A/N: trappedinmyself1 is probably glaring daggers at me through this computer right now. I promised a story... that is NOT this one. But... I like this one. So... sorry Trappy-chan! Love you still.

And for all you guys who now are thinking, "What the heck, she's crazy..." I am. But, R&R anyways, yes?

A Vest

Laundry day at William T. Spears' household was usually quite orderly and smooth. He went home at six and carried his dirty (or even slightly wrinkled) clothes to the washers downstairs. He'd roll up the sleeves of his neatly pressed white shirt and begin the washing. If a piece of cloth was particularly messy he'd leave it to soak in a tub full of bleach and do some ironing while he waited for the cloth to relieve itself of the stain.

This was what he was doing now, a red-hot iron pressing a pair of his favorite black pants while two of his best white shirts soaked in the tub. He happened to glance up as he shifted his pants and set the iron back on the hot coals. He froze.

All the water and bubbles of his soaking tub were turning pink. Slowly, he walked over and pulled out his favorite shirt. Droplets of pink rolled down, dripping with little plink noises into the water below.

The shirt was pink.

Frantically, he waved away the bubbles and tugged out his other shirt, dismayed to find that it, too, had been dyed pink. He tossed it onto a nearby table with his favorite and stared into the water, searching for the object that would no doubt be in the water. The object that had ruined two of his very favorite shirts. Something red.

Will had a thing against red. He would never, ever, EVER wear it. The grudge against the color was deep-set and immoveable, seated inside him from nearly a hundred years ago. Which meant, of course, that the red piece of clothing he pulled from the tub was most certainly not his. He did, however, have a fairly clear idea of who it did belong to.

Especially when the tainting object became a vest of dark red. Will glared at the vest with hate and tossed it to the corner of the table, too much of a neat freak gentleman to throw it to the floor. He was about to go upstairs and call the criminal behind his pink shirts – how was the vest with his laundry, anyway? When there was a flash of brighter scarlet in the corner of his eye. He turned to see the idiot who had caused his dilemma, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and skinny jeans and looking angry. Spiky hair the color of William 's hatred was tied up in a long ponytail and the glasses perched on the thin nose were of matching color.

"William, darling, did you steal my clothes?"

Will narrowed his eyes and pushed up his glasses, leaving a few bubbles on his nose that he quickly rubbed off. "What reason would I have for stealing your clothes, Mr. Sutcliffe?" he said sharply. "I believe the real question is why in God's name your vest was with my white shirts!"

Grell crossed his arms over his chest, but a grin was threatening to break through as he spotted the clothes on the table. "Is that pink, Will da~rling?" he asked, strutting over and picking up one of the shirts. "Oh how delicious~~~~~" he purred.

William snatched the shirt away in disgust. "Take your belonging and leave." he growled. "And how did you get in here in the first place?"

"A key, sweetheart. I know where you hide things." Grell winked and let out a loud laugh.

Will made a mental note to get his lock changed, and maybe set up a new security system, and tossed the shirt back on the table. "Get out, Mr. Sutcliffe."

"Awww but..." he glanced back and saw the rest of Will's laundry, folded neatly on the table, and clip-clopped over to it on his high heels. "Ooooohhhhh Will~ daaarling! Boxers, eh?" he flashed a terrifying grin, complete with the sharp teeth, over his shoulder.

Will went red in the cheeks and flashed over, snatching his clothes from Grell's fingers as the latter let out a giggle. "If you don't leave in the next five seconds I'm assigning you overtime, Sutcliffe!"

Grell hugged himself and pouted. "You're so cold..." he whined, then closed yellow-green eyes seductively. "How it makes me warmmmmm."

Will fixed his glasses and slammed a kick into Grell's side, sending him toppling. "Overtime it is, Sutcliffe."

Grell sat up from the floor and his tongue flicked out over his lips. "All night with you, Will? I think I might enjoy this."

Will went even darker and hated himself for it. He hated this color so much. "I'll call in someone else, then. I have absolutely no desire to be with you at all Sutcliffe."

"But-"

"Now, please take your disgusting piece of clothing and get to the office. I will have a senior Reaper wait for you, and if he alerts me that you did not show up I'm cutting your pay and taking your scythe again."

"You're so mean!" Grell whimpered, pushing out a bottom lip. Part of Will's brain wondered if it hurt to do so, what with those shark teeth, while the other thought of how pathetic he looked. "I only came because I was looking for my vest!"

"You have five."

"Darling-"

"Four."

"Willy-"

"Three."

"WILLIAM T. SPEARS!" Grell yelled, and William paused in his counting. The scarlet Reaper never... called him by his full name. Grell stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, stalking towards his employer. He got in close and leaned forward, tilting his head back to look up at his face since they were so close. Will swallowed and took a step back uncomfortably.

"T-two..." he said halfheartedly.

"Fine, love, I'll go." Grell spun away dramatically. "Miss me, yes?"

Will shook his head. "Not in the least."

After Grell had left him in sweet, sweet silence, Will went to throw away the no-longer white shirts and saw that the vest still lying, innocently but evilly, on the table. He remembered his promise to have a Reaper waiting at the office. Grell wouldn't show, not if he couldn't even remember his own clothes.

William T. Spears was a gentlemen, however. So, with a sigh, he snatched up the vest and headed for the door. He'd reached the stair to the living room when the door was thrown open and a bright red blur knocked into him. Reflex made his hands come up and catch the blur and eyes the same color as his own blinked up in surprise. Then a huge smile cracked the smooth face.

"Will!"

His hands snapped away and he shoved the Reaper, giving a leap back for good measure and ending up with his back against the wall. Seeing the object in his hand as he went to push up his glasses, he tossed it to the floor by the heeled feet. Grell looked happy, much to happy, as he bent over slowly and picked it up. "Thank you, my da~rrrrling!" His smile lessened and his eyes narrowed much like before. "Now why don't you come over here and hold me again?"

"Out."

"Without a kiss?"

"OUT."

William reached into the nearby closet and pulled out his scythe, then caught sight of something else. With a hidden smirk he set his own weapon down and reached for the other. Straightening, he turned to Grell, whom had taken the time to slink over.

There was a roar and Will turned calmly in time to see Grell's eyes widen bigger than saucers. "W-Will love..." he stuttered, backing up.

"Out."

Grell flashed forward with inhuman – well he wasn't, technically – and planted a kiss on his cheek before Will brought the weapon up on thin air. Grell flashed away again and the door clicked shut. Will snapped off the chainsaw and tossed it carelessly back into the closet, heading to the bathroom.

The doorbell rang and William hissed, tugging it open sharply. "Sutcliffe do I have to-" he froze, seeing blonde and black hair.

Ronald Knox stared up at him, shock lighting his eyes. "Is... that..." his eyes flashed with recognition. "MR. SUTCLIFFE KISSED YOU! YOU LET HIM KISS YOU!"

He was dashing off, leaving a stuttering William behind as he blushed and rubbed his cheek.

He probably could have been faster with the chainsaw, after all. He would jot it down in his book as shock, not... not that he had allowed for such a thing to happen.