Disclaimer: I don't ooooown~

Author's Note: Once again, goodbyemyheart is to be blamed. Or thanked. Or both. XD Also, I extend my gratitude to fanfic100 for these prompts.

Warnings: AU-related OOCness. Not chronological, but (mostly) takes place before "Adoption Papers"/"Adoption Forms." Contains an homage to "Lightning" (which was posted exclusively on my LJ). Edited in a rush. More substance than previous parts of the series, and a bit more angst, but still pretty fluffy… Prepare for some canon-related jokes and (gasp!) het, as well.

XXX

Adoption Requests

A Third Collection of AU Ficlets and Sentences

XXX

01: Beginnings

"I… beg your pardon, sir?"

From behind the lacquered expanse of his mahogany desk, a smartly dressed businessman lifted his head and offered a warm, toothy grin. A bright and wholly cheerful expression to begin with, the lovely young man's chipper appearance quickly became more so upon noticing his butler's mounting horror— pale features tightening and russet eyes wide. The master chuckled, resting his chin atop lightly steepled fingers. And while his lashes had already half-obscured his doe-brown irises, they did nothing to hide the mirth within.

"You heard me, Sebastian," the gray-locked millionaire said serenely, perfectly pleasant and wholly unfazed, even as his manservant (who was looking distinctly weak in the knees) lowered himself into a nearby chair. It was an entirely uncharacteristic response from Sebastian, who had always been the perfect butler… but Vincent let it slide without teasing (just this once), due to the nature of the announcement he'd just made. "Though really, you needn't act so histrionic. You do have a flare for the dramatics, my friend…"

Sebastian allowed himself the liberty of a dry stare. "My apologies," he drawled—in much more his usual way, though he still hadn't managed to find the strength to stand, yet. "But it is not often I am called into my master's office and told 'I am going to die.'"

"Really?" the Earl of Phantomhive (or, rather, the man who would have been the earl, if such titles existed in this day and age) returned conversationally, decidedly jovial. "I can't see why not. We're all going to die, someday, aren't we? And to that end, one must make the proper arrangements…"

With a musing sort of hum, Vincent pushed himself to his feet, fingertips gliding over the glossy surface of his desk. Sebastian watched him from the corner of his eye, confusion increasing as his employer leisurely turned towards the window. In the world beyond the glass, the limpid spring sun was fighting to break its way through the gray clouds of London. "…I can't give you the details, I'm afraid," the older man murmured after a moment, squeezing the hands he'd clasped behind his back. "Though I know you're intelligent enough to realize that the Funtom company is nothing more than a clever cover for… a more delicate business."

The butler said nothing. He was, indeed, that intelligent. Which was one of the reasons he'd been hired in the first place.

"And, as in any business," Vincent continued with a flippant sort of sigh, "you never know when things are going to turn sour." He shook his head as if in deep regret, and though his general expression remained lighthearted, his lips were pursed in noticeable distress. "'Til the present, the danger of my trade has meant little to me. But now that Rachel is pregnant…"

"The lady is what?"

The note of shock in Sebastian's tone pulled his companion out of his musings; Vincent chortled, nodded, and turned to face his butler once more, visage haloed by a flickering ray of light. "Indeed she is," he affirmed, looking faintly proud despite his continued concern. "Come December, this dusty old house will feel just a little fuller. And to that end, I must ask a favor of you, my friend…"

02: Middle

Sebastian Michaelis wasn't yet used to dealing with children, let alone attention-seeking babies who were always desperate to be held.

"Young master, I really haven't the time," the butler began—all while knowing it was useless to attempt to reason with a 10-month-old. A baby was still hardly human at that age, unable to do much of anything besides eat, defecate, and waddle; trying to explain the concept of chores to the bitty creature clinging so plaintively to his leg was about as pointless as teaching astrophysics to penguins.

"Gwaph~" the young master (an adorable boy named Ciel) gurgled, beaming up at the butler he'd taken hostage. He tried to give Sebastian's pants another pointed tug, but his chubby grip was as weak as the rest of his body; he had soon tumbled onto his bottom, sapphire stare never leaving Sebastian's face.

