When I came back over an hour later, Malvor was asleep. Or at least pretending to be. Knowing him, probably both. The irritating part was that even unconscious, he looked perfect. His hair? Perfectly tousled. His face? Relaxed, like some artist had carved serenity into marble. His chest rose and fell in even breaths, the picture of peace. Infuriating. He was the kind of man who could nap on a battlefield and still look like a painting.
I set the bowls and plates down with a quiet huff, crossing my arms. "Warden of my Existence, wake up."
His eyes cracked open instantly, a grin spreading across his face like he'd been waiting for the line. "Hello, did I die and go to heaven? You look like an angel."
I narrowed my eyes. "That was a bad one."
He pouted, full lower lip and everything, like I'd stabbed him straight through his godly ego. I ignored it. "I made food," I said simply.
That perked him up fast. He sat up, eyes wide. "Made it? You did? The house didn't?" He looked genuinely shocked, which was somehow both flattering and insulting.
"The house provided the ingredients," I corrected, smirking slightly. "I made tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese."
He didn't wait. Curious, he snatched up a sandwich, bit into it, and immediately dipped it into the soup. The crisp crunch of toasted bread, the string of melted cheese, the steam curling up from the bowl. His sigh of satisfaction was dramatic enough to echo. Of course, he had to make it worse. He eyed me over the rim of his bowl, voice low, teasing, but with a weight under it. "Annie, how do you always know what I want before I do?"
I didn't even think about it. "Malvor, I just treat you the way I want to be treated."
He froze mid-bite. Blinked. Stared like I'd just told him I hated glitter. The audacity.
"Annie," he said slowly, "that was… surprising."
I only nodded, calm as ever. "Women treat a man the way they want to be treated in the beginning of a relationship."
He choked. Full-on, near-death choking. "Relationship?!?" he shouted, looking like I'd accused him of monogamy. "Excuse me?! What!?"
I broke. Laughter hit me so hard I doubled over, clutching my stomach. "Our business relationship?" I gasped between fits. "Owner and servant? Master and—"
"ANNIE!" he cut me off, scandal dripping from every syllable. "That is so inappropriate!"
I wiped a tear from my eye, smirking. "What would you call it, then?"
He froze. Actually froze. Squinted at me like I was an unsolvable riddle. Then, snap. Fingers and all. "An exclusive and mutually beneficial arrangement of shared space and divine entertainment, with occasional moments of witty banter and undeniable attraction."
I blinked. "So… a relationship?"
He gasped like I'd cursed him. Clutched his chest like I'd set him on fire. "Annie, no, that word is disgusting. How dare you."
I laughed again, shaking my head. "You are impossible."
"And yet," he grinned, smug as ever, "you're still here."
I met his gaze, unbothered, and said the truth. "I have nowhere else to be."
The air shifted. He didn't grin at that. Didn't joke. Just… watched me. And I let him. Because it was true. I lived in temples most of my life. I had no family, no friends, no relationships. Nothing waiting for me. Nowhere to go back to. The best I'd ever had were regular clients, and even that wasn't worth holding onto. So no. I had nowhere else to be. For some reason, watching the way he reacted to that, quiet, unsettled, caught off guard. It made me feel something too.
Malvor sighed, dragging a hand down his face like he could scrape off emotions if he pressed hard enough. Then he looked at me, eyes narrowed in pure, genuine exasperation. "Annie, you make me feel disgusting things."
I raised a brow and took a sip of my drink. Calm. Unbothered. "Like what?"
He scowled like I'd cornered him. "I don't know, and I don't like it."
I smirked. "Poor thing."
His finger shot out at me like an accusation. "See? That. That right there. You make me feel things, and then you mock me for it. Disgusting."
I shrugged and bit into my sandwich, slow and deliberate, like I hadn't just declared war on his entire existence. He groaned, predictably, flopping onto the couch as if I'd mortally wounded him. An arm thrown over his forehead. Perfect fainting-Victorian-lady pose. "This is emotional warfare," he groaned, peeking at me from beneath his arm with all the suffering of a man who stubbed his toe in public. "You, my dearest Annie Bunny, are the Emotional Warfare Queen." He sighed heavily, shaking his head like he was preparing to be executed. "Always shooting me. Ruthless. No hesitation. Straight to the heart."
I snorted, unimpressed. "Malvor, that was not an attack. That was just a fact."
He gasped, hand clutching his chest like I'd skewered him. "And yet, somehow, I still bleed."
I rolled my eyes. "Drama king."
