A/N: Late update because, yeah, my muse is on life support but I'm still determined not to abandon the story.

Chapter tags: Sebastian! On Ice, cockblocking, Ciel catching the feels

Ciel sent: Are you busy?

He sat on his bed, waiting. It felt like an hour had passed but only five minutes later his phone pinged.

S: Never too busy for you.

He swallowed hard and replied: Where are you?

S: I can meet you at the coffee shop.

I'll come to you, he answered.

Sebastian's location surprised him but he headed out nonetheless. It had been several days since he had seen the true stock room of Underworld, and since they had spoken. He knew it was time to pull his head out of the sand. He told his mother he was going out for coffee and to pick up a book for school, and felt a twinge of guilt when she believed him without hesitation. That was good, though. The rest of them needed to be oblivious. He had convinced them he wanted nothing to do with his family's filthy secret affairs.

He had never cared for sports. Professional athletes relied too heavily on their bodies, and the ratio of muscle to brain always seemed pitifully unbalanced. He wasn't a sports fan and hadn't expected Sebastian to be, either.

Yet here he was, meeting him at a skating rink.

He paid admission and entered the large, cold room. It was almost completely empty. He looked around, expecting to find Sebastian watching the skaters practice but the bartender was nowhere in sight. Ciel scowled. How boring was this? There was only one person on the ice, it couldn't be very entertaining to watch. He figured Sebastian spent his free time practicing his devilish smirk in the mirror or smuggling drugs across the border of Mexico. Ciel propped his elbows on the railing that separated the seats from the ice to try and figure out what was so interesting about this.

Then he saw the long, lean body dressed in all black, landing from a jump.

"Sebastian," he said, hand tightening unconsciously on the railing.

Sebastian hadn't noticed him yet. He was gliding on those two thin blades as gracefully as he did his own two feet, somehow in rhythm with no music playing. His hair whipped around his face as he leapt into what Ciel thought was an axel. If he counted Sebastian's turns right, it was a triple axel, at that. His skates connected loudly with the ice as he landed it in perfect form. He did some fancy footwork that might have been called a step sequence (his mother was a sucker for watching this crap on TV) before executing a spin at breakneck speed.

Then he saw Sebastian's face. It wasn't twisted with focus, as though the movements came naturally to him, instead downcast with a melancholy smile. Ciel wondered why that look made his chest ache. He only had a moment to wonder this before Sebastian caught his eye and came to a stop. In an instant, a mask of composure fell into place. His sad smile curved into a much more familiar smirk. He closed the space between them and leaned up for a kiss.

Ciel jolted too minutely for the other man to notice, but regained himself and leaned forward into the kiss. The nature of it felt different than the others they had shared. The way Sebastian turned his face toward him, calm and expectant, as if it was as natural as the way he skated. Ciel had to wipe away a smile of his own when they parted. That kiss had said what neither of them dream of speaking aloud: I missed you.

"Gunslinger, bartender, and...figure skater?"

"Actually, I deal guns but my weapon of choice is a knife. You should see me play a round of darts sometime."

Somehow this didn't surprise him. Knives were not for the faint of heart, and as little as he knew about Sebastian, he could at least say the man wasn't that. "You do this for fun?" he asked, glancing around the rink.

Sebastian followed his eyes, an oddly fond look crossing his face when he looked at the ice. "My mother danced ballet when she was younger. I learned from her."

"Er, Sebastian, if this looks like a ballet studio to you then you might want to take it easy on the drugs."

"You are such a little bitch," Sebastian sighed. "I learned dance to humor her, but I wasn't taken with it until she took me skating one year. It was different, the way I moved on the ice, the way the blades of my skates felt like an extension of my body."

"Fruit."

"Brat. Now why don't you put those on?"

Ciel lifted the skates they had given him when he paid admission. "How about I don't?"

"Trust me, I'm not going to let you fall on your face," Sebastian said, sliding over to the break in the railing and holding out his hand.

"You're even more unhinged than I previously thought if you believe I'm going to put on these disgusting skates that countless other people have worn."