Though it did, of course, fill with tears when his tiny bum hit the floor.

"Oh... no, no don't cry," the butler pleaded, kneeling to scoop the child into his arms. While he no longer panicked at the sound of snuffling, Ciel's cries remained one of his least favorite sounds in the world— simultaneously frustrating and heartbreaking. Thankfully, Sebastian found him easy enough to pacify; a little rocking and a bounce or two against his hip was all it generally took, and today was no exception. "There, there... Alright, then, you win, little one. I suppose I only need one arm to dust, anyway."

03: End

"Baschan—!"

It was an almost unearthly yowl, high-pitched and banshee-esque as it resonated off of the painted walls and lofty arches of the mansion foyer. The screech was accompanied by a torrent of tears, the snotty sobs and watery wails of a typical two-year-old mid-temper tantrum.

"There there, love. Calm down, now, pet," the little boy's mother tried to soothe, but her quietly quivering voice was no match for her son's keyed shrieks, nor his anxiously straining arms. She almost dropped him more than once.

"BASCHAN—!"

"You're sure you know the way?" Vincent was asking equably, holding the butler's baggage as he buttoned his black wool coat. "It'd be no trouble to send Tanaka along, have him help you find your new residence…"

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Sebastian returned courteously, tipping his head in lieu of a full bow. He then gracefully readjusted his collar and took his suitcase from his former master. "It has been a pleasure working for you, si—"

"Please, Sebastian," Vincent interjected, waving his hand in a glib sort of way. "The pleasure was entirely mine. It's truly a shame I have to let you go." He sighed heavily, shaking his head as he buried his fists in his back pockets. But after a moment, he was wearing his signature smirk again. "Of course, I won't be the only one who misses you…"

As if cued, Ciel let loose another insatiable bawl. "NO, MAMA— WAN BASCHAN!" he screamed, thrashing so vigorously that Rachel was likely to find herself bruised when she next put him down. It made Sebastian wince just to watch… though he made a point of avoiding eye contact with either the lady or her son.

"If I may take the liberty to say so," the butler mumbled under his breath, trying not to think about how unprofessional it was for him to be saying this, "I fail to perceive the danger you insist exists in this house. You claim you are dismissing me for my own good, but I am afraid I see this as nothing more than a blemish on an otherwise spotless resume."

Vincent snorted, a sound almost lost amongst the shrill keening of his child. "I assure you, Sebastian," the older man teased, clapping his ex-servant on the curve of the shoulder, "if I am ever called for a character reference, I shall give you the very best. But I can't have you here anymore, understand? I need you out there, safe… just in case."

"BASCHAAAAAN! NO! NO NO NO NO!"

Sebastian bit his bottom lip, heart wavering as his eyes tried to do the same. "But… he needs me here. Now," he weakly protested, even as he cursed himself for allowing such emotions to get the better of him. (And no, that was not a tear in his eye—he just hadn't had a chance to clean the chandelier before leaving, so there must have been something in the air…)

Vincent smiled sympathetically, but as always remained firm in his decision. "If my hunch is correct—and my hunches often are— they'll come a day when he needs you more," the dark-haired man whispered, resolute and low. "Until then… well, I shall just have to invest in a pair of earplugs, won't I?"

04: Inside

"Oh… yes— yes! Right th—ah! Sebastian—!"

Upon the pristine ivory carpet of the nursery floor, the pretty pallid blonde writhed and gasped and moved against her husband's butler, kissing him just as frantically as he kissed her.

"Rachel…" It was a silken hiss, colored by love and guilt and passion and self-loathing as a familiar, tinny lullaby floated through the air.

In the cradle beside the rosy window, Ciel slept under an idly spinning mobile.

05: Outside

"You know," Angelina began blithely, teacup half-way to her leering lips as she cast the butler a sidelong glance. "Sometimes I think you're too good to be human, Sebastian."

The butler, distinctly amused, offered a small half-bow of gratitude, but was careful to keep his face impassive. "I thank you for the compliment, doctor," he breathed, straightening as he returned to his self-appointed watch over the garden gazebo and those gathered beneath it. Sitting across from the forever-vibrant Angelina was the porcelain Rachel—a vision in her summer dress of cream and periwinkle, cradling the dozing three-month-old she had bundled in her arms. Sebastian's gaze softened visibly at the sight, and he was reminded of religion and artwork and Renaissance portraits of Madonna and child. "…but I assure you, I am just as human as you are."

