Leaves skittered across the pavement as the autumn wind picked up and occasionally, an unlucky few would have the misfortune of winding up under Detective Bailey's feet with a crunch. The policeman shivered and pulled his jacket shut. It was a nice neighbourhood that he was walking through—not at all unlike the neighbourhood that he had encountered at work a few nights prior. It was daytime, now, and all was well. Well, as "well" as it could be.
There was a murderer out there who could slaughter entire families and for whatever reason, he decided that making a deal with demons was the best way to go about it. It made sense in the moment. Now he had to find a way to feed them information from the police without his employers finding out. He would be committing a crime in order to solve a crime and if caught, he would lose his job and be put in prison. His family's entire future was at risk! And being a man on the straight and narrow, he had no idea how to go about it. That was why he was on his way to speak to someone who knew what he was doing when it came to this exact situation—the man who he looked up to his whole life and the one who inspired him to join the force in the first place: His father and former homicide detective, Mister Gabriel Bailey.
The Bailey family home looked the same as it always did on the outside. It was neat with clean windows and a swept stoop. The front gate squeaked loudly as the detective opened it, causing him to stop in his tracks and look around. It wasn't as though his old neigbours would report him or anything, but it felt like it. Shutting it behind him, he climbed the steps to the front door and wrapped against it with the polished, ornate knocker that decorated it. Within moments, he heard the lock on the other side turn and there in the doorway appeared a woman who was rather pleased to see him.
She was in her fifties and the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him warmly. She held her shawl closed, tucking her hands inside of it as she stood there in a pair of house slippers. Her dark hair was short—just below her ears and deliberately curled on the ends.
"Oh, hello, little monkey!" the woman greeted, quickly shooing the detective inside. "Come in, come in! You'll freeze to death out there!"
Missus Judith "Judy" Bailey was a sharp woman. She was quick as a whip and she let everyone know it—and that included her children. While Michael may have been an up and coming hot-shot homicide detective, but he was still her baby boy and she was going to dote on him, especially since she couldn't see him every day anymore.
"Come now, let me take your jacket." she said. "Have you had something to eat yet?"
"Um… I'm alright, thanks, Mum." Michael replied, earning a skeptical look while he handed her his jacket. She straightened it out, folding it neatly before draping it over her arm.
"Gabe!" she called out into the house, reminding the detective just how well her voice carried. "Michael's here! He's come to talk shop!"
"Alright, dear! Be there in a minute!" his father called back before coughing. Michael met him in his parent's front room after several minutes of waiting. He walked into the room shaking water from his hands and wiping them on the front of his jumper.
"Blasted paint doesn't come off…" he grumbled before looking up at the other man. A smile crept onto his face, deepening the lines that had formed there over the years. "Michael!" he greeted. "How've you been?"
"Hey, dad. I'm alright." Michael awkwardly greeted back. It was strange, acting so normally when they were about to discuss murder, but here they were. "How's painting?"
"Dreadful! Bloody dreadful! I don't know how that Bob Ross fellow does it." Gabriel stated. "Lately, I've taken to painting model cars. That suits me better, I think. At least I know where the colours go! But enough about that. I heard you had quite a fright a little while ago…"
"How do you know about that?" questioned the younger man, raising his eyebrows.
"Jim told me. He called and said you were going to be working together and that I should be expecting you soon."
"He… Calls you on the phone…" Although the detective felt as though he should probably be concerned about how his father was talking on the phone with demons, but at this point, he was more afraid of the fact that the shock of it all was starting to wear off.
"Of course he does? How else would we chat?" Mister Bailey questioned with an arch of his eyebrow. With a grunt, he sat down in his usual chair, pointing his finger as he spoke. "Now, don't you worry a bit about working with him. He's a rascal and a bit rough around the edges, but he's a good lad and he's good at his job. You're in good hands."
Just as he was getting comfortable in his seat and putting his seat up, Missus Bailey came into the room carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. "Oh, are you talking about the Phantomhives?" she questioned, setting it down on the coffeetable between them. "I'm a bit surprised Michael's working them. He never seemed to like the idea."
"Mum-" Michael tried to intervene, but his father answered for him.
"Yep, he's asked them to help with it since the yard won't contact Hellsing." Gabriel said.
"Typical. They never did when you were there and it always caused such a mess!" Judith replied, putting her hands on her hips as she stood upright. "Pig-headed old men… Oh, but if you see Ciel, Michael, do give him our thanks. He helped pay to fix that leak in the ceiling before your father went up there and broke his neck!"
