Author's note: I wrote this as a birthday fic for a good friend of mine. Also, thanks to meccanico for throwing some great plot bunnies my way at like 1am the day this fic was due.
Those Meddling Kids
There are precious few children in London who are unacquainted with Phantomhive toys. From a child's point of view, they are simply good fun to play with. From a businessman's point of view, they are a thing of genius. Rising from total obscurity to a major brand name within three years, Phantomhive Company uses proactive business strategies unheard of by its competitors.
My young master's latest marketing endeavour would be the talk of the streets for many a week to come. Five fortunate souls who find a golden ticket in a Phantomhive chocolate bar would be brought to our mansion to meet my young master.
Let us collectively shake our heads at any heathen who dares to replicate such a winning strategy.
Unconventional as it may seem, it was I who greeted the five children when they arrived. My young master's orders to me were (and I will quote below):
"Sebastian, this was all your idea, anyway. You go entertain the guests. I'll be in my room."
You must forgive my young master. He has no reservations against associating with adults, although he lacks fondness for young children. He claims they give him migraines. As his butler, I worry for him sometimes. He is rather young to be suffering under such ailments.
Approximately fifteen minutes before the guests arrived, my young master reiterated his orders.
"What are you waiting for? Get me some tea. And go entertain the guests."
And so I exchanged warm welcomes to the five children on my young master's behalf when they came to the gates of the mansion. It was only at that moment when I realised that as a loyal Phantomhive butler I had committed a grave error in judgement.
There is a point that I feel must be made clear. From my experience as working as a butler, I will admit that I am rather accustomed to the existence of a certain number of... loose distractions, one might say. The halls of the mansion are certainly never lacking for noise. Since our adoption of Pluto, I would speak the same of the grounds.
Children, however, are a different matter altogether. Their gazes turned wayward as I greeted them and it seemed to me as if they were seeking something. It was clear then that I had failed to provide for them adequately.
There are no toys within the Phantomhive mansion.
And so it can be said that Phantomhive's butler faced one of his most unexpected difficulties on this day. My young master is different from most twelve-year-olds, but this fact had never before seemed a concern.
Seeing no toys within their immediate environment, the children set about playing with precious vases and paintings. They acted, no doubt, under the assumption that the owner of Phantomhive Company was as interested in toys as they were.
They ran down corridors. They squealed in high-pitched voices. One of the children even brought his dog in tow. He claimed to be unable to be separated from the animal, and when I suggested the dog play with Pluto, he simply burst into tears. So the dog, a large brown hunk of a beast, was brought inside the mansion. It was fortunately a tame dog, although I was nevertheless uneasy.
A Phantomhive butler, however, should never be underestimated.
The young master emerged from his room at around lunch time. "What is this infernal racket?" he demanded of me, as I noticed him catch sight of me among the children.
I explained to him what we were doing.
"You're playing tag?" he said, and raised an inquisitive brow. He was not as disapproving as I feared he would be; although I assume it was because he is accustomed to various oddities. He has certainly seen worse sights.
Although he made no move to join in with the frolic, my young master tapped his cane upon the floor and repeated his earlier instruction:
"Entertain them, Sebastian."
With that, he skulked back into his room.
I regret to write that I grew complacent in my role as an entertainer. I did not anticipate that the children would tire of playing tag so quickly. In addition, I was obliged to prepare lunch for my young master. I assigned the employees the task of playing with the children while I quickly prepared a tray of scones.
When I returned, the children were not in the lounge where I had left them. This concerned me somewhat, especially when I heard youthful voices from my young master's room.
"Get off me! Oof! Don't touch my eyepatch!"
"Yar har! He's a pirate!"
"Where's his treasure?"
"Let me touch his eyepatch next!"
It was to the sounds of these voices as well as the enthusiastic barking of the guest's pet dog that I opened the door to. As I expected, the children were sprawled over my young master. His openly indignant scowl, I must admit, was rather comical to behold.
As for the employees whose work I had assigned, they stood a safe distance from the chaos and looked on with noted interest. They also happened to be giggling in perfect unison.
And as for the dog, it was currently belying my earlier impression of tameness and was upsetting my young master's wardrobe with an air of unrestrained glee that could only be described as demonic.
I cleared my throat and waited for the chaos to settle.
Things did not turn out quite like how I had anticipated them.
Abruptly, one the girls moved away from my young master and towards the scattered clothes around his wardrobe. She mentioned something about pretty dresses.
"They're not dresses!" my young master insisted strongly. "They're coats!"
"So pretty!"
She motioned to wear them. My young master cast me a glance and I suspected that one of his orders – when the whole mess was sorted with – would be to burn the clothes the girl had touched. My young master can on occasion be quite a spendthrift.
In the meantime, however, he had a more primary concern in mind. Of that I was immediately aware of.
"Get them off me, Sebastian!"
I responded positively, and asked the children if they could oblige. They did, and although the mansion employees made surprised noises (I assume it to be at whatever sort of prowess they perceived I displayed), my young master retained his sour demeanour.
I set about specifically to please him. I suggested to the children that they could, perhaps, ride on Finny's shoulders or play with Pluto outside. And soon enough, they had raced out of the room along with the employees.
That left me alone with the young master. I aided him to his feet and dusted off his clothing for him. His dourness remained unchanged, but that was only to be expected.
"My tea." Those were the first words to leave my young master's mouth. "They upset me when I was having tea."
I bear great sympathy for my young master. I am well aware that the path he has chosen in life is one that promises no ultimate comfort, and so it is truly a pity when he cannot be afforded even life's simple pleasures. Surely there is no happiness greater than the smelling of fragrance of an expertly brewed tea. No greater happiness, perhaps, than drinking the tea.
I expressed my condolences towards my young master and set about rearranging the room to bring out its former comforts. My young master sat upon his bed, his arms and legs folded imperiously.
"I don't understand children," he told me.
I told him that he must have understood them, once. My young master may be an adult in a child's body, but even adults were children once. Or so it applies to humans.
My young master listened to what I said and nodded.
He said: "I'm glad you entertained them."
I was humbled by his approval. I spoke of it, and while I did, my young master began to peer out of the window out at the grounds below. The children had rediscovered their passion for playing tag, it appeared.
"I'm glad," my young master said again.
I noted how his lips curved upwards in a somewhat lazy yet also half-tentative smile and I knew my long-held thoughts to be confirmed. Exactly why my young master chose to deal in toys specifically was no longer a question that held mystery in it.
I told him I was glad to be of service.
My young master's final orders before I left the room were this:
"Make sure you don't let them in my room again, Sebastian. Get me some tea to replace the ruined set. And burn those clothes."