Author's Note: Wow, finally, my first Kuroshitsuji fan-fic. Finally been inspired at last. My canon is limited to anime and musical knowledge (although, a bit AU there, because I want Eric and Alan around for this story X3). In my travels and learning, I've also come across some fanon and theories that I find myself agreeing with, so these may also come into play. I hope you all enjoy it, and please, leave some feedback if you can. (Constructive crit is fine; no flaming, that makes no one happy.) Enjoy!

The sun had set beneath the horizon. Eerie, nightly sounds were rising in volume to taunt the minds of any passerby who dared to walk the seedy streets in London. A soft, hasty "scratch…scratch…scratch, scratch, scratch!" echoed from the rooftops. A rat's nest perhaps, vermin ready to brave the streets in search of food that two-legged residents had dropped in their travels.

But the daring adventurers among us would be quite disappointed to discover the real source. In truth, it was an emery board shaping a well-manicured nail, belonging to one Grell Sutcliff of the Grim Reaper Dispatch Association, London division. There was about…seven minutes until his next assignment, according to the paperwork. But he didn't dare let his massive case of ennui result in sleep. The last time he did that, he had woken up in a coffin. Really, he mused, you'd think a legend such as the Undertaker would know a fellow Reaper, and realize that breathing wasn't required when sleeping. But past was past and all was forgiven, especially with the handsome face that the old man had. Delicately pale, that glorious scar, and those eyes…oh, those eyes~! That had been the clincher!

Grell shook his head and continued his shaping. Focus, he had to focus. The promise of a scythe beating from his beloved William T. Spears was occasionally welcome. But lately, because of Grell's constant, distracted mistakes, the novelty had worn off and he wasn't in the mood. After all, making Will happy now and then – or rather, as happy as Will could be, the emotionless twit – that was important too.

Grell checked the time again. Five more thrilling minutes, he mentally whined, sliding the emery board into his crimson coat and resorting to people-watching. He grinned, shark-like teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Over time, it had become a favorite activity to while away the hours between reapings, and this local area was particularly decadent. A red-light district – he did love that expression – always had something entertaining going on, like one of his guilty-pleasure romance novels. On one corner, a couple couldn't wait to get up the stairs. On another, the complete opposite reaction, a whore giving a customer a piece of her mind over a price offering. It was Theater of the Living, and Grell reveled in it.

Only a bell tolling the hour in the distance pulled him away. "Damn it," he snarled; that impatient couple was about to reach the good part! Ah well; jumping to his feet, Grell took a flying leap to the boarding house across the street, materializing his way in due to the closed window. (Such a hassle!)

A woman was lying crumpled on a bed that looked about a size too small for her tiny figure. She was gasping for air urgently, and failing. Her brow glistened with sweat, and a ruby red trail of blood trickled from her mouth as she coughed intensely.

Grell took out his list, scanning it quickly down to the final name. #104, a Ms. Nellie Droverson, death by consumption; this was it! Summoning his precious chain-saw death scythe, he revved up the motor and took a slice at her, garnering a frightened cry in response. This was typical, of course. Humans couldn't see their Reaper, thus the scythe's cut was a shock. Shortly after that came the "lives flash before their eyes" part, or so it was called by the weaker species. Only Reapers and other supernatural beings could see it for what it was: the Cinematic Record, a film reel archive of the Human's entire lifetime.

Grell didn't pay it much heed, watching more out of necessity unless something really juicy came up. But overall, it was the usual. The girl's parents died; she was forced into poverty, unmarried, and desperate for survival, she resorted to prostitution. Nothing crucial to the world's existence; it was time for her to go. Gathering the last of the Record's reels into his scythe, Grell watched as Ms. Droverson breathed her last and went still. His job here was done. Now to head back to the office and…

A high pitched wail pierced the air. Grell first looked to the window, but it couldn't be coming from outside. The glass panes were locked up tight to keep out the chill. It had to be nearby. His curiosity peaked, and he followed the noise to another small room, admittedly surprised the flat had any additional rooms in the first place. When he reached a door, he pressed his ear against it, listening closely. When he heard it again, there was no mistaking what it was, and his yellow-green eyes softened. Forcing his way inside, his gaze fell on a bassinet, and he raced towards it to take a peek.

Fussing about in tears was a little baby girl, born recently from the looks of her. Grell's mind went back to the Record, but he didn't recall seeing her birth. Note to self, he thought, pay closer attention, and never admit to Will that he's right in saying I don't.