"They do sterilize them, princess."

The word was a challenge if he ever heard one, but he took the bait anyway. He narrowed his eyes as he sat on a bleacher and changed into the skates. They felt heavy on his feet. He took the guards off the blades and grasped the railing as he stood up. It was a good thing, too, because he lost his balance immediately. Hands covered his where they grasped the cold metal rail.

"Come here."

He inched toward the opening with a death grip on Sebastian's hands. His stomach flipped unpleasantly when he hit the ice. His equilibrium was thrown into chaos, his feet going forward while his body suggested he went backward. He was rigid as Sebastian pulled him further away from the rails, away from his beloved shoes that didn't have bloody blades on the bottom. Knives were supposed to have blades, shaving razors were supposed to have blades, but not shoes.

"Hey, stop!" he cried as Sebastian spun them, holding his hands to keep him upright and letting the rest of his body just glide in a lazy circle on the ice.

Sebastian pulled their bodies together and settled his arms around Ciel's waist. "Didn't I tell you to trust me?"

Ciel met his gaze. There, in eyes that seemed to have been stained by all the blood he had shed, he saw the true nature of Sebastian's question. This wasn't about ice skating. It felt the same, though. He was out of his comfort zone and faced with either retreating or relying on Sebastian in a way he had never allowed himself to rely on someone before. He played with the silky strands against the back of Sebastian's neck, trying to conceal his nerves.

"I'll try."

Charles Grey appeared in her crosshairs. Ugh, of course that mamby-pamby was here to oversee the transaction. She resisted the urge to pull the trigger on his smug face. Instead, she remembered her purpose, and shifted to look at the buyer through her scope. A lock of hair fell out of her braid to tickle her cheek. It was annoying but not obstructing her view, so she ignored it for now. She made a final adjustment to the bipod and leveled her breathing.

Her earpiece crackled. "I know you want to be down here on the ground, but be patient. I need my eyes up there," Vincent said.

"Your eyes? I'm nearsighted, you dolt!"

His laughter rumbled through the connection. "Don't be modest, you and Claude are my best shots, and he's waiting in the van with the merchandise."

"Let's just get this over with, I'm not about to be late for my nail appointment."

Her response was met with silence and she saw Vincent approaching the buyer. They shook hands, and there was a lack of conspicuous briefcases present since the payment had been made through a wire transfer. An unsettling calm came over her as her finger rested at the trigger of her Stealth Recon Scout. The sounds of the city dulled until she was attuned only to the alley below, where the exchange was being made. The SRS was loaded with one .338 round for each person on the ground who wasn't Claude or Vincent. One was all she needed.

Grelle Sutcliff might look like the hostess of Underworld, but underneath the short skirts and heels she was the sharpshooter of the Devil Six.

In her partnership with Sebastian, she had earned a reputation as the Reaper in Red. No one in the criminal underworld outside their inner circle knew any of their real names, nor did they need to. Her nickname did the talking for her. She loved to wear red of all kinds, whether she was dressed in it or soaked in it.

Everything seemed to be going well down there. It was a little disappointing. She much preferred unloading an automatic rifle at close range but she would have settled for this if it meant blowing someone's head all over that brick wall. The transaction was drawing to a close, though, so she knew she wouldn't be smelling her favorite fragrance of blood and gunpowder today.

"Pack up, Grelle, we're done here," Vincent said into her ear.

Six flights of stairs later she was out of the building and on her way to where she had parked. As usual, it took some maneuvering to fit the rifle case into the Koenigsegg but she finally made room for both of them in the red hyper car. The engine purring to life made her wonder what Sebastian was up to. It was his day off, after all. He was probably balls deep in Vincent's kid. It was hilarious that Sebastian didn't think she knew they were screwing around. Vincent might be oblivious but she had four good eyes and could see what was going on there just fine.

She checked her mirror before pulling into traffic. It was slightly crooked, and she knew it had been adjusted when she arrived. She looked around the car for anything else out of the ordinary. On the seat, illuminated in the afternoon light, she found the only other sign someone else had been in there.