And so distracted was he, Sebastian failed to notice that Angelina's claret eyes had softened with the same heartfelt emotion whist looking upon him.

"Indeed."

06: Hours

"One… two… three… up!" Rachel sang, and as one she and Sebastian lifted the toddler off of the leaf-strewn path, swinging him avidly back and forth as they clung to his chubby fists. And Ciel, content to play this game for hours and hours, shrieked with joy and garbled "Mo'! Mo'!"

07: Days

Prior to the addition of the young master, Sebastian never realized how fast the days could fly—winter melting into spring, spring into summer, summer into fall, and before he knew it fall was transforming into winter once again.

08: Months

"Aww, what a cutie! How old is he?"

"He turns six months today."

"He is absolutely adorable. I bet you bring him here just to show him off!"

"Oh, no. This little one is like a dog—he lives for his daily stroller ride through the park. Showing him off is but a bonus."

"Haha, oh my… look, he just giggled! Oh, I could just eat you up, love, I really could! I don't blame your daddy for being so proud of you~"

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm not—"

"Anyway, thank you for humoring my mothering tendencies. Though—oh, I've got to get going! I've a job interview for a position as a nanny. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Sebastian."

"Likewise, Miss Paula. Best of luck during your interview."

09: Years

Eight years was such a long, long, long time…

"Ciel Phantomhive…?"

The battered ten year old—sullen and silent atop his brown plastic chair—glanced up at the sound of his name, single blue eye (so much like his mother's) dull and once-smiley lips set into an acerbic glower.

Sebastian sucked in a deep breath and wondered vaguely what he'd gotten himself into.

10: Red/Orange/Yellow/Green/Blue/Purple /Black/White

"Young master, crayons are more effective on paper than they are on your tongue."

11: Colorless

"I just… I can't do this to him anymore, Rachel. I can't do this to either of them…"

He swallowed thickly, fingertips trailing up and down her tear-stained cheek, even as he tried to let her go.

12: Friends

"Oh, Sebastian. So serious," Vincent laughed, wearing a teasing scowl in mimicry of his butler. "You needn't always act so formal, you know. I'd much rather be your friend than your boss."

Even after five years, Sebastian was never entirely certain what to say in response to pronouncements like this. In the end, he settled for a hesitant, "Thank you…?"

Which simply encouraged Vincent's chortles.

13: Enemies

"Sir, I have apprehended the targets," Sebastian announced into the walkie-talkie, giving the intruders he'd recently bound a swift kick for good measure.

14: Lovers

It wasn't that she didn't love Vincent—no, that really wasn't it. She just loved Sebastian so much more, and Rachel had never been very good at hiding her feelings.

15: Family

"Isn't this supposed to be a family trip to the beach…?" Sebastian asked warily, even as he handed his master the picnic basket he'd packed. Once it had been unloaded from the car, he started to disentangle the fold-out chairs from the umbrella, and handed his mistress a beach ball to inflate. "I must wonder, then, why I was invited…"

Vincent grinned, slapping his butler genially on the back as he unbuckled Ciel from his booster seat. "It's because it's a family trip that you were invited," he then explained, sliding his sunglasses off of his nose and instead slipping them onto the startled Sebastian's face. "Now, let's impress the kid, shall we? I order you to help me make the grandest sandcastle on the beach."

Despite himself, the butler couldn't help but smile. "Yes, my lord," he chuckled, playfully readjusting his newly-acquired shades.

16: Strangers

The pair collided with the sound of splintering glass, clattering metal, and whining plastic. Jarred fingers loosened around rubber-padded handles; baskets went flying and potential purchases soared through the air— falling with cracks, shatters, and thuds against the tiled linoleum floor.

"Pardon me," Sebastian apologized dourly, kneeling to collect the groceries he'd once had so neatly organized, but were now a higgledy-piggledy pile of dented cans and bruised produce.

