle taking the form of a brawl, but Francis came out on top, bigger and stronger than the former. He became the King of Hell in only 387 years. He worked his ass off to keep his position, the older demons angered by his ability to take over after, compared to them, a short amount of time. He proved his worth though, beating down those that oppose him and changing the order in which things are done. He fixed the workroom making it run smoother and hired more demon workers. It made scheduling easier and the workers more in love with their jobs. He created a better hierarchy. He's in charge.

Ivan takes a seat in the chair across from Francis now. He's got a soft smile on his face that seems out of place at the center of Hell. Ivan flips through a few papers that appear in his hands at the flick of his wrist. Francis continues to look at his own files, scratching down new orders and areas where the residents should be. He runs his tongue over his teeth and a young girl's punishment is decided. She had been a prostitute in her living life, killing a man who tried to force her to do something she didn't like. She kept killing after that. Francis liked her a lot already. He gave her a few decades of solitary confinement to shake her nerves. Then training for succubus status for another decade or so. She would make a fine temptress.

"I heard something interesting today," Ivan's old Russian accent breaks the silence of ruffling papers. Francis hums and looks up to him. Ivan is still glancing through his work, making marks when necessary in a black pen.

"I heard that your old manager Alfred is now the High Archangel," Ivan lifts his gaze to smile at him. Once more, Francis is caught off guard by the coldness in Ivan's eyes. He simply raises an eyebrow at the words.

"Is he now? Good for him the little bastard," Francis snickers. He flips through more papers. A slightly pinker tinted page catching his eye. Ivan giggles and stands from his seat.

"I would love to see that innocent smile of his break," Francis does his best not to shudder at Ivan's words. He waves lazily as the man leaves to continue on his job. Ivan had only come to tell him the news. Francis rolls his eyes and throws the papers over his shoulder scattering them all over the floor. Except for the pink tainted one. He flips it back and forth in his hands. He smirks at the circular inscription written on it. He's known this symbol for some time. He just wondered what it looked like on paper and not in his head. It's his inscription, his summoning circle. He's been summoned before as a sex demon. It had been fun. He got sex for granting small wishes for people. Most of the time those wishes backfired. Sometimes he laughed at their misery. Other times he never stuck around long enough to see the world fall apart beneath them.

He takes the paper in his hand and stands. He darkens the windows to his office with a wave of his hand, a notion that he does not want to be bothered. He places the pink paper on the ground. There's only one reason he would get his own summoning circle. Someone has it in the living world. Someone that is close to being able to make it work. He stands above it and waits. He closes his eyes and focuses. He can barely make out the poor soul in his mind. He smirks viciously to himself. This person has no idea just who they are summoning. He's never been summoned as a the King.

He can hear their voice now, a low raspy thing, deep. He opens his eyes and the voice is still there, chanting a French incantation. Francis enjoys the sound of his mother tongue. It's been too long since he spoke it for himself. The paper on the floor begins to crumple in on itself. A slow stream of red smoke begins to creep out of the folds. Francis steps forward. He knows he can not stop the oncoming summon. There are just some things even the King can't stop. It's a contract since the age of days. The human summons them, and they grant a wish in return for something else. In the end the human loses more.

The smoke grows in size and swallows his body. He lets it roll over him and hug his skin. It pulls. His body breaks down and turns to black soot to flow with tug of smoke. He lets himself be moved along. It doesn't take long to reach his destination. The voice is louder now, speaking with more conviction. Francis stitches his body back together, the red smoke still around him, a swirling mass. Then it breaks. Francis spreads his wings wide, throwing his arms out as well. He taps his feet to the ground. He rolls his neck this way and that, taking in a deep breath of the living air around him. He smirks and opens his eyes to see the one that called him out.

Francis folds his arms over his chest and smiles to the man on the ground. He likes the look of them already. The man is staring bug eyed at him, leaning back on his hands with a book opened on his lap. He's wearing a dark green sweater vest. Francis glances around him. There's his circle on the ground, painted on with purple ink. He turns around the room, appreciating the candles to create the mood, though they are unnecessary. He raises an eyebrow at the furniture covered near the far end of the room. It takes him a second to realize he's standing in the living room of the one who summoned him. He faces back to the man still gaping at him. His blonde hair is spotted with brown and his eyes are an alarming green. Francis thinks the most amusing thing is the large size of his eyebrows. He can barely contain his smiles.

"Well, this is exciting isn't it?" He teases. He pulls his wings in close and steps towards the man. The summoner backs away from him breathing heavily. Francis's smile falters. He glowers down at the man. He knows that seeing a demon in real life can be a shock, but who did this summoner expect to show up? The tooth fairy? Francis sighs and kneels to the ground in front of his contractor. He locks eyes with the green eyed man. The summoner blinks twice, huffing out as best he can.

"Bloody hell you're real," the man stammers out. Francis smirks at him. So the man does talk. Francis crawls over to him letting his wings spread out over the man. The summoner backs away more but Francis is faster. Soon he is leaning over the man, a mischievous smile on his face. He opens his mouth to speak but the human puts his hands on Francis's face and pushes it away. He skitters away from Francis, backing up to the wall. Francis chuckles out. None of his other summoners ever pushed him away. At least, not like that.

Francis leans back on his hands and makes himself comfortable on the floor. He runs his fingers through the plush feel of the carpet. Most of the time he's summoned in an alleyway or in an abandoned house. This is new. The room he's in is furnished nicely. And carpeted. He fingers the paint on the floor. Such a pretty place to ruin. He smiles at the summoner, now running their hands through their hair.

"Oh shit, it worked. Oh I did it holy shit." The person leans down to their knees, covering their mouth with their hand. Francis smiles wider. So the person hadn't expected to see him. Brilliant.

"Yes you did it, congratulations," Francis snickers. He doesn't entirely mind the person taking their time. He's got nothing terribly important to do. Ivan can handle a day or two running the place while he's gone. He doesn't want to be away for longer than that though. Ivan might take things a little too far. The summoner stares at him with wide eyes. Then they close their eyes and shake their head roughly.

