This is the fourth story in "How Not to Spend Eternity", in which Sebastian and Ciel deal with the aftermath of season 2 (or not).
1&2 "Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep" and "The Contract" (posted together); 3 "Puer Aeternus"
This story takes place during the events of "Puer Aeternus" but follows Sebastian's storyline; it should be pretty easy to follow even if you haven't read the other stories :)
warnings will appear BELOW each chapter, if there are any; I'll make a note of it above the chapter so you can scroll down if you want to read them :)
Chapter warnings/pairings at end of chapter
1/ Desperate Measures
Then: sometime in the 1920s
"My my, dear sweet Bassy." That so-unfortunately familiar voice had every inch the guttural dangerousness of Grell in a playful mood (or murderous; with Grell, those two things had rather the tendency to overlap). "I never thought I'd see you again."
Though he would have loved to make an answer, Sebastian was too occupied, at the moment, with pulling that sticky-sweet soul from the rapidly-cooling body of the prostitute in the alley. Snatching souls was degrading, humiliating, and tasted like… well, he couldn't describe it any way except vile, but he had become too hungry in these past years to put it off any longer. But he'd put some thought into the matter of how. Grell might try to kill him, but he was unpredictable, liable to change moods on a whim—unlike any other reaper he might run into—and this was his territory. And Sebastian knew the reaper had no love for these kinds of women; the previous half of Jack-the-Ripper would hardly have killed them otherwise.
Grell stepped forward, death scythe outstretched—not toward Sebastian, but to that soul still twisting in his grasp (unruly things, uncontracted souls; they tried everything they could to get away). Sebastian, still crouched beside the body, bared his teeth with a warning growl, his eyes flashing red.
"Poor thing, you're looking ravenous," Grell said, with a shark-toothed smile, as Sebastian pulled the soul toward his mouth. All it took was one swipe with the death-scythe, the reaper closer than he had been a second ago, and the reels of the cinematic record started to float upward, surrounding them.
"Had an abortion two months ago," Grell said quietly, as he stared through his reaper's spectacles at the life that flashed by. "Died in an alley, killed by a demon. Are you trying to make me nostalgic, Bassy?"
"What's the one soul?" Sebastian said, his clawed hand reaching toward the bright spark. "You know I can't make another contract now."
"Yes, I heard about that," Grell said, suddenly grinning again, taking obvious pleasure in the demon's misfortune. "I got a card too, and a place setting for tea—thank you for that, by the way. But what about the brat? He hasn't been taking care of his pet very well, if it's skulking around, trying to snatch meals from back alleys. Hasn't he fed you?"
Sebastian gritted his teeth. No. Worse than the humiliation of snatching a soul was snatching a soul in the presence of Grell. "As you can very well see, he hasn't," Sebastian managed to say, at last, glowering.
"And you want me to take pity on you," Grell said. "Bassy, Bassy dear, who do you think you're dealing with? I don't do pity."
"But you'd like to do me, wouldn't you?" Sebastian said, wrenching his gaze away from the soul and trying to pay attention to the greater threat. "Consider it a deal. This soul, for one night."
"Taking up a new career, are you?" Grell said, letting his death-scythe fall away from the spark that he now held in his hand. He stepped forward, taking a slow path, in his red heels, to stand behind Sebastian's back. Sebastian forced himself not to move. "What if I told you you were boring me, darling? I really hate to be bored," he continued, leaning close over Sebastian's neck, as he held that soul just in front of his mouth—close enough to reach if he lunged, and he might very well injure the reaper into the bargain; but to do that would be to mark himself as a rogue and wanted creature, to be chased after by any reaper who fancied the challenge, and Grell knew it. It took everything in him, in that moment, not to move, when that soul was so very close, and he was so… very… hungry. "And I hate whores."
Sebastian licked his lips. He stared at that bright spark, and the last bit of his rationality began to flicker. If I eat it, he thought, I won't be hungry. Damn the consequences. He'd had more than enough of those.
"But I'll make an exception for you," Grell said at last. He brought the soul closer to Sebastian's mouth, and Sebastian caught it between his teeth, swallowing down the brightness and letting it squirm its way down his throat. He gasped, and if he was not already on his knees he would have fallen. When he came back to himself, feeling sated and more like himself since he had felt since this whole horrid business began, he could feel Grell petting his hair. He flinched, and Grell dug his nails deep into Sebastian's scalp.
"Now, is that any way to treat me, after the gift I've given you?" Grell said. "I rather think I deserve a thank you. Don't you?" He let go of Sebastian, and at last, Sebastian could rise, and he dusted himself off, less to get off any dust than to get rid of the creeping feeling that had settled over his skin. It was then that he took note of Grell's appearance for the first time.
