Author's note: Yeah, so I recently got back into Kuroshitsuji and remembered how much I loved it. I love Double Charles and have always wanted to write something for them. I just watched Book of Circus and Book of Murder yesterday and I'm so thrilled they finally animated John and Double Charles. Pity they didn't follow the manga more in the anime, but hey, the manga is still going. I know, I'm a little late watching Book of Circus and Murder, but when it came out, I was too lazy to watch it. Shame on me!

So, I may continue this or not. I love Grey and Phipps, (wish they were around more in the manga :/), and there is a lack of Phipps and Grey fanfiction in general. So I take it upon myself to change that.

Warnings: Eh, none

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for a laptop and a chubby gray cat.

The over cast was cloudy today, the sky a dark and stormy gray. The wind had a bit of a nip to it, though that was not uncommon for this time of the year. Thunder rumbled occasionally; a dark and ominous sound that shook the windows of Buckingham palace. Extra light had to be lit due to the darkness of the sky, but no one was really focused on the rain. No, today was a special day. Today was the departure of someone, or rather something, precious.

Today was the burial of Cecily the chicken.

Now to Grey, a burial for a damn chicken had to be the only idiotic thing Phipps had ever insisted on doing. This was so out of character for the ever reserved and sensible man! Usually he remained apathetic about everything, ranging from the Queen talking to her Albert puppet to him going down to the kitchen at two in the morning for a snack. Nothing fazed this man except for one thing: Cute, fuzzy, animals.

He could probably stick him in a petting zoo for days and the man would be completely happy. That brought a smirk to his lips, but quickly hid it when Phipps' gaze met his. Why he even had to be at this stupid event, he had no idea. He didn't even like the damn thing. She would peck him every time he was trying to do something and if he even dared try to spare with Phipps, she'd attack him in a storm of feathers and claws.

No, he was not going to miss this damn creature at all.

It was a closed casket funeral. Really, it was just a simple black box with a cross over it. Phipps wasn't a real religious man himself, but said that Cecily deserved one of the highest spots in heaven. Ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. It almost made him want to laugh at how stupid his partner sounded, but he refrained from doing so. While mocking people was fun and all, now was not the time. Despite what some might think, he knew when it was time to keep silent.

So, with a begrudging heart, he stood out in the cold outdoors with an umbrella in his hands. The air was heavy with rain, making it positively ghastly. It wouldn't be long before it started to downpour and quite frankly, he didn't want to get wet. Unfortunately, things were not looking good for him.

"She was a good chicken," Queen Victoria reassured the tall and serious butler, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. "One of the finest hens I've ever seen in my entire life. If you want, I can get Ms. Hopkins to sew you a puppet of her. She might keep you company."

To an outsider, one might think she was joking or mocking him cruelly, but they knew she was quite serious. John carried her puppet around everywhere she went, though Grey wouldn't deny that when he made Albert talk, it was kind of creepy. Almost as creepy as dark cellars and ghosts, but on a completely different level.

"She hatched in our ladle during Easter," Phipps began in an apathetic voice that had a twinge of sorrow to it. "She liked to sleep on my windowsill and bathe in the sunlight. She hated going outside in the rain. Too bad it's raining right now."

"You won't hurt the kitty that killed her, will you?"

Phipps' face contorted in a mixture of anger and sorrow. "No," he practically ground out. "It would displease you, your majesty."

She shook her head, patting his arm again gently as a few droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. John brought the mouthpiece of a bag pipe to his lips as two other servants began to lower her body to the ground. Sometime during the night, Phipps had made a little headstone for his beloved chicken, though Grey wasn't sure how he did it so quickly. Must be those unnaturally fast sewing abilities of his.

He didn't even know John knew how to play the bagpipes. Wasn't that a Scottish thing? Oh well, who really cared at this point. As long as no one started to sing, he would be fine. Once the damn bloody chicken was placed in the ground and covered, the few people that attended the ceremony left. The Queen and John included.

"Is it over yet?" he asked, not caring if that was insensitive. Which, he knew it was. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Phipps didn't say anything at first; just continuing to stare at Cecily's grave. At first, he was worried that the taller and broader man would start crying. What happened next completely shocked him.

"Grey," Phipps started in a low voice. "Would you say a few words?"

Why did he have to get into these situations? Surely Phipps knew that he hated Cecily. He was glad to see her gone! Phipps was doing this to punish him in his own twisted and sadistic way. Of course, if he refused, it would sour their relationship and make him look like a complete ass to everyone else. Even Victoria would be displeased. "Fine," he sighed, rolling his eyes a little. "I'll say something."

Phipps offered a brief hint of a smile. "Thank you."

He stared at the grave, cursing the damn hen to the pits of hell. "Cecily, you were a…fine chicken," Oh God, this made him want to puke. Phipps would pay for this! "We only knew you for a few short months, but you certainly…touched our lives. You ate well, clearly. And pecked the ground every day the way chickens do. You probably would have laid a few eggs too and have more little Cecily's running around."

Phipps also cracked a tiny smile.

"You were a proud chicken; very vain about your feathers. You were enraged when I poured water on you one day and only ceased squawking when Phipps came and comforted you. You will be missed, mostly by Phipps, I assure you."

Phipps shot him a look, but otherwise sighed. "Thank you, Grey," he turned away from the graveyard. "I know you held strong dislike towards her."

Well. That was putting it mildly. He grinned innocently. "It doesn't matter now, she's gone," he said logically, almost enthusiastically. "Though how you could love anything from the Phantomhive estate, I just can't comphrened."

Phipps just shook his head. "If you don't say anything unsavory about her, I'll make you cakes and other sweets for a whole year."

Well, he certainly couldn't pass that up. Maybe the stupid chicken's death proved to be useful to him after all. "Any kind of sweets I want?" he asked, sweet smile now becoming something more malicious. "And when I want?"

Phipps made a face, but otherwise nodded. "Yes."

He practically danced his way back into the palace, a warm sense of satisfaction now filling his entire being. Phipps would probably come to regret that promise, but there was no backing out of it now. He could almost taste the different kinds of cakes and other treats on his tongue. His stomach rumbled, and he had an intense craving for chocolate cake.

"Ohh Phipps!" he called back towards the taller man. "I'm hungry; make me some cake!"

It would probably be best for Phipps not to know that it was he who unleashed the cat onto the chicken. After all, what Phipps didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

I honestly don't remember what Phipps' chicken's name was or even if it had a name. Oh well. I found on a Tumblr post that it was Cecily, so the name just stuck. So it's now Cecily the chicken. Shame on you Grey!