"Would you like something to drink?" Out of all the questions he could have been asked, that is one of the last ones Francis expected. The summoner is rubbing at his arms awkwardly, looking at him almost hopefully.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Francis forces out with a smile. He flaps his wings once to lift him to his feet. The summoner nods his head mechanically and rushes out of the room. Francis debates following the man, but he really doesn't care to. Instead he takes a seat on one of the covered couches and waits. There are some posters on the wall of bands he doesn't know of. There are books on the shelves of spells and demons, those he knows of. The man comes back with two glasses of water. He hands one to Francis and steps away sharply once it's out of his hands. He sits on the floor and leans back against another piece of covered furniture.

Francis stays silent. So does the summoner. He sips his water slowly. He much prefers the taste of wine, seeing as he can no longer get drunk and can drink whatever he pleases, but the water is strangely refreshing for him. He does wish to question the hospitality given to him. His other summoners asked for favors the moment they knew they could. This one has barely spoken to him. He tilts his head to the side and watches the human. Their eyes glance back and forth across the ground and their expression twists up. Francis wonders if they are schizophrenic. He's handled people with mental disorders before. Most of them go to Hell. He hates that. Heaven's strict rules aren't as accommodating. He's built a special section of Hell for those with mental disorders that change their way of thinking drastically. Plenty of therapists have come through hell, he puts them to work with those in need. Schizophrenics can't help their actions, they are plagued by their own demons. Francis can't stand to see the truly innocent punished.

"I'm sorry," He blinks at the apology. The man is gripping his glass of water tightly. Francis tilts his head to the other side in question. He doesn't understand why the human is apologizing. For a second those green eyes connect with his. The man swallows and continues.

"I mean, if I.. summoned you here, in the middle of something, important? I'm sorry." Francis smiles at the man. They are holding their water tight to their chest.

"No worries, I had nothing serious planned," He waves his hand flippantly. It's true, he didn't. Papers will pile up and maybe there will be an explosion of sorts, but nothing Ivan can't handle. If he really needs help, Gilbert will make an appearance. Francis can't return to the demon world unless told he can by the summoner. The man releases a sigh of relief. Francis downs the rest of his water and stands.

"Now, getting down to business," He smiles widely at the sudden bout of fear in the man's eyes. The man drinks the rest of his water quickly as well, but stands much more timidly than Francis.

"What do you wish for?" Francis asks, making his tone as silky smooth as possible. His first job in hell being a incubus, it remains to be his strongest style of power. The man shakes his head violently, getting the effect of Francis out of his head. The demon's smile turns to a smirk.

"I just.." The man starts. Francis bites his lip. The man rubs at his arms, grimacing at the ground. Francis raises an eyebrow at him. He hasn't seen this much uncertainty in someone in a while. The man takes a deep breath and lifts his head to face Francis straight on.

"I just wanted a friend," Francis blinks at the man then. The man suddenly drops his confidence glancing back to the floor. Francis rubs his tongue against his teeth.

"A friend?" He repeats, not knowing how to handle the request. Sure he could force someone to be this man's friend, but he needs specifics.

"I just want someone to talk to, for a little while." It's now that Francis takes in the man's age. They are young, he can tell. The furniture being covered and the few things on the walls. It's starting to come together for him. This man has just moved.

"I can make all your neighbors love you with just a snap of my fingers," Francis offers. The man glances at him but shakes his head. Now it's Francis's turn to grimace. He can't help if the man doesn't tell him what he can do.

"Well what do you want then?" He tries hard to keep the bitter tone out of his voice. He knows he doesn't have anywhere to be, but he doesn't like wasting time. The man winces at the harshness. Francis takes a deep breath. The man tugs at a lock of his hair.

"Can you stay? And just.. Talk to me? Be my friend?" For one of the first times in his demonic life, Francis takes in a hopeful look on a man's face. It takes him just a second longer to realize that the summoner is asking him to stick around and talk. Be a friend? Francis rakes a hand through his hair, letting his nails maybe help put some sense into his head.

"For how long?" He asks, looking skeptically at the summoner. The human jumps a little at the question, a soft smile breaking on his face for a moment.

"As long as you can?" Francis pulls at his bottom lip in thought. The human is still giving him that hopeful expression. He blows his hair out of his face.

"I can stay for a full 48 hours, then on and off for a month after that." The human lets a smile cross their face and a sigh of relief leave them. Francis smiles at them.

"If that is your wish I will grant it. You will go to Hell though." This makes the summoner pause. He furrows his brows in a way that Francis is quickly taking a liking to.

"You mean, if I don't ask you to stay, I won't go to Hell?" Francis hums and rubs at his chin. He shrugs.

"Summoning me took more energy out of you than me, that's the price paid to get me here. Asking me to stay becomes your wish, the price for that is your soul. So yes. I believe so. I would leave right away if that is the case however," Francis shrugs again and makes a motion to leave. The summoner boldly stops him with a hand to his chest. Francis blinks down at him, making the human puff up in a soft blush and push him a small bit away.

"I.. Can you stay while I figure it out?" He mumbles. Francis hmms in mock debate.

"No." He moves to walk around the human, a smirk on his face. He stops when there's a grabbing at his wrist. He glances over his shoulder. The human is glaring at the floor, his hands wrapped tightly around Francis's arm.

"I.. Would.. I wish you would stay with me.. For as long as you can.. Please." He turns those deep green eyes up to him. Francis stares. He's been an incubus for about three hundred years and yet certain things still catch him off guard with their beauty. He turns to face the human fully. He smiles and holds a hand out to the human, his eyes flashing in excitement. The summoner gulps and takes the hand, letting the demon pull him closer. Francis holds the human flush to him, making him stumble in shock though his eyes never leave the demon in front of him. Francis snickers.

A soft glow of red mist swirls around their feet. Francis can't help but throw his head back and laugh. He loves this part. The human holds tighter to him and he can feel a soft rush go through his veins. He puts his forehead to the green eyed man's.

"You have summoned me by your own will and ask of me what you do not have. I shall grant your wish in exchange for your soul." Francis lets the words pass his lips in the dark voice he reserves only for such moments. The summoner's eyes widen in horror. The mist dissolves. Francis gently runs a hand through the human's hair to help them relax. He is breathing heavily, glancing all around his feet for the mist that is now gone. Francis nuzzles his nose.

"You know, we have to seal the contract." He purrs to the human. They pull away, giving him a skeptical look. Francis is giddy at the puzzled look on his face. He chuckles and leans towards the human.