"He didn't have to do it." bashfully chimed in Mister Bailey. "We could have paid…"
"But you were determined not to, you stubborn old fool!" the woman retorted, playfully swatting at her husband's arm. "If you die from something stupid, he can go to your funeral, because I won't!"
"Judy…"
"Hold on…" Michael interrupted his parents for a moment, pinching between his eyebrows. "Why would a demon—and you're just fine with that? I still don't understand how you can be fine with that…"
"Fine with what, Michael?" Gabriel questioned.
"Working with demons!" the detective exasperatedly answered. "And letting them fix the roof! If you needed help, you could have asked me!"
"We couldn't do that to you, Michael. You've got your own family to take care of." Judith waved him off, but it did nothing to soothe him.
"Aren't you worried that there's a catch?" Michael asked. "With demons, there's always a catch. You don't seem concerned by that at all, though?"
"Well, yes, that's probably most demons. They're not very nice or savoury creatures, but the Phantomhives are mostly human and they've also never even tried to take advantage of us before." his father replied. "The prejudice does make sense, but we've had more than thirty years of friendship with them. Sometimes, you've just got to trust your instincts on these things—something you would do well to learn as a detective. You'll develop a sense for it in time."
"That doesn't—I don't—That doesn't make any sense. So I'm just supposed to risk everything—my career, the future financial security of my family, my reputation, and going to jail—because of a hunch?"
Gabriel took a sip from his mug while his son ranted, only to be blunt once he lowered it. "Yeah, pretty much. That's how it is."
"That's absolutely mental!"
"Michael!" Judith began to scold, but Gabriel wasn't bothered in the slightest.
"It's alright, Judy. It's a hard thing for most people to understand. Demons are some of the most dangerous supernaturals out there. If anything, they're one of the few species that you absolutely want to avoid, but the Phantomhives are not ordinary demons. A little bit of trust in them will go a long way, Michael. Hell, they've saved your life once already without you trusting them at all!"
"They cut off my finger!" indignantly protested the detective.
"A small price to pay in comparison. Do you think your wife would rather you come home with one finger missing rather than not coming home at all?" questioned Mister Bailey, arching his brow. To that, his son could only lower his gaze. It was true, after all. There wasn't much arguing with that. Yet, Gabriel could still see that this wasn't going anywhere. With a sigh, he said: "Michael, if you can't trust the Phantomhives, can you at least trust me? Your old man has been a detective for a while and the whole time, they've had my back. I've known Ciel since I was a uniform cop! If you can do that and they double cross you, then you can tell me I'm wrong. But if I'm right, then you've gained an ally who'll have your back when your bosses don't. Deal?"
"I… I dunno… What if I get caught?"
"You won't get caught as long as you follow my instructions, but even if you do get caught, they've got connections. It'll be hard to get rid of you."
"Okay, wait, is there anything ethical about these people?"
"Let me go get your burner phone…"
"Burner pho—Dad!" Despite the detective's protests, his father was already standing and partway out of the room, giddily moving in an odd half-walking, half-jogging motion. He left the younger man reeling while rubbing his forehead, lamenting the fact that he was somehow accomplice to such shady nonsense. He didn't even move when Gabriel walked back in the room.
"I've pre-loaded it with numbers that might be useful." excitedly declared Mister Bailey as he presented the terrible object to his son. It was an older phone—the type that slides and has a keyboard. It had clearly been used for a while and was perfect for his somewhat technophobic father, but for a modern man like Michael? Well, he was less than thrilled. The detective held it in his hands, examining it while the other continued to explain. "You've got the demons' numbers, the HELLSING hotline in case you need to report something directly…"
"How on earth am I supposed to send stuff with this?"
"Easy. You use the laptop. I'll get it for you later. I forgot to get it on my way back in here. It'll be fine."
"There's more?!"
Michael felt less and less confident with the more equipment and neseccities his father rolled out. Things got a little better when he began to explain how exactly to use them, but the actual semantics of actually using them when he needed to made him feel uneasy. That and he was convinced that he was somehow going to be caught by his bosses weighed heavily on his mind. As much as he wanted to solve this case, going to prison was absolutely not part of his plans. So it was with much anxiety that he sent the first message to the blonde Phantomhive demon; despite the fact that it took him slightly over an hour to hit the "send" button. He instantaneously regretted it.
It would be a sleepless night for the detective as he lay awake and worry about what was to come, but it would be a rather productive one for Sir Jim, himself. His source was acquired and now it was time for him to analyse the data and figure out what it all means. Immediately, the baronet set up camp in the master suite, pouring over the information that he had acquired, trying to piece it together with what he already had.
