I would love to thank all of you for reading, it's come to my attention that a number of you are thrilled with this piece. I'm honored that all of you enjoy it. I know many of you are sebciel, I must warn you this isn't sebciel. I've decided to go Claude/Sebastian. Sorry guys, it's just unfolding that way. Second I love all of you, you guys have made this so much fun. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 26: Knife 1: Hues of Color

Claude's heart was pounding as he watched Sebastian approach the box, he looked so collected but he knew better, inside the patissier was just as worried if not more so than he was. Sebastian froze and looked at the box, clearly the patissier was panicking. Everything was adding up to this and he was now being expected to really bring it. Sebastian looked up nervously and spotted Claude, he had to give the chef confidence, just as Sebastian had that night. He smiled firmly and nodded, it was now or never and oddly he had a feeling Sebastian could do it; all he had to do was draw the knife. Sebastian's fingers wrapped around the blade as he pulled it from the block, the silver blade glistened as the chef held it in his hands, a smile of confidence spread across the Patissier's lips. It was as though Sebastian had switched gears, his eyes glimmered mischievously as he looked at the blade. Claude's curiosity was brewing and he honestly couldn't wait to see it. Sebastian flipped the knife with ease, written in bright purple letters was the very ingredient which devastated Landers the last time he had bothered to compete, "Lavender," called Vincent.

Ash's confidence fell like a rock to the bottom of the ocean, he looked utterly confused and scared, this was going to be interesting. Sebastian looked like a cat who ate the canary as he held the blade in his hands. "You have an hour to produce a desert using the ingredient lavender," stated Vincent firmly. Sebastian placed the blade in the waiting hands of one of the judges and turned to the kitchen in a jog he claimed a space and opened his bag, he knew just what to make. Something that would be as mind numbing as he hoped, his eyes glided over all of the appliances until he spotted just the thing he needed, an all too familiar silver canister. "Oh this will be fun," he muttered as he dashed to grab a silver canister labeled Lavender in script. Ignoring the white haired Patissier who was glaring daggers at him, Sebastian proceeded to grab a bowl and everything he needed; he was going to do something that not many would attempt in such a short period. Then again he was going to cheat, in moments he had grabbed a carton of heavy cream, a carton of half and half, a container of sugar, one of salt, a dark chocolate bar, and a vanilla bean.

In a flash he was back at his bench as he pulled a mixer and decided it was time to make the base. It had been years since he had received the unusual request of crafting a frozen treat. He could remember it as clear as day; a young chef from Japan had come to France to teach his art to other cuisine students. It was nearly midnight and Sebastian was busy preparing for his midterm when he received an odd call from one of his professors, he had been asked to craft a special dessert to entice the speaker to return. The only condition was that it had to be frozen, this had puzzled the chef until he had dug up an interesting recipe for ice cream, he wasn't as skilled as most, however he was passable. At the time he had decided to do Rose Ice Cream, it was fragrant and seemed to haunt his memory, he honestly wondered how much of a stretch it would be to transform the original to the elaborate and exotic lavender. The Japanese chef was more than thrilled to enjoy the frozen treat and sang praises, even though Sebastian wasn't satisfied.

The first attempt wasn't quite there, the texture was far too coarse and it was a little too sweet for him. This time he was going to make it smoother, creamer and not as sweet, which seemed like and uphill battle until he remembered the one ingredient that any chef had access to, dark chocolate. The red Kitchen-aid mixer sat on the counter, glistening in the light and ready for his commands. In the past he would have been irritated about being filmed, however this time he realized it was far easier to ignore the cameras and work like he always did, in his own world. "Pot," he mumbled as he looked over at the rack and plucked one from it's hook. In the corner of his eye he could see Ash toying away with what looked like cake batter.