"Since being an incubus is my namesake, the contract is bound with a kiss," He winks. the summoner glowers at him. He pushes away from Francis roughly. Francis throws his head back in laughter when they starts to sputter out negation to the idea of kissing him. Francis stops his ranting by hugging him close.

"I have never forced someone to do anything they do not like, I will not start with you." He confirms to his summoner. They put their hands on Francis's face and push him away. Francis laughs and snaps his fingers making his wings disappear from sight. His clothes become more appropriate for the human world. He ditches the shoes and goes for a basic pair of black sweats. His ripped shirt transforming into a stitched together black one similar to Ivan's. He flops back onto the couch. The human takes his seat on the floor again, more relaxed this time, spreading his legs out more so and leaning against the furniture once more.

"What's your name?" Francis asks. He brings up his legs to the couch to lounge fully. It's not as comfortable as his bed back in his room, but it's nice enough.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." The human is finally looking at him fully. France supposes it's because he doesn't look as intimidating anymore. He hums. Arthur.

"What's yours?" Francis chuckles a little at the question. Arthur is looking at him expectantly.

"Francis," He tugs at a strand of his hair, twisting it between his fingers. Arthur takes his empty glass in his hand. He spins the cup in circles.

"What do you do? As a demon I mean." Arthur pulls his legs up tight and rests his chin against his knees. Francis smirks down at him. Maybe this human can handle the truth. He sees no point in lying.

"I run the joint, the boss you could say. The technical title would be the King of Hell." He chuckles at the shock on Arthur's face. Suddenly the human jumps up and begins pacing. Muttering to himself the whole time.

"I summoned the King of Hell. I just thought I would summon a simple not as important demon but no. No if you have be a freak you have to go all the way don't you Arthur. Of course you do." The human grimaces and tugs at his hair. Francis simply watches with a raised eyebrow. He's seen people before have panic attacks. He debates if helping the human will lessen his demon status. He stands abruptly in front of the human, grabbing their face in his hands.

"Breathe," He commands lowly. Arthur's eyes go wide, but his body commands. He calms. Francis guides him to the couch and settles down into it once again. He pulls Arthur against him and wraps his arms around the still shaking human. Cuddles are always good things to have. He doesn't get them often since the demons he cuddles with usually end up moaning his name and then leaving.

"How did you do that?" Arthur asks quietly once he's breathing properly again. Francis hums and runs a hand lazily through Arthur's dirty blonde hair.

"Panic attack. Easy to get people to-"

"That's not what I meant," Arthur interrupts him. Francis twitches in annoyance. People don't interrupt him without consequence. Usually. He grits his teeth to keep himself from saying something he'll regret, or accidentally snapping Arthur in half.

"How did you.. cut off my senses like that? Like the only thing I could think was you?" Arthur shifts uncomfortably against Francis. The demon chuckles again. So that's what the human meant.

"It's a simple voice trick, mainly used by incubus and succubus like myself." He informs the human. Arthur twists his face. He sits up to look down at Francis.

"I thought you said you were the King?" Arthur is giving him an odd look. Francis rolls his eyes with a smile. He puts a hand to Arthur's head and pulls him back to his chest.

"I wasn't the King at first, I had to work my way up." He pets Arthur as he explains his journey through the ranks, starting with his training days. He had to work days and days just practicing speaking in low tones till he could get a human to follow him from across town. Then spent more time making sure he could do it consecutively and without thinking about it too much. Arthur nods along to his tale, seemingly absorbed in his words. Not because Francis is using his sultry voice, but because he likes that someone is talking to him. Francis tells him of his first test job on a young boy who went to a club for the first time. He stood at the far end and stared the boy down. Halfway through the night, he noticed a succubus trailing his same target. He watched as she took the boy on the dance floor and twisted him around his finger. Francis made his move, walking up to them and tapping the boy on the shoulder and stealing him away. He rocked that boys world, and won the competition he didn't even know he entered.

"Do you remember his name?" Arthur asks once Francis finishes speaking. He wonders if he's breaking any sort of unknown rule by telling this human of the ways of Hell. The human will end up there anyway having summoned him, so there shouldn't be much harm.

"Lovino," Francis smiles to himself. The boy had been feisty and rough. That always happened to be the day Francis realized his powers heightened the arousal of humans.

"Did you ever see him again?" Francis hums to the Arthur's question. It's unheard of to visit old flames, though some sex demons do.

"Once, when he got married. A sweet man by the name of Antonio I believe. I think they both went to heaven." Francis recalls the wedding. Gorgeous and red. Lovino looked happy as he could. Francis stayed in the shadows, not wanting to ruin the now a man's happy day. Arthur humphs.

"So then you became the King of Hell how?" Arthur reaches up his hand to hold Francis's. Okay, so maybe the demon is using a little bit of his charm to get the human to be more cuddly with him. The human is not resisting him though, so it can't be that bad. He lets Arthur play with his fingers.

"One day my wings grew larger than the Old King. It was pointed out by my.. Friend." Francis scrunches his face up. He wouldn't entirely consider Ivan his friend. Maybe his partner in crime, but friends? He didn't truly trust Ivan like one would a friend. He rolls his eyes to himself.

"So me and the Old King fought for power. I won." He grips his hand into a fist. Arthur uncurls his fingers though.

"You had to fight?" Francis scoffs at his question. It's like he didn't expect demons to fight. That's all they ever really did. Fight for food. Fight for power. For survival.

"Yes, though, I have reason to believe he lost on purpose." He rubs at his face in thought. Arthur sits up and blinks at him, confusion clear on his face. Francis sighs and explains.

"The old king, Gilbert, had been in charge for hundreds of years. When we fought he should have been more.. adept to fighting. I think he lost on purpose." Arthur sits up fully then, glaring at the floor in front of him. Francis brings his arms up to fold underneath his head.

"Why would he do that?" Arthur looks to Francis, curiosity on his face. Francis shrugs his shoulders.

"Gilbert grew up a chaos demon, specializing in screwing life up for people. He had a knack for ruining things. I think he ruined himself on accident. He spends most of his time in the welcoming rooms." Arthur opens his mouth to respond, but closes it, glaring at Francis. The demon waits patiently for him to find the words to speak.

