A/N: This chapter refers back to ch 10 in BtEatB, actually. ^_^' I'm trying to streamline my work as much as possible, so some scenes that do happen in the main fic will be placed in BtEatB for the sake of flow.

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

So, Shiro didn't have any friends to celebrate with when the actual graduation ceremony took place. He didn't have any relatives to greet him, and he didn't have any home to return to for family dinner. He did get a kiss from the prefect he'd bet with – followed by a furious slap across the face. And that was it for graduation.

Still, he graduated with a smile on his lips.

Mephisto, believe it or not, wasn't fond of long speeches. The one he held for the graduate students in the grand auditorium wasn't even a minute long, and was essentially a statement that the students probably wanted to leave school as soon as possible anyway, as well as a subtle hint that the school might feel the same about the students.

A school as prestigious as True Cross Academy did of course keep its premises as impeccable as its reputation. This was accomplished through an army of janitors that weeded flower beds, mowed lawns, polished banisters, emptied trash cans, pruned, raked leaves, scraped chewing gums from under benches… And much, much more. Over summer, janitors and cleaners earned Shiro's deepest respect, and he vowed quietly to himself never to sabotage for them again.

Summer wasn't all about work, of course. When Shiro finished his janitor duties for the day, he took a bath in the now empty dorm bathroom and dressed himself in the sloppiest t-shirts and shorts he could find: anything to give Mephisto opportunity to complain, when he trotted into Faust Mansion using the magical key the old goat had made especially for him (after a whole lot of tongue-in-cheek whining about how far it was to walk, and how much time that took from their arcade game matches).

Shiro was becoming such a regular guest that the household had even taken to calling him Bocchan. While he wasn't sure if he should be proud or embarrassed about that, he did admit to himself that he felt rather at home in Faust Mansion. He looked misplaced in the extravagant environment (although his drapes did match many of the carpets), but the familiarity that had grown between him and the servants made him feel accepted – appreciated, even.

That is, he was appreciated until he applied his experiences from janitor work on the household, and stuck a chewing gum onto the waste bin panda's body. The familiar was rabid about trash in the first place, but that little experiment brought out a ferocity that Shiro hadn't even imagined something so small could have. The panda knocked over several candelabras, vases, paintings, chairs, doors, servants - walls - before two maids and one footman together managed to capture the crazed familiar and hold it down long enough to remove the offending trash.

The staff of Faust Mansion had to admit that, while the little master had an appreciated dampening effect on the real master, they were both essentially overgrown children that ought to be kept on a leash. Not that they ever voiced that opinion aloud.

He may not have obtained any Meister yet, but Shiro was allowed to tag along on minor missions such as exterminating goblin nests or exorcising chuchi.

…on one mission the reported chuchi were discovered to be possessed giant hornets, which prompted all exorcists to barricade themselves inside a warding circle and detonate holy water grenades in the swarm. Non-possessed giant hornets were as big as Shiro's thumb, and had venom that could dissolve flesh: possessed giant hornets… were a nightmare.

And if Shiro thought he would get away with sneaking horse dung into Mephisto's scarf drawer, he was sorely mistaken. He wasn't forced to pay for new ones, thank god…

…but he was forced to carry the bags when Mephisto went shopping for them. The old scarves were all thoroughly washed, but the finicky bastard insisted he needed some new additions for next semester – and why not some new gloves, while he was at it? And there was a gorgeous summer collection of shoes that he simply had to go through, and Armani sold the most fabulous shirts just next door - and so on in eternity, or at least the eternity that was Omotesando. Not even True Cross Town's fanciest stores would suffice for Mephisto's shopping orgy, and so they had taken a tour to Tokyo's most expensive shopping district.

Shiro sank down on a bench outside the gaudy Prada boutique, sporting a look best described as that of a dead fish. His glazed eyes stared straight forward, and his mouth hung open it what could have been a limp, perpetual sigh. They had only come halfway through the Omotesando district, and he was already buried under innumerable plastic bags and gift boxes with fanciful logotypes in gold print. Never assault Mephisto's clothes. Never, ever assault Mephisto's clothes.

"Yours has a taste in fine clothing too, I take it?" the gentleman next to him joked politely. He had a neat little collection of shopping bags, too, and a suit that looked like it might cost more than Shiro spent on food in an entire year. "It's not easy on one's wallet, but an investment for the happiness of both nonetheless", he smiled, eyes roaming Shiro's mountain of bought goods under aged eyelids. "A word of advice, though, for the young heart filled with passion: don't let her get you whipped too well. A treat now and then will make her happy: abundance will make her spoiled."

"Uh, no: you see, I'm-"

"I couldn't decide which pair looked best, so I got both~" Doom in a pink yukata came prancing up to him, carrying another two shopping bags, and a beaming smile that somehow gave Shiro the idea that Mephisto made him carry that mountain of crap just so he couldn't punch him. "Hold these, Shiro-pon~"

"I only have two hands – and don't call me-mmph." Only two hands, but teeth work fine for carrying bags, too. "No, I'm not whipped. Not at all", he grumbled as he loaded the tilting wall of boxes onto lower arms that were strewn with bangles of plastic bags, and carefully balanced his way after Mephisto.

Oh, he could imagine what the man on the bench was thinking. He could imagine what plenty of people in Omotesando must be thinking – and that wasn't even the worst part.

Shiro was, through unfortunate discoveries made while searching for misplaced glasses one morning, fully aware that Mephisto's silk stockings were precisely that: stockings. The full monty, garter belt and all. It didn't matter one bit that it had been the vogue for men in the 1550s: there were terrible, terrible images of a pin-up model Mephisto forever imprinted on his brain.

…and they all came out vividly – oh yes; dancing can-can over his retina – when Mephisto shoved him into a lingerie shop and asked his opinion on whether he would look better in a white garter belt with cherries, or a lacy turquoise one with white dots.

A/N:

Omotesando is that kind of shopping district where you wonder if they'll charge you just for looking at the clothes. Many of those boutiques are flagships for their respective chains, though, so as showpieces they're well worth a visit just to marvel at the design of the shops.

When a guy is whipped he's wrapped around his partner's little finger: he will do anything s/he asks. (An expression I'd never heard before, so I'm chancing some others might also be new to it.)