"You cut your hair," he said, blankly.
"You noticed!" Grell squealed, hugging himself and bouncing like a teenage girl. Sebastian sighed. It would have been rather hard not to notice, when his hair had previously reached his knees, and now it was cropped just below his ears. But the admission had broken Grell's dangerous mood, and now he treated Sebastian like an old friend, chattering about work and asking what he'd been up to (nothing, really) as he lead them through a very uncomfortable patch of air that didn't seem to sit quite on straight. A moment later, they were standing in front of a tall apartment, covered with windows that reflected a noonday sun—interesting, since it had been late evening a mere second ago. Sebastian couldn't help stumbling just a bit at the disorientation, and Grell used the opportunity to take his arm as he lead them into a lift and took out his keys. This must be where reapers lived, Sebastian thought, with incredible curiosity. He wished he could take even a peek somewhere else, but Grell hurried them through the door and shut it loudly behind them, before pressing a button near the doorframe. The windows suddenly became darker, and Sebastian stepped back in some alarm. This wasn't any kind of magic, but something else entirely.
"Don't worry about the windows, dear, I just turned the tinting on so no one can look in on us," Grell called out as he walked into another attached room. "I'm going to put on something more comfortable!"
Sebastian dreaded what that would be, but found a space on a brown-and-white couch and perched awkwardly on the edge. Every wall of the place was red, a quite headache-inducing arrangement, but other than that the sense of style was tolerable. There was a low round coffee table with a glass top, and a collection of thin, plastic-lined cases that Sebastian at first took to be very odd books, before he realized they held movies. Of course Grell would be the type to watch movies, though how one was supposed to watch it in one's home was the real question.
"All right!" Grell trilled, stepping back into the room. It was at least better than it could have been; Sebastian had been picturing some hideous negligee, but Grell was instead wearing a short skinny dress in the flapper style. Now the hair made sense; Grell would keep up with women's trends, especially those women known for their outrageous and over-the-top behaviour. "Now, we have two options," the reaper explained. "We can stay here the whole night… I'm sure you can entertain me," he continued, "or…"
A buzzing sound came from near the door, and Grell rushed over to it, opening it with a loud squeal. "Ronnie! Guess who's over?"
"I don't know, Mr. Sutcliff, who?" Ronald Knox. Oh joy. He'd already been feeling out of sorts, and now that infuriating boy would come along, that half-flirtatious maniac who would abandon a fight half-way through just because something better came along. No, he wasn't holding a grudge.
"Se-bas-tian!" Grell said, flinging the door open as he tugged Ronald inside. Unlike Grell, this reaper looked just as Sebastian remembered him, having not changed his fashion at all; he ground to a halt as he entered the door and stared at Sebastian with incredulity.
Sebastian was having some trouble believing this situation himself, if he was to be perfectly honest.
"Hello," he said at last, lamely.
"Uh, Mr. Sutcliff," Ronald said, "what's going on?"
"What's going on?" Grell shrieked, waving his hands in Ronald's face. "What's going on? Sebastian's here, that's what's going on, and we're going on a date."
"Is that true?" Ronald asked, giving him a look of some sympathy, as though he suspected Grell may have drugged him, tied him up and kidnapped him.
"Unfortunately," Sebastian said heavily.
"Huh," Ronald said. He scratched his head, then shrugged. "Well, in that case… are you guys coming to the party, Mr. Sutcliff?"
"I wouldn't miss it!" Grell said. "Come, Sebastian," he said imperatorily, gesturing widely for Sebastian to follow.
That was how Sebastian found himself in a reapers party, and if he'd thought the whole lot of them were uptight and obsessed with business before (with the exception of Grell) that misconception was soon dashed. He'd just never seen them after work hours.
There was colorful, strobing lights aimed at the floor that whirled hypnotically in the darkened room, while masses of reapers, some with their death scythes still in hand (he winced, wondering if there were ever any accidents), danced about the room—if one could call what they were doing dancing. It seemed to involve much more groping than actual dancing, but who was Sebastian to judge? He was only the call girl here. As soon as they entered the crowd, with its music up at levels that would have rendered any human instantly deaf, Ronald slipped away, though not before waving brightly and mouthing, "bye Bassy—have a great time!" (he was going to kill that boy) and Grell—thankfully without feeling the need to wave his chainsaw around—was dragging him onto the dancefloor. It didn't take much time to figure out the moves. Every so often Grell would call out to some other reaper—men and women seemed to be equally distributed at this party—and at some point they had found themselves out of that pressing mass and to the edge of the room, where the actions would rival any petting party Grell's human counterparts involved themselves in these days.
