Author's note: Writing Claude has been a joy and then some!
This fanfic takes place at the start of the anime's second season.
Soul Staccato
The afternoon brings tea time. A respite from the trials of mundane business dealings through document study or phone jabber. Alois usually demands a full tray of confectionaries with his Darjeeling tea. Claude, ever so present and loyal, brings the sugary delights in without argument. Arguments meant caring on his end, which he plainly did not when the young master's temper got the best of him.
Alois cares enough for the both of them today when he screams obscenities the moment Claude sets foot into his office with a silver tray of eateries in hand.
From the gnashing of his teeth and fist pounding on the desktop, Claude presumes the negotiations for obtaining the rights to the oil field Alois had mentioned the day before did not go like clockwork. It is these sensitive hours that Claude understands to stay by Alois' side should he need comfort. Even if remaining meant enduring physical ravages of flung cutlery or hard candies to his frontal cortex.
As used to as he is to Alois' whirlwinds of anger in the years he has served the boy, Claude always finds himself bracing for something despite his emotionless face showing little more than base expressions. Unlike that spoiled Sebastian Michaelis, Claude can't relent his diligence when around his master.
"Are the talks working out at all?" he inquires as he slowly sets down the tray in front of Alois. He begins to fill an ornate cup with strong tea.
Alois glares at the perky green frosting of his midday snack, a slice of cake with a tongue-twister of a name. "Damn it, those idiots should be gutted! No, they ought to have their intestines pulled out and watch while it's happening!"
One by one in front of Alois, Claude takes out the contents of the tray. The plate of cake, a fork, cup of steaming liquid, and the small creamer and sugar. Normally, Alois doesn't play with the mixing of his tea, but in his grouchy moods Claude learned it was best to leave the mixing to the master. They couldn't waste pots of tea just to get the exact amount of sugar and cream. Claude has played that game countless times.
"Don't you agree, Claude?" Alois roughly grabs the fork and stabs himself a slab of spongy cake.
When it comes to worldly affairs which have treated Alois so unkindly, Claude has an obligation to side with Alois. "Of course. But do remember that some of these companies require more than one call. Try them again tomorrow."
And like leaving the tea preference to Alois, such was the same when the eating came. "I will be back later to pick up your dishes. Do enjoy the dessert." Claude bows for his departure.
Alois' nostrils flares indignantly and he points to the floor. "Stay, Claude."
But Claude knows the wiser. Besides, he has a busy schedule. "I'm sorry, young master. I have a few errands I cannot put off. You'll calm down later."
"Doubtful." Alois slouches. But it is true.
Claude turns and walks to the door. When his hand touches the brass knob, the porcelain milk pitcher shatters on the wall near his head. Milk splashes and streaks down the wallpaper to the carpet below, stray drops of it also catching Claude's uniform.
Oh, the master liked to work him. Claude sighs, mentally noting to bring cleaning supplies on his trip back here.
Sliding the door shut behind him, Claude heads to the kitchen. Inventory day.
Before he begins his inventory work, he steps over to the sink. He removes his glasses to clean spots of milk from the lenses. That brat could be such a handful some days.
"Oh, Claude, is something the matter?"
He doesn't face the new voice of the household right away, as he's concentrating on running water over his frames without wetting his gloves. "It's nothing." He shuts off the tap and pulls out a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.
Then the woman is standing next to him, looking at his eyewear in concern. After poor Hannah's accident involving her eye, she had requested an assistant maid to help out while Hannah got used to lessened depth perception. Permelia, her name is. She is a plain one, with medium length light hair and a small stature. She is paid to care.
"Let me help." Permelia already reaches out for the cloth in Claude's hands.
"I am not an invalid." Irritably, Claude casts her a moody glare. This newcomer is an inconvenience to train, as Claude already has enough work to do delegating revised chores among the triplets and Hannah, thanks to Alois' penchant for destruction. Her workload is a strain and on more than one occasion Alois has taken out his displeasure on her due to her slowness. Yet, she persists in her efforts.
Intriguingly, she is human. Hannah told Alois this fact. Claude, present during her request for the maid, had been sure Alois would roar in laughter and kick Permelia out. He didn't, though, citing something with a twisted grin about giving them food for thought.
Whether those words were literal or not, Claude could not help but be slightly fascinated. Particularly when Alois ordered the rest of his servants not to reveal their demon natures. Toss in a lamb of uncertainty into a household of wolfish demons. Claude likes it.
Or does he? Claude contemplates further. A vivacious soul floating around him like a ghost, tempting him to bite but Claude unable to.
Hmm, perhaps Alois has this in mind when he allowed Permelia into their fold. Immitigable devil.
It is this triggered memory that lets Claude lax his grip when Permelia plucks his glasses and handkerchief from his grasp. She has no idea of the dangers within each of the servants, potential violent energy swirling to burst. Alois' yelling is the physical manifestation of that energy, but he is human.
What will happen if she has knowledge of Claude's true form? Will she be horrified? Shriek and scamper away? Accept the truth in stunned silence? The possibilities thrill him to the marrow, as he has been forbidden to disclose his demonic heritage.
A rushing sound begins to fill his ears and he doesn't realize he openly stares at Permelia until she glances up from her cleaning. Her dark eyes widen and it's the movement that breaks Claude's reverie, sending his thoughts spiraling in a whole other direction as a raw emotion pounds in his chest. One persistent thought echoes in his mind. It bounces around to the forefront, squalling for attention.
I am starving.
He will not devour anyone else's soul except Alois, but it has been so very long since Claude has memory of the taste of one. Centuries? Millennia? The exact period doesn't matter when the pang washes over Claude in such fierce longing that he wants to shatter his binding self-control and utterly rend.
Claude nearly unhinges right there when Permelia rubs the cloth over the jacket of his upper arm, not even looking at him but at the stain. "There's a mark here. Oh, and one more here." Permelia's tidying index finger moves to the side of his elbow. The vibrations of her touch spins Claude's head and he has to stay standing straight lest he collapse.
"Are you feeling all right?" Permelia holds out the spectacles and handkerchief with a quizzical frown.
Rein in your insanity, Claude silently orders himself. He clears his throat and takes the articles, being careful not to make contact. He busies himself by neatly folding the fabric to fit into his chest pocket. "Yes, I just finished giving the master his snack."
Understanding fills her expression, as if comprehending. "I see why you're not spotless. Well, if you need to change I think Alois will still be too busy eating to bother you."
The spectacles slip back on the bridge of his nose. Bother me? Bother while I take you and-
"What will you be doing, now?" Claude suddenly questions in a flash of inspiration, cutting off his wanton, straying thought. Exciting heat rises up his neck. Yes, he could do this. He could make it through this minor obstacle.
"I have potted plants to take care of in the gardens. The gardenia area with the new soil?"
Claude pretends to acknowledge that trifling chore. "Yes, the gardens. Why don't I join you out there?" He desires to toy so very badly.
Permelia seems very surprised at his offer. "Are you sure? You've plenty of other things you could do."
"I could use the fresh air. I will join you after I clean up." Inventory be damned. It can wait until later. With his ribcage pulsing in anticipation, Claude glides past her smoothly to take lead, daring himself to pat her back in encouragement. He feels a zing in his hand and a reckless whirring dances a vibrant staccato inside his heart.
As Permelia follows behind, Claude's eyes narrow. His licentious tongue darts out to licks his lips. Desire is always sweeter when teased.
Author's note: It's play time. Stay tuned for chapter 2!