A/N: Just a little Valentine ficlet for Undy/Grell fans here.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its fabulous characters, they belong to Yana Toboso. And we all love her.
Warning: It's Grell and Undertaker, that's an enough warning for everyone.
The streets could be paved with chocolate sweets and confused for fragrant gardens with the amount of roses that people walked with. This year, couples of all ages gave their significant other handmade chocolate treats, bouquets of red roses and romantic love cards of all sizes. While, on the contrary, Grell was about to puke his colorful guts out, feeling nauseated with all the lovey-dovey junk.
Usually, he would be sighing in bliss, cherishing all the love in the air. It was his favorite holiday adorned in his favorite color. But in the last decade, Grell had begun to hate this grandiose festivity of love, since he never got any, and it was finally getting to him enough to feel jealousy towards average humans.
It wasn't like he would gain any affection in the first place; shinigami don't have the joy of experiencing such a nice holiday, it was prohibited.
So instead of spending the work time in work, he spent it moping and complaining to William, who in return pushed him off to reap the souls of the day or not bother coming back. Most of them would be poor, unloved victims of their own demise: in simple words, what the newbies called 'suiciders'.
Kind of depressing, since he felt some sympathy for them.
Passing by the tops of the buildings on London, Grell failed to notice the dark, morbid mortician's shop just around the corner. Inside the ominous dusty place, one macabre funeral director chuckled to himself as he made the finishing touches on his masterpiece.
Undertaker was quite proud he was able to make such an extravagantly designed present. There was a bounce in his step as he laid the gift in a large cylinder box and wrapped it with a red lace. Only the finest quality for his Lady.
The madman raced out of his shop with the laced box, stirring up some old ash and dust in his strut, to find the red maiden who would most likely be around. He was always around somewhere.
An Aha! sounded in his head as a flash of an unique red coat disappeared onto an alleyway as he pranced about, scaring the skin off of the casual onlookers.
The spoken alleyway was wide; dirty and disgusting, but wide. Grell was taking a seat on a considerably clean crate just a couple of yards away from the obviously-deranged robed elder, who approached the saddened 'madam', his comical mirth-induced grin ever present.
"Why hello there, little miss. Care to share your grief?" The bold elder asked with amusement, pressing the present to his side.
Hm? Oh, it's you." Grell responded with an indifferent face. "No, I feel plenty bad, I don't want to talk." Grell went back to his own little world, back to forming a pout.
A tsk-tsk followed by a quiet cackle broke his requested silence, and the redhead looked up, rather annoyed. "Is something funny to you?"
"Why, yes, because you're sulking about not having any love when I'm here to give you a gift," he flaunted the delectable box up, "see?"
If the box was his arm, it would have been ripped off out of its sleeve by the force of Grell's snatch.
"I-is this really for me?" he shouted, a glimmer shinning in his wide eyes. His sudden change in attitude only made Undertaker's grin grow wider.
"I said so, didn't I? Go ahead and open it." Not a second later passed when Grell pried the cap off, ribbon and all. He reached in and pulled out the handmade chocolate orb, before jolting in surprise as he realized it wasn't an orb.
A handmade chocolate skull adorned with a chocolate rose clenched in its mouth.
Well, jaw.
It impressed and frightened Grell to an extent, –the skull looked very realistic– but he had to admit, it was intricately crafted. How do you even make this kind of chocolate? He wondered, Carving a ball of chocolate?
"Do you like it?" Undertaker sounded tilting his head, which made his top hat lean down.
Grell's answer would have been, obviously, yes. The only person to even care to give him a gift today was that sexy Undertaker. Always the gentleman with a hair-raising smile.
Grell raised his head as he shook the head in his hands―
Then the top part of the head came off, scaring the transvestite senseless.
For an instant, the idea of brains peeking out passed by his thoughts, but then he glanced inside and saw a bright red rose with a card tied to it. Undertaker's grin never seized to widen as the younger, slightly intrigued, shinigami poked his hand inside to pull the card with the rose. He opened the folded card, admiring its elegant embellishment, and read it to himself:
For the graceful mistress whom I deemed My Queen,
I would present only the finest cuisine
To dine with splendor, the hands left to explore
My Valentine covered in roses galore.
These eyes to carve your image in mind,
Such beauty would leave any man blind.
Madame, I am blessed with your undying love,
And now I shall smile for my only beloved.
―Your taker, Undertaker.
Grell found himself feeling a thousand times better, no, the best he had ever felt after reading his poem. Being called the most beautiful creature, a queen, even. How romantic.
"Ooh, Undertaker…that's the sweetest, most thoughtful gift anyone's ever given me~." Grell rang with his sharp-toothed grin, batting his fake eyelashes at the silver-haired man. He would save that card for the rest of his eternal life.
Undertaker cackled darkly at the remark. "My, I'm glad it was to your liking. I do hope it makes this day something worth remembering."
Grell, in return, gave him a small peck on the scarred cheek, making the mortician chuckle and pet his dear love. Grell purred like a little kitten before staring at the large chocolate treat.
"So how long do I have until the chocolate skull melts?"
A/N: I'm not an expert in writing poems but…this has got to be the best I have done in my entire life. Happy Valentine's Day!