His fingers wrapped around the handle as he dashed across the floor to the range, a camera trailed behind as one of the camera men continued on his movements. With a glass liquid measure he measured both the half and half and heavy cream. After pouring them into the pot he flicked a match to light the brilliant blue flame of the burner, that evening he dared to make the treat, he nearly failed, only to win himself the chance to meet the chef. Now he was going to do it all again, he slowly placed the pot on the element and slipped a spoon into the snow white mixture. White sugar fell into the pot like snow as he added a pinch of salt. His burgundy eyes narrowed as he watched for the tell tale sign of the pot coming to a simmer, he could hear a whisper on the other side of the room wondering just what he was up to. Naturally he was daring enough to attempt this, he honestly wondered what they would think when the saw his work. The pot reached temperature so he turned it down in response, the thin long vanilla bean was fragrant as he picked it up with his fingers and placed it on an all too sterile plastic cutting board.

With a silver blade he slit the bean down the center in a swift stroke, watching it slowly open to reveal the nearly black paste he desired. The smell of vanilla exploded in the room as he smiled to himself and gathered a generous amount. The paste, which now covered the edge of the knife, was scraped onto the side of the pot, transforming the once sterile white concoction into a light ivory. Once this was finished he turned his attention to the canister, out of the corner of his eye he could see Ash waiting on the cake in the oven, this didn't irritate him a bit. In fact it made him confident. Lavender was difficult to work with because in small doses it could be a subtle accent but too much and it became so powerful it would knock the dinner over. The scent of lavender wafted through the air as Sebastian opened his own canister, with a silver cup he was measuring out just the right number of the dried purple buds and sprinkling them into the pot. "What the hell is he making?" whispered one of the cameraman, Sebastian had honestly forgotten about them, it was amazing how they seemed to turn into something as trivial as furniture when he worked. A coy smile curved his lips as he wondered what it would look like as he added the finishing touches to his treat.

"Now for the fun part," he stated after giving the concoction a final stir and removing it from the heat, the cream had turned a soft purple, the same hue he had desired. He sprinted across the kitchen to the desired silver tanks and grinned, he pulled a pair of thick insulated gloves on as well as grabbing what looked like two massive bowls nestled inside one another. He was going to honestly go out for fun; beside the two massive tanks was a box of dry ice. He grabbed the larger box and carried it over to his bench. Now he was well aware of the cameras, he had gathered two other camera men as he opened the box and used a pair of silver tongs and gloves to pull a chunk of the white substance that was now emanating mist. There was a murmur of awe as Sebastian placed this on the outside ring and then the pot inside the bowl in the middle. He watched critically as the bowl was chilled before his eyes. The second hand on his watch ticked away as he waited for just the right moment to pull it, he wanted to ensure it was chilled, not frozen. After a minute he pulled the pot and placed it on a plastic cutting board and placed the ice back in the box. Dry ice was always nasty to work with since it could burn the individual worse than any fire ever could. Once chilled, he pulled a long sock like strainer and bowl of the mixer, the thick and rather chunky substance with buds and all was dumped into the strainer. Cascades of lavender cream fell from the tip, landing into the bowl of the mixer elegantly; he held the strainer proudly in the air as he made sure not a drop of the base went the waste. The chocolate bar was waiting on the chopping block for him as he tore through the wrapper and began to break it with a massive knife. The crack of chocolate against the knife filled his ears, as he felt the knife strain under the force he was channeling through it to break the bar. He had selected a dark chocolate to counteract the sweetness of the lavender and sugar to make it just a little bitter, but not over power the lavender.

He looked at the mixer and smirked, he had a pretty good idea that no one had any idea what he was up to. Chuckling softly he turned the mixer on low and looked at the blade as it moved, part of him wondered why he had decided on this treat, when he had never actually tried it himself. It was one of the few things he couldn't seem to do, he had always been denied luxury and yet was more than happy to make it for others. After setting the mixer to low he put the thick gloves back on and walked back to the tanks. "LN2," he said with a glint of merriment in his eye, "Liquid Nitrogen." He picked up the smaller of the two tanks and placed it on his workbench. Once that was ready he picked up the cutting board and began to add the chocolate he had broken into the silver bowl. He hummed as he delicately scraped the pieces into it, it was as if he had sliced up all of the bitterness of his life and thrown it into the bowl. The lavender that would have served as the catalyst for sleep seemed like poison, denial of the sleep he would never have, a peaceful and uneventful life. The chef's hands stilled as he looked at the camera before him, he began to wonder if there was a single moment in his life when he hadn't been evaluated by another person, held ruthlessly under the gaze of another, praying for his misfortune.