The murder scene itself was a bit excessive, he felt. Pentagrams? Had he been fully convinced that the killer was human, he would assume them to be a terrible try-hard. From the information he had—time of death, splatter marks, residue, and the like—the situation seemed as follows: The baby was killed first. There was no way of dressing that up nicely. It was determined that Ajax Keaton was killed by asphyxiation. He suffocated to death in his crib, more than likely. The wounds on his body were consistent with the suggestion that they were inflicted after his death. Then, the mother was killed. There was a horrible stain near the head of her bed. Blood poured out of her in such quantities that it completely soaked through the mattress. Neck wound. She didn't have any other marks on her like she tried to defend herself, but from the stains on the floor leading into the bathroom, it appeared as though she woke up and attempted to address her injuries. Jim frowned at the thought. He couldn't help but think about how horrific that must've been—waking up only to realise that one was dying. The fear she must have felt must have been immeasurable.
The lack of defense wounds piqued his interests, however, as it meant that upon waking up, instead of fighting her attacker, she moved past them to get to the bathroom. Did she acknowledge them? Were they in the room with her? They had to be. She woke up immediately. So why didn't she defend herself and an equally important question was that why didn't her attacker pursue her? That was the only injury she sustained. But why? Did they know she was done for? There was something too calculated in that. Combining that with the fact that the baby was killed first, it struck Jim as too planned out for an amateur. This… individual was used to killing in a way that reminded Jim of himself. That led him to wonder if perhaps this was a hit of some sort, with the satanic embellishments being added later to throw the police off the scent. For a book? Perhaps. Some eccentric collector with too much money might do the trick. As silly as it was, Jim felt like he had seen weirder.
That didn't explain Professor Keaton himself, though. His presence and place in this story was strange. He wasn't home during the initial attacks. He was at the school after an uncharacteristically long night of research—although lord knows exactly what he was looking into, since the book was stolen—and returned after his wife and son were already dead. How anyone was to know about that, Jim didn't quite understand. He didn't know why the Professor was out that late nor did he know how long he had been in the house before he died, but he did know that the professor fought back. Hard.
His legs were stabbed. His back was too. His arms and hands were slashed as he tried to protect himself and he want down while trying to get away. It was violent and it was messy. Furniture was smashed where it happened. Tables were overturned. Glass trinkets laid shattered in the floor. Professor Keaton tried hard to live, but he was overpowered. The police was still waiting on lab results on the samples taken from underneath his fingernails, but that might give the demon another clue. He could only wait on that front.
Why wasn't he home? Jim could understand the way the killer went about it. It made the most logical sense in order to decrease the amount of noise, but that piece was missing. Did he perhaps know this was going to happen? Was he somehow involved in the killing of his wife and child? If that were the case, he still didn't intend to die, himself, but perhaps there was an agreement of some sort? If so, then why?
The biggest wildcard of them all, however, was his daughter, Jane. She was still alive when the dust cleared and from the reports Jim was given, she was more than shaken up about it. She hadn't uttered a single peep to anyone since she was found—not one single sound. That made things more difficult, of course, but Jim could understand it. She probably saw her family die. How old was she? She had to be younger than ten, so younger than Ciel when his family was killed. How utterly horrified must she have been? To see the people she loved and relied on being brutally ripped from her in bloody fashion? It was a lot for anyone to take, let alone a child.
Jim knew why his spouse couldn't bear the idea of working on this case. It was too personal—too painful. It was too close to his own life that he must have known he needed to draw the line there, so Jim couldn't find it in him to be upset about it. If anything, he was glad Ciel was looking out for himself like that. Sometimes, that man could be too cruel, especially to himself.
Without the daughter being in any condition to interrogate, Jim was left trying to figure out why she lived. Was she allowed to? Did she hide until she could make her escape? Most damning of all, however, how did she end up with the book? The answer was obvious to Jim from the moment he read that little tidbit that Detective Bailey was oh-so-helpful to omit during his initial telling of the story:
Professor Keaton stole it. He knew from the camera footage he "borrowed" from the school, but that's how it ended up there. Keaton had it and the daughter took it with her when she ran. Jim didn't know why it was so important to a little girl that she would take it with her when running from mortal peril, but everything began and ended with that damn book.
Furrowing his brow, Jim folded his arms, balancing his pen between his upper lip and his nose. Now, Jim wasn't that big on reading—he did enjoy an audiobook every once in a while, or hearing his husband reading aloud to him—but he didn't quite understand the value of a good book. This book, however, was the only one whose value he needed to. Right then, it was the only book that mattered, but no one in the world seemed to know a damn thing about it. That is, except one.
