Hullo, lovelies :) I'm sure this idea has been done to death, but hopefully my take on it stands out a bit. The plotbunny bit onto my leg and wouldn't let go. There will be a part two of this, but that will be it. Please enjoy and review! Also, if you like this, I encourage you to check out my other Kuroshitsuji project, "Till the Clock Strikes," and all my many oneshots.

OoO

The party was going brilliantly, but of course, all of Sebastian's parties did. The Michaelis heir, while only thirteen, was nothing if not an entertainer; with his quick wit, rakish beauty, and abundant charm, the boy could bend almost anybody to his will and earn the affections of women twice his age. Og course, this little gathering was merely a dinner party that Sebastian had coordinated for his grandfather—the current Duke of Michaelis—and his ancient friends. Very boring so far, but Sebastian knew that that was all about to change in a moment or two, as soon as Ciel came along with the desserts…

Speak of the devil, Sebastian thought as he heard the delicate clink and rattle of silverware on a rolling cart.

"Panna Cotta is a traditional Italian dessert made from gelatin, vanilla, and spices. It has been prepared with imported chocolate and hazelnuts," a voice as cool and smooth as glass rolled through the dining room like an arctic breeze, "to be served with amaretto coffee."

As the cups, saucers, and plates of quivering dessert were set down at each placemat, guests cooed over the peculiar concoction—chilled and viscous rather than their accustomed baked goods. Sebastian glanced briefly at the dolled-up hags clutching their pearls and fat old men dabbing left over puttanesca sauce from their lips, but mostly he kept his eyes on the one serving the final course—his butler, Ciel Phantomhive. Ciel was a source of great interest to all assembled, for he'd appeared so suddenly at Sebastian's side several months ago and had remained silent, grim, and mysterious ever since. The young man's looks only added to the curiosity: hair and eyes the unlikely color of lapis lazuli and a beauty that was almost ethereal made it quite obvious that the man did not come from Bohemia, and for all anyone knew of him, he may very well have been sprung from sea foam.

Now, as Ciel came to stand behind Sebastian's chair, the boy swiveled around to look curiously at his butler. The Italian themed dinner had been Sebastian's plan to begin with, his intention being to infuse dreary old Prague with a bit of warmth and passion, and Ciel had promised to take care of all the rest. Though he must have felt his master's gaze, Ciel's face remained impassive. Sebastian sipped his coffee gingerly, but impatience was welling up within him.

He did not have to wait long, though, because the coughing started just seconds later. Not to Sebastian, of course, but his guests. Sebastian looked up now, rapt, as the lords and ladies around him went from hacking to gagging to choking in a matter of moments, clawing desperately at their sagging throats as their wrinkled faces turned blue. Then, Sebastian tilted his head back and laughed, musical peals pouring forth from his throat as his companions asphyxiated.

"It's like a symphony," Sebastian sighed happily to his butler, and while Ciel said nothing, there was a smirk to his lips. A few moments passed, and the guests were face down in their unfinished panna cotta. A broad crescent of a smile lit Sebastian's fine-boned face as he motioned to the chair beside him with a flourish. "Ciel, please sit down."

It was an invitation, but one that Ciel had no choice but to accept. He slid easily into the chair, letting the previous occupant's corpse slither to the ground. While Sebastian finished his coffee and sweet, Ciel caressed the now empty tea-cup and took delicate sips of air from its gilded rim. He pretended not to notice the looks his inquisitive young charge was slanting at him.

Sebastian endeavored to create moments like these, where he and Ciel were almost equals—neither master and servant, nor predator and prey, nor demon and human. It was…novel, and Ciel had this way about him that fascinated Sebastian. Ciel was not some savage beast, as one might imagine, and he seemed at times to be nothing more than a refined, interesting, and absurdly attractive young nobleman who Sebastian would like to get to know. Most of the time, though, he was just a cold bastard.

"You know, when I smelled the almond," Sebastian started, taking a deliberate sip of coffee, "I thought for a minute that you'd decided to poison me too."

Ciel snorted, "As though I would be that stupid about it."

"Just a passing thought," Sebastian waved his hand dismissively, "though I'm sure it crossed your mind."

"Little Master," Ciel turned grave sapphire eyes to Sebastian's impish rubies, "there are some days when I desire nothing more than to season your dinner with an arsenic demi-glaze."