"There are welcoming rooms?" Francis can't help but smile at the complete confusion in Arthur's voice. He pushes up and bumps into the human.

"Of course, there is a demon there by the name of Matthew I know. Very nice boy. Don't know why he's there at all," Francis glares at the floor now. Matthew has wings similar to his, and Gilbert's. He knows it's a sign of the Fallen. They all have stronger wings than those originally sent to hell. They chose to leave heaven, making them stronger in their powers. It's one of the only reasons Francis managed to gain his title.

"Nice people go to Hell?" Arthur pulls his legs up to hold them close. Francis nods.

"Some very nice people do. It just depends mostly. Some murderers kill those they think have done wrong. It's their inability to admit they did wrong that sent them to Hell." Francis lifts his arms up, casually placing one behind Arthur. The human has his brows furrowed in thought, taking in the information Francis just provided him with.

"Tell me about Matthew," Arthur says softly, giving him another one of those hopeful looks. Francis scoffs, but smiles. Arthur leans back against his shoulder, getting comfortable.

"Matthew is a greeter to Hell. Very patient when dealing with those who can't accept death. He tells people what their punishments are," Francis rubs his hand against the human's shoulder. Arthur fiddles with his fingers.

"How did he end up there?"

"He fell." Francis shrugs. Arthur jolts up to stare at him as if it's some big revelation.

"Fell? Like fell from Heaven?" Francis can't help but snicker at the disbelief in Arthur's face. He positive that someone who can summon a demon, the King even, has heard of Fallen Angels before.

"Why did he leave?" Arthur wiggles back into Francis's side. The demon hums in thought, trying to figure out the best way to say.

"He.. Fell in love with the wrong person. Which in the end turned out to be the right person for him," Francis smirks down at the human. Arthur is once again processing the information with his eyebrows furrowed. Francis remembers going to tell Matthew that he had been right, his wings had been bigger, and stronger, than Gilbert's. Only Gilbert had beat him to the welcoming rooms. Matthew and Gilbert were tied up in each other, smiles on both their faces. Francis didn't have to be a incubus to know why Gilbert lost.

After that he found Gilbert roaming around the halls of the underground. Now that he has no position, having been stripped of his title, Francis offered him a job. The two of them reformed hell, making it easier for those that work to navigate and finding new workers. He told Gilbert that he could basically do what he wanted, since there's not a lot of people who can actually tell the mischievous demon otherwise. Gilbert chose to go to earth a lot and mess things up for bad people, and spend plenty of time in the welcome rooms. Francis could almost, almost, consider the old King a friend.

"Demons can fall in love?" Arthur nearly sounds disgusted as the words leave his mouth. Francis snickers again.

"Just because we work in Hell doesn't mean we can't feel. Unless you're part of the high end torturers." Francis shudders openly at the memory of Ivan's cold calculating eyes. He sure that if Gilbert had ever lost his position to anyone else, it would be Ivan.

"Are there other.. Fallen Angels in Hell?" Arthur picks his words carefully. Francis nods with a low 'mhmm'. Arthur sniffs.

"What do they do?" Francis laughs at that. Arthur puffs up at the noise. He crosses his arms with a huff. Francis nuzzles his head again the human's shoulder in apology.

"You're assuming they do something special. The only difference between the Fallen and the originally sent to Hell demons is their wings." Francis wiggles out from behind the human and stands up. He shakes a little and snaps. His wings unfurl from behind him. He spins around to show off the size. With the full wingspan outstretched, the tips of his wings nearly touch the edges of the room. He smirks over his shoulder to the human. Arthur gulps and stands from his spot. He comes close and studies the wings.

"Regular demon's wings are smaller and not as thick. They are not as strong. Wings show status and power." Francis raises one up to turn and encase Arthur within his wings. Arthur flinches at the sudden movement. Francis doesn't move waiting for the human to become comfortable once again. He bites the inside of his lip realizing it probably looked like he would hurt the human.

"You can touch them if you want," He offers with a shrug. Arthur gulps again. He reaches out a hand cautiously. Francis suppresses a shudder at the touch of fingertips. Arthur is gentle and interested in his wings, a different sensation than he's used to. Most of those that touch his wings do so in praise or in the heat of the moment. Francis spreads his wings out the closer Arthur gets to him. The human ducks under them to trace over the back. Francis inhales sharply. Arthur jerks back.

"You said regular demon.. Are you not because you're the King?" Arthur ducks back under his wings to stand in front of him again. He fingers the ends when Francis pulls them closer.

"They're aren't different because I'm the King, but they sure did help me become the King." Arthur yanks his hand back with hiss. He sucks at the appendage. Francis takes a step forward and grabs Arthur's hand. He licks at the cut on his finger. Arthur hisses again, and the cut heals.

"I'm Fallen too," Francis smirks up at him, his eyes flashing dangerously. Arthur gulps and pulls away from him. Francis snaps his fingers to make his wings disappear. He and Arthur sit back on the couch.

"Why did you.." Arthur trails off. Francis raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. Arthur shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I didn't like it up there, too many rules and not enough.." Francis doesn't finish his sentence. There are so many things he expected Heaven to be that it just wasn't. He shrugs to complete his words. Arthur nods once in understanding.

"Did you do something in Heaven too? Like a job?" Arthur wiggles in his spot, bringing his legs up to his stomach once again. Francis pulls a cliché yawn over the shoulder arm trick. The human snuggles into his shoulder, so he figures it's fine. Not that he'd care if it wasn't.

"Well because I was kind of a slut in my human life, I was tasked with helping children get through puberty in a safe way. It's also part of the reason I was an incubus first in my demon life as well." Francis sticks his tongue out in amusement. It seemed the beginning of all his lives have to deal with sex.

"Oh, that sounds really nice actually," Arthur gives him a shy smile. Francis smiles back at him. It had been nice helping the children accept themselves.

"I got to do pretty much the same thing as an incubus," Francis shrugs. Secretly helping kids towards a better place accepting themselves sexually and then taking them for his own were almost no different. He wiggles into the couch to get more comfortable. Arthur follows suit.

"Enough about me little summoner, tell me about yourself," Francis leans over to him and nuzzles his shoulder. Arthur laughs awkwardly, pushing at Francis's face. Francis smiles at him, but the smile slips off his face. Arthur is grimacing at the ground and unresponsive. He pauses. The human is not speaking. Francis glares in his direction. Only now does he wonder why the human summoned him.

