Author's Note:

This story is almost purely slice-of-life, with plot driven by characters and their relationships with one another rather than specific action. Grelle and Sebastian appear here as I imagine they might after spending 125 years living together in disguise as humans—much gentler and somewhat domesticated.

Chapters are short, more scenes than anything else, and I promise you won't be disappointed if you keep reading beyond the first. Much love and enjoy!

~Phab

Sebastian hardly ever slept. Sleep was purely recreational and it wasn't a recreation he found he

enjoyed in particular, so instead over the years he had taken up a vigil—watching over Grelle and their home while she was asleep. Grelle had explained to him once that reapers' need for sleep stemmed from their once being human, but even then he never understood why she enjoyed it so much—or seemed to need so much of it for that matter.

Regardless, his nights were spent roaming the house or else sitting up next to her and watching her sleep, though she was not asleep now, he could tell. Something was keeping her up, and just as she was about to turn over, drawing in a breath, he said:

"What is it?"

Grelle halted mid-inhalation and scowled up at him. "How did you—"

"Hush. I always know. Now what is it?"

Sighing, she rolled the other direction and switched on the lamp on the bedside table before grabbing her glasses and putting them on. This was serious. All set up, she regarded Sebastian frankly, propped up on an elbow.

"There's been a lot of…changes at work," she began.

That wasn't unusual. The nature of a reaper's work was always changing, particularly over the last century. Sebastian simply looked back at her. "Yes?"

"Well, 'changes' isn't exactly the right word for it. Things are happening and nobody's really sure what to do."

"About what?"

"Some new Shinigami. There's been an increase of, well…of young suicides. The new ones…they've got no way to process what's happened or what's going on and they're not adjusting to the job very well. Which is understandable of course, but…"

"But."

"They're just kids, Sebastian. Twelve, thirteen—fourteen year old kids who have taken their own lives to escape the hell they live in only to get stuck with a new life that's even more miserable than the old one." Frustrated apparently, she let out a little angry burst of air and flopped back onto her pillow. She faced him, but looked instead at the sheets.

He settled down on their bed to be level with her and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Don't tell me you don't enjoy being what you are, my love."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "I've never regretted my choice, no. But everyone is not me, Sebastian."

He had to agree with her there, but it was not the time for humor, so he did not laugh. Instead he turned onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, folding his hands over his stomach.

"So, what has Dispatch decided to do with all these…newcomers?"

"Personnel has started a mentoring program. Like foster care."

"Ah." He could see where this conversation was going now. "And you want to put our names on the list."

She sat up, looked down at him. "I would."

"I'm surprised you haven't already done it without my consent, quite honestly."

She glared at him and the expression made him laugh, so she glared harder.

"Sign up to welcome a complete stranger into our home—a teenager who's just committed suicide, mind you, thereby creating another mouth to feed, and counsel, and not at least tell you about it first? Give me a little more credit."

"I give you as much credit as you deserve, my love."

He reached up to her and she sighed, lying down again, her head on his shoulder, and he rested his hand on her head, stroking her hair—long and beautiful and the bright color of blood. It never seemed to get tangled, even when he tied it in knots.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"About what?"

"About fostering a new Shinigami. Pay attention."

He chuckled. "Give me a moment, hm?"

She sighed, but was quiet, and he continued stroking her hair as he processed all of this new information and thought through several thousand worst-case scenarios. None of them seemed particularly out of his depth. He was a demon after all. And then there was Grelle. Strange, sweet, not-at-all-innocent Grelle—whom he had discovered over the years had more love in her heart than he could ever hope to comprehend.

He sat up slowly to give her time to follow, and she did, looking at him intently, nervous and hopeful all at once. He grasped her hand.

"I know how badly you've wanted to be a mother—"

She looked down.

"—and we both know how impossible our circumstances make that on many different levels, so…I think that this is exactly the opportunity you need. And I think you should take it."

"But this isn't just about me. I'm not the only one who will be affected. I want you to be happy with it, too, Sebastian."

Her gaze had turned to her lap, so he lifted her chin for her to look at him, which she did reluctantly. Children had never been his thing and she knew this, but then again Grelle had never really been his thing either and look where they'd ended up—together over a hundred years through thick and thin. This was what she wanted, and if she had asked for the moon he would have found a way to buy it for her.

"You'll be happy, so I'll be happy," he said. "Put our names on the list."

Her eyes lit up on a little spark and she tensed. "Really?"

"Of course."

A joyful sound squealed out of her and she threw her arms around him, pressing several kisses on his mouth all in a row. Happy already. He smiled and she pulled back in time to see and return the expression.

"Then it's settled," he said.

"Yes, I suppose it is." Her shoulders pulled up around her ears and she grinned madly, beyond elated. She flopped down onto her back and turned over as if to go to sleep, but she did not, or could not, or perhaps a bit of both. She rolled back to face him, looking up out of those bright, green eyes.

"And you'll be happy?"

"Yes."

"You promise?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Go to sleep."

She sat up quickly and kissed him again, and when she pulled back, she held his face in her hand and looked sincerely into his eyes.

"Thank you, Sebastian. Really."

"You're welcome, Grelle." He touched his forehead to hers. "Now go to bed. If you're tired tomorrow, William will blame me."

As she settled down and pulled the covers up to her throat, she laughed to herself. "On many occasions he wouldn't have been wrong to do so."

"You hush," he said and reached over her to turn off the light. She smiled sideways up at him as he did and he returned it before turning the knob on the lamp. In the dark he took up his post sitting propped up against the headboard. Grelle stirred, getting ready to turn over.

"Goodnight, Grelle Sutcliff."

"Hm-hm, fine. Goodnight. Don't let anyone rob us while I'm asleep."

"They would be fools to try."

She laughed a little and then settled down, still excited, he could tell, at the prospect of whatever was to come. Eventually her breath became slow and deep, and as soon as he was sure she was asleep, Sebastian took her hair into his lap and tried to tangle it in knots.