Sebastian blinked several times before turning his attention to the liquid nitrogen, he slowly picked it up and opened the container, mist from the liquid flooded his work space. The parody of a potions master preparing one of his precious potions came to mind as Sebastian worked meticulously to complete it, he smiled after a moment, only to right the container and place it back on the bench. Resting inside the bowl was beautifully crafted lavender colored ice cream with chunks of chocolate. With a silver ice cream scoop and white bowls at his side he began to plate the ice cream. There was silence, stillness as he finished his dish, it wasn't a pastry, it was something more.

Sebastian picked up the bowls and slowly placed them on the table with his name over it, the tablecloth was a traditional white with all the silverware required to enjoy it. Somewhere in the background a timer sounded, calling his attention. His fingers left the white bowl, he simply stood there looking at the six dishes, each of them pated perfectly. A soft lavender hue was on display and he could remember the dash to craft it. Ash was standing at the other table, with a beautiful lavender cake sliced and ready. It wasn't until now that Sebastian realized he didn't bake, he felt a little nervous as he thought about it.

There was silence as he waited for the judges, Ash was up first since Sebastian had drawn the knife. His eyes glided to the plate, resting on top of it was a slice of a lavender Bundt cake, it was a bright purple and the texture looked off. Clearly Ash fought with it and the watched as the judges tasted it, "Have you cooked with lavender before?" asked a familiar voice, one of France's finest was sitting at the table and Sebastian felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. "Yes," replied Ash nervously, he was ringing his hands behind his back. "I see, it's too strong and you didn't sift the buds out, making it very uncomfortable to eat," commented the Frenchmen as he placed his fork on the plate. Ash stood there silently, his smile was still on his lips but his eyes told all, he looked irritated. One of the English chefs hummed and looked at Ash, "How you can mess up a Bunt cake this easily is beyond me, the texture is wrong, the lavender flavor is overpowering and the presentation is a disappointment. Simply slicing a cake and placing it on a plate isn't being a chef," he commented as he looked Ash.

Sebastian could tell the man was squirming internally; he looked as though he were about to dash from view and scream. "This is a train wreck," stated the American representative firmly. Sebastian froze, if they were like this with Ash, he didn't want to see what they would do to his. His hands started to shake and he swallowed harshly, thankfully the cameras were turned in Ash's direction. He could allow his composure to slip briefly. He was well aware he would have to put it back up but first needed to get things in check. Sitting on his table was a beautiful display of a frozen treat that like many of his other works held part of himself. Dark chocolate was the bitterness of his life, the lavender the denial of dreams and a moment of peace. Sebastian was lost for a moment, he didn't even realize the judges were sitting at the table until he had come to the realization that there was a camera in his face. He could feel their gaze on him and he drew a deep breath, "This is my dish, Dark Chocolate Lavender Ice Cream," he replied as he looked at the chefs.

He watched intently as each of them picked up a silver spoon and slowly slipped it into the dish, there was silence as they tentatively lifted it to their lips. He could feel the gaze of Ash on his face, if the chef started any longer Sebastian was sure the man would melt his face with his heated glare. His burgundy eyes didn't leave the chefs as he waited for the verdict. "Mister Michaelis, where did you learn cuisine?" asked one of the chefs curiously. Suddenly all of them were looking at the raven haired chef who stood rigidly before them. Sebastian was hesitant before replying, "Le Cordon Bleu," his accent was laced through it causing the French chefs to smile. "I see, this is wonderful, but how did you freeze it so quickly?" asked one of the chefs curiously as he looked at Sebastian. Obviously the question of who had made it came into view, Sebastian tried not to be offended, he knew better than anyone that Ice Cream was difficult to make. "LN2," he replied with a smirk.