Oh hell, he could check the Record again at the Library later on. His self-proclaimed maternal instinct was kicking in. Allowing the child to see him, Grell smiled at her, careful not to reveal his teeth. He didn't want to frighten the poor darling. As her crying eased, she peered in wonder at the bright red mass of Reaper before her.

"Hello there, sweetheart," Grell whispered, stroking a gloved finger over the baby's cheek. Her two tiny hands grasped it tightly, and guided it towards her mouth to gnaw at gently. The red Reaper could not contain a giggle.

"How very precious you are," he said softly, gazing at her in sadness. "I'm so sorry it had to be this way. Someone will find you…eventually…one day…"

He trailed off. Was that really true? Who would visit a whore and discover the body, let alone care about the baby? A landlord looking for rent would ship the child away to a disgusting orphanage. A customer could stumble in, but what would he want with her? Nothing! Not to mention the dangers he could pose! Grell snarled, picturing some drunk falling over his feet into the flat and finding the infant…

He shook his head, turning his attention back to the baby with his lips pursed in thought. He couldn't…could he? Grell had always wanted to bear a child of his own, but thanks to the itty, bitty problem of being physically male, that was impossible. The only feasible way was to…'adopt.' What harm could it do? No one would think twice about the child of a whore; he already determined that. The baby would be much better off with a loving mother like himself. He could give the baby anything she needed. Oh, yes, he could spoil her to pieces! The thought was very tempting; his heart's desire was right there in front of him. A baby girl of his own to dote on, dress up in pretty things, to cuddle with and rock to sleep every night! It was so perfect, so very easy!

Except for one thing, and it goes by the name of William T. Spears, nagged his often unheeded conscience. He'd give you human life just to have the satisfaction of killing you for even considering this!

Grell pouted. Will would understand…eventually. Just one look at that face and…!

Quit trying to kid yourself. You know you'll be a more literal definition of 'dead man walking.'

Uh, wrong...'dead lady'…

Whatever! The point is, this scheme won't work! You'd only be able to hide a Human child in the Reapers' realm for so long before he finds out. Don't do it, for your own sake.

Grell whimpered, scolding himself for choosing now to listen to his conscience. But at the distressed sound, the baby left his finger alone and looked up at him. Reaching her arms out, she gave a meek whine of her own, and a cry that Grell's fantasizing mind interpreted as "ma!" That was his undoing. He had to take her with him.

Grell wrapped the baby gently in the soft blankets and gathered her in his arms. He momentarily marveled at how perfectly she fit in his hold, his insides melting into warm, fuzzy feelings as she cooed softly.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart," he whispered, "I'll be your new Mummy, and the best one at that! Would you like that, hmm, would you?"

The baby giggled as Grell made his tone sillier, and he smiled broadly at last. When she didn't cry upon seeing that, he chose to take it as a sign. This was meant to be; he had to do this. Will would just have to understand!

…William's right; you are an imbecile.

Slowly, cautiously, Grell peeked around a corner. Thank Death, the office was abandoned, and he could clock out without being seen. If anyone was around, they were hard at work in their cubicles not paying attention to him. True, this would normally upset the flamboyant Reaper, as he loved being the center of attention. But for now, it worked completely in his favor.

"Ms. Grell!" cried a voice behind him, causing Grell to nearly jump out of his skin. But he kept calm at the risk of waking his precious bundle. Using his long coat to cover her, he turned to find Ronald Knox, his youngest coworker and subordinate, carrying a tray of foam cups.

"For crying out loud, Ronnie!" Grell huffed. "No wonder you can't keep a girl for yourself! Scaring a woman like that, how rude! I thought I taught you better!"

"Heh, sorry, senpai," the young Reaper said with a laugh, brushing his two-toned hair away from his boyish face. "I didn't mean to, honest."

"Hmph, I guess I forgive you then," Grell replied skittishly. Looking at a nearby clock, he quickly added, "Oh look at the time, so much to do, must dash!"

But he didn't get far. Ronald was one of the few Reapers at the Dispatch that showed any sincere concern or caring for Grell. The kid was still at an age when having fun and making mischief were a part of his daily after-life, and he looked forward to working an assignment with the outrageous, wild Grell Sutcliff. It made their otherwise depressing work more enjoyable, and Ronald looked up to his superior with admiration. It also drove Will mad, as Ronald was a hard worker as well.

"Honestly, he could be a fine Reaper and move up in the ranks, if only he would apply himself more," the dark-haired administrator would say.

