Hello Lovelies(:

Sorry for the wait. I know I've been saying that a lot lately but I'm still feeling apologetic for my behavior haha Anyway, things are going a little better for me. Still a tad on the rough side and I'm having insane bouts of writer's block but I'm trying to push through. Constant vigilance and all that lol

I hope you all had wonderful holidays! This chapter is a bit longer to try and make up for my crappy updating schedule. Still not really sure how happy I am with it. I got stuck in a lot of places and had a hard time moving forward, but oh well!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of the characters. I just borrow them a little bit.

Ta,

Majix

With the tales of Sebastian's mouth watering cooking spreading through the Circus faster than wildfire, it took Ciel less than five minutes to locate the demon.

He stood out in startling contrast among the people surrounding him; too tall, too dark, too perfect and the sight of him among the hoards of performers clambering over each other for food left the emotionally drained Earl feeling more than a little bit amused. He appeared so ordinary, utterly human, plain in a way that even the domestic atmosphere at Phantomhive manor couldn't compete with and Ciel nearly snickered, watching the demon dish up food at the edge of near inhuman speeds.

Unlike those around him, the little Lord was content to wait patiently in line, not really all that hungry and sure of his knowledge that no matter how long it took, Sebastian would have food for him when he finally made it to the front of the line.

Patience was not a practice that Ciel usually participated. In his day to day life, the blue haired teen much preferred satisfaction brought about by the instant gratification of his wishes. He enjoyed having food delivered the moment he was hungry, or when Sebastian indulged his sweet tooth at a moment's notice, but as the boy stood patiently in line, he was content to linger among the rush, partially submerged in his own thoughts.

After his previous encounter with the blonde, Ciel's first reaction was to tell Sebastian about Alois.

It seemed like an appropriate course of action, to inform the knight of all the players on the board so that he could continue to do his job and protect the King from harm. As the line drew closer though, the Earl found himself stubbornly clinging to the idea of keeping his demon in the dark. Because, really, what could the stumped teen tell him? Alois hadn't revealed anything about the existence of his own demonic companion, he hadn't said anything regarding his intentions. Not even so much as a concrete hint that he intended to do the Earl harm. Not that Ciel doubted any of those things in the slightest, but Sebastian did.

Ciel didn't begrudge the demon for his earlier display of stubborn pride. After his anger dissipated, he too acknowledged the unlikelihood of Sebastian being unable to detect another demon in the room. He accepted the impossibility of his words, but the fact of the matter was that Sebastian hadn't believed him. No matter how ridiculous or imaginative his statement may have been, Sebastian cast his warning aside under the pretense that such a thing couldn't happen under his watch.

But it did.

The boy saw it himself, saw a being that he could almost guarantee was demonic in nature, saw the blonde boy standing far too close to the creature, heard the warning in his deathly dream. Ciel knew that he wasn't crazy, knew that whatever lingered within the wings was meant for him and that he would probably need Sebastian's help to overcome such a worthy opponent, but he couldn't cast aside the hurt he felt upon Sebastian's rejection. He understood it, of course, could even relate to it, but the act still stuck out in his thoughts like an ill placed thorn, making the Earl hesitant to bring it up to his immortal companion a second time.

And Ciel wondered if that was the end game, to separate him from his protector by driving a wedge between them until he was an easier target, but that idea in itself seemed like an overly obvious course of action. Perhaps so obvious that it was bound to work merely because the Earl was so ready to cast it aside. The board was set, the pieces in motion, but Ciel still couldn't help but to feel that he was playing the game blindfolded. Much remained cloaked in secrecy and the teen found himself more entranced than ever. Very little managed to capture his attention so fully, to draw him so deeply into the game and Ciel was eager to find out just how deep the rabbit hole went.

As he finally made it to the front of the line, Sebastian eyed him with thinly veiled concern as he held out a plate for the younger man, "You appear quite troubled, is everything alright?"

Ciel could hear the unspoken 'my Lord' at the end of the demon's statement and a suppressed smile threatened to break free at the thought of him being able to read between the demon's lines so easily. It was to be expected, considering the depth and nature of their relationship, both professional and otherwise, but it still struck him odd for some reason.