"Arthur, this may sound bad- me being the King of Hell and all- but you can tell me anything. I'm contractually obligated to keep your secrets." Francis bites his tongue after talking. He and Arthur haven't discussed anything relating to the contract that comes with summoning. He doesn't know anything yet about his human except his name. Part of him is bugged by this. Mostly bugged by the part that wants to know more about his human.

"Contractually obligated..?" Arthur turns his disbelieving eyes to Francis. The demons clenches his jaw. He likes the forest color of Arthur's eyes. He forces a smile onto his face, hoping it doesn't frighten the human. Arthur doesn't flinch away from him. He points to the runes painted onto the floor.

"When you summoned me, it created a small contract between us. Then of course, when you made your wish. I am yours to command until you release me. The only price you pay is your soul. You're going to Hell." Francis nearly flinches himself with the ease of which he can tell someone their going to Hell. Arthur folds in on himself, squeezing his legs tight to his chest and burying his chin into his knees. Francis just watches him take in the information.

"I'm.. Going to Hell." Arthur whispers the words, more statement like than questioning. Francis nods once in confirmation. He already said this, maybe now it's just sinking in. Arthur turns his head down to hide his face. It takes a second but he starts to shake. Francis's eyes widen. He didn't expect the human to start crying, but he figures it's probably a natural reaction to finding you're going to the place of eternal damnation. He reaches out a hand to maybe comfort Arthur, but the human surprises him, lifting his head up and laughing. Francis stares at him wide eyed.

"All this time I thought I was already living in Hell," Arthur giggles into his hand, his shoulder shaking. Francis feels a smile creep onto his face. There have been very few times he thought a human to be attractive since his incubus days. He rather likes the smile of Arthur's face though. Arthur calms down and smile at him. Francis leans back and opens his arms in an inviting way. He uses none of charms to get the human to snuggle in against his chest. Arthur sighs in content at the arms around him.

"I.. I've been. So alone. Most of my life." Arthur tugs at his hair, speaking mostly into Francis's chest. The demon stays quiet, waiting for the human to continue. It's not his time to speak.

"It may not be a very long life, compared to yours, but I never had many friends. Barely any that I could play with as a kid or hang out with as a teenager." Arthur gives out a shaky laugh. Francis holds him just a little tighter.

"So when I moved here I was hoping to make some new friends, meet new people, but it didn't work out like that." Arthur continues. Francis runs a hand through the human's hair in a soothing manner. Arthur begins to shake.

"All the kids I grew up with made fun of me or called me names. There's not even someone who pitied me enough to be friends with me." Arthur's shaking increases and Francis holds him as tight as he can without hurting him. Arthur starts to cry tears into his shirt, but the demon doesn't mind. He holds his human close, rubbing small circles on his back to calm him. Arthur doesn't stop crying for another ten minutes. He blubbers out about his childhood for Francis to hear, confident that this demon will not tell his life's story.

Arthur's parents had divorced when he turned seven. His father had died shortly after he turned eight. His mother had done her best as single parent to raise him. They had to move many times for her to stay in a stable place. She did her best to save money and work so he could attend school with good clothes. Arthur never asked for much in return to make it easier for her. He asked her, begged her not to go out at night to work the streets. She died in the middle of his junior year of high school due to some robbery gone wrong on the block she worked on. Francis does his best to remember the mother's name, if she came through his gates. He doesn't. She must have gone to Heaven. Probably.

Arthur spent his childhood trying to make friends. Most of the kids knew of his struggles and stayed away anyway. Arthur never had much place to wash himself and stay clean. He tried hard though to make friends anyway. His lonely middle school years morphed into depressed high school years. He didn't feel right walking through the halls. No one really bullied him, but no one talked to him either. He could talk to his mother and help her out. He got a job to support himself more, working at the local department store so they could get discounts on their clothes. He tried so hard to make it easier on her. When she died his world fell to pieces. He couldn't support the rinky apartment they lived in and go to school at the same time.

One of the teachers whose classes he did exceptionally well in offered up their spare bedroom for him however. He worked so hard to stay out of their way. He studied and worked more than necessary for a child his age. He got promoted and got enough scholarships to come to the town he's in now to go to college for free. He still works more than he should, working his body hard and not getting nearly enough sleep. But he gets by and can support himself. He's in his senior year of college, studying to be a business major, and the manager at the local department store down the street.

"So out of all the things you could have asked for, your mother back, money enough to last you a lifetime and then some, the chemicals in your brain in balance making it easier for you to be happy, to never have to work another day again, and you choose friendship?" Francis teases the human in his arms. Arthur grumbles something angrily at him. His tears still not making it easy to talk. Arthur pushes his face away after not making his anger clear enough in words. It makes Francis chuckle more. The human is a bit of a spitfire even when down. He could appreciate that.

"My mother wouldn't want me to dwell on the past, and I think I can get by well enough with money. I don't want to be greedy. I just.. I want someone to talk with me. That's my wish." Arthur leans up to blink down at the demon. Francis tilts his head, taking in the appearance of the human. Arthur's green eyes are red around the edges along with his cheeks. He rubs at his nose. Francis smiles at him.

Arthur gets them fresh glasses of water, giving Francis a minor tour of the apartment. It's small. One bedroom, one bath, and a small kitchen area. Francis pokes around the fridge. He doesn't need to eat or drink really, but it's fun to do sometimes. Arthur hands him the glass. They stay in the kitchen to talk. Francis hops onto the counter while Arthur leans up against the edge near him.

Francis tells him a little bit about before he died. He lived in an older period of time in France. He loved to flirt with the girls and had no problems flirting with the men as well. He had taken many of them to bed. He died of disease, probably sexually transmitted, not that he cared. He went to Heaven. He speaks just a little of his time there. He tells of the children he helped and the way the higher angels didn't like the way he lingered. He tells of Alfred and how his old boss managed to gain the High Archangel position.

"What was it like? To fall?" Arthur sips his water slowly. Francis sighs. He figured the human would ask.

"Burning mostly. Scratching all over. I broke a bone or six." Francis dismisses Arthur's concerned look. He's perfectly fine now. It's been so long since someone willingly tried to hurt him.

