A.N. Yet more smut from me! This fic was inspired by another conversation on my Black Butler forum about Eric and Alan cooking. I said I thought it would be funny if Eric were secretly a good cook while the more effeminate Alan was rubbish at it. My mind kind of went out of control with the idea.
This either takes place before the musical, or in some alternate wonderful universe where Eric and Alan didn't die "the most beautiful death in the WORLD!". Not quite as angsty as typical fics for this pairing, because I am of the firm belief that when things are going well, these two would be so much fun together! They're always teasing and flirting, and I wanted to play with that aspect of their relationship.
This story graphically depicts MalexMale sex. Don't like, don't read. I do not own Kuroshitsuji, otherwise William would have taken Eric back after the opera, taken away his deathscythe in favor of a toothbrush, given him a lifetime of overtime and allowed Eric and Alan to go on cuddling and singing about flowers forever...
Please forgive Eric's potty mouth and ample usage of the lord's name in vain!
You can thank my Kindle for beta-ing this for me! It's hilarious hearing the robotic computer voice reading raunchy gay sex scenes aloud!
Eric Slingby jumped as a log settling in the fireplace startled him from his intense staring match with the dancing flames. He and his partner had been working on their mission reports for hours now, and Eric's attention span had clearly reached it's limit. "Gaaaah! Kill me now Alan!" he moaned as he laid his head on the report, wishing it would write itself.
Alan rolled his eyes and smiled fondly, lightly kicking his companion under the coffee table the two were currently huddled around. "Oh quit it you big baby, we're nearly done!" he chuckled.
Eric grumbled, but did as he was told. He supposed he should be thankful for Alan's dogged determination, otherwise Eric would no doubt be putting off this report tonight, and getting overtime tomorrow as a result. Sitting in Alan's cozy little flat in front of the toasty fire, with the promise of dinner on the horizon no less, was infinitely better than wasting away in his cubical any day! Still, the location didn't make writing up his mission report any less boring. Eric sighed loudly and popped his neck. Last page.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye for anything to distract him, Eric glimpsed Alan hard at work on his own report. Alan really was much better at this kind of thing. Being punctual, professional, getting all his paperwork done on time, everything that a good shinigami should be. Everything Eric was not. Eric's only strength seemed to lie in fighting, hurting… killing, and what kind strength was that really? It disgusted him sometimes how used to it he had become, how he could even revel in it. Alan, he was the truly strong one. Eric sometimes wanted to punch his co-workers in the face, and occasionally did just that, when they would imply Alan was weak.
There was no more bleak prognosis for a shinigami than the Thorns of Death. It weakened the body and held it hostage, it's host knowing that at any moment the disease could take hold, without any way to stop or slow it's deadly progress. Eric knew if he were in Alan's shoes, he would be a bitter and hateful man, jealous of all those that could live normally, jealous of those who took their lives for granted. Not Alan. Alan was quick to laugh, and even quicker to smile or help out someone in need. He always put everyone before himself without asking anything in return. Despite the horrible lot he had been dealt, Alan played his hand with more dignity and pure joy for life than anyone Eric had ever met. If that wasn't strength, Eric sure as hell didn't know what was.
Realizing he was flat out gazing fondly at the other man, entranced as the firelight brought out chestnut and golden hues in his hair, Eric coughed and quickly brought his eyes back to his report.
After finishing up a paragraph, Alan's eyes glanced up to see Eric struggling to concentrate. He really was impressed he'd lasted this long. Eric made no allusions about his hatred for paperwork. No, Eric's talents lie on the streets of London, deathscythe in hand, feral grin on his handsome features. Alan blushed slightly as the word handsome entered into his mind at the thought of Eric.
He knew Eric was handsome, and funny, and kind, and… everything to him, but those were dangerous thoughts. Eric is my best friend! What if he doesn't feel the way I do? …I'll lose him. Alan would never let that happen if he could help it. If friendship was all Eric could give him, then Alan would gladly take it. Any time he could spend with Eric was precious, even if it was simply filling out paperwork on his coffee table. Shaking thoughts of Eric's attractiveness from his head, Alan brought his eyes back to his report, finished up the last paragraph and stretched his arms high above his head.
"Finally! That mission really was a bureaucratic nightmare eh? Well, I promised you dinner didn't I? Why don't I start while you finish up?" Alan asked cheerfully.
"You sure you don't want any help?" Eric replied, looking longingly at the kitchen… at anything to get him away from his report.
"No, you're the guest! Plus… I can see… 3 spelling errors in that paragraph alone." The brunette answered, looking apologetic as he peered over the other man's shoulder and pointed out his errors.