In a rare show of lower class behavior, the boy shrugged, reaching out to take the offered plate from his butler's gloved hand. Ciel could feel the impatience of the line behind him and though the blue haired Earl considered quickly telling Sebastian to meet him outside the circus around nightfall before going in search of Alois he decided, instead, to simply walk away. Regardless of whether or not he voiced it aloud the elder would manage to find him again sooner or later. At the very least it gave the teen more time to consider whether or not he was actually going to try and explain the nature of his suspicions about Alois. At the current moment, he felt less inclined to do so, but as Ciel caught sight of the blonde sitting at an empty table, waving him over, he decided that the matter could rest for the time being.

There was nothing to report, nothing solid enough to demand their joint attention, but that could always change.

Weaving through the crowd, Ciel made his way over to the thin blonde, plopping down heavily on the bench across from him. His plate was stacked with food, just as he knew it would be. Thick strips of bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, well buttered slices of toast. It was hot, steaming even and undoubtedly delicious but as the teen stared down at it, he couldn't help but to feel a sharp dip in his appetite. He didn't want to be sitting across from the blonde enigma eating the same breakfast as everyone else, he wanted to be back in the manor with Sebastian. He wanted to be sitting at his absurdly long dining room table, surrounded by his lover's incredible creations, listening to quips of sarcasm and the monotone voice of his butler as the dark haired elder listed off the various tasks the Earl needed to see to.

"Not good enough for you, Finnian?"

Mismatched eyes looked up from where he was idly pushing food around his plate, staring into the dark and borderline angry gaze of his dining companion and, from the outside, Ciel assumed that was a fairly decent assessment. For all Alois knew, he was just another spoiled aristocrat, a fat cat like all the other rich and powerful men who refused to eat with those they deemed below their status.

Thin fingers dropped the silver tined fork to his plate, a look of near offense crossing his features, "Regardless of what you may or may not believe, I have no problem with what is given to me."

The blue haired teen's eyes narrowed, daring the other boy to speak, "I've had to make due with much less."

Alois scoffed, unabashed in his disbelief, "Somehow, I doubt that."

The darker haired boy arched a single brow in a manner that was much more Sebastian's style than his own as he leaned forward, resting most of his weight on his elbows as he considered the blonde across from him with an air of carefully masked amusement, "You think?"

Blue eyes hardened and Ciel could immediately tell that his nonchalant attitude was rubbing the mysterious teen the wrong way, his interest quickly peaking as Alois' voice dipped down to a hiss, "You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, don't deny it."

Prideful and unwilling to give up any information he didn't need to, Ciel leaned back with a smirk, steepling his fingers together above his ignored breakfast, "If you think so."

"I know so."

The Earl showed no outward signs of recognition as the blonde's fingers clenched into fists, his body language hinting towards potential hostility, "Don't insult us both by pretending that you've ever had to want for anything. You've never known hunger, never known poverty. Fear. Humiliation. None of it."

Though Ciel usually had an abnormally tight hold on his emotional reactions, the blonde across from him had stuck an unbelievably sensitive nerve. Disregarding their surroundings and the possibility of his "follow" performers overhearing and realizing that the teen might not be who he said he was, Ciel leaned impossibly close, his tone dropping down to a level of unmistakable threat, "Never seek to assume that you know what I've been made to endure."

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, "You know nothing."

Both teens sat in a tense cloud of silence, each sizing up the other in the most subtle way possible but as the minutes ticked by, Ciel found himself less and less aware of the boy across from him and more absorbed in his own thoughts.

While it was true that he was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so to speak, Ciel wasn't one to be particularly materialistic. Physical objects of worth were kept around for the envious eyes of others and to reiterate his wealth but the blue haired teen wasn't particularly attached to any of it. The Earl had long since chalked that feeling up to the fact that none of the objects within the manor's walls were real. They were recreations of something that'd been lost since the fire, but that didn't mean that the Earl wasn't pleased by the jealousy of others.