"Oh, n- no! The fault was mine! I didn't see you there…" the girl before him trilled, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose and bowing in abject apology. Sebastian regarded her with a cold stare; by the cut of her outfit, it was clear that she was the maid of some family in the area, and a new one at that. "H- here, let me help—!"

She immediately stepped on a carton of eggs, slipped on the spilled yolks, and crashed into a carefully crafted display of jell-o boxes.

"…I think you've helped quite enough, thank you," Sebastian sighed, and privately prayed that he'd never have to deal with staff like that in any house in which he was employed.

17: Teammates

"May I join you?" the butler asked graciously, holding aloft a cup of tea and a small plate of homemade biscuits.

Looking up from his seat by the window, the elderly gentleman beamed and responded with a welcoming, "ho, ho, ho."

18: Parents

"What were your parents like, Sebastian?" Rachel asked curiously, rolling onto her back and craning her fragile neck. From her unusual, upside-down vantage point, she watched the butler dress as she combed lazy fingers through her wavy gold locks, cozy and comfortable in her mussed nest of sheets.

Sebastian paused as he fixed his cufflinks, contemplative.

"I am not entirely certain," he then confessed, twisting a fraction so as to shoot his mistress an apologetic glance. "They never spent much time with me."

What? "But… that's horrible," the young woman scowled, looking properly put-out. Dejected, her half-lifted hands collapsed against the mattress; the flaxen curtain of curls she'd been toying with tumbled over the edge of the bed, glossy and unrestrained. "Work can always wait, but you can't stop children from growing, you know?"

The butler smiled, chuckling gently. "Well, I'm happy you realize that, my lady," he murmured, bending low to press a butterfly-kiss against the curve of her increasingly-round belly.

19: Children

"…he isn't yours."

With a noticeable start, Sebastian spun towards the nursery door— though one hand remained decidedly twined around the bars of the wooden cradle, as if hesitant to let go. Rachel, in turn, stood in the entryway: perfectly composed, perfectly serene, perfectly stunning. Just like always…

The poised blonde offered the butler an unconvincing grin, and Sebastian could see (beneath the polished veneer of her customary mask) that she wasn't entirely certain how to proceed, now that the truth had been vocalized. Should she act contrite, or perhaps congratulatory, or…?

"I know he isn't," Sebastian replied— just as calm— before returning his attention to the crib. "He has the master's distinctive ash-gray hair, as well as his handsome bone structure. Any fool could see that he is a Phantomhive, through and through."

Said Phantomhive sniffled in his sleep, a pudgy hand curling beside his cheek. And as those five minute digits folded into a fist, an equally small leg jerked. Kicked. Ciel's star-encrusted comforter shifted as he wriggled, exposing his stocking-covered feet; Sebastian tucked the squirming baby back beneath his blanket's warmth without so much as a second's pause or delay.

And Rachel, watching this, clenched her hands above her heart, feeling it ache as her cerulean eyes grew wet. "Seba—"

"He does not need to be mine for me to care about him, does he?" Sebastian interrupted, the query as soft as the gaze he cast his mistress. When she did not respond (apparently silenced by surprise), he replaced his brief and flickering glance with a brief and flickering smile. "I am happy that he is the master's," the butler then added, in a tone of genuine— albeit faintly pained— honesty. "The last thing I need is another reason to hate myself for…"

He trailed off, unable to bring himself to name their sin. And Rachel, in turn, nodded her understanding, though that didn't stop her from sidling beside him and slipping her hand through his own.

"For what it's worth," she then breathed, further twining their fingers together, "I think you'll make a wonderful father, someday."

But even before she spoke, Sebastian was shaking his head— chuckling quietly in mild (but affectionate) exasperation. "Please don't say that," he chastised, alabaster skin glowing an ethereal shade of white as the summer rainclouds suddenly parted, relinquishing their hold on the harvest moon. Its silvery light broke through the lace curtains of the window, collecting as puddles and pools of indigo mercury around their feet. "You know that I have no desire for children… unless they were with you."

