A/N: For chapter titles and for future chapter content, credit goes to the wonderful JoannaMC21 for providing me with the French translations.

The next chapter or two will contain the letters going back and forth between Grell and William. Well, more from Grell to William and not so much the other way around, but I thought that it would be fun to write some of the contents of the many dozens of letters Grell would write for his favorite man.

Lettres d'amour

William Darling,

You still haven't sent me any word from Bordeaux, but I'm sure it's just that you're incredibly busy with your training during the day and working on your French in the evenings. Hopefully the language isn't giving you too much trouble, I know how hard it must be for you to be unable to communicate your thoughts and feelings. This is of course, why you should write me back and confide those thoughts and feelings in your beloved Grell. On top of which, when you come back to me, you should speak French to me dearest. You know it's the ultimate language of love, and therefore it's only appropriate that you make me swoon with words of longing in French.

Things around here are about as dull as can be, work drags on as usual. It's so unfair William, your replacement hasn't given me any interesting cases! Speaking of that man, William, you'll be happy to know that this lady has resisted all temptation with regards to Mr. Jean-Baptiste. I will admit that he's quite the handsome man, and very charming, perhaps to a fault. All the women are head over heels to see his natural blonde hair and hear his smooth French accent. But you know, when a man flirts with everyone the way that he does, it makes a lady question just how faithful he would really be. As I thought, cold men are the best. Just like you and Sebby.

Oh, speaking of Sebby, I ran into him the other day as I was collecting the soul of some poor sap who had thrown himself into the Thames. Now before you go pointing fingers, Sebby wasn't responsible for his death. Not directly anyway. He doesn't do anything without that stupid Phantomhive brat pulling the strings. I would tell you not to be jealous, but I have to admit I love seeing you riled. Who knows, perhaps your jealousy will spur you into action and make you commit a romantic feat like coming back here immediately to challenge Sebby for my love! Ahh~! Oh William you shouldn't neglect your work like that. You're such a bad man~

Love,

Your Grell

Dear William,

You'd think that Eric and Alan were married or something, the way that the two of them bicker. I didn't really catch all of their latest lover's spat, but it was the usual nonsense about Eric being overprotective and Alan being a little angst-bucket over his stupid Thorns of Death. I'm not sure why you've still kept Alan on staff knowing that. In any case, Prince Jean (that's the nickname Ronnie gave him, isn't it cute?) came to his rescue the other day, and Eric's been having a conniption about it for most of today. Honestly, don't you think Alan should be removed from field work given the circumstances? I know we're short-staffed, but if we always have Eric running off to be his partner for every little case, you're essentially employing one less person anyway.

Although sometimes I will admit I'm a little jealous of the two of them. Not that you need to come to my rescue of course, this lady can take care of herself just fine, but I wonder if you ever worry about me like that when I'm out working. Seeing as you've come to my rescue quite a few times over the past century, I think you do. It's okay, you don't have to admit it William, I just understand you better than anyone else.

Oh for crying out- Prince Jean is complaining about something or other again. Earlier today he scolded me for always writing letters to you at work instead of doing paperwork. Personally, I think he's jealous that I have a lover like you. But poor French man, he won't be receiving any of my affections, not when he's such a little fruit tart. I hope your other French co-workers aren't as insufferable as Prince Jean. Just make sure you don't fall for any of them, okay? If any one of those French skanks makes advances, you need to put them in their place by telling them of your wonderful lady back home. Got it?

Love,

Your Grell

William Dear,

Have you ever considered taking a few days off? I'm sure you have a stockpile of vacation days you could use. I think you should use some of them now so that you can come back and visit me for a little while. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I'm sure you're dying to see me again. I'm sure you're so distraught with longing for me that it's making it difficult for you to focus on your work. That's no good William, you can't do your work very well if you're always thinking about me. Therefore, it's actually in your best interest to come back for a little while.

I suppose I should mention that the others miss you too. It's clear why Eric doesn't like having Prince Jean around. He could always trust a cold man like you to not make advances on his precious Alan. And why would you, you've got this lovely lady. Ronnie doesn't like having a competing ladies man around, I think. Some of the ladies he's been flirting with in General Affairs have switched over to the French side of the river. Hussies really, but then again, Ronnie is a little playboy as it is, so it's not as if he really deserves a virtuous woman like yours truly for himself. I think it's the blue eyes personally.