Jim knew he needed to speak with Doctor Emily Pearson on the matter. She seemed to be the only living person left who knew something, even if it was just a little bit. Any detail would be more than he had right then. It was just a matter of convincing her to talk. He wasn't working in official capacity with police at the moment, but he could lie, he supposed. Wouldn't be the first time he told a fib or two during an investigation, so he knew he wouldn't feel guilty. For most people, he could just flash a badge, use some jargon, and with a pinch of confidence, convince them he was with the Yard. Academic types were usually no different. In fact, they only seemed all the more eager to get their hands on some fresh jargon.
He considered his approach carefully, trying to think of what would appeal to a rationally minded scientist despite the fact that she was aware of the healing book. The demon even looked her up online, finding her profile on the school website, her Linkedin, her Twitter, and any other tidbit he could scrounge up. Very little of it seemed usable. Unfortunately most ordinary people were like that—especially professional working folk who didn't leave any incriminating information on the internet. He did, however, find a post that indicated that she was leaving her post after this semester, although there appeared to be no reason given as to why.
Jim needed to get back down to campus soon and he needed to catch the professor in her office where there wouldn't be any interference. If he needed to stake the place out and figure out her patterns, though, it would be both annoying and perhaps not a great way to use his time. Perhaps he could somehow convince Sebastian to do it. After all, Ciel said that he wouldn't be taking part in the case, not that Sebastian or anyone else couldn't. It was a possibility that Jim was considering, although he wasn't completely sold on it.
While he was up in his room planning and plotting, however, it became obvious to everyone else in the house that he was oblivious to the building tension downstairs. Silence hung in the air as everyone else in the house sat together in the dining room, awkwardly trying to enjoy their meals. The man who sat at the edge of the table always seemed to have the uncanny ability to affect the atmosphere around him with his mood. Whether or not this was the imagination of those picking up on his irritation or some bizarre supernatural ability that he was unaware of was uncertain, but they could all feel it like a poisonous smog. Fortunately, the lack of conversation only allowed them to eat faster.
"He's late." Ciel finally stated, his voice adding a chill to the already contaminated room. In an attempt to mitigate, the only party still standing and moving about in the room spoke up.
"Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, my lord, but master Jim is still working on his case."
"Be that as it may, he has also resolved to being punctual during family time." The only thing warm in the room seemed to be the food. The bluenette's ice felt like it was slowly creeping further and further, radiating from his chair and expanding outward. It's sharp crystals caused the mood in the room to deflate, but he was oblivious to it. In his bid to enforce the familial atmosphere, he only seemed to push the others further away bit by bit. Perhaps Jim did resolve to be punctual, but Ciel on the other hand, had resolved to be right.
The butler rolled his eyes behind the Watchdog, just out of view. Still, he turned and began leaving the room, much to the dismay of the others in attendance. "Very well, sir. I will go remind him again."
"No need!" Jim declared, practically bouncing into the room. He affectionately placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder as he passed, pausing his trajectory toward his seat only to peck the top of his husband's head. "I'm here!" the blonde announced, freeing the butler to fetch him some food. "Sorry about that. I was trying to figure out my angle for when I interrogate this chick later."
"That's really interesting!" Revy blurted out. As extremely uncharacteristic as it was, he knew that he needed to say something to keep the ball rolling before the Earl let out a remark. "Who are you going to talk to?"
"A scientist who studied the book at the university." the menace replied. "The trick is going to be catching her during her office hours. I'd rather not have to stake the place out all day, but it is what it is. I'd like to talk to the girl who survived, too… Unfortunately, she's not saying much of anything to anybody, according to the report."
"Hm..." hummed the Earl, sounding disinterested, although he was listening. Picking up on his displeasure, Jim picked up his knife and fork and stabbed his food.
"I'm sorry," he said, "You don't want to hear this, right? Let's talk about something else. Finny." Jim called out, causing the gardener to snap to attention.
"Yes, sir?" Finnian nervously answered.
"How's the leaf pile going?" inquired the baronet with a tilt of his head. "Is it big enough for you and Luka to jump in yet?"
"Oh, it's getting there. It's about to my waist, now, but I know we can find more!"
That was it? Jim avoided entertaining Ciel's sour mood so easily! He was smooth in his transitions, behaving as though nothing was peculiar in the slightest. It somehow set the table at ease, yet Ciel wouldn't give up his icy grasp just yet. It irritated him that he was being ignored. Yes, other people had things that happened that day that they would like to discuss, but what about him? It agitated him that he was cast aside like that.