"You said that one boy.. Matthew was it? Is your friend? Do you have other friends?" This question makes Francis laugh. Maybe there are those he can consider partners in crime or close acquaintances, but friends? He doesn't know much about that. Matthew is close to him, and Gilbert has proved to not give a damn about his old position. Ivan has yet to try and surpass him.

"Friend is.. Such an odd term to use for Hell." Francis snickers. Arthur spins his glass in circles in his hands. Francis watches him and decides to give the best answer he can.

"I do talk to others, those some might consider friends. There is Matthew yes, the greeter. Gilbert, the old King is not bad. Very fun when you're in the mood. Then there is Ivan, the High Demon of Torture." Arthur spits up his water at the title. Francis smiles at him. It's so typical for him to have people with odd titles like that. He forgot that being the chief of torture is not a common job description in the human world.

"High Demon.. Of Torture?" Arthur gasps out. Francis nods. He stretches his arms up.

"Ruthless man, very good at his job." Francis closes his eyes, giving a single sharp nod in approval. It's true. No one can be as cold as Ivan and harm thousands of people yet still be fine at the end of the day. Francis could never do that, he's too soft. He'll admit it. Ivan has told him so as well, mostly when he made the gentle areas for those who couldn't help their mental states. He and Ivan fought over it. Francis came out the winner, being the stronger of the two. Ivan had a blizzard in his eyes. Francis told him to stand down. Ivan did. They've been on better terms since then.

"When I go to Hell," Arthur starts. He gulps. Francis raises an eyebrow at him.

"Where will I go?" Francis hums and stares at the ceiling. He wonders where Arthur would have gone on his own. Probably Heaven, a hard working boy like himself. Might have been one of the better angels, even if he only ended up a low level one. Arthur, since his soul is now bound to the underground, will most likely pass through some paperwork. The ones that just die get to wait longer, it's a part of that whole waiting pain idea.

"You will be sent to a special section of Hell for your own personal torture, most likely. Probably the ghost rooms. Or solitary confinement." Francis smiles down at Arthur like what he said didn't sound terrible in anyway. Arthur simply blinks at him before putting his glass down roughly.

"How can you say that so casually? Do you feel any regret in hurting people?" Arthur is glaring at him. Francis just keeps smiling. Arthur is alive in his anger.

"Most of the people in torture deserve it in my opinion. Those who don't get work." He shrugs. Many times those who don't deserve Hell get put in lackey jobs, filing through papers and people and making sure tools are clean and the rooms are neat. Checking in as well as taking souls that are ready to be reborn once they have been beaten into submission. They are guides and the underlings.

"Work? You mean, I could work in Hell?" Arthur has calmed down, now drinking his water again. He's still got a worrisome look in his eyes.

"Of course. It's all just work really. What do you think Matthew's job is? He tells people they are in Hell." Francis chuckles. He remembers meeting Matthew for the first time. The sweet young boy had been one of the few to take him to see Gilbert as King. After Francis's punishment was determined, Matthew guided him to his torture room. The one after that, and the one after that as well. He also took him to the training grounds. He's the one who pointed out the wing difference in Gilbert and himself. Also told him about their wings in general. Matthew had knocked him around when he insulted the King. He's stronger than he looks.

"Can I greet others as well?" Francis hums at the question. Arthur as a greeter would work, but he would need to be stronger.

"Possibly, you might be put higher up with your knowledge of business. The training is almost worse than the actual torture." Francis grimaces. So many years in training, more than any he spent in designated torture. Arthur scowls at the ground.

"Will I work for you?" The question is quiet but Francis hears it all the same. He lets a twisted smirk cross his face.

"Everyone works for me." His tone is dark and Arthur shudders though he tries to hide his reaction. He cautiously asks questions about the jobs, and mildly the torture too. Francis gives the best descriptions he can, seeing as he went through all of it, without scaring the human too much. Solitary confinement is endless, you have no sense of time and the ones in charge change the size of the room you wander in. Sexual displeasure is reserved for rapists and child abusers. Ghost rooms make you feel like you are surrounded but invisible and ignored by the people around you. Physical torture is just painful, your body does not deteriorate and you do not pass out. You sit in agony. The fear rooms show your biggest fear, and even then make you fear more. It's called torture for a reason.

"Why did you have to go through all that? You're bringing new meaning to the phrase 'to Hell and back' you know." Arthur had given into the night and made tea for himself. He sips a hot cup now. Francis is laying on his stomach across the countertop. He's debating reaching out to play with Arthur's blonde locks. Never before has he stopped from giving into his desires, especially one as petty as touching someone else's hair. He huffs.

"Gilbert devised the plan to make sure I could handle being King. The boy went through the same thing I did when he took over Hell from the ruler before him." Arthur hums low now in response. Francis smiles. He's been doing that a lot with Arthur. He does like the human, that much is clear to him. The part that bugs him is the itching urge to not use his powers on the human to get them to like him more. It's not the first time he's wanted someone to like him powerless. It probably won't be the last either. He does want to see Arthur squirm beneath him though, cause he's positive Arthur squirms.

"That sounds.. Nice. In a complete round about way." Arthur sips his tea. Francis scoffs.

"Yes, nice. For a trouble making lunatic asshole, he makes decent company." Arthur chuckles at that. Francis gives in and reaches out a hand to twirl a bit of Arthur's hair around his finger. The human tenses to the touch at first. Francis doesn't stop though. Arthur's hair is softer than he thought. The human takes a deep breath and relaxes. Francis feels accomplished.

"So what do you do as King?" Arthur glances at him. He hands over his cup of tea to share. Francis leans up to take a drink of the beverage. It's not bad, though not something he could drink often.

"I make final decisions on torture choices for certain people as well as make sure the branches are running smoothly. I also meet with the angels to discuss matters of souls. I will probably have to meet with them about you, if you prove to be a far better person in your life." Francis smirks at the human. Arthur shifts uncomfortably at the subtle praise. He snatches back his tea and downs the rest of it. Only a few times has Francis had to debate a soul. A lesser demon or such made a deal with a human whose life turned out far better and more heavenly than expected. He had to talk to the angels that looked after the human. The debates don't usually last long. Francis tells the human exactly what would happen if they went to Hell, the angels tell them what would happen if they went to Heaven. The lesser demons complain mostly. Most of the time, when a person learns their soul will go to Hell, they stop caring and make it more so that their soul will be damned. Francis has only ever let a soul go once. A sweet young girl who worked her hardest for her family. The lesser demon she made a deal with annoyed him too. She's a guardian angel now, or so he's heard.