"You are telling me you used Liquid Nitrogen?" asked an English chef in amusement, he looked confused and yet intrigued, obviously the technique wasn't as popular as Sebastian had thought. Sebastian's shoulders loosened a little as he nodded. "Impressive, that's not a common technique here, or in Europe. Daring too. The chocolate is a wonderful touch and I love the lavender," commented Englishman with blond hair and hazel eyes, his voice was filled with happiness as he commented. "Your texture, c'est magnifique," commented the tallest of the chefs, his angular nose made him hold an air of authority and Sebastian recognized the man instantly. "The pairing of flavor and layers is beyond what most can think of, I'm glad you selected to start us off with this. Ice cream is difficult to make without a churn, how did you do it so smoothly?" he asked slowly as he slipped his spoon into the bowl and looked at the smooth cream. "Mixer, I used a mixer," Sebastian said smoothly as though it were fact. "Brilliant," replied the Englishman with long black hair and brilliant emerald eyes, "Resourceful aren't you?" he asked.

Sebastian hummed and shrugged, "A chef who can't do this isn't worth his salt," he replied, causing a chuckle from those at the table. This earned another death glare from Ash, he ignored and continued to watch the chef's enjoy his work. "We will discuss this and then state who has won," stated the quietest of the group, his voice was stern and lacked any emotion, it was actually unnerving. Sebastian nodded and disappeared to the back room where he found a familiar golden eyed head chef standing there with a small dish of ice cream.

A spoon was between his lips and he purred. Sebastian was quiet as he watched Claude's long pink tongue caress the contour of the back of the spoon, moving with ease sending a shiver of desire up Sebastian's spine. Burgundy eyes wandered over the chef as he looked at the tight black v-neck long sleeve tee with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, displaying his muscular arms, they were white and looked as though they had never seen the sun. The shirt hugged him like a second skin and showed every inch of his perfectly sculpted chest. He had thrown on a pair of skinny blue jeans with a few holes in them, they hugged the contours of his thighs and showed a bulge that he honestly wanted to feel. A pair of boat shoes were on his feet as he leaned against the counter with his legs crossed and eyes gazing at the ice cream. He flipped the spoon over and licked the inside sending another shiver through the Patissier, Sebastian had never felt something like that. Most men scared him and yet time and time again he wanted to be near Claude.

The chef placed the dish off to the side and hummed with content, "Stunning, I just wish there was more," he muttered as he looked at the now empty bowl. Sebastian noticed the look in his eyes, it was almost lustful, which made Sebastian feel even more anxious. Claude had said he wouldn't pray on him and yet Sebastian found himself desiring the man, especially out of the chef's coat. "You could always lick the bowl," Sebastian commented. Claude jumped a little, he had been so engrossed he didn't even notice. Claude's eyes glittered with mischief as he looked at Sebastian, "I suppose," he replied as he slipped his finger around the rim and held it to his lips. His tongue slipped up the side and curled around it, slowly catching every drop of the light purple cream. Sebastian felt heat rise in his cheeks, he couldn't take his eyes off the display as Claude slipped his finger between his lips and slowly pulled it out. "Devine," he commented as he looked at his hand.

"How?" Sebastian blurted out before he could stop himself. Claude turned his attention to the chef and froze. He was clearly looking for the right words, "Flavor, texture, color and overall experience," he replied. Sebastian slowly took a seat in one of the chairs and nodded, he wanted to hear from Claude what he was thinking, it was as though he were asking Claude to evaluate his soul. "To be honest, it's difficult to describe, I know they wanted pastry but this transcends perfection, the chocolate is even distributed, the color is rich but not overpowering, the lavender stands well on its own and it's not too sweet," he elaborated. Sebastian relaxed as he listened to Claude's silky smooth voice, it was gentle and he loved the way he said each word. It was as though his tongue caressed them, tending to them to ensure that they were as firm and sensual as he intended. "The bitter chocolate makes the lavender sing, in reality I can't think of another way to say it," he stated as he crossed his arms and tilted his head.

