Sebas-chan!
It was the most calm time of the day, at Phantomhive Manor: teatime.
Ciel was sitting at a little round table in the garden, in the dying, red light of late afternoon.
Please, young Master! Come out sometimes, breathe some fresh air, it will be good for you! And how to tell Mey-rin she was wrong? So the Earl of Phantomhive was slowly sipping his cup of tea, a slice of fruit cake placed in front of him.
Sebastian stood beside him, his arms behind his back, fitting perfectly in the role of the loyal shadow.
A Shadow he was.
And this Shadow was a little worried. Was Ciel all right? He hadn't spoke in all day, just some muffled reply to answer the overexcited questions (about the teatime, of course) of the incompetent staff.
Sebastian would have liked to say he didn't feel anything for his Master, and the feeling that slept in some cavity just below his stomach was barely a feeling.
But still, there it was, crawling like a poisonous snake.
-"Bo-chan?- Ciel lifted his gaze- Does something bother you? You look unpleased."
The Earl smirked, lowering his eyes.
-"Since when do you care for me, Sebastian?"
-"I'm sorry, I just-"
-"…trying to make me feel better. Well, I suppose it's a butler's job."
Sebastian bowed slightly.
-"If you don't want to tell me… but if you wish to, you know I'm here."
Ciel sighed heavily, looking at the ground.
The Shadow could have sworn that he was looking away to hide his sadness. An Earl shouldn't have emotions, and if he really can't live without them, then he must conceal them.
He felt pity for his Mas- come on, for this kid. This thirteen years-old boy, way too young to be the misanthropist that he was. The child (nothing but a child, to the demonic butler: after all he didn't live for hundreds of years like him) was so filled with hate that you could see it come out of his skin. And you didn't have to be a demon to feel it.
Sometimes Sebastian knew that Ciel was thinking about the contract, about everything that awaited him after the reach of his goal.
Death. Fear. Hell. And- aren't Fate's jokes amusing?- his Hell had to be the butler that seemed to care for him.
Poor foolish kid… no one cares for you.
Ciel's blue eye met the man's red ones.
-"Sebastian, do you-"
-"Sebas-chaaan!"
Oh. God. Please. Not again.
Both the butler and the Earl recognised the voice. The girly, squeey, love-drippin' yet somehow awkwardly masculine voice of Grell Sutcliffe.
Ciel didn't finish his question, Sebastian froze even more.
A red figure appeared in the sky and the next moment it landed on the table gracefully.
Grell is here and not a single stain… I suppose I'm lucky.
-"Hug me baby!" Cooed Grell, throwing his arms in the air and jumping, sure to land in his beloved's arms.
Waiting for him was just a strong hand that grabbed him by the neck, stopping his assault.
The red shinigami crashed on the ground, tugging at the tablecloth for balance.
The teapot wobbled and the Black Butler leaned over to grab it quickly. It was full of steaming hot tea and it was heading to Ciel's side. The boy remained yet perfectly still. He knew. Sebastian couldn't ever let that happen.
-"Ouch! Why so rough?" Complained Grell, standing up.
-"Am I rough? I don't land on random tables ruining teas, Grell Sutcliffe."
The shinigami giggled.
-"Yeah, yeah, whatever. But this isn't a random table, you silly! It's the table. It's the table you were standing next to."
Sebastian sighed and shook his head.
-"There is a reason why I was standing here. And the reason is my young Master. He was there, and so I had to be by his side."
Almost motionless, the Black Butler replied, hoping he would feel all the distance he was placing between himself and Grell.
As expected he didn't sense it. Or at least he hided it well. Who could know? He didn't like shinigamies after all, and that particular one was a weirdo and kind of a stalker.
-"I see, pompus ass. Anyway, chibi- he told Ciel- I do envy you. Not everyone can have such a handsome, nifty, capable butler. You really are a wonder, Sebas-chan."
The Earl didn't seem to take the 'chibi' seriously. Grell was crazy. He could say what he liked, and his sensitivity wasn't to be scratched by what a poor crazy freak said.
Sebastian lifted an hand to strike the shinigami.
-"Did I give you an order?"
-"I apologize, Bo-chan. Do you have any?"
-"You should know what to do."
The butler looked at the quite amused red-haired man.
-"I suppose you don't have an invitation, do you?"
-"Huh?"
-"My Master does not allow people inside his mansion without inviting them. He barely knows you, so I think that I should…"
-"Kick him out, Sebastian. I mean it." Completed Ciel, taking a calm sip of tea, his blue ring shining in the early summer sun.
-"Yes, my Lord."
Then he grabbed Grell by the bowtie and started to drag him to the manor main gate.
-"Seby! What are you…? Hey!"
-"Have a pleasant journey, Mr. Butler To Die For." Said Sebastian, a moment before kicking him in the butt.
Grell fell to the other side of the gate, still protesting.
-"Wait, Seba…"
When he turned around the butler wasn't there anymore.
-"Wow, did he kick you out? Like, really?"
Grell nodded and sniffed, burying his face in his red handkerchief and sobbing. The Undertaker grinned nervously, then he opened a little black jar and picked a bone-shaped cookie out. He tapped Grell's shoulder and offered it to him. At the sight of the cookie the red shinigami cried louder.
The Undertaker shrugged his shoulders and threw the whole biscuit in his mouth, munching thoughtfully.
-"What should I do?"
-"Why am I supposed to know?"
-"Because you were a great shinigami! Please, tell me something."
Undertaker wasn't really much of a ladies' man, and he couldn't have known what to tell him even if he was looking for help with a normal woman, how could he know what to do to conquer the heart of a male demon?
-"Uuh… well… basically what do you do when you see him?"
Grell gulped, wiping his tear.
-"Um, I…"
-"You glomp him. Or you try to, I think. Anyway, I think he takes everything you do as no less than harassment."
-"Then tell me something!" The red butler yelled, confused.
-"How much do you know of him?" He tried to seem professional, but something told him it wasn't quite working.
-"Ah, Undertaker, please. I know everything of him." The red haired man said, fluttering his eyelids.
-"If you do, then use your knowledge to charm him."
-"That's a splendid idea! Any suggestions?"
Undertaker smirked.
-"Advice Corner is closed for today. Bye." And he went back to make a coffin, chuckling for no apparent reason.
TO BE CONTINUED