A/N: I made this as a one-shot entering a club's fan fiction contest. :D I like it.

To get the introduction, though, you need to watch the Kuroshitsuji Picture Drama, which is the actors voicing parts for a story, forging it with original artist renderings. Pretty hard to find, but worth it. Especially since I have the link to it on YouTube right here:

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If you copy and paste that in after the "watch?v=" part of the YouTube address then you should be able to see it. Now, on with my fan fic!

Valentine's Day had given a new light in Grell Sutcliff's heart. Initially, he disrupted the humans only to get their chocolate on that particular night for it seemed that no matter how hard he tried he would never seem attractive to William, Sebastian, or even the Undertaker. However, an alternative came to mind. He could always learn to make his own chocolate! Though, after looking in to it, making chocolate had a lot of different processes and ingredients involved. There had to be something easier to start. Thus, it was on that day that the Shinigami Grell Sutcliff decided to learn how to cook.

The red-clad reaper laid out various foods with a smile on his face. Each of them was set one by one onto his red counter. Flour, eggs, oil, mix. Tomatoes, spices, cheese. Cream, berries, butter. He sat for a moment, reluctant to even begin. He had never needed to use his home's over. Shinigami really don't need to eat, though they tend to enjoy it in luxury, much like they do sleeping. Well this won't do, he thought. Think, Ms. Sutcliff! You've put a lot of work into this. You never sacrifice your beauty time for nothing! Millions of humans do this, so it can't be that hard!

Grell angrily cracked open a couple eggs at once, the shells scattered onto the counter top. He hit his head in disgrace and shoved the yolk and white alike into the pan, careful to pick out the remaining bits of their shells. The mix's directions weren't clear, so he poured the fine powder in with the eggs and splashed in the oil and some water. Speaking of which, wasn't the flour there for a reason? Right! He was supposed to flour the pan beforehand so the ingredients wouldn't stick. He grabbed hands full of his lovely red locks and yanked tightly in frustration. Grell poured his stew-like mix into a different bowl, washed the pan with water so no debris remained, dried it, covered it with the flour, and poured the ingredients in again; the dirtied bowl was tossed away in a huff.

Sutcliff grunted, in a rather unladylike manner I might add, while sliding the pan into the oven. After a moment, he figured out how to turn it on and set the temperature. Next, came the slicing. Normally, he was slicing humans or creatures of nuisance, not vegetables. Yes, he considered tomatoes a vegetable; he never saw them in a bowl of fruit salad. The Shinigami was skilled with a knife, but was never so gentle. He went through five of them before anything was salvageable. Finally, the tomato was diced. He sniffed the room. Was something burning?

He shrieked when he discovered his mix had been set ablaze, an onyx smoke rising through the air. In his haste, the tomatoes were thrown onto the ceiling. Grell opened the oven door to save his little experiment. The cheese on the counter spilled onto the floor, but he ignored it. He blew the smoke away and smiled triumphantly. It didn't look too bad. As he turned, though, Grell slipped on the cheese shreds scattered on the floor and landed on his butt with a thump. The mix spilled over his nice red outfit. Grell shrieked at the blow to his fashion, but the vibrations from his fall meant more to come. The pasty tomatoes which had been stuck to the ceiling plummeted to his head. Tears streaked from his eyes and his chest grew heavy.

He needed lessons.

Grell paced back and forth across his kitchen, waiting for his tutor to arrive. The man was fifteen minutes late! At Dispatch, Sutcliff was never known for punctuality, but despite the hypocrisy in it he would not stand for tardiness on the other person's behalf. Finally, he heard a knock at his door. Sutcliff's jaw dropped when he saw his teacher: a rather young Shinigami with black-and-yellow layered hair. "Ronald, what are you doing here?" He was afraid he already knew the answer.

"Surprise, sempai!" Knox stretched out his arms in greeting. "I'm your new teacher!"

Grell folded his arms. "You must be joking! You're a Shinigami. Why on earth would you want to teach humans how to cook?"

With a wave of a little black book, he answered his question. Ronald continued, "I don't know if you have any room to be picky." He tilted his head to view Grell's kitchen, still in disarray from the previous day. "It looks like you aren't as DEATHLY efficient as you say you are!"

Grell was not amused.

Despite the younger man's protesting, Sutcliff closed the door with nothing but boredom in his expression. It would be easier just to buy chocolate.