His eye looked away from the menace and stared downward at his own plate. That was selfish, he understood. He should allow the others to converse freely without his meddling, even if he didn't like it. That was fair. It was also fair that he felt this way—not because it was justified, but because it was what he was feeling, even though he tried his best to squash it down so that he could actually join in. He just felt so irritated for seemingly no reason. He had actually intended to apologise to the menace for his previous bad behaviour, but still found himself being annoyed that the menace was still working on this case. But why? That was a mystery that the bluenette couldn't seem to solve. The bluenette just felt this strange sliver of irritation bubbling up from within him and the strangest part was: part of him enjoyed it. That was the part he attempted to crush the most. Even acknowledging it seemed taboo, like if he did, it would only grow bigger. Ciel needed to think serene and peaceful thoughts. It felt like he needed to keep the peace. That's what family time was supposed to be, right? Peaceful. No fighting about trivialities, here.
He would behave. Jim was giving him plenty of opportunities to behave, after all, so he would be a particularly special kind of inept if he failed to take him up on it. The blonde was casual, smiling, and speaking to everyone in a normal fashion in spite of the Earl's obvious mood. As always, Jim was the supreme master of not taking the Earl's little snits to heart, although it did make Ciel feel a bit guilty at times. Somehow, Ciel was actually able to join in the conversation at points, although sparingly.
With things going smoothly, he was able to briefly pass on updates on the house that Logan was fixing up, allowing Revy to understand where the situation was at present. He, Luka, and Jim apparently spoke extensively about how Revy was going to decorate it when Ciel wasn't looking, so the Earl was a bit surprised to hear that metal posters were somehow going to be part of the equation when discussing this several hundred year old house. Meanwhile, Luka brought up the idea of him having his own room full of trophies and spoils of conflict when he moves out, which Ciel found both somehow delightful as he got the idea from him, and a bit concerned.
In the end, the evening wrapped up as per usual, with everyone winding down and returning to their rooms for a good night's rest. This, however, entailed Ciel returning to his own quarters, only to find them in disarray. Printed out documents were laid out on the bed and floor, there was a notepad and several pens just waiting to be somehow lost in the blankets and then found again later once one of them accidentally laid on it, and finally—and perhaps strangest of all—a bowl full of half-eaten, dry, cereal and multiple empty candy wrappers. The menace of course quickly swooped in to rectify the damage, throwing away trash and reorganising his papers to put away.
"Sorry about that…" he offered while frantically trying to shove a wad of documents into a folder. He grunted, holding up one leg in the air and balancing the folder on his knee while he fumbled with papers. Then he searched for a place to place it, prompting Ciel to step to the side as the blonde passed through the doorway into the front room. Placing the folder on the coffeetable, he went about picking up the rest of his things while Ciel stepped into their room and unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt sleeves.
The Earl watched with strange interest as he watched his spouse busily tidy up. All of this effort was for him, after all. It was to keep Ciel from having to interact with the case as per his request. Yet as he watched Jim carry on, he couldn't help but find it ridiculous. The menace was holed up in here when he had a perfectly good office that was just as much his as it was Ciel's. He was having to run around, moving his evidence and notes to satisfy the Earl's whims, even if that meant misplacing things or mixing them up. Ciel furrowed his brow at that. It was incredibly distasteful of him, he felt.
"Hey, Jim…" he called out, prompting the menace to look up at him. The blonde was clutching his laptop to his chest as he paused in the middle of moving it elsewhere, his pale blue eyes meeting Ciel's gaze directly.
"Yeah?" Jim answered back, parting his pink lips in a manner that only Ciel noticed. It was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things and arguably completely unimportant, but it made the Earl subconciously press his own lips together in a thin line as if he were trying to hide them. It was a habit of his that only Jim noticed and was able to read.
"Uh… Is it alright with you if I take my bath first?" Gesturing to the bathroom, Ciel internally kicked himself for exercising such cowardice. He had completely missed his opportunity to speak his mind—whatever exactly that entailed, he wasn't really sure, however.
"Yeah, go ahead." Casually nodded the menace before looking down at the device in his hands. He quickly jostled it in his arms as it tried to slide out of his grasp, reaffirming his hold. "I don't care."
"Cool." With a grimace, Ciel nodded, offering the other man a very awkward thumbs up. Upon turning around, he shook his head, cringing somewhat at the uncharacteristic gesture. It was definitely out of place and he knew that the blonde noticed. He was certain that Jim was going to ask him what was the matter upon his return, so Ciel got to work trying to think of a viable explanation as he filled the tub. Sinking down into the water, he hoped that the heat would clear his mind.
