A/N: this is based on a v short-lived rp; unfortunately we lost contact, so i used my responses as inspiration for character study of ciel.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The thick, coppery scent of blood lingered in the frigid air and everything had gone silent.
He felt nauseous.
It took every gram of willpower he could summon not to slump over the edge of the small boat and empty himself. Stomach twisting, throat burning—false means of finding relief. To watch those hideous heads bob about on the surface of the water was as equally as repulsive as the smell; his gaze shifted to the wooden boards beneath his knees and he sucked in a deep breath. As disinclined as he was to acknowledge that the situation had indeed affected his physical and mental state… there was only so much he could pretend didn't exist.
But, greater than his difficulties were Sebastian's, and he grew painfully aware of this the split second Undertaker's scythe had slid through his chest.
He was injured. Wounded, corporeal in all senses of the word.
.
(This, the boy realised, was a first.)
.
It seemed almost impossible. He had been stupid to think for a moment that even a being as powerful as Sebastian was safe from harm! Never before had they been with met with this level of misfortune, and he was beginning to question his impermanence.
By the other's efforts and some miracle, his own form remained intact without respect to the minor scratches and bruises littering his skin. Instead, his foremost concern resided in how to stay warm throughout this bleak, freezing night.
Teeth clicking harshly, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. At this rate, he could lose himself to the peace of slumber.
.
(It would be an easy death. He wouldn't even notice.)
.
His servant seemed to recognise the issue at hand. Ciel couldn't muster the energy to argue as he was gathered into familiar arms. He released a long, shaky sigh, tipping his head forward to rest against his shoulder. It was futile to try and ignore the mild tremors that wracked Sebastian's frame. Able to feel the distinct heat of blood seep into his wet clothing. And perhaps it was the remorse that came with allowing the demon to endure such a hit, or the trauma that had undoubtedly taken place after seeing countless heads dismembered from their bodies… but he lifted one hand to grip the side of his jacket, the other still clenched around Undertaker's locket—and relaxed in his embrace.
.
(How pathetic. Acting like a child.)
.
Occasionally, Sebastian moved to eliminate any straggling corpses that approached their boat with the oar he kept rooted at his side, and Ciel would flinch, holding him tight as though hesitant to allow the demon to move more freely in his current condition.
When their surroundings turned stagnant again, he parted his lips to speak in a voice just above a whisper. "Are you alright?"
It was a foolish question. He could tell, the moment it had left him—of course he wasn't okay, but somehow, Sebastian's silence had become unbearable. Ciel yearned to hear him offer verbal encouragement in spite of his injuries. Selfish as always.
I will recover. He had simply chuckled. I am more concerned for your safety, my lord.
.
(There was no affirmative.)
.
By the oath of their contract, he was forbidden to lie. It suddenly became obvious what Sebastian was doing. Behaving subdued, avoiding his question with empty reassurances, and yet it still managed to succeed in putting his mind to some ease. Because he had spoken, and his voice, as strained as it was, belonged to him alone. The earl was no stranger to the other's arch bearing; he must have been in enough pain to even attempt to distract Ciel with the mention of his own health and the boy offered a soft scoff, nestling closer against his shoulder.
.
(Three hours, the demon had continued, until sunrise will arrive.)
.
"Three…?"
How long had they been trapped in this boat? It sounded like an eternity, and there was no guarantee that a rescue ship would arrive by sunrise. He supposed he should put his faith into the situation and stop thinking so cynically if he wanted the time to pass in a tolerable fashion. No chance at sleeping, not now. In this circumstance, it would bring more harm than good.
"Then, our only choice is to wait until then."
He was Ciel Phantomhive and if there was anything distinguishable about him, it was his resolute desire to prevail in the face of adversity.
Even so, he was not exempt to the trials of his mortal nature. Complaints lingered on the tip of his tongue; the damp coat on his back and the cold air biting his cheeks were an uncomfortable combination. Most of his skin had grown numb in response. He squirmed to regain some feeling in his limbs and consequently peeled himself away from his servant with a frustrated huff.
There was at least some consolation in knowing that Lizzy would be safe from those corpses.
.
(For her sake, he would endure this.)
.
Sebastian's eyes had drifted closed. He knew the demon was able to withstand situations that could kill a human being with ease, but the concern still contorted his face. Brow furrowing, jaw tense as tired mismatched optics drifted along the deep gash in the other's chest. It was too dark to determine how far the blood had spread, but he was vaguely alert of the warmth still radiating from his body.