Eric rolled his eyes. "You're worst than Spears!" he exclaimed, smirking afterward to show he was teasing.
"Better him than Sutcliff! Lord knows what would happen if we all behaved like him!" Alan laughed as he made his way to the kitchen.
Eric's eyebrows shot up in horror as he visualized he and his co-workers made up like street walkers, prancing around in bright crimson coats and wigs. Shuddering, he went back to proof reading his report.
Now that he was in the kitchen, Alan's anxiety was rising. He normally was a relatively calm person, especially when you considered the fear he had to live with daily. Would today be his last? Would today be the day the thorns wrapped around his heart for good, snuffing out his life in the blink of an eye?
No such thoughts were welcome in the brunette's mind. Alan did not, would not, let fear of his illness control his life, however little there may be left. There was too much to live for, too much he still had to do, to worry about something he couldn't control. No, it was not the Thorns of Death that currently worried the reaper… it was quite simply… his cooking.
He didn't know what he was thinking when he suggested they finish their reports at his place, home made dinner included! Well, he did know what he was thinking, and that had been spending time with Eric, but did it have to involve cooking? Alan had never been good at the culinary arts. There was just something about the slap dash nature of cooking that baffled him. A pinch of this, a dab of that, how was one supposed the know what that meant? Alan preferred clear precise instructions, which he could then follow to the letter and have some measure of success. Cooking seemed to be more art than science unfortunately. He could bake you up a mean plate of cookies, but the cordon bleu was best left to someone else.
Alan glanced longingly toward the living room. Surely Eric was done by now, perhaps he could take him up on his offer. No, Eric was his guest, and he would not be made to make his own meal! Not to mention Eric was always rescuing him. Alan tried not to be offended or hurt when Eric would inevitably tag along on his soul collection missions. He knew that Eric only did it out of concern, and if he were honest with himself, Alan had to admit he would do the same for Eric were their situations reversed. He wasn't really angry with Eric, or anyone else for thinking him weak, he was angry at the weakness in himself.
He tried to keep up, to prove he could be just as good as his colleagues, but he knew it was likely only a matter of time until he was taken off active duty and put behind a desk. Unconsciously gripping his shirt above his heart, Alan cursed how unfair it all was! Realizing where his thoughts were headed, he scolded himself as he dropped his hand to his side. There was no use in all this self pity! It wouldn't cure him, it wouldn't slow it down, it would only make him and those he loved miserable!
Alan took a calming breath and softly smiled. Today had been a good day. This whole week in fact. He had been feeling quite well, his missions had gone smoothly, and now Eric was here to share dinner with him… dinner! Oh God… You can do this Alan! Start with the basics! Alan took a steadying breath, got out the ingredients and started to prep for dinner.
Without the calming rhythm of Alan's pen scratching away next to him, Eric found it almost impossible to focus! Alan always seemed to motivate him, whether it be by lightly nagging him to do his paper work, or by doing much more subtle, much more important things to spur Eric into action. Alan was so unfailingly kind and impossibly strong in the face of life's cruelty that it made Eric re-evaluate himself time and again. He made him want to be better, more trusting, honest, friendly… happy. Alan made him happy.
Eric had long ago given up on caring about anyone, and had nearly forgotten what happiness felt like. Having been disappointed and let down enough in his long life, he had given up entirely, opting to live with his loneliness instead. It was like a wall of ice around him, keeping everyone out… until Alan had come along and utterly demolished that wall with the warmth of his smile.
Oh Jesus Eric, now you've gone poetic? Eric mentally berated himself and sighed, resting his head on his nearly finished report. It really was as finished as it was going to get, being so thoroughly distracted by his increasingly romantic musings about his partner. Eric mentally scolded himself for being such a damn girl! Alan was his friend, and he'd be damned if he screwed that up! Alan was all he had. Running a hand through his hair, he started putting away his pen and papers when he heard a distressed yelp come from the other room.
"Alan!" Eric shouted as he rushed to the kitchen. Was it the Thorns of Death? Was he all right? As he rounded the corner, preparing for the worst, he could only stand flabbergasted at what he saw. There was Alan, glasses askew and a whisk in hand, standing in front of the stove, which held a skillet currently billowing black smoke.
"Ah, Eric! Ha… how's the report coming?" Alan stammered, beet red with embarrassment.
Eric tried desperately not to laugh at Alan's mortified expression. "What the hell are you doing in here? What are you making?" he asked incredulously as he raised an eyebrow, trying to contain his laughter.
"Steak?"
A bark of laughter escaped regardless of his efforts to contain it. "Steak? With a whisk?" Eric lost the battle and cracked up.