The jig was up. Jim definitely knew that he wasn't well. He had known since his attack at the party and definitely hadn't forgotten, but now he knew that it was still a problem that Ciel struggled to handle on his own. Ciel knew that he was just going to suggest talking to someone again and Ciel, both because he had made such a fuss and because of his pride, still did not want to heed Jim's suggestion. It didn't matter that Ciel's emotions were going haywire. He didn't want to be wrong.
He held his head under the water, listening to the sound of it moving against the walls of the tub with his eyes shut tight. He held his breath despite not needing to poked his nose out of the water each time he needed a new one before diving back down. The isolation and warmth of the water was somewhat soothing, just as it always was. It shut him off from the outside world, allowing him time to ponder his woes, or simply to decompress after a stressful day. In such a state, he hardly noticed that the water was getting cooler until he surfaced completely, usually because he heard a strange noise outside. Waves crashed as the Watchdog abruptly sat up, hearing the sound of water and his husband knocking on the door more clearly.
"Hey, babe? You drown?" Jim questioned from the other side of the door. At that precise moment, Ciel realised that he was in fact freezing and had been soaking for quite some time. After rubbing his eyes, he gripped the sides of the tub with pruney fingers and hoisted himself up.
"Nope. I'm still alive." he answered back. "I'll be out in a minute."
"Alright, then. Just making sure. Take your time. I already showered in the guest room, so I'm not in any hurry."
Ciel really had been in there for a long time. Jim had time to get clean and start to wonder where he was in his absence. The Earl dried off and got dressed quickly just to get warm, quickly brushed his teeth, and moved from tile to hardwood floors as he made his way to bed. When he walked into the room, he found that his husband had already beaten him there. Jim's face glowed from the light of his phone. The popsocket between his fingers held the device firmly in place as he held it above his face while laying down. When Ciel entered the room, he rolled over to plug it into its charger and place it on the nightstand before turning over again and sitting up.
"Hello, my precious baby darling. Did you enjoy not drowning?" he asked casually. How could he be so casual at a time like this?"
"I suppose." Ciel sighed. His shoulders slouched from an imaginary weight. He sat down, wondering if sleep would help him. "Sorry I made you take yours elsewhere."
"It's alright. You've always liked long baths, especially when you're stressed out." Jim replied, laying down. "I don't mind letting you have it every once in a while."
"Oh, yeah? And what, pray tell, am I stressed about? Do you know?"
"Nuh-uh, I'm not answering that. That's a question I'd need to talk to a lawyer to answer."
"Well, then… I'll leave it at that, I suppose." Even laying in bed didn't feel comfortable to Ciel. His back appreciated it, having sat down at his desk for most of the day, but he seemed to be in a perpetual state of discomfort lately.
"You not up for talking, tonight?" whispered the menace. He didn't have to, but somehow, the quiet, dark, room had that effect. It was like he was a kid at a sleepover trying not to let the hosts parents know they were staying up.
"What about?"
"I dunno. Nothing, I guess. It just feels like we didn't talk a lot today."
"It gets like that when we're both busy with separate projects, I guess."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I like it."
"No one made you take that mission." Ciel thought to himself. He took special care to not say it out loud, but part of him wish that he did. Instead, he turned his head slightly—just enough for him to move his eye far enough in the blonde's direction to see him without burying it into his pillow. Then, he held out his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers twice. Silently, the blonde got the message and held his hand. Ciel found himself not particularly wanting to share his vulnerability with the blonde in that moment, but somehow found just enough inside of him to spare for this contact. It was just about all he could stand. Anymore and Ciel was worried that he might find his touch painful, though he couldn't explain why.
"I wanted to see you, too." he replied. His voice was fatigued just like the rest of him. There was a sadness in it, like he was far away from Jim where they could not reach one another.
"We're in the same house. All we have to do it come find each other unless I have to go out for something."
"I know how these missions go. You're out for most of the day."
"Well, I'm gonna be out tomorrow too since I need to talk to this Doctor Pearson chick. I should be back before dinner, though." Jim could see the way his husband's expression changed slightly, even in darkness. "You don't like that, huh?"
"As established, I don't really like any of it, but I cannot stop you."
"I'm starting to build some evidence that there might be more to this." the blonde replied. He had held his tongue and avoided speaking on the matter as to not upset his spouse, but knew that realistically, this was an impossibility. Furthermore, he wasn't about to let his husband deny the need for his involvement without defending himself. "Bailey might be right. The book is weird, Ciel. There's something really not right about it."
