Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the various partygoers.

Chapter Ten: Pro Forma Part I

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Five minutes after the dishes were stacked, the phone rang.

Creed got to it first, casually flipping the phone into the air and catching it before he answered mid-ring. Train leaned against the wall, yawning loudly.

"Hello, Diskenth residence…Ah, Sepheria, good to hear from you." Creed grinned in Train's direction. "Oh, Train and I are getting along fine. In fact, you could almost say…swimmingly."

He winked and Train felt his face turn red.

"Don't you dare tell her!" Train mouthed furiously.

"Oh, a new mission so soon? What's the rush?" Creed blinked. "It's a…very well then. How many this time? Ten? Very well. How long? A week? That's quite a celebration. Very well."

Creed tapped Kotetsu's sheath thoughtfully.

"We'll be ready tonight."

Quickly hanging up the phone, Creed turned to Train and smiled jovially. "Well, Train, it looks as though we're to attend a formal ball and celebration for the next week. I hope you know how to waltz or tango, or else I'll have to teach you myself."

Train gaped at him, feeling as though the world was caving in on him. "Y-You mean…we have to dance?"

Creed hand-waved the idea casually. "Oh, don't worry, Hades will be put to good use. In fact, we have ten rich crime lords to deal with during the festivities." Creed moved closer to him, still smiling. "We'll stay at the host's mansion—like the rest of the guests—and when the opportunities arise we will complete our mission. How does that sound?"

Before Train could respond, Creed's fingers were delicately tracing his jaw. Train sighed as Creed pulled him closer. He didn't fight when Creed's lips brushed against his, but he did pull away after a few seconds.

"Listen, Creed," Train said, hating how his words came out so breathlessly, "we can't let Sepheria and the other Chronos members see us like this. Here is fine, but…"

Creed nodded, looking slightly devious. "Of course, but…" He cocked his head to one side, looking the picture of an angel. "What exactly do you mean?"

Train glared at him. "You know what. You can't kiss me or do any of that stuff in public. Understand?"

"Of course," Creed repeated, still looking infuriatingly smug.

Train gave him a wry look. "I'm going to have to bribe you, aren't I?"

Creed's eyebrows raised. "Well, funny you should ask…" He grinned and began to unbutton Train's shirt. "A solid week of pretending to be 'just friends and partners' is going to be rather difficult after all this…"

Train smirked. "I think you can handle it. It doesn't seem like such a long time."

Creed snickered. "Oh, believe me, by the time this is over that week is going seem an eternity."

Train had planned on telling Creed to go only so far, but in the end he decided to watch Creed's eyes glow for a little while longer.

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Train tugged at his uncomfortable tie that matched his eyes as he and Creed entered the mansion to the dull roar of polite celebration.

Through the gold-adorned door in front of them they could see that the ball was in full swing: beautiful young ladies in elaborate silk gowns swirled across the floor with black-suited men holding them close in a timeless waltz. To Train, it seemed as though the entire mansion glistened with a sort of spotless cleanliness he had never seen before—not even in Chronos. The white marble under his feet seemed recently polished, without a single mar on its surface.

"Ah, society," Creed said with a sigh, his expression dramatically saddened. "They know how to get over-the-top up here. Look at that cake." He gestured toward a creamy, twelve-layered monstrosity amidst several other sweet treats on a long white cloth-covered table. "It probably cost thousands."

"We're not here to gripe, Creed," Train growled, glancing around the spacious hall. "We're here to do our job."

Creed chuckled. "Obviously." Bowing deeply, he gestured toward the door. "After you, Mr. Heartnet."

Train rolled his eyes and ambled into the ballroom, Creed behind him.

He noticed that the room grew hushed as soon as they entered the room. He couldn't tell why—maybe it was because of Creed's white suit, which bluntly contrasted against the other black-suited men around them. Or maybe it was the aura Creed was giving off as he walked slightly ahead of Train, making the room fill with testosterone (and estrogen) simultaneously.

It suddenly occurred to Train that most of the room knew who Creed was—several people called out their hellos.

"Now then, Train," Creed whispered, his lips curled slightly, "I want you to stay close to me. I'm going to introduce you to a few people."

"Why?" Train asked, looking around him nervously. The people were staring and whispering excitedly.

"Because we're supposed to be members of society—of a 'minor' area of society, but we're of note anyway." Creed winked and patted him on the shoulder. "Relax. These people aren't the kind to attack you physically. It's more of the rumor mill sort."

Train didn't have time to argue before Creed led him toward a small cluster of people. He watched in surprise as Creed handed a blonde-haired girl his rose, even going so far as to kiss her blue-gloved hand.

"Vivian, a pleasure to see you again." Creed gestured toward Train. "Train Heartnet, Vivian Barnes. Her family owns a vineyard near here. They have the best wine in the country."

Vivian laughed, her brown eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Oh, Mr. Diskenth, you're too kind, truly." She curtsied to Train. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Train shrugged. "I'm not really all that good at small talk," he admitted, giving her a short bow.

"So, Mr. Diskenth, who is this boy?" a man asked over his wine glass.