Unfortunately, this didn't help Grell right now since all he wanted to do was get away.

"You ok, Ms. Grell?" Ronald asked, following behind him. "You're a little jumpy." He paused to smirk. "Well, jumpy even for you!"

"I'm fine! Couldn't be better!" Grell replied, far too over-the-top to sound natural. Clearing his throat, he softened his tone. "I just…want to get some paperwork in so I can get home and sleep! It's been such a long, long night!" He gave a mock yawn for good measure.

"Now I know there's something up," Ronald said, chuckling. "You want to do paperwork? What, did Spears promise you a good snogging if you did?"

Grell was about to reply that he was working on making that an incentive when the baby stirred beneath his coat. She started to whimper, which Grell covered with a cough. But his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when she clearly made it known that she was…a bit hungry.

"Uh-ah, no! No, I – ow!"

Ronald quirked an eyebrow, and stepped closer to pull back the coat. Now his own eyes widened and he covered his mouth to suppress a gasp.

"Shit, a baby?" he hissed quietly. "What's a baby doing here!"

"Shut your mouth!" Grell snapped, looking around nervously. "Who else is here?"

"Just me, Eric, and Alan, all working overtime," Ronald explained, unable to hide his disdain for the "O" word.

"What about Will?"

"He left about fifteen minutes ago; higher-ups asked him to help with a big late-night reaping."

Grell exhaled a nervous breath and took one last look around the corridor. When he was sure it was safe, he grabbed a protesting Ronald by the arm and dragged him to the office that they shared. Inside, their colleagues Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries separated quickly, apparently having decided to share some private time during Ronald's coffee run.

Eric turned, prepared to pummel the youngest Reaper. "Knox, haven't you ever heard of…?"

As Grell was no longer hiding his little secret, Eric didn't even have time to finish before he trailed off in shock. Alan's complexion changed color, going from a bright red blush at being caught to a paler shade of white.

"Grell, what is that?" he asked, his soft-spoken voice rising a few unnatural levels.

"It's a sausage, Alan," Grell snapped. "I decided to wrap it up and save it for later." He raced to his bright red desk and began rummaging through drawers. "It's a baby, what do you think?" The rummaging proved unsuccessful. "Damn it, must've left it home…"

Eric scowled, unappreciative of Grell's tone towards his partner. "Knox?" he said, taking his miraculously intact coffee from the boy. "Can you explain before I wring Miss Prissy's neck over there?"

"Don't look at me!" Ronald replied, handing Alan his tea and taking the last coffee for himself. He raised his hands innocently. "I know as much as you do!"

Eric took a deep breath to cool down and took a sip of his own. What he wouldn't give for a smoke right now, but caffeine would have to suffice. "Alright, Red, speak," he said.

"What do I look like, some kind of dog?"

More like a bitch, Eric thought but bit it back, choosing to glare at him instead. He didn't hate Grell; in fact, the dizzy red-head made the office much more interesting. But at present, Eric didn't want to play his games. "Spears may put up with your bull, Sutcliff. But it's late, I'm not him, and I really don't need it right now. Talk, and don't give me some lame ass excuse like 'it followed me home.'"

Grell, in the meantime, had taken to rocking his baby calmly. "I had finished my last reaping, her mother. When I was about to leave, this little one chose to make herself known and cry out for my help…"

"Spare me the dramatics," Eric cut in.

Grell pouted, gazing down at the baby to stop himself from giving Eric the new edition of Grell's Guide to Manners. That would simply be far too messy to clean up. "But it's true! She started to cry, and I couldn't leave her there! It was the red-light district; who knows what would've happened if I hadn't taken her?"

"That was very sweet of you," Alan spoke up, a hand on Eric's arm to calm him. When dealing with Grell Sutcliff, it was sometimes best to be understanding. "But that wasn't your choice to make. What if anyone starts looking for her?"

"Oh, please," Grell scoffed. "Her mother was a whore…no, I mean it, literally!" he added seeing the look of surprise on Alan's face at the harsh words. "That was her business. She died of consumption, no evidence to support any funny business or murder. No one's going to summon Scotland Yard for that."

"But if the baby is missing…"

"It won't matter," Grell interrupted softly, stroking the baby's cheek again to soothe her. "Children are nothing but a nuisance to those women. I know…"

The three Reapers fell into silence. There was no arguing that point with Grell. After his involvement in the Jack the Ripper murders, Grell knew firsthand how prostitutes viewed children born from their trysts. These women were given a wonderful gift that he couldn't experience, and they threw it away like it was nothing. True, his retaliation in aiding Madam Red to kill them may have been extreme. But it was fair, a life for an innocent life. No one dared to convince him otherwise.