He eyed the chef curiously and Sebastian could tell Claude was wondering how nervous he was. "I'm fine," he stated as an answer to the silent inquiry. Claude's eyebrows quirked up as he looked at him skeptically, "You're face is red, am I upsetting you?" Claude asked slowly. Sebastian honestly felt like screaming at Claude and chastising him for his sinful display before, but couldn't seem to get his voice to work. "No," he replied, "it's warm in here." Claude looked even more confused, clearly that was a poor excuse but he seemed to let it drop. The golden eyed chef smiled as he looked at Sebastian, "Your dish was brilliant, they seem to be taking a bit evaluating it though," he commented as he shifted slightly and slipped his hand through his hair. Sebastian nodded and hummed, "I think it's because for once I didn't bake," he remarked with a hint of humor.

After a moment Sebastian pursed his lips, he recognized Hugo Garrett off the bat, the man was a technical god. There were very few techniques he hadn't used and perfected. His large nose and black hair were two qualities which made him stand out, the tall and slender chef was intimidating to stand before. Neil Harmon was the blond with rather amazing eyes, known as one of the most artistic and bold with flavors in the field. His motto was 'don't know unless you try,' literally; he was very experimental and seemed to always have something unique in mind. James Porrot was an interesting man, originally from Belgium; he quickly rose to the top with his ability to make even the most difficult techniques look effortless. He had opened a Patisserie in London not long before Sebastian had arrived. "There were some big names there, including Jacquies Renoir, Stephaney Settler and finally one Andrew Scott," commented Sebastian after a moment. He knew them all, mentors, masters and legends who had lectured in the halls he was in as a student. He was being evaluated by the men and women who wrote his text books. They set the tone and he was supposed to conform and yet he was blowing people out of the water.

"Sebastian," Claude said slowly, "You can do this." Sebastian didn't even realize the man had moved from his spot against the counter. He paused and looked up to see him standing before him, confident golden eyes looking down at him filled with encouragement. The patissier looked at him with wide eyes, "How can you be so sure?" he asked hesitantly. Claude was about to reply when Doll entered the room, "Okay, it's time for the first round to be judged," she said with confidence. He slowly rose from his perch and walked into the room, his footsteps echoed as he walked through, Ash was standing at the doors and whispered darkly, "Don't think you've won this over a silly flower," his word were like venom. The doors opened to reveal the panel of judges. He slowly entered the room and looked at them, each of them was wearing their best poker face, he had no idea what was going to happen, he could only hope for the best. "Welcome to the High Table, Patissier Michaelis and Patissier Landers," said Porrot. He sounded confident and at ease.

Sebastian stared at them and waited to hear it, he knew there was an issue with it, there had to be. Nothing in his life was as simple as ice cream, "Tonight we had a taste of your skills and to quite honest they were brilliant and not so at the same time. Michaelis, have you used liquid nitrogen before?" asked Porrot. Sebastian watched Hugo perk up as well as Scott and Settler, they were the three technical chefs at the table, each with a claim to fame. "No, I froze it in the freezer before," he replied honestly. A grin unfolded on Hugo's face making Sebastian shake a little, the chef wasn't known for smiling and part of him wondered if he had fallen into an unspoken foot fall. "You did exceptionally," Hugo stated with a grin, "Far better than even I can do." Sebastian froze; his eyes which were locked on the floor were now on the chef who was known as a god in the kitchen. He was the first to use LN2, and had perfected the technique.

"Flavor, you had just the right amount of sweetness and bitterness," commented Renoir, "So beautifully that in reality I could have never been able to do so. The lavender sang and the chocolate seemed to carry it. It was as though the lavender was to soothe the soul but the bitterness of the chocolate kept us from falling too deep into peace." This was where Hugo shook his head and looked at Sebastian, his eyes bore into the chef. It was honestly frightening to watch, "No you gave us a taste of your soul and I thank you," stated the chef. There was silence in the room, Hugo was sincere, he meant each word and he nodded. This wasn't the first time Sebastian had been accused of allowing an individual to taste his soul. To serve it on a plate and have others judge it, yet it wasn't until now that he realized he had.