Creed smiled politely and placed his hand on Train's shoulder. "He's a friend. I met him a few months ago, and I've become quite attached to him."

"Such beautiful eyes," a petite brunette commented, moving closer. "Are you sure your 'friend' isn't something more?"

Creed winked. "Well, I've always had a thing for brunettes." He moved out of the way as the girl slapped his arm playfully. "You're always so feisty after a few glasses!"

"But what about me, Mr. Diskenth?" Vivian pouted, her sleeves sliding past her shoulders and revealing far more of her cleavage than Train wanted to see.

Creed grinned and patted her shoulder. "Vivian, you know it would never work out between us. You love wine and polite conversation, I love reciting sonnets while bedding a young beauty. In other words, we'd bore each other to tears."

Train snickered. "Thankfully I haven't seen that side of you yet."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you want to?" He smacked Train's arm. "Naughty boy, saying that in front of girls!"

The small group laughed as Train blushed and turned away.

"Oh, come now, Train," Creed said with a smile, touching Train's hand lightly for a moment. "I was just kidding. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Such a becoming look," the man from before said after a pause. He then leaned forward and cupped Train's face in his hand, turning him this way and that. "He's got such fine skin, Mr. Diskenth. And his mouth is quite well-shaped…almost as nice as yours."

Train glowered at the man and gave Creed a look of Get me the hell out of here.

Creed chuckled. "Ah, but sir, his bite is just as ferocious as mine."

Taking that as a go-ahead, Train pretended to snap at the man's fingers. The man pulled away, laughing shakily. Vivian and the others laughed and applauded.

Creed suddenly took the brunette's hand. "Why don't we enjoy ourselves, Train? The band sure is lively tonight."

"They're being paid handsomely, you can be sure," Vivian quipped before curtsying before Train. "Shall we dance?" she asked sweetly, her red lips parted slightly.

Train nodded and took her hand. "Sure."

Train led the way toward the dance floor, holding Vivian's hand gently as they waltzed beside the other dancers to the uplifting music that filled the room. Vivian's dress brushed softly against his legs, and Train felt his cheeks heating up at the close proximity of her chest. Vivian smiled serenely up at him, her skin soft and inviting in the chandelier light.

"You're a good dancer, Mr. Heartnet," she said softly as they revolved across the floor. "Did Mr. Diskenth teach you?"

Train nodded. "He's a good teacher."

Vivian laughed politely. "He's good at many things, Mr. Diskenth." She winked. "Not all of them appropriate for polite conversation."

Train let out a nervous chuckle and looked down at the floor. "I'm not surprised."

"He's a romantic, though. That's what draws people to him. And he's quite good looking. Did you know that the first time he came to one of my parties he was only fourteen? He charmed everyone in sight. In fact"—Vivian lowered her voice to a whisper—"rumor has it that one of the richest men in the city tried to bed him when he turned fifteen. He was never heard of again."

"I see." Train cleared his throat as Creed gestured for him to meet him. "I think Creed wants to see me."

Vivian nodded and pulled away. "Perhaps later…?" She left the sentence hanging.

Train shrugged. "Maybe."

With that he walked toward Creed, who was waiting impatiently.

"What took you?" he asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Sorry," Train whispered. "Vivian wanted to ask me something."

Creed grinned. "Ah. Well, if you want to 'socialize' with her I have no problem with it. It'll give us an even better cover."

"You're obviously very popular around here." Train said as he leaned against the wall. He was already growing tired of this scene. "Tell me, Creed, how many lovers have you really had?"

"For what span of time?" Creed asked. "Since I turned fifteen?"

Train nodded.

"Long relationships…two. I hope you'll be number three—and the last. The problem with having a partner as a lover, is this business we're in—they both died early. Not you, though. No, Train, you're different. Better."

"Gee, thanks," Train said sarcastically. "Now, how many other lovers have you had?"

Creed shrugged. "Since I was fifteen…eleven, I think. Counting Vivian."

Train frowned. "What a partner you are…"

Creed laughed. "Trust me, Train, they weren't by choice. Anyway, it's my turn for questions. Remind me again: exactly how old are you?"

"Seventeen years, five months, three days, and..." He was staring dully out into the ballroom.

Creed made a small noise of approval. "It's remarkable that we're the same age. Very good—but you look younger than that."

"Don't remind me."

Creed suddenly pulled Train back out into the bright swirling colors of the ballroom. "You need a nice glass of champagne," he said smoothly, practically dragging him to the wine table.

"Creed, I don't do well with—" Train began, but a warning look from Creed shut him up. He resolved to have Creed pay for it later.

"Just relax, Train." Creed said with a sly wink as he poured Train a half-full glass of the sparkling golden champagne. "After all, this will be a week to remember." Pouring himself a glass as well, he raised it for a toast. "To us?"

Train glowered at him and raised his glass in return. "To us."

They sipped their glasses slowly, glancing around them. There was no sign of their targets as yet. Creed was swiftly pulled away by a cluster of girls, leaving Train alone. Train decided he would defy Creed—just a little.

"Here's to your thirteen lovers, you bastard," Train toasted Creed bitterly, and tipping his head back, felt the sweet alcohol pour down his throat.

Every

last

drop.