Naturally, that wasn't what the Earl wanted to hear. He frowned and found himself faced with a very strange conundrum. Part of him simply wanted to let go of Jim and roll over, effectively ending the conversation in favour of getting some sleep. Inversely, there was also part of him that wanted to hold Jim's hand a little bit tighter, tying them together so that the blonde couldn't get away. Ciel wanted closeness, but at the same time found himself somewhat squicked by it. It felt like he was being pulled in two very different directions as he paused and tried to reconcile the two.
Taking in a deep breath, he made his choice. "How is the book odd?" he asked despite not really wanting to know. Mostly he was interested simply because Jim was and he wanted to know what the blonde saw in this seemingly worthless case. It seemed to be the right choice as far as Ciel could see, as the menace smiled with his eyes.
"Several of the researchers claimed to have seen the book 'heal' itself." Jim replied, running his thumb across the outside of Ciel's hand for emphasis. "Like a cut. There's photographs of it like, scabbing over and everything. It's super cursed-looking."
"Do you have any other proof of this?"
"No, unfortunately. Just some notes explaining the pictures. That's why I need to talk to Doctor Pearson. She's the one who documented it."
To that, the Watchdog could only sigh. Indeed, it did sound rather ominous. "I see… Then I suppose you should hop to it."
"You're not going to try and talk me out of it?"
"I honestly don't think that there's any point in that. You're as stubborn as they come and so am I. You're going to complete this mission for the police and I'm not going to stop you. I have my own problems to worry about."
"Yeah… Christmas is on the horizon and you're planning on decking the halls with fat stacks of money, like always."
With a snort, Ciel blinked and did his very best not to smile. He had almost completely forgotten about his other job in the mess of this, so the Earl was a bit taken by surprise by the menace's silliness. "Yes, that's absolutely true." he chuckled.
"I still love you, even if you're stubborn." Jim continued. Pausing, he let go of Ciel's hand for a moment and gently held onto the Earl's chin. He playfully wiggled it from side to side, laughing at the confusion on his husband's face. "My little cutie~!"
Scoffing, Ciel grabbed his wrist and forced the menace to let go. "I am not cute."
"That's just another thing we're going to have to agree to disagree on." Nonchalantly answered the menace, making light of their quarrel in an attempt to reassure the bluenette they were alright. Ciel wasn't really certain that he believed him, but chose to entertain the small part of himself that did for a little while—just a small indulgence until the moment passed. Closing his eyes, Jim moved his face closer, straining his neck as to not completely get up from where he was laying as he pursed his lips. "Now give me my goodnight kiss."
Pressing his lips together in a thin line, Ciel tried to hide them at first. He honestly wasn't certain if he was up for it right then, but he knew how much Jim enjoyed them and knew that he himself enjoyed them, too. In spite of his worries, he wanted to, so he did, closing the gap between them just long enough to peck the blonde's lips before laying back down. Any more than that felt excessive.
It wasn't that Ciel didn't like kissing his husband; Far from it. Somehow, it felt as though there would be some sort of adverse effect if he indulged too readily or too much. The feeling reminded him of when they first started dating in the worst of ways. Still, Jim seemed content. The blonde grinned and opened his eyes again, only for his expression to become somewhat confused.
Ciel was wearing a peculiar face. His smile was soft and slight just as it always was, but his eyes—Well, Jim could clearly see that something was swirling around behind them. There was adoration directed toward the menace. It was often there and Jim could always tell. He sincerely loved how Ciel's heart was almost always on his sleeve when it came to that. Ciel's love for Jim was always present and always felt, but something concerning was strangely mixed in. Jim could see the sadness that permeated the bluenette's looks these days. Ever since his attack at the party—no, perhaps it was there even before that. Ciel worked hard to hide it, but didn't quite realise that it was still plainly visible.
"I love you. Goodnight." The words came abruptly from the Earl, breaking Jim's concentration. That ability to read one another went both ways. Ciel could tell by the look on Jim's face that he wanted desperately to pry and ask what was the matter. He had been trying in earnest not to and leave Ciel to his own devices just like he asked and almost gave in, there.
And Ciel hated it. However, the only one responsible for that gap was none other than himself. There was no one else he could place blame on, as much as he wanted to be irritated with the menace for trivial things like being a minute or two late to dinner. It was Ciel who made it so that they could not discuss his problems. It was Ciel who rejected Jim's aid.
