a/n: Yeah, so, I found this lying in some long-forgotten folder in the recesses of my computer and thought it was relatively amusing. I must have written it some time while I was reading Kuroshitsuji and noticed that whenever it flashed back to when Ciel summoned Sebastian, all it showed was his feet. Which were always in stilettos. Which of course begs the question: what the hell was he wearing on the rest of his body?

Five o'clock in the morning at the Phantomhive mansion, and the so-recently-named Sebastian was preparing the house for the coming day for the first time.

The demon found he was already adjusting to his new name, and identity. Plans for the garden flew through his mind as he passed a window and glimpsed the barren yard, only to be replaced by dinner menus as he inspected the kitchen. He would have to hire more servants, he realized, and quickly.

Something seemed odd as he travelled through the numerous rooms of the mansion and along it's long hallways. Not bad, pleasantly new, in fact. He thought it was his clothes, but the suit was not so different from other outfits he had adorned back in hell. Kind of. It was far more sensible than anything he had ever worn before. Demons seemed to think they didn't need to be able to move properly. They had a hellish sense of fashion in hell, he thought, remembering some of the things he had seen the other demons wearing.

Finally, after getting back to the house after surveying the grounds, did he realize. His feet didn't hurt.

The feeling had been so ubiquitous to him for so long that he didn't even realize it wasn't there anymore. Sebastian scrutinized his feet. His shoes didn't look particularly comfortable. What on earth (or hell) had he been wearing before? He had been wearing them for so long, whatever they were, that they had become more a part of his existence then a part of his wardrobe. He finally remembered.

What he had worn for the preceding centuries of his life, before Ciel had summoned him, were not in in fact even invented in the year 1865, when this story takes place. And they would not be invented for another 100 years, when they would be dubbed "stilettos."

Why was I ever wearing those? He wondered. The answer lay deep within his childhood memories; painful avenues to travel for numerous reasons. Images of himself and other young demons, standing stoically behind a tall, slender figure swam before him.

Young demons, especially boys, because female demons were bossier, were customarily put in the care of their older siblings, who usually whipped them into a state of submission such that many were incapable of ever making their own decision ever again. These demons ended up sitting around hell's back rooms and were never seen again, leaving all the soul-devouring, torturing and corrupting to the ones with more back bone. Sebastian, fortunately, had a back bone. It did seem, however, that no matter what degree of freedom he was allotted, he was destined never to choose his own footwear. Which was too bad, because he foresaw some extremely comfortable looking things called sneakers being invented in about a century that he would have really liked to try out.

His sister, tall, , and glowering, hung over his brother in Sebastian's mind's eye. His brother, scrawny, with long blonde hair and malicious blue eyes and an evil, pointy-toothed grin, pouted at what their sister held up before them. The suit was admittedly ridiculous, but so was everything else anybody wore in hell.

Their towering slave-master growled, a deadly noise that sounded too deep to be coming from any being so slight, and at the threat the clothes sprang from his brother's hands onto his body quicker even than Sebastian could have managed now.

"Why did she care what we wore?" Sebastian wondered, realizing too late that he had spoken aloud, and furthermore that he was in the middle of dressing his new master.

Ciel frowned. "For the same reason I care. Now hurry up."