"Tonight you amazed us with your daring use of chemicals and flavors, you Sebastian, are the winner of this challenge," stated Scott lightly. She was grinning broadly as she looked at him. Sebastian was silent, he knew he could win the challenge and yet part of him wondered if he had the strength. Now as he was told of his victory did he realize what had occurred, "Thank you, chef," he said sternly as he nodded. Professional to the end, after all he worked for the Phantomhives. There was a pause as he looked at her; he could feel the transition as they moved from compliments to now faults. "Landers, your dish, was a disaster. The texture was wrong, it was far too heavy, the lavender was too powerful and the buds were undercooked," stated Hugo harshly. His voice was sharper than any knife he had ever encountered, "In short the worst excuse for a cake I have ever encountered," Hugo stated. Ash stiffened as he took each word, Sebastian tuned the rest out as he attempted to process what he had just witnessed.

After they were done broiling Landers they sent the pair back, Sebastian felt as though he would finally have a chance to wash his hands of his misery, perhaps for a single night he would be able to sleep. He smiled as he slowly walked out of the studio and picked up his bag, his coat was hung on it's peg and he looked over the room he had been given. "Tomorrow, we will fight again," he whispered as he clicked the light off and left the room. He was finally leaving, the bitterness of the chocolate coupled with the scent of lavender soothed him, it still clung to his jacket. He drew a deep breath and whispered, "Perhaps I will finally rest." With that he turned on his heel and left, in hopes that what would lay ahead was a land of dreams, and nothing to dread.

~~xXx~~

Claude was silent as he waited for Sebastian, he wasn't about to allow the young man to walk home. He sighed as he looked out at the night, not a star was visible, it made him a little sad. He knew Nightshade would be waiting for him, but he couldn't let Sebastian go without knowing just how proud he was. He knew Sebastian would win, but he had no idea it would be quite so beautiful. Clearly there was more to the Patissier than he realized, he could still remember the roses that glistened in the light, in many ways he hoped Sebastian would make them once again. In many ways he felt as though time was slipping through his fingers, his phone buzzed violently and he groaned. He knew who it was, he just didn't want to deal with it, not now. He was in the mood to celebrate, it buzzed again spurring the Head Chef to answer. "Faustus," he hissed into the device that was riding his last nerve.

"I see you finally responded," drawled an all too familiar voice, "when are you coming home? Your Patissier should be fine without you." Claude slipped his glasses off his nose and held them between his fingers between pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "What do you want Lucius?" he asked angrily. He heard a gasp in the background, "Boy, never have I harmed you. You have no right to use my given name," he replied. Claude hummed, he knew better the sting of being hit in the head with his own frying pan returned. His hand instinctively touched the side of his head as though he had been struck once more. "I can't call you father, you wouldn't even look at me after I came out of the closet in High School. You shipped me off to a Boarding School upstate," he retorted. He could remember the harsh winters and sweltering summers. His charcoal sweater with house crest rested in his closet, along with tie and scarf. Those four years he was miserable, it wasn't until he had met Ash that life seemed to become sweeter. "How could I look at you? You the boy who was supposed to carry my line then tells me he is only interested in men," he stated, "such a disappointment. However, if you come to New York there is hope for us to overlook this." There was silence, of course his father was up to something, since the day he had come out his father had treated him as though he were some kind of vermin. He didn't even merit the title of son.