Much like the prideful peacock, the blue haired aristocrat relished in his ability to subtly flaunt the things he possessed that others should naturally covet. However, in Ciel's case, the teen derived the most pleasure from their envy of his more abstract and obscure possessions rather than the expensive Persian rugs in the manor's drawing room. Things like power and the position it granted him in the world, like the success of his business and the wealth it brought in, like the loyal unwavering servant that never seemed to fall short of any task.

The blue haired teen cast a subtle look over towards his demon, eyeing him with carefully concealed interest as his thoughts took a slightly different path.

In the face of all that potential envy, Ciel was able to privately enjoy the inhumanly beautiful creature that eagerly shared his bed even more. Sebastian was something to be desired and coveted by everyone, something so flawless that it couldn't be fathomed and though Ciel would likely never be able to flaunt his luck at having the demon as a lover, it was beyond satisfying to think about. Sebastian was his. Every part of his body was made for Ciel, every inch of creamy white flesh belonged solely to the Earl and that thought alone made the teen want to drag him off and snog for hours.

In some ways, it frightened him, this need. Pride dictated that the thought never be acknowledged in any sense, let alone spoken about, but it was there, this fear of overwhelming emotion. It was wild, passionate and unquenchable in a way that only a human would understand. The urge to gravitate towards his lover, to grab and feel and take ever present in his conscious mind. Each and every glimpse of his butler brought with it flashes of their stolen moments, the feeling of skin against skin, of sweat rolling down his spine and strong fingers holding him still, of warm lips and soft kisses and the laughter of a dark and unholy creature. It was all encompassing, all consuming in the way it enveloped him and as the teen chanced another short glimpse towards his lover, he quickly began to realize that to be in love with somebody was to be without control. To succumb, and accept a certain amount of weakness, to become emotionally powerless to them

Ciel frowned at the thought.

Control was not something he ever willingly gave up, save for those quiet moments in the demon's presence. In the past, that open feeling had remained behind closed doors, in the sanctuary of the manor, in his study or the bedroom where he was free to slip off the mask and be himself before the eyes of a creature that'd pulled him from the fire of his own personal Hell. They were sometimes daunting, those moments where the two spoke as equals, but none the less they remained secret, carefully stowed away upon their departure.

Ciel Phantomhive was nothing if not a man of professionalism. He took his title incredibly serious and there was no room for anything personal when it came to his royally dictated business, but this, this was something else. This inability to disconnect with his baser emotions and sink into the assumed identity of somebody else. And if that wasn't bad enough, the blue haired youth found himself once again defrocked before the gaze of another.

Mismatched eyes darted up to look at the blonde across from him, watching as the other teen happily mowed through the remaining mound of food on his plate, his previous air of hostile intentions all but disappeared.

Alois.

That situation in itself was an utter lack of control that Ciel didn't even want to think about, let alone be forced to deal with. It was frustrating, beyond frustrating really, the way this stranger, this outsider acted around him, the way he dangled his superior knowledge on an undeniable string in front of the Earl's face without giving a single glimpse as to how far that knowledge went. It was unnerving, irritating to the extreme and Ciel didn't have a problem admitting to himself just how far out of his comfort zone the blonde made him. It was a constant source of risk, hazing the overview of his mission with a film of paranoia. Alois knew that his name wasn't Finnian, knew he wasn't just some street kid looking for a place among outcasts, most likely knew what his real name was and, potentially, the truth behind his mission. But it seemed that there were also parts that the teen didn't know, didn't understand or care to acknowledge. That was, of course, speculation on the Earl's part, but to assume otherwise would be unwise, foolish by association.

And Ciel Phantomhive wasn't a fool.

The rest of the morning flew by in a flurry of activity.

Alois knew that the dark haired teen working alongside him had been actively considering strangling him for the better part of two hours but Alois couldn't help but to feel satisfied by that. He was getting under Phantomhive's skin, murking up his intentions through the near constant shifts in his demeanor. Claude said, in not so many words, that he wasn't supposed to let on, in any fashion, that he knew who Ciel Phantomhive was at all but Alois didn't feel like that was appropriate, not for a hungry dog like Phantomhive.

A beast that hungry needed to smell blood, the briefest whiff of potential information and he would follow obediently just like they needed. The fact that the one-eyed Earl was still following him near constantly around the circus, doing manual labor while he chattered on and on about the various purposes behind stage make-up proved that knowledge much more surely than anything he could've ever hoped to explain to Claude.