He peeked at me again, grinning, eyes glinting with smug satisfaction. "Ah, but you didn't say I was wrong."
That night I laid there thinking of this whimsical, amazing place, and the chaos god who has made me feel things too.
I woke at my usual, absurdly early hour, stretching before making my way to the kitchen. Today's coffee? Something light, blonde roast, fruity, with a swirl of strawberry. More dessert than coffee, but that was fine by me. After a few approving sips, I made a second cup and carried it down the hall. Malvor was still sprawled in bed when I found him, tangled in sheets, looking like a man who had only half-committed to existing for the day. I shoved the mug toward him.
He accepted without hesitation, sipping lazily before perking up. "Annie coffee cake, are you sure you weren't a barista?" he purred, licking his lips. "Your coffee is always an experience."
I snorted. "I just like my coffee to taste good, that's all."
He swirled the liquid dramatically in his mouth, humming like a self-appointed critic. "Ah yes, I taste it now. A hint of care, a whisper of effort, and a dash of you secretly trying to impress me."
I smirked. "You are so full of yourself."
"And yet here you are, still bringing me coffee." He grinned, stretching like a spoiled cat as he cradled his cup. "Tell me, Annie sweetheart, why do you do it?"
"Because you have the most ridiculous coffee bar I've ever seen," I said flatly, gesturing vaguely. "Syrups, beans, machines… you're a hoarder. I assume you like coffee, so I make it. Simple as that." I took a sip and added, deadpan: "For you, my Lord of Chaos."
He froze, staring at me over the rim of his cup. Then slowly set it down, golden-tan eyes glittering with something dangerous. "Annie… did you just admit you put effort into pleasing me?"
"It's just coffee, Malvor."
He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like I'd professed undying love. "Oh, but is it? Or is this the first step toward you adoring me?"
I rolled my eyes, taking another sip. "I regret everything."
He beamed, sipping like he'd won a battle. Then tapped his chin as if thinking. "What is this now? Day five of you bringing me coffee every morning?"
I froze mid-sip. Damn it. His grin widened. "Oh, Annie, my sweet espresso bean… that's dedication."
"It's just coffee."
"Oh, but is it?" he teased, leaning forward. "Or is this… affection? A ritual? A sign of devotion?"
I groaned, rubbing my temple. "I regret everything."
"Ah-ah-ah!" He pointed triumphantly at me. "Too late. The evidence is clear." He raised his mug like a trophy. "Proof of your love."
"I hope you choke on that proof."
He sipped smugly, eyes glinting. "Mmm. Tastes like Annie's suppressed feelings."
"My only feelings for you," I said evenly, "are annoyance, irritation, exasperation, secondhand embarrassment, occasional rage, the deep suffering of dealing with an overgrown man-child, and, most importantly, the overwhelming desire to strangle you in your sleep."
He lit up, delighted. "Ah, Annie, my bitter little coffee bean, those are all just love in disguise."
I stared at him. Then, very slowly, took a long sip. "I hope your next cup is terrible."
He gasped, horrified. "Take that back right now! I order you to never make me bad coffee!"
"You order me?" I arched a brow.
He sat up straighter, nodding solemnly. "Yes. I, Malvor, Lord of Chaos, Master of Mischief, and Supreme Connoisseur of Fine Beverages, ORDER you to never make me bad coffee."
I took the slowest sip imaginable. "Hmm… I don't think that's how this works."
His eyes narrowed. "Annie Caffeine Queen, I will smite you if you serve me anything less than perfection."
"I'll make you the worst coffee I can imagine just to spite you."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me."
He clutched his mug tighter, studying me like I was about to commit a war crime. After a long pause, he cleared his throat and took a careful sip. "Annie… dearest, sweetest, most wonderful angel in my life—"
"No."
"—beloved barista of my heart—"
"Absolutely not."
"—I was wrong to question you. Please never betray me like this."
I grinned, victorious. "That's what I thought."
He threw his hands up. "You really are the worst, most disrespectful mortal I've ever met!"
"Oh?" I lifted a brow, sipping calmly.
"No worship, no fear, nothing! It's like I'm not even a god to you!"
I tilted my head, mock reverent. "Oh, Malvor, god of me, Lord of Chaos and bullshit… Better?"
He blinked. Then grinned, sharp and wicked. "You know what? I actually liked that."
"Of course you did."
"Say it again, Annie, but slower."
I walked out, coffee in hand, not even looking back. His voice followed me down the hall:
"Annie! Annie, I'm serious!"