Title: My Boy Builds Coffins
Pairing: Grell X Undertaker
Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two
Story Contains: Yaoi
Chapter Warnings:
Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.
Chapter Number: #1
Author Note: As I promised, here is the sequel to Forsaken. Don't be fooled by the wording of the summary, it's quite lighthearted with minimal conflict. Just enough to ensure a plot.
Second Note: Why hasn't anyone used this song by Florence and the Machine for inspiration for Undertaker? My boy builds coffins… It fits him so well.
Third Note: Happy Holidays to all of you. This is your present from me. Sorry, no returns, exchanges, or refunds.
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After Undertaker's hat had fallen forward onto the floor and exposed his gorgeous eye to the lecherous red reaper, the younger shinigami acted in the behavior he knew best. He swooped close to Undertaker, slid the man's bangs boldly aside to take in a full glance of his lovely, sexy eyes and kissed him deeply. The Undertaker wasn't much of a lover, but Grell didn't mind so much. It was almost refreshing to have someone so inexperienced—someone he could teach to perform the way he liked.
The two were a couple after that night passed, but in order for it to stay that way, Undertaker had commanded that Grell play the part of a woman while in the shop. It was obvious, Undertaker had stated, that a female apprentice for undertaking would cause a stir, but it would destroy business if they knew Grell was a male.
Why was that?
Because Grell had an inability to keep his hands to himself. A female apprentice was something to scoff at, but a homosexual Undertaker and effeminate male apprentice would be a great deal worse.
Grell didn't mind really—wearing the red gown Undertaker had purchased for him to disguise his gender wasn't so bad and, after all, he really did feel more comfortable as a woman than a man. In fact, he was so comfortable playing the role of Undertaker's apprentice and fiancée that he felt more deceptive when he worked as a reaper and a male than he did as an undertaker and a woman.
He loved watching Undertaker sell caskets—Grell was forbidden to speak to the customers while Undertaker was present since the role of a woman was silence and obedience (obedience being the one Undertaker constantly stressed since Grell was…Grell)…and because Grell had a way of scaring customers off—even when his teeth were disguised.
So Grell pouted whenever he caught Undertaker's eye as he presented a custom-made coffin to an older gentleman's son. The man, like most, was put off by Undertaker's speech, odd demeanor, and sick humor, but he paid for the coffin in full and left behind the suit he wanted his son to be buried in.
Grell's job was to dress the corpses and make them less revolting. A hard job, but cleaner than, well, cleaning and preserving the bodies. Grell simply had to watch as Undertaker performed that task with a wicked grin.
Undertaker attempted to make Grell do it once, but the event had ended with a shrunken corpse, a screaming customer, an angry Undertaker, and a Grell who complained of smelly, dried out hands for a week.
The two had come to an agreement. The only corpse Grell would ever handle again was Undertaker's…someone else would take the business then.
Grell sighed softly as the customer left and Undertaker's attention returned to his fiancée. When Undertaker gave up reaping, he gave up ageless immortality. He could still die as a reaper, but never of old age…Grell didn't want him to die, but someday he would.
He feared it would be soon…He had finally found happiness, and that usually meant that something had to go wrong.
"I don't like that look," Undertaker muttered as he slid past Grell behind the counter. Grell blinked and followed Undertaker with his eyes. "Let's fix it." Undertaker smirked madly and Grell's face dropped. Oh no… "Four years ago, a man came to me looking for a casket for his tall wife. When I told him the price he said to me 'but that will cost me all I have—all I'm worth!'—ooo—I told him 'bring your son. He's worth more than you.' The man said back 'I can't ask my son to bury his step mother.' To him, I said 'why?' to me he replied 'because he'd kill me'! And I said back—ooo—'exactly—you're worth more dead.'" Undertaker began laughing madly and Grell forced out a laugh or two as well.
It was part of being together—laughing at whatever made your lover laugh. His story made no sense, but Grell laughed along and managed to make the undertaker's cackling soften to a quiet giggle after planting a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
Grell hated Undertaker's humor, but he loved to watch him laugh.
When Undertaker died, that laugh would disappear.
Grell's lower lip trembled and Undertaker began to frown.
"Crying won't get you out of your work," Undertaker said firmly, turning to glance at the clock. "We close in half an hour. Sweep the floor and the counters now." Grell's sadness faded hastily into sulking frown. Undertaker never said anything he commanded firmly. Not towards Grell at least. He always spoke softly and, when he ordered something to be done, he spoke the phrase casually.
Regardless, Grell hated domestic chores and he completed them sloppily and with many stolen, sad glances and heartbroken sighs in between.
The ploy never worked—Undertaker still made him clean every night—but Grell was still hopeful that, someday, it would.
He swept the dust from the storefront out onto the street and passed a glance to the grey sky. He sighed and wiped invisible sweat from his brow and glanced back down towards the street. A woman he knew who constantly wore a pair of red earrings waved daintily in Grell's direction. He copied the gesture and smiled to her.
Madame DuBois…her husband wanted Grell, but she didn't know that. Her husband didn't know Grell was a man… Undertaker knew Monsieur DuBois wanted Grell. Grell was no longer permitted to attend the lady's parties, but the two 'women' continued to be friends.
For once, Grell had found a woman he could talk to…he thought it had something to do with the red jewelry she wore. Not just the earrings, but the necklaces and pendants…what was a high-class lady like her doing with the fiancée of an undertaker? Who knew, but being around her and her husband made Undertaker jealous…
Undertaker was most amusing when he was jealous.
Grell slipped back inside and began wiping down the counter vigorously while Undertaker scowled at him. Was Undertaker an obsessive lover?
Probably…He forbade Grell to go places, to speak with certain people…got angry when those rules were broken, but he never raised a hand in anger. Grell was flattered to be desired so strongly that he was forcedly locked away and silenced.
Grell was a special type of person and had a special type of lover. Undertaker could get as angry as he'd like, Grell would continue to disobey him whenever he saw fit and, whenever Undertaker was livid, Grell could always seduce him back to happiness.
"Undertaker?" Grell purred, setting the dusting rag aside and sliding towards the back room. "Can you help me? There's something broken in the back room and its leaking out all over the floor." Grell winked and Undertaker's face twisted into a smirk. As the colourless man abandoned the counter and locked the front door early, he cooed and then pursued his red-clad lady.
~Alice Von Wonderland
Closing Note: I know this is a short chapter, but it's kick starting the 'plot'. This is a fluff fic. Not a lot of serious drama unfolds.