Claude could remember the day he had received an acceptance letter to a prestigious ivy league in upstate New York and a note from his secretary saying, "Well done and best of luck." His father hadn't even taken a moment to write out the note himself, or even tell him how proud he was of Claude. "There is a lovely woman named Josephine here, she's from a long line of rather powerful people and is very interested in you," said Lucious simply. Claude's eyes widened, in all his life he never imagined his own father setting him up. "What?" he asked. There was silence, he had no idea what he was going to do or say, as far as he was concerned his life was hell, "No, abosolutly not," he hissed. His father was silent and he could feel his anger beginning to seethe, once again he was a disease and an emberassment, "I won't, I can't love a woman, and you know that," he stated angrily. Long fingers slipped through his hair as he tugged at it in an attempt to soothe himself. Pain had always served as an adequate distraction for the chef. "I refuse," he stated and his father laughed. "You, don't have a choice," were the words that hurt more than a stake through the heart.

Claude stiffened, he didn't want to return to New York, he wanted to stay as far from the man as possible. "No," Claude shot as he grit his teeth, "My home is in London." With that, he hung up and shoved the irritating device in his pocket, now he remembered why he had abandoned it in the kitchen. He paused when he heard the door open, immediately he looked over to see a rather tied Sebastian standing before him, he looked as though he had a halo under the harsh outside light that was hanging over the door. His lips were a little red and moist, the looked more welcoming than ever. "Well done," he stated, causing the Patissier to jump. Naturally he didn't miss this, he simply chose to leave it be. "Congratulations," Claude said sweetly as he walked toward Sebastian and held out his hand. A handshake may have been cold and the opposite of what he desired but it was better than nothing. Sebastian eyed his hand cautiously, "I'm not going to hurt you," whispered Claude, "I can't."

There was silence between the pair, he could tell Sebastian was confused, his eyes were wide and filled with anxiety. "You can't?" asked Sebastian timidly. Claude nodded, he wasn't about to admit his feelings for the raven haired chef, he only feared Sebastian would run. "I can't," he reiterated. Sebastian relaxed slightly, "Why?" he asked softly. He sounded like a child, and Claude could tell he was tired. There was a pause as he attempted to figure out what to say, he couldn't say what he felt. The Head Chef took a step closer and looked at Sebastian, he could tell the man was genuinely curious. Claude raised his hand and gently swept a lock of Sebastian's silky black hair behind his ear. His fingers dwelled on the side of Sebastian's face as he leaned in slightly. "I just can't," he whispered, his golden eyes looking into a pair of confused burgundies. Sebastian was so close, he could feel his soft skin under his fingers, warm breath on his lips and the sound of his heart.

Claude leaned in closer so that he was a breath away from the chef. "I," he paused and pulled back, "You had chocolate on your cheek," he commented as he rubbed the side of Sebastian's face. "I'm the Head Chef, it's my job to protect you," he stated slowly, as if that were the only reason. Once again he wasn't sure of what to do, he knew it wasn't the response Sebastian wanted to hear, but it was the only one he could say without the Patissier running for the hills. "I see," Sebastian muttered after a moment, even if he knew that wasn't what he wanted to say. "Sebastian, let me take you home, you must be exhausted," Claude commented. The Patissier was about to say something when he sighed and shook his head. "Why? Why do you protect me? Is it only for your job?" he asked angrily. Claude was taken aback, he had no idea why Sebastian would be asking this. Part of him prayed that somehow the tides had changed, "No," he stated. Sebastian crossed his arms and glared, his red eyes narrowed and he looked as though he were about to curse him. "Then why?" he asked. Claude drew a deep breath and sighed, before he could think his lips were pressed to Sebastian's.

Sebastian's lips were smooth, warm and supple, all things he had dreamed them to be. His fingers found themselves in Sebastian's hair as he closed his eyes and continued to press his lips to the chef, who had gone rigid. Claude pulled back, his heart ached, Sebastian didn't return his kiss, he wanted a reaction out of the man. Something, a slap across the face, a string of curses, criticism for breaking his own rule. Something that told Claude, Sebastian was alive. Claude's golden eyes flickered open, they had been closed to enjoy the moment of peace he had received from enjoying the chef's warmth. Sebastian was pale and ever so confused, "Why did you just- why would you?" he stammered before slowly backing away. He looked like an animal trapped in a cage that was far too small. The Head Chef's heart clenched as he allowed his mask of indifference to fall, clearly the Patissier didn't feel the same way. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't know how else to," he began nervously before he heard someone clear their throat. Leaning against a beautiful black Mercedes was none other than Ciel Phantomhive. His eyes narrowed and he looked darker and somehow older.