And Ciel hated it. Even now, he took the opportunity to bridge that gap away from Jim, even though Ciel himself wished to discuss his own boorish behaviour with the menace. Instead of seizing it, he rolled over, leaving the menace looking at his back as they both laid there. Why was he like this? He didn't know. He didn't know how to fix it, either. Maybe if he just had a little more time, he'd learn how.
A familiar warmth pressed against his back, though. A familiar arm wrapped itself around his waist. Close to his ear, he could hear the other man sigh as he got settled, trying hard to relax just as Ciel was. There was a pause—three seconds of silence as a strange air gathered around them. Then, all at once, Jim shattered it.
"Is this alright?" he asked. Normally he didn't and just did whatever it was that he felt inclined to do when it came to physical contact with Ciel. That was one of the things that their relationship started with and that was one of the foundations it was built upon, yet he didn't want to trample the Watchdog's boundaries, especially when he felt so overwhelmingly sensitive to things.
"It's alright." Ciel stated, but it was unclear to who. He scrunched up his face where the menace couldn't see before slowly regaining some comfort. Jim's embrace was like the hiss of entering a warm bath. The shock of it was uncomfortable and perhaps even a bit painful at first, but slowly, the heat entered the bones and soothed some of the ache they held.
To be absolutely clear: Ciel did not hate the contact. Far from it. He was glad that the menace still wanted to be affectionate with him. Perhaps the menace wasn't as hurt as Ciel might have feared he was. That was a relief to Ciel, but also a bizarre burden. Jim always forgave him so easily when he messed up, he felt. Now, he never let him off the hook completely, nor did Ciel's faux pas ever come without consequence if warranted. Jim made a point to be fair and knew now what his own value was. He simply would not allow someone to get away with harming him like that. Yet in the end, Jim loved him and that was all there was to it. Perhaps his soft spot for Ciel was too big? Ciel didn't understand it. Jim's touch was too kind—far too kind for the likes of the Earl.
And Ciel hated it. Why wouldn't Jim call him out for the things he said? Why did he still want to cuddle in spite of circumstances? Didn't he know that Ciel was an evil, stunted, and socially inept wretch? Facing away from the menace, the Watchdog was at least allowed to show the strain he felt in his expression. He tried so hard to keep a neutral expression around others and even in private in spite of how mixed up he felt. It felt like something inside of him was on the verge of snapping and spilling over at any moment and in these moments where the menace touched him so kindly in spite of the things he had done, it felt like that something was going to break down entirely. He simply couldn't let Jim see him like that. Not ever, especially when he himself set that standard.
All Ciel could hope for was that the menace would finish his case quickly so that things could go back to normal. The status quo would be restored and they could carry on like always, living peacefully together as a family. Maybe then, even the house wouldn't feel so angry and perhaps Ciel could live in the present again. Unfortunately, though, there were still things that Jim needed to do along the way.
So, when the blonde's breathing slowed and his body laid relaxed against Ciel's, the Earl waited until it felt safe enough to grab his mobile off of the night stand. His arm strained as he reached out, trying to avoid waking Jim, but finally, it was in Ciel's hand. Turning it on, he prayed to whatever higher power that would listen for it not to cause his husband to stir. Quickly, he searched his contacts and typed a message, sent it, and then returned the phone where he had found it. With that, he tried his best to follow his beau's lead and get some sleep.
"Sebastian, this is an order:" he had written, "Assist Jim in this case and report back to me. Do not breathe a word of this to him."
Moments later, the phone would vibrate on the nightstand, causing the menace to squeeze around Ciel's middle a little tighter. Luckily for the Earl, he didn't need to risk taking a look at the reply. He already knew what it said.
"Yes, my Lord."
A/N: Hello~! Once again, I apologise for my absence, but I'm here again, so there's that.
I feel like these slower, more involved arcs are harder to write lately? I keep having to start and stop writing on a chapter and can't just do it for hours anymore. Unfortunately, that means that I also have to try and recreate the headspace I was in when I left off! A lot of this stuff is written sort of spontaneously and always has been. That's just the style, babey~
Anyway, angsty Ciel returns! It's been a while since he was this angsty last, hasn't it? I feel like I'm writing way more about that than the actual MURDER because I'm trying to figure out how to write for him again? It's interesting to me, so hopefully y'all like it. I need to focus more on the mystery, though, because I'm getting to that point in the arch where it's like "I just wanna write about random stupid shit instead" and it's WAY too early for that!
We'll get through it, we'll get through it... Slowly...
Anyways, Until the next chapter, my duckies~!