Grell's a girl in this one. The Reaper gang're all here except for Undertaker.

Kuroshitsuji and all its characters belongs to Yana Toboso.

To you who took the time to read and comment, I thank you sir/ma'am/miss. Concrits very much welcome.

All William had to do was keep Grell happy, and that's extremely easy. She still had to follow rules, though, he mused as he walked through the dark and empty school corridors.

Let's see…he still remembered all the hiding spots like the back of his hand. It's been so long now – probably half of them were gone. However, there was one particular place that was popular among the students. Is that shed still standing…?

He knew he was spot-on the minute he heard voices.

"Y'know, during my school years here, there was this one prefect who kept getting on my case," Eric's slurred voice oozed over like a hobo. "A senior, by the looks of it. Nasty, pompous little blighter. He'd always catch me cutting classes. Other prefects would've given up by then, but not this fella. Whotsizname, now…probably something stuffy like Edward or Charles…"

"Will," said Grell.

"Wassat?"

"It's my sweet William. I'm sure of it. He was Head Boy during my year."

"Oh. Bloody hell."

"I never met him," Ronald chimed in. "He left when I got in."

"Lucky you, Ronnie," said Eric. "He was just as tight-arsed then, eh Grelliebean?"

"Shush, love," Grell giggled. "Mind your language in front of a lady!"

"Sorry. With you it all comes out ala nat'ral."

William had heard enough. He marched around the corner and stood before his sloshed Field Agents with his arms akimbo. He brought down his Death Scythe hard onto a nearby desk. It made a sharp cracking sound, punctuated by his furious barking: "Sutcliff! Slingby! Knox!"

Eric actually yelped as the three of them jumped out of their skins. Whiskey bottles clattered to the floor as they hurriedly got to their feet. Or at least tried to. If they were on a ship, they'd probably find the sea steady as a mountain.

Beneath William's withering glare, they finally managed to look a tad bit presentable. The Supervisor began to stalk back and forth before them.

"I must say…congratulations, you dipsos. Well done for disgracing the London Dispatch Branch with your grossly unprofessional behaviour!" he thundered, his fury making him seem like an inevitable force of nature. "I cannot even begin to express how displeased I am right now with the three of you! It's bad enough I had to bear all the flak from the Director, but you being here getting inebriated does not help matters one bit!" He paused sniffing. "Have you been smoking?" he demanded at Grell.

"No," she said guiltily.

"Then why's your dress on fire?"

"Wha-?" She spun around, beating frantically at her skirt, which was smoking from behind.

Eric swayed, the embers of defiance in his eyes, fanned by the cocktail of poison swimming gleefully in his bloodstream and quite possibly, an ancient schoolboy grudge.

"Sho what?" he rumbled. "Wassamatter? Wassamatter with drinking a bit of whishkeyey?"

"Mr. Slingby, I'm sure I don't have to illustrate to you that 'a bit' does not constitute to an amount enough to exterminate a colony of mice. Now gather up your mess at once and follow me back to the hall! First thing tomorrow morning the three of you will be in my office for disciplinary action. Hurry up!"

Grell flinched at his tone. This time he was really angry. Not even a heartfelt rendition of Ophelia would help wriggle her out of this situation, and boy does she know how to wriggle. She could make a bellydancing snake look like it had two left feet. At this rate, she'd have far better luck parting the Red Sea than escape William's punishment.

"Sorry, boss," mumbled Ronald.

"I did not ask for an apology, Mr. Knox. Have you gone deaf? Do I need to repeat myself?"

William stood back, crossing his arms to his chest as he watched his reapers stumble about pathetically, trying to clear up the mess they've made.

God, this really brings back the old days. Come to think of it, everything's pretty much the same; only difference was now he's being paid to yell at them. He discreetly shifted his attention towards Grell.

He never regretted scolding her like he did the rest of them. She needed to understand that work was different from personal. That was a rule he absolutely refused to bend.

With one important exception, however.

If keeping her by his side meant having to use the full extent of his powers, then he'd do it.

THE END