Just to warn you guys I cannot write Mey-Rin to save my life. How do you write someone that optimistic anyway?!
I'm taking some liberties with this and putting some of my own headcanons out there. Will explain some of them at the end.
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At first glance, the Phamtomhive estate looked calm and serene, with loyal (if not clumsy) servants, a handsome butler, and one disturbingly mature and young earl. The head of the house and his shadow were a constant reminder that this place wasn't just your regular job position, but one that required guns, brute strength, and clever planning. He wasn't really a chef, though he could cook quite well of he really set his mind to it, but a hardened soldier at best, a hired gun at worst.
Bardroy took a drag from his cigarette, leaning against the kitchen table. His gun laid on the table behind him, the barrel smudged with dirt and the sweat from his hands. Finny had taken care of the last thugs already, and with the blond's advanced strength he hadn't been in any trouble, which left Bard to make his way to the kitchen.
Now he stood there, smelling like gunpowder and blood and dirt and over all like he had when he'd been a soldier, waiting for the others to get back and regroup. And, of course, to await Sebastian's next orders. He knew he could always just venture upstairs to search for the otherworldly butler and the young earl, but the raven haired man had an unnerving quality that had the ex-soldier wanting to sprint away.
So he waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
Mey-Rin gave him a cheerful, albeit tired smile, as she limped inside and placed her twin pistols on the table. She had yet to push her glasses back into place, and only seemed to realize this upon bumping into the kitchen counter when she turned. Bard grabbed her shoulder, ignoring how she shook under his grip, and guided her back to the table and to a chair. He had just pulled out the kettle for tea when Finny walked in, gait stiff and hands still bloody.
Bard silently stepped aside to let the young man - he was more of a young boy, though no one but Finny himself knew how old he was - wash the red from his limbs. Once done, the blond moved to sit next to Mey-Rin, fold his arms on top of the table and rest his head on his arms. Bard frowned and continued with his task, knowing from experience never to ask if someone was alright after a battle, after a bloody fight like this.
By the time he'd given the two of their cups of tea and held his own in his hands Sebastian stood in the doorway, watching the three tired servants. The chef would never admit this, but while the strangely (impossibly) perfect man disturbed him, he couldn't help but to worry about him. Did no one else see how his shoulders sagged after Ciel finally retired for the night, or how sometimes he'd make a soft sound of pain after a fight whenever someone jostled him from his usual pace, or even the way his smiles seemed completely, utterly fake?
He'd noticed the first night that each of them had problems. He had immediately suspected Sebastian of not exactly being normal. He'd seen right through Mey-Rin's clumsiness. He knew Finny's optimism was a front to keep them from prying about his past and his unnatural strength. He knew something terrible had happened - was still happening - to the young master that let them live here and paid them to protect his home.
Bard offered the man a genuine smile, and gestured for him to join him. Tanaka could take care of Ciel for the next twenty minutes.
Sebastian sat down with Mey-Rin and Finny, and Bard slid in next to him, pulling out a deck of cards and grinning when they all (besides the butler) groaned in sync. He didn't care that they complained about his insistence on playing a card game, or making them tea and food; he cared that when he did, the haunted look in all their eyes slowly faded, even if it was only a little bit, and the sorrow in his own heart lessened just a bit.
They were all war buddies now, whether they realized that or not didn't matter. War buddies were family, and family took care of each other when they could, however they could.
He failed his last family, and he refused to fail this one.*
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To sum up my headcanons...
Bard is a soldier. Soldiers fight, they survive, and a lot of them smoke (in that time period anyway). And they make and lose friends. He sees the others (Mey-Rin, Finny, maybe even Sebastian, as friends, perhaps even family, because they all fight and live and survive together. And he's honestly scared of losing them, because he lost his friends from the war he fought in before being a chef, because he believes losing them was his fault.
And he knows what a soldier after battle looks like, how haunted and hollow they look, and he carries a hell of a lot of sadness and pain in him, and he sees that mirrored in the others.
This wasn't a requested piece, but I had it all done up and waiting to be posted, and the next one is more or less kicking my butt, so I took a break to finish this one up and knock it out there. Hope you enjoy this tidbit. :)
Also...to Promocat; thanks for all the reviews! It really helps in making me keep up with updates knowing someone enjoys my writing. So thank you for your input - it really does help!