((Hi there! So, I recently rediscovered my account after a few years and saw my old stories. I thought that it might be a fun project for me to do some editing and minor rewriting with them. Let me know what you think in the reviews!))
The rustle of paper against paper coupled with distant echoes of shoe clacking against marble; these the typical cacophony that slithered through the minute cracks in William T. Spears's office walls. This bothersome background noise he had long since grown used to, pushing back into the deepest reaches of his mind where they lacked the power to disturb him. It was much like losing a small object to the recesses of one's couch. Part of you know it's there, lurking somewhere between the cushions, yet the conscious part of you forgets its existence.
And so was the pace of another dull day. As per usual a blaring alarm jerked William from restful sleep with a rough hand. A breakfast of tea and toast revived him, despite having gone cold while he showered. A short walk downstairs brought him from the living quarters to the offices. He passed rows of doors before reaching his. It sat against the back wall at the end of the hallway. This made even approaching his door formidable, as if his presence didn't create that effect enough.
As the clock ticked away on his wall, closing in on 4, the day went smoothly. He was undisturbed, yet something was…off. Something stirred behind the proverbial couch. William could not ignore this feeling and wrought his eyes from the stack of papers sitting on his desk, those flanked by larger heaps that covered every inch of the hard wood. The swarm of documents seemed never ending, a challenge even to him to reduce in size by the end of each day.
One set of footsteps stood out from the others, growing louder until they stopped just outside his door. A light rapping on the blurred glass followed. There were few possibilities for who this could be, though one stood out in William's mind. 'If it's Sutcliff I swear I'll have him hung,' he thought. The red menace would visit his office regularly, occasionally making a daily appearance. After several years of lusting after him, Grell still adamantly refused to admit that William did not like him whatsoever. Period. End of discussion.
"Come in," William said with a resigned sigh. Whoever it was, he lacked the time and patience to deal with them, and so help any secretary that might deliver unto him more paperwork.
"Oh dear, you don't sound so happy~." The giggly, lilting voice rang through the office as the door opened. "What, don't you like me anymore?" The old legend sauntered in and deposited himself on the single chair that faced William's desk. He who had reaped the souls of Marie Antoinette and the infamous Robin Hood. Once great, now a deranged mess of silver hair and dark robes. Undertaker. Despite his current stature, William had always admired the old reaper and endeavored to match his efficiency.
"I was not aware of who it was," William replied calmly. "You don't know how many times a day Sutcliff insists on disturbing me." A grin spread across Undertaker's face and he swung his feet up onto the desk, narrowly avoiding toppling one of the stacks of paper.
"Mmm, what about a lock?" Undertaker mused, twirling a lock of his hair.
"Don't think that hasn't crossed my mind before. Twice now he's broken my door and had to compensate for it out of his pay."
"He's such a desperate pup," Undertaker wheezed, restricted laughter choking his voice. "He wants only to impress his older siblings!"
"Then he's not only clingy, but also incestuous."
"Ehehehe…" Undertaker's laughter died off as he ran out of breath. For the moment, at least. "Do you reeeaaaally want him to leave you alone?"
"Why wouldn't I?" William countered. His brow twitched upwards with mild interest.
Undertaker laughed again, toppling to his feet and leaning over the desk, his elbows crinkling the paper beneath them and his chin in his hands. "I have a teensy tiny idea~," he sang, crawling further onto the desk and reaching out to William. Shock had paralyzed him, and his didn't move as Undertaker grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him forward until only a hair's breadth separated them. "What do you think he would do if he saw us like this?" he whispered sweetly. William could feel Undertaker's warm breath on his neck as the elder's lips moved to meet the soft flesh.
The usually stone faced reaper's cheeks flushed a bright pink. "I…I will have none of this," he said, his voice shaking. Just as William began to rise from his chair he was shoved down again. Undertaker had made his way behind the desk and was above him, grinning down at him. Before another protest could pass William's lips they were engulfed by Undertaker's, who had chosen William's lap as his new seat.
"But you seem to like this," he teased, his smile ever widening as William's face passed through darker and darker shades of red.
"I. Do. Not." The words slithered out through his gritted teeth and his dug his fingers into the arms of the chair.
"Mmmm, yes, but it might work-"
Behind them the door swung open yet again. "Oh Wiiiiiiilllllu~"
For once Grell Sutcliff had impeccable timing. His face was plastered with the usual makeup and his heels clicked softly against the marble floor. But he stopped dead in his tracks, silent, frozen to the scene laid out before him.
"…I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Spears," his voice cut through the silence. "I didn't…I wasn't aware you were busy." Tears welled up in Grell's eyes and trickled down his cheeks, smearing the façade he painted on each morning. Uncontrollable sobs joined and overwhelmed the background noise, now unbearable.
"Get off me," William said harshly, shoving Undertaker aside, though he went willingly. He adjusted his glasses and set off down the hall, leaving his elder a giggling mess.
"Told you it would work!"