Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, or any of the characters in this this story.

The initial inspiration behind this story came from the idea of Alan developing a relationship with somebody other than Eric. It was hard for me to write since I am an EricXAlan / Grelliam shipper... but I wanted to write about how these two might interact had those relationships fallen apart.

That being said, this is my first published fanfiction, so please don't be too harsh! Reviews and critiques are more than welcome, but I would appreciate no flaming.

On a side note, the third chapter of this fic contains yaoi. (Hence the 'M' rating) HOWEVER, if that's not your cup of tea, you can skip that chapter and the story will still make sense.

ENJOY!

Grell stormed from the office building, tears threatening to make their way down his face. No, he would not cry, not this time. He would not give William the satisfaction of letting him see tears. The redhead was furious! 'He has no right to treat a lady that way!' Grell thought to himself, clenching his fists as he remembered all of the horrible things Will had said and done to him that afternoon. Grell loved that man… "But sometimes…" he muttered to himself. "Sometimes, William… you're just impossible."

Usually, Grell would walk straight home from work, taking the nice little path through the park that he knew oh, so well. But tonight was different. Instead, he decided to take a few back alleys on the way to his small, lonely house. Secretly, he was hoping he would happen across some poor soul sitting in the dark… one that nobody would miss. After all, he needed some way to vent how he was feeling… and painting somebody in that pretty, pretty red that he loved so much sounded just divine at the moment. "Wretched man!" Grell snarled, gritting his teeth and picking up the pace as he thought of his cold hearted supervisor once more. Not fully paying attention anymore as to where he was or which way he was going for that matter, Grell stared down at his chainsaw just as he turned the corner down a another unfamiliar alleyway, striding quickly through the darkness.

Eric Slingby had been out late drinking again. It seemed as if he visited the local pubs more frequently these nights… not that it mattered much. No amount of liquor in the world could clear his mind of the feelings that plagued him, though he would never admit to them. Taking the last swig of his rum, the tall shinigami paid his tab and stood up, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. He badly needed a smoke. Slowly, he made his way to the pub's back exit and staggered into the pitch black alleyway, cigarette already in place in his mouth. He rummaged through his other pocket for his lighter, cursing under his breath as it took him a few moments to locate it. Once the object was found, he held it up in front of his face and flicked it on. He just stood there, staring at the flame for a moment, as if lost in a daze. "…Looks like yer my only light now." He whispered to himself, something tugging at his heart as he said the words. He pulled the lighter towards him, but just as the flame was about to make contact, somebody bumped into him, knocking the cigarette right from his mouth. He stumbled backwards and took a moment to collect himself as he looked towards the cause of the impact.

"Oi! Watch where yer goin' you bloody- Sutcliff?" Eric shook his head and did a double take at the redhead to make sure the alcohol wasn't just playing tricks on him. But there was no mistaking a man like that… even in the dark. It was Grell alright. "Watcha doin' at a place like this? Don't tell me yer workin' the streets now!" Eric teased, giving a gruff laugh. Everyone knew that Eric and Ronald were the only heavy drinkers of the office. It was a rare occasion that Grell actually went out with them on one of their drinking endeavors, but then again, it's been awhile since Eric's had a drink with the young blond as well…

"I most certainly am not working the streets!" Grell huffed, not in the mood to deal with Eric's snide comments. Of all people, he just had to run into Eric Slingby… the man was notorious for being a sarcastic asshole towards the redhead. "Look, I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight Slingby, so if you'd be so kind as to step aside, then you'll save me the trouble of having to cut you to pieces." Grell chuckled darkly, shooting the other one of his shark-toothed grins.

"Aww, whatsa' matter Grell, Trouble in paradise?" Eric continued with his teasing, patting the redhead on the back and ignoring Grell's threats.

"I could say the same for you, Eric. What, with your precious Alan giving Ronnie so much attention these days." Grell's grin widened, knowing he had probably touched a nerve. If the other wanted to push him tonight, he going to push right back.

"Alan's just a friend, nothin' more." Eric said coldly, averting his gaze from Grell momentarily.

"Just a friend, eh~?" Grell cooed, getting back in Eric's face.

"That's what I said Sutcliff! A friend!" Eric finally snapped. Right afterwards, his eyes grew wide for a moment, having surprised himself with the sudden outburst. Taking a breath, he calmed himself back down. No reason to act so upset over somebody who was only a friend… right? He needed something to advert his attention, and he needed it fast. "Say, Sutcliff… I seem to be short a drinking partner this evenin.' How'd you like to come back to my place an' have a couple rounds, eh?" Eric suggested, trying to lighten up the mood a little and push his feelings aside. He had always secretly enjoyed hanging out with Grell, even if he did tease and insult him constantly. The redhead was the only one more insane than himself, and unlike the others of the office, Grell's crazy antics usually made him laugh. Besides, it seemed like both of them could use a friend tonight…

Grell crossed his arms and huffed. "Drink with you? No thanks."

"Fine. Suit yerself." Eric shrugged, turning around to leave. He had no problem drinking alone, having done so for many nights now. It's not like he was about to beg the other for some company. That just wasn't Slingby's style. After only a few crooked steps, a gloved hand grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Eric wait!" Grell called after him. "I… suppose a drink or two would be alright." He said sheepishly, embarrassed for having given in. Truth be told, he did not want to be alone tonight… and Eric wasn't the worst company in the world. A few drinks, and then Grell could go home and forget about this awful night… just a few drinks.