They say that demons never sleep.

Where every motion of the human world ticked a pace slower, the falling of each flower petal could be caught before it could brush the crumbled earth. Wide awake, the eyes of the demons glitter in anticipation of the weaknesses of humans, where their eyes could look right through you, their ears sharpened to catch every trembling hitch of your voice.

He closed his eyes and waited for the dawn, feeling the chill of the night breeze against his skin.

Instinctively, his arms protectively held the younger boy closer to him, shielding him from the cold. His back was turned to the window, but he was aware of the angle at which the moonlight caught on the slant of the window pane. The years passed like grains of sand through his fingers, but every once in a while, he stopped to caress the days, engaging in an almost sinful indulgence to breathe, to regard the moon with affection as it glided gracefully across the midway skies.

Some days, he could almost taste the exquisite kiss of a single day, warm against his pale cheeks.

"Can't sleep?"

His master's voice, warmed with sleep and heavy with irony.

"Not a wink."

"Rest here then, you might as well be of some use and keep my bed warm."

Lying so close to him, he hears what Ciel is really saying in the stuttering beat of his heart. He smiles and pretends not to notice when a small, delicate hand curls into his own. He entwines their fingers together, and they both pause to look at the difference in the size of their hands, before a light blush rises on Ciel's cheeks when he notices Sebastian watching him. Huffing a little, the young master turns away irritably with a small, exasperated click of his tongue.

Sebastian noted casually that the young master had no qualms about keeping their hands locked together though.

-

It seemed as though the spring had come after the harsh winter of years.

Ciel was still ornery and temperamental on the worse days, but he hadn't threatened to kick Sebastian out of his apartment for the past three weeks or so, and a disconcerting sensation of hope was beginning to reside uncomfortably in his chest. The comfort that the boy had sought from him, right after Finian's departure from the mortal world, had turned into an oddly comfortable arrangement between the two of them.

He had hoped that with time, he would be able to persuade Ciel to come around to his proposal.

That was to say, a business proposal. What in the world would the young master say if he went down on bended knee, indeed?

The door swung open before he had the chance to knock.

"…you really shouldn't smile like that anymore, one day your face would freeze permanently and then what would you do?" the young man snapped, as though he had been listening in on the demon butler's thoughts.

-

Ciel looked down at the silver ring on his index finger; he had grown barely enough for the ring to stay on that finger without slipping out with a careless wave. Beside him, in a strange parody of their earlier time together, Sebastian undoes the neatly knotted tie and shrugs his jacket off, getting ready to slip into bed beside the young man as he often does. Ciel barely glances up, his eyes captivated by the ethereal twinkle of the sapphire; as deep as the ocean, as vast as the sky.

"Isn't it strange?"

"Hmm?" Sebastian gazes obligingly at the gem, his head cocked to one side.

"Wasn't it just a moment ago when I wondered at the deaths of all its previous owners? As time passes, no one escapes the clutches of death, and so this ring is handed over from generation to generation for hundreds of years. For every owner it's ever had, that is, aside from me."

"Is the young master worried about the ring's succession? If I may say so, the young master still has a chance to meet a nice, young lady and produce a squalling child or ten."

"TEN?!"

Sebastian smiles gently, as he reaches over to brush a butterfly's kiss against the boy's forehead.

"It's always good to take precautions, considering that one might not always be around to keep each of them safe from harm."

Cerulean and violet eyes widen as the boy absorbs his meaning.

Oddly enough, it seems to comfort him, as his body loses some of its tension, settling back into the pillows, and quietly submitting into Sebastian's embrace.

-

The leading toy stores in the world were mediocre at best. The demand for quality was starting to slip as larger and larger sections of the population became much more affluent, preferring to purchase the newest editions of the latest toys for their cherished children. While a doll had been something to treasure in the past, to place upon a stand to admire, or even held and dragged around by children as security blankets, the toys of the modern day stood only to be replaced by a shinier, newer model within days.

As a butler of the Phantomhive's, what could he do if he was unable to keep track of such fluctuations in the market for toys? He made a compilation of the factories that were in danger of eminent shutdown, together with a selection of clippings that detailed the rising popularity in interactive toys, and the features and specifications of the newest and most popular models that were taking the world by storm.

He was tidying the kitchen when he found himself confronted by an irate boy.

"Pray tell, what is the meaning of this?"

He always did adore the way that aristocratic accent slipped back into that clipped tone when the boy was particularly annoyed. Pure anger set off the stumbling, stuttering rage in which words were often discarded for a more physical method of conveying his apoplexy, and mild irritation often led to a sullen silence or even an exasperated roll of the eyes. The trick was to gall him into the right amount of anger, and that fascinating timbre would roll off the tongue as thick as honey.

"Oh? You must have stumbled upon the file which I left behind by mistake. My most humble apologies."

"…why don't I believe you?" the boy asked, tapping his foot as he glared at him.

"Maybe it's because the young master has grown in wisdom over the years, hmm?"

All he got in return for his efforts was a file chucked at his head.

-

He was ushered in by the night, and yet a stranger by day.

It seemed to be what the young master preferred, and it was certainly ideal for his job which required him to be around for almost the entirety of the day when the young master of the Whitfield was awake and ready to conduct his everyday affairs. He would have been pleased to leave his duties if Ciel had expressed an interest in his resignation but the child had said nothing and thus, neither had he. From time to time, he visited the apartment, taking care not to make it an everyday appointment, just in case such an arrangement became a tedious chore for either one of them.

The balance of power between them lay precariously on the edge, with one side showing a distinct weakness, while the other side held back from attacking that sore wound with its usual vengeance. It was a pleasant change of pace, but he couldn't say that he cared for it in particular. It was nice, it was comforting, and it was…what was that word starting with B?

"Boring," he sighed with a smile, folding the last of the laundry.

He had thought that the business plans would be a good idea, but in the days after he had shown that proposal to Ciel, the boy had become strangely silent as though he was really mulling things over. There was the ever-present suspicion that the boy hadn't wanted to be reminded of his past, didn't appreciate such a blatant attempt at getting him to rebuild his empire, but Sebastian had a sneaky feeling that things were much more complicated than that.

Before dawn arrived, he would leave the apartment, the sound of the door latching oddly nostalgic in the silence of the night. He knew that the boy awoke at the same moment that he did, even when he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, and so he always locked the door after him as softly as he could, not wishing for such a lonely sound to penetrate the apartment.

Now, he walked back to the mansion alongside the blinking lights of traffic, his leather shoes tapping softly against the pavement. The feel of silken blue-black strands tingling against his fingers, and the sweet taste of a stolen kiss, intangible and precious, kept him company on his long walk back.

He wondered when exactly his old conviction in a butler's aesthetics had disappeared.

Outside, it started to rain.

END CHAPTER