Grell dragged him past that with hardly a glance, pulling him out and into an empty back stairwell. The silence, when the door shut behind them, made Sebastian let out a sigh of relief; it felt like he could think again.
"Come on, Sebastian!" Grell called, already halfway up the stairs, and Sebastian followed, not without some curiosity. The second floor turned out to be in possession of private rooms, and there Sebastian found himself unsurprised to find that at last they were to get down to the principle business of the night, so to speak.
It didn't take much to please Grell, but that wasn't going to stop Sebastian from taking the proper pride in his work—whatever that work might currently be—and perhaps Grell noticed. After all, he couldn't have necessarily expected Sebastian to act as though he was into it. Whatever his personal feelings, Sebastian was a demon of his word, and he had never broken a deal yet, in letter or aesthetic. So after that first round of getting to know each other, Sebastian felt slightly free to experiment, and perhaps there may have been blood involved, and hair pulling, when all was said and done.
"We should do that again," Grell said.
"Of course," Sebastian said.
"I didn't mean now—though do keep going—I meant in the future. Really, if you're ever in need again, feel free to come back to me, as long as you don't—overuse the privilege, you know—it's hard explaining a lost soul to management."
"I understand," Sebastian said. It was, in fact, everything he had hoped for.
Some time after that, Grell groaned and rolled over on the bed, looking at his watch, which read three thirty, and said, "Oh, it's the weekend. I think the night ought to last until the sun comes up, don't you?"
Sebastian could have protested. In fact he should have protested at midnight, when the next day officially began, but he had been somewhat occupied at the time. "Very well."
Grell sighed, and cuddled closer to him, while Sebastian did not repress the urge to roll his eyes.
"What happened to you?" Grell said at last. "Don't feel the need to answer if I'm being too forward."
"What do you mean?" Sebastian turned to face him. The glasses were off—had come off a few hours ago now, not before Grell went down the hall to call his friend, "in case you're getting any ideas"—to what? Murder Grell when the reaper was too nearsighted to fight back? As exciting as that idea might have been, it would have left him stranded in the heart of the reaper's land, with no way how to get out, and exactly the kind of attention he'd been trying to avoid. Still, it never hurt to be careful, he supposed.
Without them, the reaper's eyes were a brilliant electric green under his long false eyelashes, and with his head resting idly on one hand, he looked almost innocent. Sebastian smiled at the irony.
"We all heard the stories. I guess gossip is the one thing that never dies. But… well, the amount of a mess you two made when the kid was human, we all expected you to make a splash, get into some ridiculous kind of trouble. But you just… fell off the map. Have you been in hell this whole time?"
"No," Sebastian said. He cleared his throat. "Actually… we haven't gone back there at all."
"What?" Grell said. He frowned. "You can't be serious. He's never been…?"
"No," Sebastian said shortly. Then, "I'd rather not talk about Ciel Phantomhive right now."
Grell watched him as Sebastian sat up and began trying to find his clothes. "I never thought I'd hear you say that," he said. "What happened to the obsession?"
Sebastian put on his shirt and began doing up the buttons, but he didn't protest when Grell crawled up next to him and took his hands from the fabric. "Let me," he said, quietly, and began to do them up by feel. For a moment, Sebastian actually couldn't remember the last time someone had offered to help him into his clothes. His butler's aesthetic was so ingrained that the idea seemed faintly ludicrous. He knew it had happened, but everything before he had met that boy might have been to another person entirely.
How long had it been since then? Going on three decades, now. He was unique among the history of demons—save for his master—in having had the longest-running contract to ever exist.
"I wanted his soul," Sebastian said. "That was taken from me." He leaned back against Grell, who curled his arms around him, and to his own disgust, he felt his voice wavering. "What did I do wrong?"
"You were too attached," Grell said frankly. "My own motto is, when they become too much trouble, kill them."
Sebastian chuckled. "I shall sincerely try to avoid becoming too much trouble, then."
"Oh darling, you're always too much trouble," Grell said fondly.
In the end, of course, the reaper had to escort him back into the human realm, and when Sebastian watched the red-clad figure disappear, he was surprised to find that the crushing weight of boredom that had been his only constant companion for so long had slipped away, and he hadn't noticed at all, until it came back.
.
.
.
pairings (for the story as a whole): Sebastian/Grell; Sebastian & Ciel's Issues; Grell/Will (ambiguous)
chapter warnings:
(1) someone kills a prostitute, and Grell really couldn't care less. We are very surprised.
(2) consensual prostitution (Sebastian/Grell)
(3) implied sex, non-explicit