Sapphire eyes fell on Sebastian who visibly stiffened, he no longer looked like the elegant chef who had schooled Landers, he looked weak and fragile, as though he would break if one brushed his cheek with a feather. "Sebastian, the second challenge is tomorrow, let's go," he snapped. Claude had a horrible feeling about this, as the Patissier walked over to Ciel stiffly, his head hung and clearly there was some unspoken law that prevented Sebastian from acting out. "Sebastian," Claude called causing the Patissier to stop, he didn't even look back, "You did well, good luck tomorrow." The watched Sebastian slowly step toward Ciel and slip into the back of the car. In seconds it was gone and he was left alone again standing outside, "I love you," he muttered as he watched the car vanish.

He felt a pair of small warm arms wrap around his back in an attempt to sooth him, "I know you do Claude," Alois stated softly. Claude closed his eyes for a moment, of course Alois had seen his pain, "Want me to come over tonight?" asked Alois slowly. Claude was quite, company wasn't a bad idea but he also wanted to be alone. He couldn't face another person now, not after that, Sebastian probably thought he was simply a bastard of a Head Chef, which wanted to mess with his head. "Sure," he replied, "Just to talk, and maybe a stiff drink." Alois merely bobbed his head as he followed Claude to his flat.

~~xXx~~

Ciel sat silently in the car, he was fuming, Claude was offering Sebastian hope. Hope was something he couldn't allow Sebastian to taste if he was going to remain in control. Even if Sebastian had won the first challenge, it didn't mean Sebastian could do as he pleased. "You kissed him," hissed Ciel as he looked out the window, "Him of all things." His words were dark and he noticed how the Patissier looked nervous as he gazed at the man's reflection in the window. "I didn't, he kissed me," Sebastian defended feebly, naturally Ciel had seen that, he was more irritated that Claude was trying to touch something of his. In reality Sebastian had no rights, no freedoms, and honestly would never have them. Ciel only wanted to control him, Sebastian was keeping his customers coming back, a kept goose.

"I see," he drawled before leaning his hand on the window. If Sebastian won, Ciel would get the right amount of repor which, meant there wouldn't be a question as to who was the top of the industry. "Don't let it happen again, I don't like it when other people touch what is mine," he spat. Sebastian was frozen for a moment. He looked both frightened and angry, "I'm not an item!" he shouted. Ciel paused and turned his attention from the window to the chef. He hadn't seen this behavior in a while. A smirk curved his lips, perhaps there was still a remnant of Sebastian in there. "Oh?" he asked mockingly, "Who paid for you?"

Sebastian was silent, "Who is it that paid Angela, and kept you from being sold to a merciless drunk that would simply beat you?" Ciel asked, his voice cold and calculative. Sebastian stared at him, "You were never free," he muttered. Sebastian was still, Ciel was beyond furious, he had paid more for Sebastian than any stock on the market and he be damned if he didn't get his money's worth. The car pulled in front of the building and Ciel forced Sebastian out of the car, naturally there were a number of reporters waiting to speak with Sebastian. Ciel tuned them out as he listened to them sing praises for the Patissier. Ciel smiled happily, always playing the lovable little lord his father had taught him to be, it was now only harder. He knew he wasn't lovable, Lizzy was with him because she had to be. He kept her because she was good in bed and generally looked fantastic around his arm.

Ciel had been so lost in thought that by the time they reached his floor he found himself standing in the living room. He could see out of the corner of his eye Sebastian attempting to get away, "Stay," he spat, "We need to celebrate." There was a glint in his eye as he thumbed the box of chocolate, he had Sebastian make them, it only seemed fair that the Patissier should test them. It was going to be, in Ciel's opinion, a wonderful night.