Rachel could say nothing in response to this, and in lieu of words allowed her wilting head to fall to rest against his shoulder. It was a pleasure that she could not afford— but nor was it a pleasure that she could deny, not when Sebastian's lips skimmed so tenderly over her temple, her ear, her cheek, her throat…

20: Birth

Her husband (as usual) was off on business when their son was born, and was unable to visit the hospital until the following day. But Rachel didn't mind. Rather, it gave her an excuse to hold Sebastian's hand, and a beautiful fantasy to focus on as she was battered by wave after wave of seemingly endless pain.

21: Death

Vincent was too involved in the service, and Rachel was too stricken by grief, so the task of holding Ciel during Angelina's funeral fell to Sebastian. It was a job that he dutifully performed, and— as always— carried out with an impressive degree of success… But whenever the baby did start to fuss (be it from discomfort or hunger or exhaustion), the butler couldn't help but lament that he was too young to cry over his aunt, who loved him so dearly and was no longer around.

22: Sunrise

"And what are you doing awake, young master?"

The toddler standing in the crib blinked once, acknowledging, but offered no answer. Instead, he lifted his plump little arms and waved them in Sebastian's direction, gurgling and cooing and grinning at the sight of his favorite person.

23: Sunset

At the end of each day, Vincent made a point of finding some time to spend with his son, whether it be a quick game of peek-a-boo or a picture book that Ciel would eagerly slap and spit over.

24: Too Much

"You don't really think you're going to eat all of that, do you?" Rachel teased, and the sound of her bell-sweet titters caught the birthday boy's attention. Ciel looked up from the pastry he'd just patty-caked into oblivion, giggling and smacking his frosting-covered hands together as he further smeared himself with chocolate frosting.

25: Not Enough

"…I think I may require another bottle of shampoo," Sebastian announced flatly, kneeling beside the gilded tub but still just as wet as if he were inside of it. Ciel squealed, unconcerned, as he slapped the bubble-encrusted water and sank one of his toy boats. A family of rubber ducks were also caught in the mini-tsunami's wake, but they were fast to float back… probably attracted to all of the cake crumbs and glitter glue that Sebastian was trying (without much success) to scrub out of his young master's hair.

26: Sixth Sense

He wasn't sure what made him turn around, but Sebastian was wholly thankful that he did so. "Young master!" he gasped, all but diving for the toddler tottering on the edge of the staircase. Like most things, Ciel thought Sebastian's alarm was a game, and babbled gleefully as he was swept up into the older man's arms.

"I do not think you are quite ready to tackle the steps," the butler admonished, aware that the reprimand fell upon deaf ears. Oh well; it's not as if the rebuke held much bite, anyway—it was hard to stay annoyed when the infant nuzzled so earnestly into his chest.

27: Smell

The even creaking of the rocker, the slumbering snivels of the baby, the delicate warmth of his body, the sweet scent of powder and soap that perfumed the star-lit nursery… It would have been enough to lull a chronic insomniac to sleep; the poor butler stood no chance at all.

28: Sound

"What is the matter, young master?" Sebastian asked dotingly, the hushed inquiry drowned out by the babe's whimpered sobs. "Did your mobile stop? Is that why you cannot sleep anymore? Here, allow me…"

29: Touch

"Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can," Rachel chanted, holding up her petite palms and allowing the toddler to slap merrily away at them, laughing all the while. "Roll it, and pat it, and mark it with a C, and put it in the oven for Ciel and me!"

"Kake!" the almost-two-year-old cheered, teeming with giggles as his mother dove in to tickle his rounded tummy. "We kake!"

"Indeed, we do," Sebastian agreed, appearing unexpectedly in the open patio doorway. Ciel released another excited shriek upon seeing the butler, crawling towards him just as fast as he could; Rachel beamed, equally happy but hiding it (a little bit) better, as she looped loose strands of curling hair behind her ears. Sebastian grinned and offered a courteous bow. "My lady, it is time for tea."

30: Taste

"I— I beg your pardon."

Blushing brightly, Sebastian quickly averted his gaze; beside Ciel's crib, Rachel was swiftly turning the same shade of rose-red.

"Sebastian! I, um… didn't expect you to find the burping cloth so fast," the pretty blonde garbled, hastily trying to fix her blouse and cradle her son at the same time. It was a rather fruitless endeavor—Sebastian didn't need his eyes to see that—and was soon offering to hold the recently-fed baby, if only to give his mother a chance to properly cover herself.