Arthur yawns suddenly and now does Francis realize the sky getting brighter. They've stayed up most of the night. Francis guides Arthur back to the room and onto the couch. He pets Arthur's hair until he falls asleep. He has to stay with the human for a full 48 hours, then he can go on and off for the next 30 days. He sits right by Arthur on the floor waiting for the human to wake up. He doesn't need sleep. It can waste time but it's not necessary. He lays on the floor and tries to relax enough to doze off. Demons don't sleep in public places, it's too exposing. He'll take his risks.

He wakes with a start, sitting up immediately. A blanket falls off his shoulders. He blinks down at the garment. His internal body clock is messed up. Human time concepts are so weird. He shakes his head hard and pushes off the floor. It's been so long since he's slept on such a hard surface. He wanders about the house in search for the human. Instead he finds a scrap piece of paper. Arthur has left for the morning to go to work. Francis scoffs and goes back to the couch Arthur occupied earlier. He flops down and flicks his wrist. A stack of papers appear on his lap and he sets to work. There is a paper among them from Ivan asking his whereabouts. He tells of the summoning and how he will be back on and off for the next 30 days or so.

He works through the files, dictating punishments and approving or disapproving of new punishment plans. There are some details about adding new rooms for every sector of punishment. There might be some sub levels of punishment added so that certain people get exactly what they deserve. He taps his pen to his lips. The fear sector wants to add more rooms in general to their insect and height areas. There is also a demand for a new wave room for those afraid of the ocean. Torture employees need more tools, the rusting ones are nice for scare tactics but clean ones cut better. The greeters need more filing cabinets. Francis sighs. He doesn't know why some of these things need his approval. He is in charge of the layout of hell, so he supposes that's why. No wonder Gilbert didn't want to be King, this is so menial and he's more active. Francis doesn't mind. He scribbles the okay for a succubus to try and tempt a country leader.

"Francis?" He smiles to himself when he hears the front door open. He can hear Arthur making his way through the house and to the room he now occupies. The human appears in the doorway and Francis can see him release a breath of relief. Francis can't help but smirk at him. It must be nice to have someone to come home to, even if it is only for a few days. Arthur removes his tie and drops his briefcase on his way to sit next to Francis on the couch.

"What is that?" Arthur asks nodding his head at the files. Francis crosses one leg over the other.

"My work. Plans and punishments." He flips a few papers so Arthur can see. The human scrutinizes the words. He will have a file just like this once he dies.

"Have you ever heard of Arctic Monkeys?" Arthur asks suddenly. Francis gives him a puzzled look, trying hard not to blatantly stare at his eyes. He shakes his head slowly. Arthur breaks into an excited smile. He skips on over to a box and pulls out a computer. He boots up the machine and Francis stands to lean over the shoulder. Arthur taps a few more buttons and a song is playing. Francis drops to his knees next to his human. He closes his eyes to listen. He likes the music Arthur plays for him. It's different from the music he listens to, the screams of the people being tortured.

The human plays all sorts of music. There's a song that plays and Francis wants to dance. He pulls Arthur up and holds him tight as he twirls them around the room. Arthur is awkward at first, unsure of his footing, but he gets the steps down. He laughs at the silliness of it all. Francis dips him quickly, shocking the human speechless. He smirks at him and kisses his forehead. Arthur flusters, pushing at his face to get him to go away. Francis drops him.

"Ow hey!" Arthur glares at him. Francis just shrugs. The human struggled, what was he supposed to do? He and Arthur spend the rest of the day listening to music and talking about trivial things. Favorite colors and favorite foods. When it gets closer to food time according to the human, Francis offers to make edibles for Arthur.

"You can cook?" Arthur deadpans on their way to the kitchen area. Francis scoffs at him and holds up a burnt pan.

"Can you?"Arthur puffs up and throws a spare pen at the demon. Francis catches it easily and laughs at him. He makes a simple tilapia with broccoli meal out of the ingredients Arthur has hiding in fridge. He leans on his elbow and watches the human eat. Arthur is in shambles at the delicious cooking. Francis is proud of his work. Whenever he wanted to surely sweep a young man or lady off their feet he always made them food. He's a little out of touch with the living world, but he's adapted over the years enough. His cooking has improved greatly.

After eating Arthur cleans up the dishes while Francis watches. He's quite liking this human. He has met others like Arthur, but he likes him all the same. He still has the urge to take him to bed, as it is in his nature, but he wants to do it willingly, without his powers. They spend the night staying up and talking just like the night before, though Francis convinces Arthur to go to bed earlier.

"Okay, you have so many books about spells, what is that all about?" Francis is sitting on the edge of the couch Arthur is cuddled up on. The human yawns and snuggles into his pillow.

"I've always been interested in magic. I find it fascinating," Francis hums in response. He's looked at the books on the shelves. Magic spells and demon summonings and legends and folklore all over the place. He's skimmed through a book when Arthur left the room. It's partially accurate. He scrunches up his face.

"How did you come about that summoning circle?" He moves his hard gaze to the paint still on the floor. Most demons are very secretive about the circles that can summon them entirely. To be able to get the King's circle is a feat.

"I drew it myself." Francis pauses, whipping his head around to stare at the human. Arthur opens his eyes and blinks at Francis.

"What?"

"You drew it?" Francis asks incredulously. "Where did you learn it?" Arthur sits up. Francis moves to his knees. He grabs Arthur's hands in his and pulls him close.

"I.. I just, put some symbols together, that made more sense than the books." Arthur stammers out. Francis doesn't move. This human has put together a legendary summon just by reading the right books. He doesn't move. Arthur pulls his hands back a little but Francis doesn't let them go. The King grips his hands tighter. Arthur flinches.