She picked up a silver strand of hair almost as long as her own. It could only belong to one person.

Ciel found himself holding Sebastian's arm as they headed back to the car. In the dim lights of the parking garage, he felt safe from those who might see them. He wished they didn't have to hide it. Not because he wanted Sebastian take him to the school dance or list them as having a relationship on social media. No, nothing as shallow as that. He wanted to proclaim, with pride, that this wild man belonged to him. Sebastian, a dangerous criminal, was under his control. It was exhilarating.

"I shouldn't be out too late," he remarked as the McLaren came into view.

Sebastian hummed and spun him by one of his belt loops. "Leaving so soon?"

The backs of his legs hit the hood of the car and his reply was silenced by a kiss. He couldn't resist opening his mouth to the gentle insistence of Sebastian's tongue. Large hands gripped him and lifted him onto the hood. He wrapped his legs around Sebastian's waist and pulled him closer. Cold air washed over his back as his shirt and coat rode up, but Sebastian's heat enveloped him like an open flame. He slid his hands under Sebastian's shirt to explore the planes of his body. His fingers first encountered the edges of his belt, then something too hard to even be his muscular back.

He grabbed the object before Sebastian had time to protest. When he brought his hand back, he held two small, razor sharp throwing knives. He watched the murky light dance on their black surfaces. Sebastian wrapped his hand around Ciel's, holding it but not taking the knives back. He tilted Ciel's chin up to force their gazes together.

"You should be careful with those."

Ciel swallowed. "Or what?"

Sebastian slid one from his hand and raised it to his face. "Or you might get cut." He stroked Ciel's cheek with the flat side, the sharp edge ghosting over his skin.

Ciel's heart stuttered over a missed beat as the blade traced his mouth. "Your empty threats don't amuse me, Sebastian. I know you have no intention of hurting me."

He flicked his tongue out and licked the throwing knife. Sebastian's eyes darkened as they followed the movement. He almost expected to taste residual blood, but it tasted metallic and sterile. He shoved the knife away from his face with a smirk. The threat had no bearing on him. There was a ravenous hunger in Sebastian's eyes, but no violence, no anger. Ciel had learned the man well enough to know he was trying to maintain his facade of dominance in their relationship when truly, it was Ciel who held the blade, who held Sebastian at the mercy of his cutting edge. It would only take a moment of weakness for Sebastian to take control but Ciel didn't intend on relinquishing it so easily.

It was disconcerting, as their lips met again, to know that wasn't the only reason he didn't fear Sebastian. There was an unspoken trust between them that scared him more than a knife ever could.

"Sebastian," he gasped, tugging on the bartender's hair.

Sebastian's eyes danced. "Yes, young master?"

"Let's take this somewhere more private. I'll think of something to tell father."

The playfulness disappeared in a flash as Sebastian realized what he was offering. His grip on Ciel tightened. "I'll ask you to be certain about this."

Ciel answered him with a long, deep kiss, delving into Sebastian's mouth with his tongue as the other man often did to him. He toyed with Sebastian's piercing and greedily swallowed his moans.

"I hate to stand in the way of true love, but I'm going to have to interrupt you."

They broke apart at the sound of a high, unfamiliar voice. Sebastian had a knife between his fingers before Ciel's feet touched the ground. He leaned slightly on the car, knees still wobbling from the endorphins that had just been flooding his brain. A small figure emerged into their line of sight.

"It's quite rude to interrupt someone, I hope you have a good excuse for such poor manners," Sebastian said, stepping in front of Ciel.

"Oh, of course," the stranger said brightly.

He was a strange looking boy. Ciel couldn't think of him as a man, for they didn't look far apart in age. He couldn't have stood quite five and a half feet high, with a wild head of black hair that seemed to have streaks of color when the light hit it, like the wings of a crow. His black jeans and black cotton shirt gave little indication of his identity. Damn, Ciel thought, was there an unspoken rule in the criminal underworld about wearing black?

Ciel couldn't see his face, but he could hear the smile in Sebastian's voice when he said, "Unfortunately for you, I'm not a patient man."