.
(Surely, this was of his own doing.)
.
"Are you not cold?" Ciel questioned in a steadier tone than before, a hint of disbelief coating his words. To be given the jacket, then gathered close—it could still be affecting Sebastian even if he wouldn't quite freeze to death. A shiver wracked his body following the query and he released his taut hold on his butler's waistcoat, lifting a gloved hand to press two fingers to the exposed skin of his throat. As though attempting to read his pulse.
Which was pointless when he never possessed one to begin with.
.
(Think rationally…)
.
A groan escaped him as he sought out his mistake, dropping the hand only to drag it down his own face. "Ugh…" He disregarded the other's amusement and demanded responded that he was not capable of dying from hypothermia, if the Young Master had been concerned, and admitted to extending his powers in order to provide him with warmth.
So, that was it. He should have expected the demon to forego human limits to keep the both of them alive.
He visibly relaxed, the molars in his mouth no longer grating roughly on one another, and snapped his head up to meet the other's eyes. Red slits… glowing in this darkness, and that weak smile was enough to remind Ciel that this would be the one exception to his rule.
.
(He was alive. They were alive.)
.
Frankly, he wanted to stay alive and if it meant that Sebastian would have to summon the abilities he had done well to suppress while keeping up his charade as a Phantomhive butler, then, "So be it."
A hand took his own and he did not resist as he was drawn back to his chest, into this protective bubble of warm air despite the reluctance that donned his features. He tensed for only a few moments, limbs growing limp. It was incredibly difficult not to let his eyelids fall.
There is no one who can see us right now. A voice carefully crafted; a demon trying to seduce its prey. Like this, no one would have to know. There are more effective ways for me to keep you warm.
.
(He had paused before adding, You would even be able to sleep.)
.
Exhaustion was taking a toll on him. It was unsurprising that he found comfort in the assertion. He could almost believe that sincerity laced his words and he wasn't just a meal to be cultivated and reaped at the end.
Almost.
"I want to sleep," Ciel admitted under his breath, childishly plaintive and lacking his ordinary conviction. As much as he despised physical contact, his ego was discarded for subsistence. He knew for certain that Sebastian would defend him under his vow if he nodded off, that he would provide him with the heat to stay alive. "This once… I will allow it. Save a fraction of your energy to heal."
.
(Yes, my lord.)
.
The other's scent had changed, overpowered by something that was more like smoke, earthen, and Ciel realized at once that Sebastian was releasing a part of his true form. The boy's head reeled, thinking back to their first encounter. He shuddered slightly as the shadow engulfed him and the rush of warmth that traveled through his body caused him to whimper in relief. Those musky feathers rustled in the breeze, though the noise did nothing to distract Ciel from much needed rest and once things had settled down, he pushed away any unease that came with being wrapped up in this manner and closed his eyes again.
For a long while, Ciel indulged in the new layer of heat and overall silence. He felt the other shift back against the seat and followed gracelessly; his knees had begun to ache from holding his weight against the cold floor of their lifeboat and he positioned himself to sit in his lap, winding his calves around his waist, keeping just one cheek pressed to his neck so that he could breathe properly.
Shivers dissipating somewhere among the curtain of feathers, Ciel's body stilled like the one beneath him and the breaths passed through him slowly, consistently. At ease.
He wouldn't remember what he had dreamt of upon waking up. For now, there was a pitch black void and… it was the better alternative to nightmares, especially given their situation. All he could think of as he surrendered to sleep was this earthy scent and the warm arms that circled his frame.
It was comfortable.
He could ignore the dreadful feeling of damp clothing and the stickiness of blood on their chests for sleep.
.
(It was silly to imagine that these arms belonged to someone else; his mother, his father.)
.
When dawn arrived, star floating above murky waters and illuminating the other survivors, their voices rose towards the rescue ship that moved their way. Ciel remained comatose even as the warm layer of feathers had retreated from his form. However, he shifted at the murmur that passed Sebastian's lips—the demon's body heat had returned to normal, noticeable in this dreary morning weather. Delicate brow creasing and lips forming a disturbed pout, he sleepily clung to his butler despite the cheerful chants that rang in the air from the lifeboats ahead. It wasn't until they had floated close enough to the ship to hear the cries of relief directed their way that he awoke.
.
(Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and squinted against the sunlight.)
.
.
.
You did well today.
Young Master…
Please, stop. For you to say such a thing.
I do not wish to see a storm after all this.
—ch 65.