At this, the black-haired boy laughed again with real mirth. "You amaze me sometimes, Ciel," he murmured, long lashes drooping to trap his crimson orbs behind black bars, "like before. Brilliant, the cyanide. I feel like I ought to reward you somehow."

"Don't say ridiculous things," Ciel responded promptly, and Sebastian was both comforted and disappointed by his servant's characteristic iciness. Whether Sebastian's intention was to earnestly commend his butler or manipulate him, neither of them really knew. A bit of both, probably.

Sebastian looked down at the half-eaten panna cotta and noted that Ciel was cutting his into precise little squares to tremble, unmoved, on his plate. Silverware flashed in the candlelight as Ciel's hands hovered back and forth over the plate, as regular and mesmeric as ocean waves. With his peculiar coloring and striking beauty, the man appeared to be something out of a fairytale. If those Cupid's bow lips would only stop scowling, and those delicately chiseled features soften, he would look just like an angel. That, Sebastian thought with a smirk, was truly ironic. Looking at those apathetic eyes, blue and cold as the Nordic fjords, Sebastian couldn't help but remember the first time he'd seen them.

Once upon a time—though it was less than a year ago—Sebastian Michaelis had finished up with his tutor and gone to natter off astronomy facts to his grandfather. Grandfather was sleeping, his journal lying open on his chest. Sebastian was a curious child. He crept into the room. Now, good boys did not steal things, and good boys did not invade others' privacy, but Sebastian had never been that good, so he didn't care.

Absconded in his room with the journal in his lap, Sebastian realized something terrible: his grandfather was completely mad. By decoding the cursive scrawl, the boy learned that Grandfather blamed him for the recent death of Sebastian's parents—still a sore sting in his young heart—and that he believed Sebastian had similar plans for his current guardian. Grandfather intended to assassinate Sebastian within the year.

It was then that Sebastian bolted from his ancestral mansion, shock, grief, and fury stinging his throat and eyes. Down through a labyrinth of cobbled streets he ran, past main squares full of merchants and street performers and through alleys where swarthy men hawked absinthe. In Josefov, Sebastian stopped, breathing hard. He was an athletic boy, so his exhaustion signified miles of covered distance. There were no people around, thank God, so Sebastian could let his eyes hemorrhage their bitter tears at last. Through the crystal haze of salt, Sebastian saw a black cat approach him from the shadows. For a moment, Sebastian's tears stopped because the creature was just so…

"Beautiful," he'd murmured, watching how the feline's movements seemed to melt into each other, smooth as shadows. When the little beast neared, Sebastian plucked it up and clutched it to his chest, burying his face in the silken fur. He sank to his knees—bare beneath his knickerbockers and bruised by the gravel—and murmured out his anguish to the cat, which lay quietly in his arms. When Sebastian finished, he felt a low purr vibrate against his shoulder, and then his hands were empty.

Sebastian blinked, startled and noticed a shadow blotting out the then-Summer sun. The figure of a man loomed before him, with eyes and hair the color of afternoon sky.

"I have a…business proposition for you."

Now, in the murky pool of his coffee, Sebastian could swear he saw those luminescent blue eyes reflected for the barest of instants. A shiver flew up the boy's spine, but he shook it off. Enough lolling about. With one fluid movement, Sebastian jumped up onto the tabletop. If Ciel was surprised, he didn't show it. The cerulean-haired demon merely stood and walked parallel to his master as Sebastian strode down the expanse of black oak, graceful as dance. The click of Sebastian's heeled boots echoed through the cavernous room until he reached the opposite end, where his grandfather's withered form slumped.

"It's poetic, in a way," Sebastian muttered. It struck him funny that his grandfather's prediction had in fact come true, but only because of the geezer's own actions. With baited breath, Sebastian slid the ruby ring from the old man's gnarled digit and slipped it over his thumb, for his own fingers were still too slender. It was official: he was now Duke Sebastian Michaelis.

"That's check, Master," Ciel said lowly, and there just might have been a glimmer of approval in his sapphire eyes as he held out a hand to the boy.

Sebastian smiled as laced his fingers with Ciel's to hop from the table, "But you promised…"

"I will be yours until checkmate," the demon reaffirmed with a nod.

"And you wouldn't go back on your promise." Sebastian didn't know how, but he felt this to be true.

"Never."