Oh, I don't think I've told you! Prince Jean wears blank prescription glasses with blue colored-contacts! Isn't it the most absurd thing you've ever heard? Do your other French coworkers do silly things like that? Honestly, it's a mockery of the most treasured asset a Death God can have. We get our customized glasses before our death scythes, for goodness' sake. And they're such a hideous pair of glasses too. Honestly, if you're only going to wear them for show, you might as well get yourself a decent pair. But the frames are utterly hideous. Come to think of it William, I have one of your spare pairs of glasses sitting on my dresser at home. Your glasses are such a bland, simple design, but I suppose that's just like you. Though maybe I wouldn't necessarily describe you as being bland, just more to you than meets the eye. Pun intended.

Since I have one of your spare pairs, maybe I should send you one of mine. Oh, it's like we're exchanging wedding rings! Isn't it romantic darling? I'm so glad I thought of it. I'm sure you're thrilled as well. You must have been too shy to ask me for them all these years, but not to worry. Your Grell understands the kind of man you are so you don't have to say a word.

Love,

Grell

p.s. Do take those vacation days I recommended.

William scoffed at the latest letter that had been sent his way from London and looked at the pair of glasses that came with the letter. They were the atrociously bright shade of red he could recognize from a mile away with skulls at the joints and a chain to keep them from falling off of you completely. Although really, the chain wouldn't even be necessary if he just wore them properly on his face instead of lower on the bridge of his nose. How unnecessary was his prescription anyway? William removed his own glasses and placed them on his desk, holding up Grell's frames up to his eyes. It was hardly an improvement to his normal terrible vision, Grell's prescription was weak indeed. As he was examining something in the corner of his office, the door opened, and his assistant walked in. William hurriedly threw the glasses back down onto the desk and picked up his own frames, quickly replacing them to their proper place on his face and cleared his throat to dispel the awkward situation he had just been caught in.

His assistant raised his eyebrow at him and handed him a few papers, commenting,

"Sont ceux nouveaux verres?" (Are those new glasses?)

William cleared his throat more gruffly than before.

"Absolument non. Un collègue ridicule mien leur a envoyé de Londres." (Absolutely not. A ridiculous colleague of mine sent them from London.)

His assistant raised a knowing eyebrow and winked at him.

"Oh je vois, de votre petite amie. Je comprends." (Oh I see, from your girlfriend. I understand.)

William opened his mouth to protest but the young man was already gone, no doubt off to tell the other staff of his new discovery. William sighed. Honestly... the staff here were more gossipy than his staff in London. Most of the time it was obnoxiously annoying, but there were times when he had to admit that it led to a certain warmth that had made it much easier for him to settle in in his first few weeks. It was a rather small factor, but it did make it feel more like home.

When he had first arrived, his assistant had run at him with a welcome basket and immediately kissed his cheeks. Although William had always known that it was a standard French greeting, it still took him by enormous surprise, and he had very nearly brandished his death scythe at the poor young man, who introduced himself as Jacques. He was around Knox's age, just as friendly, though certainly not as outgoing with the women. During his time in France thus far, Jacques had been his closest colleague, although he spent most of his time with his new trainee.

Also in the past few weeks he had set up his office, gotten to know the staff on his floor, begun training the new management-to-be, Philippe, and been given a tour of Bordeaux. On some level, William felt he had gotten much less work done in the past few weeks but it was mostly because he didn't have as much paperwork to do. His main job here was training, not actual managemet, not as much paperwork, not even dispatch. So technically, he was getting done everything that needed to be done. It just happened to be a lot less than what he was used to.

In addition to the staff, another factor that made Bordeaux feel not too far from home was the mail. Practically every other day, Jacques came into his office with a new letter from Grell Sutcliff. And since Jacques had the similar tendency to never knock before entering, it was almost like being back in London and having the redhead burst into his office every morning. William wasn't quite sure how Grell had managed to write so many letters, but one of his desk drawers was already filled with almost two dozen letters.