"This is the least I can do," he mumbled. "This woman was kind enough to keep her baby. It wouldn't be right to abandon the child after that."

More silence. As much as they hated to admit it, he was right, in a sense.

"So," Ronald said slowly, "what's its name?"

Eric and Alan glanced at each other, unsure. But ultimately, Alan smiled, and Eric sighed.

"Yeah, we've got to have something to call this kid, right?" he grumbled.

Grell shifted his gaze between the three of them, hopeful. "You mean it? Really mean it? You won't tell anyone about this?"

"We won't, but you have to tell the boss," Eric added.

Alan nodded. "Yes, he will find out somehow. Call it a sixth sense."

"Oh I certainly will~!" Grell squealed with glee. "I promise!" His eyes glazed a bit, a sweet smile turning up the corners of his lips. "It'll be so romantic! The most wonderful news a lady could give her husband!"

"Uh, Ms. Grell?" Ronald started, "You and Spears aren't…"

"Technicality, Ronnie!" Grell snapped. "Merely a technicality; I'm working on it. Now come see her, the most beautiful baby in the world!"

He pulled back the blankets some, and his three companions gathered round, getting their first real look. Reapers had once been Human, chosen to join the realm after their deaths. Spawning offspring wasn't exactly necessary. It had been a long time since any of them had seen a baby that they weren't assigned to reap.

"You said it was a girl?" Ronald asked. Grell nodded.

"She is very beautiful," Alan added, grinning. "It could be nice, having a little one around."

"Oh definitely, all we need is a mini Sutcliff running through the office," Eric chimed in, rolling his eyes but keeping his tone playful. Alan turned to scold his lover, but quickly stopped when he caught a ghost of a smile on Eric's lips. Grell, however, wasn't so merciful.

"What was that, my precious?" he asked the baby, getting up to chase Eric around the room. "You want to go to Uncle Eric? You do!"

Eric backed away, raising his hands in protest. "Cut it out, Sutcliff; I don't do so great with kids!"

But Grell was relentless, cornering Eric and handing the baby over. "That's right, sweetheart! You show the big brute who's going to have him wrapped around her little finger someday!"

Eric awkwardly accepted the little bundle, trying to correctly place his arms. "I hope you don't like your mama too much, love," he said with a sickeningly sweet tone. "Because if she keeps this up, I'm going to strangle her, yes I will!"

Alan smirked. "You know, you look quite handsome with a baby in your arms."

"Don't even go there," Eric warned before letting himself succumb to the baby's charms. "She…is kind of cute though. Been a while since I saw such big beautiful brown eyes like that. Yeah, I think you got yourself a heartbreaker, Sutcliff." The baby giggled, finally making Eric crack a smile as she reached to grab onto his tinted glasses. "Not to mention breaking everything else. Little help here?"

Grell didn't have to be asked twice. "First thing you learn, sweetie: we really need our glasses," he said, plucking them gently from her grasp and returning them to 'Uncle Eric.' "That wasn't very nice, Stella."

"Stella?" Ronald piped in.

"Yes, that's her name," Grell replied, cuddling her. "I think it suits her. Stella Rose Sutcliff."

Ronald nodded. "I like it, cute name for a cute kid."

But Grell was too enamored with her to notice anything else. He stroked her feathery dark locks. "Stella," he murmured, "my little Stell-AH!" He winced, drawing her away some and softly hushing her at the teetering tears. She really was getting hungry. "I'm sorry, darling, but the fact of the matter is that mine don't quite work the same way as your first mummy's."

Eric and Ronald smothered their chuckles, each receiving a smack on the arm from Alan.

"Take her home, Grell," he said kindly. "Poor dear must be starving."

"Indeed," the red Reaper replied, settling Stella on his shoulder to avoid further mishaps. "I have to figure out how to tell 'Papa' anyway."

"If you don't come in tomorrow morning, one of us will be there to reap you!" Eric called, earning the unladylike gesture Grell sent his way before bidding them good night.

"A day's pay says he doesn't come in tomorrow," Eric said quietly, "after Spears kicks him to the couch."

"He'll be lucky if that's all the boss does to him," Ronald added. "I'm in."

They sealed the deal with a handshake while Alan shook his head, returning to his tea and final pieces of paperwork.

"You two are incorrigible."

More to come!