"This?" Alan held up the offending kitchen utensil with a confused expression. "For the… rice?"
Eric positively lost it at that comment. Clutching his sides and gasping for breath, he managed to reply. "Rice… a whisk! Oh God Alan, you don't have any idea how to cook do you?"
Alan looked ashamed as he stammered his answer. "I… well… no. No I can't… at all. I guess that kind of puts a crimp in the dinner plans. Sorry." He finished with a small apologetic smile.
Eric ruffled Alan's hair affectionately as his laughter began to die down. It really should be illegal to be so damned adorable. "Don't worry about it. I told you I'd help you." He smiled reassuringly.
The taller man surveyed the kitchen. He saw some wild rice in a pot with water. Way too much water in fact. Eric picked up the pan, dumped the excess water in the sink and returned it to the heat. There were carrots boiling in a separate pot, which he turned down slightly so it wouldn't boil over. That left the steak. Raising an eyebrow at the blackened pan, Eric turned to Alan. "You heated the pan and then put in the oil didn't you?"
"Oh… was I not supposed to?" Eric's smirk was all Alan needed for confirmation. "I'm hopeless in the kitchen." Alan sighed and laughed lightly. The situation was rather funny, no matter how he looked at it.
Eric frowned in contemplation. "This is going to splatter grease everywhere. Have you got an apron?"
"Hmmm… I think so, but you're not going to like it…" was Alan's enigmatic reply.
Eric shrugged. It's just an apron, what's not to like? His internal query was answered as Alan returned with… it. The most pink, frilly, girly monstrosity that Eric had ever laid eyes on. "You're joking." He deadpanned.
"Afraid not, though it is pretty funny!" Alan giggled, already imagining Eric wearing it. "It's all I have though. I never use it because it's… well…"
"Gay as a fruitcake?"
"Pretty much."
"Why on earth do you even have that?" Eric asked incredulously.
"Don't you remember the Christmas party a few years back? We had a white elephant gift exchange?" Alan prompted, waiting for Eric's memories to kick in.
Eric eyed the apron warily. "… I was probably drunk by that time wasn't I?"
"Yes, yes you probably were come to think. Well, like it or not, this is all I have, take it or leave it!" Alan smirked, sure that Eric would never consider…
"Give it here!" the taller man grumbled, his ears turning red from embarrassment as he scowled and put on the apron.
Alan was fighting valiantly to keep his laughter in check. "Ffff… it uh… ffffff… looks cute on you Eric…" he said as his giggles finally won the battle.
Cute? Eric Slingby considered himself many things, cute was not one of them, though his heartbeat sped up at Alan's comment none the less. "Oh shut up and cut some bread!" Eric snapped with no real malice, a full fledged blush coloring his cheeks.
For a short while they worked in comfortable silence. Well, as comfortable a silence as one can enjoy while wearing a short frilly pink apron, cooking steak and being quietly laughed at. In short order the rice was cooked, the carrots buttered and the steaks prepared. Eric quickly ripped off the apron and tossed it on the counter, grabbed a plate and headed to the living room, Alan close behind him. Alan's flat was too small for a proper dining room, so they made do with the low coffee table in front of the fireplace they had previously been using to write their reports. Both being bachelors, the meager accommodations didn't seem to bother either of them.
The meal was simple, just the way Eric liked it. He had never been one for fancy frills and things, just give him some meat and veg and he was a happy man. Eric was also fairly certain that if Alan had attempted to make something more complicated, he may well have burned the house down.
"I'm really sorry you had to come and save me like that Eric! I really am completely hopeless in the kitchen!" Alan smiled at his companion, genuinely apologetic. "This is delicious by the way!"
"It's no big deal. You should have just told me from the start you couldn't cook." Eric mumbled, embarrassed at the praise for his rather feminine hobby.
"Well you never told me you could cook!" Alan exclaimed, looking impressed.
Eric chuckled softly, "It's a well kept secret, so guard it with your life." He finished with a conspiratorial wink.
"Oh, but of course!" Alan replied with mock-seriousness before adopting a more genuine expression. "Really though, thanks for saving dinner for us." He said softly, the tips of his ears turning red.
Eric smiled fondly. "You're welcome, though I can't take all the credit. You did plan the meal after all, and did all the prep work."
"Haha, I suppose that's true." Alan smiled warmly. "We always seem to be good at completely opposite things don't we?"
"That's what makes us such a great team."
"The best" Alan breathed in agreement. For a moment nothing needed to be said, both men simply enjoying the closeness of the other, watching the firelight play with the shadows in the darkening room.