He wasn't quite sure why he actually bothered to read all of them. It probably had more to do with his abundant free time than anything else. He had yet to write one back, but regardless of his lack of response, Grell continued to write to him. And every single one of his envelopes was sealed with a kiss, evidenced by the lipstick. It didn't matter how much William tried to deny it, Jacques was convinced that he had a lover back in London. Not that it really mattered if he misunderstood, it had nothing to do with his work, but there were times when Jacques would ask about what "she" was like or how "she" dealt with his stoic, uncompromising behavior. He had given up resisting and merely resorted to rolling his eyes at all of Jacques' questions and assumptions. William T. Spears was not a man who got embarrassed, and he certainly wasn't about to get embarrassed over something that was grounded in complete fiction.

But as delusional as Jacques was, Grell was even more misguided, referring to him as his lover, his darling, his dear, the list went on and on and on... William adjusted his glasses. And exactly when had that been decided? Ever since their final exam, Grell had clung to him like a barnacle to a whale and had constantly insisted on making innuendos about the two of them that were not based in reality. William moved to adjust his glasses once again and paused as his fingers lightly brushed against the frames. He no longer owed Grell for saving him during their final exam, but it didn't mean that he stopped feeling grateful for it. That was also one of those things he would never admit aloud.

Absentmindedly, he put Grell's glasses into the drawer with all of the letters he had received from him. He certainly wasn't going to be wearing them, nor was he going to put them on display like some gaudy ornament. As he looked at the glasses sitting in the drawer, he was reminded of when they had first gotten their customized glasses from Big Daddy after their exam.

Grell had been clinging to his arm the entire way to the glasses department, talking nonstop about the different kinds of glasses he could get. And when they had finally gotten to the department, he had finally let to go fling himself at the shelves of models, squealing in delight at all of the various frames. For every red one he cackled with delight, trying them all on meticulously and running over to William to ask how he looked in them. William's response had been to shrug at every single one of the ones he had been shown. Honestly... what did it matter what they looked like so long as he could see out of them properly?

As for himself, he was browsing the shelves trying on different frames to see which ones fit the most comfortably on his face. And even though he was mentally berating Grell for concerning himself too much with the appearances of the frames, he still had to admit to himself that the appearance did matter at least a little bit. After all, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing some of the ones that Grell was trying on, which meant that he had to care at least a little bit for the overall aesthetic. Finally he had settled on a rectangular pair, nestled in a titanium frame with diagonal etchings along the temples. As they settled in perfectly on the bridge of his nose, Grell had leapt towards him with yet another pair he had grabbed.

"Will~! What do you think of- Oh! Oh wow, those really suit you!" he had said.

William had touched his fingertips to the frames then, oddly self conscious about them on his face now. In the smallest corner of his inner thoughts, he was more than a little pleased at the result. Then he caught sight of the red frames that Grell held in his hands. When Grell followed his gaze, he was reminded of why he had rushed over to William in the first place and promptly placed them on his face.

"What do you think? I like that they sit a little lower, personally."

For reasons he still couldn't explain, William recalled that he had thought precisely the same thing. They did look a little better that way. Then they had taken them to Big Daddy who adjusted them with paper-thin precision so that they fit absolutely perfectly, and added the chain and skulls that Grell had requested for his. Handing them an extra pair each, he had told them to take good care of their glasses, they were precious treasures. A Death God's personality could be read by the glasses he chose, they were a part of them in many ways.

William peered at Grell's glasses in the drawer. Big Daddy wasn't wrong. Those glasses really did scream Grell Sutcliff's name from their place in the drawer. The chains had only added to the ridiculousness, or rather, flair.

Then there was a knock at the door and Philippe poked his head into his office tentatively.

"Monsieur Spears, serons-nous commencés pour aujourd'hui?" (Mr. Spears, shall we get started for today?)

"Ah oui, monsieur Chevalier. Je serai sorti dans une minute." (Ah yes, Mr. Chevalier. I'll be out in a minute.)

Tucking Grell's latest letter into the envelope in which it came, William was about to toss it into the drawer with the others before he took one more look at the glasses. Sighing to himself, he pulled out a stationery sheet and placed Grell's latest letter atop it. When he was finished here today, he would make a note to write him a response letter. After a month and twenty letters, a response couldn't be that hard to write, could it?