What he did see was two knives streak through the air. They almost blurred, they moved at such a high speed. Ciel took a moment to accept that he was about to be the witness to a murder. It seemed reckless for Sebastian to attack with no more reason than caution, but he knew the man had killer instincts. If he had not only unsheathed his weapons but used them, too, then the stranger wasn't as harmless as he looked.

The sound of blade meeting flesh never came. A hand shot out and caught them before they made contact with the boy. It belonged to a man similar to Sebastian in height and build, wearing a suit that wouldn't be out of place at one of his father's business parties. He looked down at the knives then back at Sebastian with one blue and one green eye.

"And unfortunately for you, I like my partner without any holes him," the tall man said, voice low and American accented.

Ciel moved to stand next to Sebastian, tired of looking around him to see what was happening like a helpless child tucked behind his mother's skirts. He spoke before Sebastian had a chance. "And just who are you two?"

"I'm Terren," chirped the smaller one, mirroring Ciel and coming out from behind his partner. "And this antisocial brute is Tristan."

"I take it you are here for a purpose other than voyeurism," Sebastian said, making Ciel's face heat up when he wondered how long these two had been hanging around.

Terren wrinkled his nose. "As much as I enjoy seeing true love prevail, I'd rather not-"

"We're here to deliver a message to you, Sebastian Michaelis," Tristan said.

Sebastian sighed. "Everyone and their bloody messenger pigeons. Alright then, let's hear it."

"The Undertaker wants to see you."

Ciel started and looked between the three men. His mind produced a featureless image of the man in question; Undertaker, former student of Weston, and the final member of the Devil Six.

Sebastian took this in stride. "Just how are you affiliated with him?"

"You could say that we work together," Tristan said, reaching into his jacket.

Sebastian tensed but Terren raised his hands placatingly, as if to say the other man meant no harm. As the two taller men watched each other, Ciel observed the black haired boy. He may not be as harmless as he looked. His movements were swift and measured, and though they were mostly hidden by his long bangs, Ciel could see a sharpness in his violet eyes.

Tristan flipped open a small black case, which Sebastian answered with a raised eyebrow. "Law enforcement."

"Selective law enforcement," Terren added.

Ciel's stomach twisted. How deep did the city's corruption go? Even the police were crooked. It was good news for his father but just because these two were in cohorts with Undertaker didn't mean the whole force was on their side. "Say we did accept his invitation, where would we go to see him?"

He saw Sebastian's head turn toward him, surprised he had spoken up, but he kept his own attention focused on the two detectives. Terren smiled. "I guess you would have to follow us and find out."

The two men walked away. They listened to the sound of their retreating footsteps until silence had fallen again. Sebastian sheathed his weapons, then looked at Ciel.

"What was this talk of 'us' accepting the invitation, I believe it was extended to me alone."

"I believe I am a Phantomhive, and if my family is rooted in this organization of criminals, then I have every right to meet this man. You can just try and stop me."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, but the longer Ciel stared him down, the more his expression softened. He sighed and took his keys out of his jacket. "I didn't expect you to embrace this life so eagerly, once you saw the kind of business we do."

Ciel mulled these words over while Sebastian got in the car. The door closing spurred him into motion and he got into the passenger's side before Sebastian got any ideas about leaving him behind. For the first time since he saw inside those wooden shipping crates, he wondered why he had been able to embrace such a crude lifestyle like an old friend. He wasn't a criminal. He was an honor's student, he was the future president of a company. He wasn't the accomplice to illegal arms dealing.

He looked over at Sebastian as he pulled out of the parking space. From the night they met, he had been sucked in to Sebastian's life and the darkness surrounding it. He had become addicted to the thrill, and then the control. And now to whatever else was forming between them. It was like the lurch in his stomach when the McLaren started to pick up speed, that feeling of his equilibrium being thrown out of balance.

Sebastian reached over and took his hand. It was surprisingly natural to slot their fingers together and let their joined hands rest on his thigh.

That feeling, right there.