"You can never tell a soul what you know." Francis narrows his eyes at the human. Arthur gulps and nods his head quickly. Francis releases his hands. Having the power to summon the Demon King would be catastrophic on the human world. He's lucky that Arthur is just an odd ended human who has a knack for the supernatural. Arthur wiggles back down into his blankets. Francis snaps his fingers and lights the paint on fire along with the carpet around it. Arthur jolts up and begins to protest, jumping off the couch. Francis grabs his wrist and yanks him back. Arthur lands with a huff in Francis's lap. The demon holds the human by the waist as the carpet blazes.

"Francis! Put out that fire right now!" Arthur struggles in the arms around him but Francis refuses to let him go. He wiggles his finger at the fire, removing the smoke so the alarm doesn't go off. He rests his chin on Arthur's shoulder, a smile on his face.

"Relax," He coos in the human's ear. Arthur's struggling lessons slightly. The fire dulls to a small flame. The paint is gone off the carpet. Arthur is no longer wiggling, almost leaning into Francis's hold. The demon hums lowly in the soft glow his abnormal fire provides. It takes a while, but he finally notices Arthur asleep in his lap. He moves the human to the couch so he can sleep properly. Francis keeps the fire going for another hour. He makes sure that the paint is off the carpet, but the floor is not ruined. He can't have his circle getting into the wrong hands. Arthur may be upset his work is gone, but the protection of the innocent people and his own sanity is more important.

He stays and does his work when Arthur leaves for his job in the morning. There is another message from Ivan letting him know Hell is just as rotten as when he left it. Francis smirks. He writes he will be back soon enough. He is tearing his hair out at the memo of overflow. There are some army men making a ruckus and not moving to their rooms as designated. It'll be one of the first things he deals with when he is able to go back to Hell. He knows how difficult it is to be a greeter. Matthew had been his trainer. He has no idea how that boy can be that patient. People come in hysterical or angry or numb. Francis had some of the most difficulty with that job. He's going to have to ruffle some feathers.

When Arthur gets back, they talk a walk through the town. Francis hides his tail and horns. He manages to magic himself into what he used to look like as a human. Arthur points out his work building and the college he attends. He tells about his classes and what he does. Francis glares at the ground. Arthur may not have friends, but the boy barely tries either. He sighs. After being rejected friendship for so long, you stop trying. They stop at a small café on the walk back to Arthur's apartment. Francis has money out of nowhere to pay for it.

"Okay," Arthur takes a sip of his water then continues, "You're mainly incubus right?" Francis sips his own water. He nods to the human.

"So what can you.. Do?" Arthur folds his arms across the table. Francis smirks. He leans forward and Arthur does the same. Francis glances around the room till he spots a young man taking orders for an elderly couple across the room. He nods in that direction.

"See the boy over there?" Arthur leans back and casually peeks that way. The boy smiles at the couple and moves into the kitchen to tell the cooks the order. Arthur nods to Francis.

"Watch," Francis whispers. He leans back and lets out a small moan. He glances at the kitchen and narrows his eyes slightly. He can feel the boy's heat signature. He mentally pulls the boy his way. He looks to Arthur who is watching the kitchen doors. The boy appears suddenly, turning around the restaurant in confusion. When his eyes land on Francis he pauses and blushes wildly. Arthur stares wide eyed as the boy comes over, twisting his apron in his hands.

"Ex- excuse me? Have you been helped yet?" The boy tries to smile naturally but he can't seem to get himself together. It's clear that he's only talking to Francis. The demon leans on his elbow and smiles at the boy simply.

"Yes we have thank you though," Francis voice is cool and controlled. He's been playing people for years upon years. The boy nods and backs away from the table, a sheepish smile on his face. He runs back to the kitchen. Arthur lets out a short laugh and faces Francis, an amused smile on his face.

"You just looked at him," He exclaims. Francis shrugs like it's no big deal. Truthfully, if he wanted to, he could get everyone in the restaurant and five miles over fawning over him with a blink of his eyes.

"That's a simple trick. There's more that goes into seduction." He winks flirtatiously at the human. Arthur huffs and turns away from him. It's silent for a moment but Arthur breaks it.

"What else goes into your.. Uh. Job?" He fumbles for words. Francis laughs at him. He doesn't mind giving out Hell's secrets. No one would believe Arthur anyway.

"Getting people to talk to you is the easy part. You have to peak their interest naturally for the seduction to really work. You can force a human to follow you, but it takes a lot of effort. If a sex demon gets the human to like them without powers, the human becomes putty in their hands," Francis drops his tone to a sultry level. His eyes are locked on the human across from him. Arthur twitches in his seat but keeps eye contact with him. The entire restaurant is looking at them now. Francis put a little more conviction in his voice, attracting all the humans in the place. He stands suddenly and holds a hand out to Arthur. The human gulps but takes his hand. They walk out of the cafe.

It's silent on the way back to the apartment. Arthur asks a few more question about the life of an incubus. Francis can tell it makes the human uncomfortable with the idea of being forced into sex. Who wouldn't be uncomfortable with that? He reassures the human that the sex demons abilities do not work on those unwilling. Arthur relaxes a little at that.

"Have you ever used your powers on me?" Arthur asks once they are sitting on the couch together. Arthur is tapping away on his computer, looking over spreadsheets and making edits on papers scattered around him. Francis has a few papers in front of him that are mild. Mostly just reports on the ruffians at the welcome rooms that are still refusing to head inside Hell.

"Once, when you freaked out about summoning the King of Hell." Francis flips a paper over his shoulder. It puffs up in smoke and disappears. Arthur makes an 'oh' face as he remembers. Francis had cut off his other senses so the human would only focus on him and what he told him to do. Francis taps his pen to his lips. He glances at Arthur, staring at his computer with his brows furrowed. Francis smiles and leans over quickly to kiss the human's cheek. Arthur sputters immediately, leaning away from Francis and glaring at him. His glare is lessened by the splotch of red on his cheeks.

"I want you to like me naturally," Francis informs him, crossing one of his legs over the other. He turns back to his work. Arthur is still fuming. He rubs at his face harshly to remove Francis's kiss from his face.

"Don't play with me," he grumbles. Francis just smiles. He snuggles back into the human and marks down the punishment for a child molester. Eternity in the sexual displeasure rooms. Kids are some of the most innocent of humans, they don't deserve that pain. He's hit with an odd feeling. It's so weird to be snuggled up to a human, sweet and nice like, yet be determining the torture the scum of the earth will go through. Those two don't blend well.