Thinking about the yellow eyed demon made the back of the blonde's neck itch but rather than pay it any mind, the elder teen turned back to his work, hefting boxes of props right alongside his enemy as they prepared for the performance later that evening. Since he wasn't a stage performer and Phantomhive was on the mend from his "illness" they'd both been saddled with no small amount of leg work, hauling various items to and fro throughout the circus. They'd been made to fetch things, to deliver messages, and a wide array of other tasks.

It wasn't exactly easy. Even Alois felt the strain from a hard day's work, but as he turned and caught sight of the blue haired teen fighting to breathe, he felt the slightest flicker of confusion, "Alright there, Finnian?"

Phantomhive lifted a hand to wave him off but the action didn't quite go through.

Instead of offering him some excuse, the Earl was hunched over with his hands just above his knees, his legs trembling, looking as though he would collapse at second and even a good distance away, the blonde could hear the steady wheeze of unhealthy lungs. It wasn't common among the people in his village, but there were a few who'd suffered from breathing problems, their faces flushed, air refusing to come when they over exerted themselves or spent too much time around the hay. It was strange to see such a blatant weakness in his near unshakable foe, but as Alois was all too aware, Phantomhive was just a man, only human, and humans were prone to illness. Even the aristocrats.

Alois hauled another box up into his arms, thankful that it was lighter than many of the others had been as he turned to face the recovering teen, "I didn't take you as one to get so winded from a little hard work. Are you always so fragile?"

At the very least Alois expected some sort of response, a sharp retort in the face of his overly obvious goading but the blue haired male said nothing. He showed no outward signs that he'd even heard the other teen, his eyes glassy and far away and for the first time Alois felt the slightest twinge of worry for his would-be opponent.

"Finnian?"

The boy turned his attention back over to his blonde companion but Phantomhive's reactions were slow, sluggish in a way that reminded Alois of the way he often felt after having slept much too long, foggy and unfocused. His cheeks were stained red, the flush going down his neck and, if Alois had to bet, he would've guessed that it stretched stark vibrant across the other boy's chest like a growing sickness. Sweat dripped down his forehead, leaving the muted blue strands of the teen's hair plastered to his forehead, and Alois sighed.

No matter how much he wanted to simply kill the corrupt boy and end it all, Alois wasn't willing to even consider doing so when his opponent was so obviously outmatched. For the time being, his quest was to establish a connection, trust if at all possible, and part of that entailed trying to keep the other male at least somewhat functional. Which, at the current moment, he wasn't.

Alois sighed, reaching out and ensnaring the boy's wrist in his grasp, "C'mon, Finnian, I know a place that might help."

Without waiting for any kind of response, as the blonde was near positive that he wouldn't get one, Alois dragged his "friend" through the inner workings of the Circus, avoiding any and all large groups of people with ease. It proved to be easier than it should've been but Alois supposed that had more to do with their distraction over the upcoming performance than any real skills that he possessed. They were all focused on themselves and each other, working on stage makeup, last minute additions to their acts, final touches to their costumes and as they rounded the last corner, Alois sighed in relief.

The communal showers were empty, save for himself and the dazed aristocrat at his side. Night was almost upon them, with the sun having fallen from its perch in the sky some minutes ago. Light still remained, streaking the darkening sky with color, revealing the stars one by one as it diminished, but daylight lingered, lighting the area between them enough that Alois could see the other teen clearly. However, that didn't change the fact that the water available to each of them was cold and the fading sunlight didn't help that any. It would be unpleasant, but hopefully the shock of it would bring Phantomhive out of his dazed mindset. Alois was well aware that steam would've opened his airways much better, but that option wasn't available, and Alois had to hope that the sudden shock would startle the boy into taking a large deep breath.

That and the blonde teen couldn't resist the temptation of throwing icy cold water on the person responsible for all the woe in his life.

