They use each other. They're not friends. It's impossible to treat your future executioner with anything but loathing. Why be thankful for the small tasks when he had already given up his soul for eternity?
If one were to meet Ciel and his enigmatic butler for the first time, one might be appalled and affronted with how scathingly and how rudely the boy royalty instructed his servant. The servant himself was handsome, demure, perfectly accommodating and eager to please. How could anyone respond with anything by gratitude and at least a bare minimum of politeness? The boy was consistently demanding without thanks and sniping without provocation whatsoever. The boy must be a brat dredged up from the depths of hell!
Ah, but little do they know.
"Sebastian. Find me a list of suspects. Ask them questions, you know the drill. That's an order." With a flippant air, the young earl turned on his heel and walked down the cobbled streets of London with hardly a backwards glance.
Snow was falling softly, and the lampposts were softy illuminating the dark London sky. Members of the reverent Scotland Yard looked at one another. Pursed their lips. Shook their heads.
"Arrogant little bastard." A new member fumed.
"I beg your pardon?" The dark voice from the butler had the one who had spoken looking slightly uneasy. But he was bold, smart, and mostly bold.
"Don't know how you put up with him… Treats us like dirt and you even worse. Surely you could find a better employer that isn't an arrogant little man-child." The man had bright eyes and a righteous air about him. He has the feel of a man who feels personally affronted.
Sebastian regarded him with interest for a moment before sighing. "Child he may be and arrogant he may be, but I must ask you to cease and treat him with respect." He tilted his head and looked up at the sky with a small smile. "After all, I live to serve." The sincerity in his voice made the officer tsk and the others sigh and swoon.
But little do they know.
In the barely lit darkness of the earl's study, Sebastian could still easily make out the frown on his master's face.
"You're late."
He bowed. "I apologize, young master. I admit that I ran into more trouble than I expected." Unflinchingly polite.
Ciel Phantomhive just sneered at him. "Just give me your findings."
"Of course." With a flourish, he placed several pages worth of suspects in front of the young earl. "I live to serv-"
"Shut up." Ciel snapped at him.
A curve of a smile appeared on the demon's face before he spoke. "As you wish."
And suddenly, the papers were thrown back in his face, and Ciel looked furious. "Is there anything that comes out of your mouth that isn't sarcastic!" There was a pinch in his eyes. A look of pain as well as fury.
"Sarcastic? You mistake me, my lord. I want what is best for you, as is befitting a Phantomhive butler-"
A jeweled hand was sweeping across the air towards his face, and Sebastian briefly wondered if he should allow his master the pleasure of hitting him. Hmm, this time perhaps not. He snatched his hand out of the air and threw him forcibly (but safely) into the plushness of his massive chair.
"Forgive me. I don't know what it is that I have done wrong."
Ciel was hissing and rubbing his wrist. "I'm tired of it."
"Tired of what, young master? Just say the word and I shall fix it." But Sebastian knows.
"The sheer deception that coats every word you say!" He was red in the face, and Sebastian marveled at it. "Every time you say you live to serve or you're looking out for me with such a sincere face… it's so audacious! Of course you don't really look out for me! You say these things so easily… but for me I'm reminded every time that you're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. Of course you're not! You're a demon! You're waiting to devour my soul!"
He breathed heavily and it was apparent that this had been weighing on him for a long time, slowly fraying his nerves.
Sebastian laughed. A laugh that had him throwing his head back and letting his dark, dark hair fall devastatingly over his face. His eyes pulsed and glittered with red.
"What did you expect my dear Ciel?" The demon purred. He rarely ever used the earl's real name, and the syllables caused Ciel to shudder.
"I know I'm going to die. I know you're going to be the death of me." Ciel snarled. "But I can't stand this politeness any longer. It's insulting."
And Sebastian knew what the boy was really trying to say under it all. He felt taunted and mocked. Every polite word was a force of sarcasm, a meaningless nothing from the mouth of a demon. Everyone heard only genuine politeness, but only Ciel heard the rumbling hunger, and the sly reminders of his upcoming mortality. It was why the boy could hardly stand to treat him with he decorum required by society.
The demon advanced on Ciel menacingly. "Do you want my words to be real?" He slid ever closer and put both his hands on the boy's shoulders. Little fragile shoulders. "Do you want my promises of being by your side forever to be real?" He leaned closer and stared into Ciel's adverted eyes. "Well, do you?"
"I don't care about that." The boy insisted. "When we're alone, act like the demon you are. Such pretense is insulting to the both of us. I command it."
"As you wish." Sebastian growled out. Already, his fangs were elongating, his eyes were burning hellfire, and his hands were turning into claws. He ran his claws delicately over Ciel's thumping jugular. "Be careful what you wish for little boy."
But said little boy was finally relaxing in his grasp. He let out a tension-releasing sigh and a smirk of satisfaction. "That's much better."
And Sebastian could only marvel that such a soul would soon be his.