Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler). All rights belong to the author, Yana Toboso. I am merely using her characters and story for entertainment.


The demon, once named "Sebastian Michaelis," stormed up to the nearest bar ("Diablo's Doorstep, Best in Hell!"), muttering foul curses all the way. For four years, irritation and anger had built up inside of him. Unable to say the things he wished to say, it had almost driven him up the wall. Now that the contract was finally over, he, having received his long-awaited reward, could finally breathe easy. But, unfortunately, he would never truly forget those years: years of hard labor and service to that bratty little rich kid, years of looking after those three idiotic servants... If he hadn't all those cute kittens and the thought of his master's deliciously-prepared soul he surely wouldn't have survived.

He couldn't deny that it had been an amusing experience. He had, to some degree, enjoyed playing the butler. Tricking all those people into thinking he was just a butler had been quite fun. Watching their faces when they realized he was a devil of a butler had been even more entertaining.

But it had its downsides. For example, caring for a child, a very spoiled one, was something he never imagined himself doing. He sometimes wondered how he could have stooped so low, but then thought that it would all be worth it in the end.

The boy's soul had indeed been most appetizing, enough to last him for a while. He found himself a bit saddened after consuming his dinner, almost as if he were sorry to have eaten the boy's soul. But that couldn't be it, of course.

"That little bloody knave," the demon muttered under his breath, cursing the child for evoking such feelings in him. A demon shouldn't feel this way. It was unnatural.

He barged through the entrance to Diablo's Doorstep and plopped down on one of the cushiony stools in front of the counter.

"Hey, what brings you here? Finally got out of that bum deal with the kid?" the bartender asked with a cheery smile, infuriating the demon further.

"Just shut up and get me the usual, Pitt," the demon growled.

"It's been four years, buddy. I can't remember that far back y'know."

The demon glared at him.

"Whoah, whoah. Chill." The bartender, Pitt, backed up with his hands in the air. "I've got it coming. Don't ya worry."

The demon sighed. "Just hurry."

Minutes later, Pitt came back with a goblet full of dark red liquid, complete with a black and white striped straw.

"Look! I even remembered the straw. Happy now?"

The demon glared at him once more and snatched the goblet out of his hands, proceeding to drink down the whole of the metallic-tasting liquid in one gulp.

"You feeling better?" the bartender questioned curiously.

"Hmph."

"Guess not. But at least you aren't growling at me anymore." Pitt smiled sorrowfully at him. "What's up with you anyway?"

The demon scowled at his empty goblet. "I don't believe it's any of your business," he grumbled.

"I'll give you a free refill if you tell me what's wrong with you, alright? Just like old times!"

"Yes, 'Michaelis.' Do tell us what's troubling you."

The demon whipped his head around to face an unwelcome sight. A demon, once named "Claude Faustus," now sat on the stool to the right of him, smirking.

"Claude!?" The demon stood up in a state of surprise and bewilderment. "What in Satan's name are you doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing, Michaelis, but it's pretty obvious why you are here," the other demon replied in a bored and indifferent tone.

The demon gingerly sat back down on his stool. "O-oh?"

"You have completed the contract with Ciel Phantomhive, yes?"

"How did you know?" the demon asked cautiously.

"Because I came here after I finished with my previous master, Alois Trancy." The demon let out a little laugh, something which the other demon had never seen him do before.

"O-oh..." The demon laughed alongside him, though it sounded scornful. "Tell me, do all demons come here when they've done away with their contractors?"

"Only those who were lucky enough to have child ones."

"I see."

At that moment, the bartender came up to both demons, a newly refilled goblet in his hands.

"Here ya go, mate! Drink up! Oh!" Pitt, noticing the other demon sitting beside his customer, turned to him and grinned. "How ya doin' this evenin' chap? Want anythin'?"

"I'm doing fine, thank you. I'll have the special today, if you please," he replied, pointing at the sign above the bartender's head that showcased everything you could order.

"Hell's Bells, coming right up!" And with that, he left.

The demon, "Sebastian," began to sip on his drink, trying to ignore the other demon's stone cold stare. Finally, it seemed that his partner had worked up enough nerve to say,

"A straw? Really, Michaelis?"

"Shut up, Faustus."

The demon, "Claude," smirked and took the goblet from the bartender's waiting hands. This time it was a rusty orange color.

"I know what you're thinking about, Michaelis."

Snapping his head up from his drink, the demon turned and stared at the serious face of his fellow spawn of the devil. "You do?"

"You're thinking of all the fun you had with your master, aren't you?"

The demon scowled as deep as his face would let him, which was, in fact, very deep. "What do you mean 'fun'?"

"Oh, you know. Playing the role of butler, going on missions, all the teasing. Would you not consider it fun?"

"It was just a passing fancy," he muttered.

"Not all demons feel this way after they've finished with their contractors. I, for one, don't care, but it seems that you have developed some sort of emotional bond with your master. Maybe not with your master exactly but with the fun you had."

The demon's head hung low over his drink now, sipping on it through his straw, contemplating on whether he should ring the other demon's head or not. At last, he spoke up,

"You speak as though you've been there."

"To be honest, I haven't." The demon gulped down the remainder of his drink and, after setting it down on the counter, wiped his mouth off with his sleeve. "I've met a few demons who have, though. That is how I know of it."

"Mmm."

"You'll get over it. They always do."

A heavy silence filled the air around them. They sat there, listening to the strange clanging music which projected from the radio, wondering who would be the one to speak next.

"You know," the first demon began, "I really want to knock the glasses off your face right now."

The other demon stared at him, then said, "By all means do, if it'll make you feel better."

"I should think it would," the demon stated thoughtfully.

"Well, go on-"

A fist slammed into the demon's face, knocking him off of his stool, his cracked glasses askew on the marble floor. "Dear, oh, dear," he mumbled as he reached for them and placed them back on his nose.

"You don't really need them, do you?" the first demon asked as he towered over his companion, grinning maliciously. "They're really more of a fashion accessory, aren't they?"

"I suppose you could say that," he said, getting to his feet. "But what's with that hair, Michaelis!"

And with that, he landed a punch square on the demon's face.

"What hair gel do you use to make it so perfect? I'd like to know so I can use it."

The demon spat out the blood in his mouth. Leering, he said,"I can't tell you that. If I did, then you'd look just as good as I."

"Aren't you modest," he said as he helped the demon back up.

"It's one of my greatest virtues."

"Heh. How about another re-fill, eh?"

"I would like that."

He reached into his pocket and took out a few black coins. "The drinks are on me."

Once they had sat down again at their stools and had their drinks ready, the demon, "Sebastian," said to the other,

"But I really must stay away from the pint-sized ones from now on..."


A/N: This was inspired by a Tumblr post and then it just kinda went from there. Sebastian and Claude may both be out of character but we don't know what they're like outside of their butler facade so this is what my imagination came up with. Hope you enjoyed!