After making sure that the boy wouldn't collapse without him, Alois made a beeline for the barrels of water, scooping up one of the buckets and filling it to the brim with the chilly liquid before turning back to his blue haired companion. He stood silently, seemingly unaware of himself or anything around him and a coy smile flashed across the blonde's features. He was going to enjoy watching Phantomhive shivering, dripping with icy water much more than he should, but that was all part of the game, he supposed.

In a show of good faith, Alois sat the bucket down beside them with a huff of effort, intending to rid the younger teen of his clothes to avoid unnecessary questions. It wouldn't do for the prideful Earl to come back to the present fully clothed, soaked all the way through and dripping all over the place. That just opened the door to more potential for questioning than Alois wanted to deal with, especially if somebody else came upon them.

But as soon as the blonde grabbed the hem of Phantomhive's shirt, the teen seemed to snap partially out of whatever trance he was submerged in, his eyes going wild as he tried to jerk away with a cry of protest, startling the blonde into tightening his grip. Phantomhive's eyes were slightly out of focus still, his movements uncoordinated and Alois cursed as he tried to wrestle the boy into submission while they remained standing, swearing up a storm as the blue haired teen fought against him every step of the way.

It was, of course, cold outside and Alois could understand not waiting to be undressed in the middle of Winter just as much as any other sane person, but the blue haired boy wasn't in his right mind, wasn't coherent enough to release and, if he was perfectly honest, Alois just wanted to cause the boy discomfort. So what if he was displeased, so what if the situation wasn't ideal and the water was freezing cold? The fact that his family was murdered in front of his eyes was displeasing, not ideal in any sense and if Claude was right, their revenge would take much more time than he was comfortable with.

He didn't have the patience for such a slow moving plan, Alois wanted gratification in the moment, wanted to cause the beast that ruined his life was much suffering as possible, even if it was only a bucket full of ice cold water in the middle of Winter.

Alois hissed, grabbing two fistfuls of the boy's shirt, trying to wrangle him out of it, "Stop squirming, Phantomhive! I'm trying to help you, you idiot!"

The thrashing teen paid no heed to the blonde's warnings, not responding in the least to the sound of his own name, for which Alois was immediately grateful, glad that his slip up went unnoticed. It was in that moment of distraction, that fraction of a second that the blonde realized his slip of the tongue, that Phantomhive struck out with one of his legs, catching Alois in the side of his knee and part of his shin. Pain was instantaneous, making older ten yelp in pain as his legs buckled, his fingers grasping at Phantomhive's shirt, trying to keep them both upright, but the effort was wasted.

With the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric and an echoing crash, both boys went stumbling painfully to the ground, tipping the bucket over in the process and soaking them both with the chilled water meant only for Ciel.

Rage burned in Alois' sky blue eyes, twisting his features into an angry scowl, "For fuck's sake, Finnian!"

Angry fingers reached out and grasped the half split cotton shirt clinging wetly to the dark haired boy's frame and Alois jerked it towards him, listening gleefully to the steady rip of fabric as the dripping cotton came free but before the blonde could find satisfaction in the partial victory, his gaze landed on Phantomhive's side.

Even with the bare minimal amount of light between them, he could still see the dark and uprisen skin of a brand mark. His conscious mind instantly rejected the idea, thinking that he'd tried to befriend the wrong boy, that this teen wasn't his foe, but as much as he wished that were true, Alois knew he was mistaken. This boy was Phantomhive, there was no possible way that he was mistaken. Claude himself had directed him towards his target, verifying that the soaking wet teen in front of him really was the boy Earl. Regardless, the mark itself was indisputable. He'd seen it many times before around his village, slaves that'd either been set free or escaped, men and women that'd been branded as property. It made his stomach knot, bile rising in his throat, but as Alois looked back up towards Phantomhive's face, he felt the blood freeze in his veins.

Sometime during their squabble, the eye patch Phantomhive took such care to keep in place had fallen off, revealing the truth of his demonic contract for Alois to see. It was stark and glowing against his aristocratic features, bringing faint light to the cheekbone on the left side of his face and Alois couldn't help but to notice the differences between their marks. Where Alois had a more sectioned off type of star, Phantomhive's held an unequivocal pentagram, complete with demonic characters within the pointed star.

Recognition, clear and unfazed, also sat startling and very much alive in those mismatched eyes. Ciel's one dark blue eye blazed with undisguised anger, fury walking dangerously on the edge of hate while the contract glowed faintly in the darkness.

However, before Alois could open his mouth to speak, the enraged teen was already back on his feet, scooping up his fallen eye patch, the remains of his shirt and dashing away without a single backward glance, leaving Alois to sit in a puddle of freezing cold water, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just bared witness too.

As Ciel sat huddled up just outside the circus, clutching the ruined remains of his shirt to his chilled body, he heard the self assured footsteps of somebody approaching. Exposed eyes glanced up through damp lashes expecting to see Alois or perhaps even one of the residents of the circus, but as Ciel caught sight of Sebastian, he felt instantly relieved. There would be no need to try and con Sebastian, no need to explain away his presence behind fanciful lies.

With Alois' discovery of his contract symbol and the mark burned into his body, Ciel felt vulnerable, split wide open for the enemy to see and he couldn't get away from the blonde fast enough. He still wasn't sure exactly what'd happened, how he got to the showers in the first place and why the other teen was trying to hard to get him free of his shirt but in the end that didn't really matter. What mattered was that Alois saw him, the two things he tried to hide most from the world and Ciel couldn't stomach the thought of that.

At the sight of his master wet, trembling and without the security of his ever present eye patch Sebastian seemed to almost appear directly beside the blue haired Earl. Going down in a partial kneel with a look of concern, Sebastian slipped out of his signature black coat without prompt, draping around the boy's unprotected shoulders, "Young Master? What are you doing out here? You're sure to catch your death."

With shaking hands, Ciel grabbed the edges of the coat, pulling it tighter around himself, basking in the warmth left behind by Sebastian's abnormally high body heat. Weary eyes fluttered closed in the present safety of his guardian, a murmur of content slipping free as the teen inhaled the comforting scent of his lover.

"My Lord?"

The demon had questions, no doubt. Even before the possessive creature became Ciel's lover he didn't stand for such open ended situations without response. Were it under the order of his master, Sebastian remained seemingly in the dark, for the time being at least, but the cold teen knew that wouldn't fly this time. Not when he was soaking wet, half dressed, sitting alone and trembling outside the circus. But Ciel didn't want to talk about it. Not yet at least. He needed a moment to regroup, to try and ease out from under the weight of exposure before explaining his shortcomings to the immortal.

Without speaking, Ciel stood and pressed himself intimately against his demonic companion, trusting that Sebastian wouldn't allow them to be seen as the teen wrapped his arms around the elder's waist, laying his cold cheek just over Sebastian's sluggishly beating heart, "Later, Sebastian. For now I want you to dry me off."

The teens silent request that his butler do so without having to leave in search of a towel was unspoken and, altogether, unnecessary. Sebastian heard the order loud and clear, pushing forth small amounts of magical power as he ran his hands through Ciel's hair, along his shoulders and down the teen's back, instantly ridding him of the water clinging stubbornly to his skin.

For the time being, Ciel was content to linger in his butler's embrace, soaking up his warmth like a desert after the first rain, "I've had enough of this place, Sebastian."

"Young Master?"

Ciel seemed to shake his head, the action appearing more as the teen rubbing his face against Sebastian's crisp white shirt than anything else but the Earl knew his butler would understand, "I want to wrap this case up quickly. I tire of being here, and it has become apparent that I have much bigger things to worry about in the near future. However, the Queen has requested my services. They shall be done, as is my purpose, but I'm tired of wasting time."

Maroon eyes gazed down at the fragile mortal in his arms, taking in the tired and worn look that seemed ever present on the Earl's features as of late, a small frown tugging at the corner of the demon's mouth, "Of course."

The unprotected contracted glowed faintly between them, dulling a bit as the boy's eyes drooped, heavy fatigue and a distinct need for sleep, "Sebastian, take me back to my tent without being seen. That's an order."

A coy smile returned to the raven haired man's lips, his eyes alight with unnatural power as he held his little lover close, "Yes, my Lord."

And without so much as a sound, the pair was gone, blinking out of existence in the night as if they'd never been there to begin with.