"Thank you…" Rachel said sheepishly as the butler took control, deftly patting Ciel's tiny back and encouraging him to burp. "I still haven't gotten used to this breastfeeding bra and… um… I guess I didn't really need to tell you that." Her ruddy china features turned a darker shade pink, endearing in her embarrassment.

Sebastian, in turn, chuckled weakly, trying to look anywhere but at his master's wife. (The speckled ceiling was actually quite fascinating, if you gave it a chance.) "Never mind, my lady," he comforted. "You've no reason to be flust—"

It was then that the butler realizing something both good and bad. On the plus side, the boy leaning against his shoulder had just made a very healthy (and very wet) burping nose. Job well done, and all that. Unfortunately, in his haste to help his mistress, Sebastian had forgotten that he'd left the burping cloth slung over his arm.

Of course.

"…oh dear." Rachel, ever animated, was having a difficult time hiding her growing grin; the butler was having a similar problem, though he was busy attempting to mask disgust and self-directed irritation. Both were successful to a degree, though it took Sebastian a considerable amount of extra effort. Conversely, the young woman— while still fighting against the overwhelming desire to laugh— also felt sincere remorse for the fate of Sebastian's expensive suit coat, and was thus able to redirect her energies to fussing over that. "Oh, no, Sebastian, I'm so sorry…"

"It is not your fault," Sebastian assured, gingerly handing the half-asleep infant back to his mother. The butler also offered the cloth he'd brought, and Rachel quickly cleaned Ciel's face before putting him back to bed. He was unconscious again before his head hit the pillow.

"But I feel right awful about this… I should have said something, but I didn't. And I'm sorry, but your facial expression was just— oh, here, come with me, I'll try to rinse it off for you," Rachel proclaimed, and with an insistent tug began leading the butler down the hall, heaving him into the master bedroom despite Sebastian's mounting protests of "my lady, you really needn't concern yourself" and "I am perfectly capable of washing it on my own…"

"No, I want to help," the blonde said definitively, and she had always been such a stubborn thing; the butler sighed, recognizing that he had no choice in the matter. And so, as always, he found himself surrendering to the lady's whims. He allowed her to spin him around and assess the damage; did not object when he was dragged into the attached bathroom; did not complain when she almost wrenched his arms out of their sockets while trying to disentangle him from his coat; did not protest when she accidentally soaked the front of his white ironed shirt, splashing water everywhere when she threw his jacket (without ceremony) into the overflowing sink.

"…I've just made things worse again, haven't I?" Rachel bemoaned a good ten minutes later, lowering herself to her knees as Sebastian crawled about on the floor, mopping up her mess with a spare towel from the closet.

The butler made a sound that was almost a snort, but was still somehow urbane. "Well, you do have a way of keeping things interesting, my lady," he returned, wringing out the sopping cloth in the bathtub. "But it is alright, I can certainly…"

The sentence died with a falter and a flush, Sebastian's eyes widening as they fell fully upon the young woman beside him. "…mistress, you never finished buttoning your blouse."

"Huh? Oh!" Looking down with a gasp and a jump of horrified realization, Rachel clasped her hands over her exposed chest and laughed awkwardly, even as her gaze was inexplicably drawn to Sebastian's. "Goodness me, I… I was so distracted by your jacket that I… um… I'm sorry, I— oh my, let me fix it…"

But by that point, nerves had long-since taken their toll. Heady blood rushing from humiliation, shock, and other emotions that made her heart race, Rachel was no longer able to keep her fingers steady; they tripped and trembled over the slippery pearl beads, making it impossible to slide the buttons through their proper holes. Even still, she tried, and tried, and tried again, fumbling frenetically until—rather suddenly— her hands were stilled.

Startled, Rachel looked up to find Sebastian's face mere inches from her own, his larger palms easily encircling the entirety of her fists, encasing them in a tentative embrace. What little air had caught in her throat seemed to vanish all together, leaving her lungs (and other parts of her body) on fire…

"…here," the butler murmured, low voice breathless as his auburn eyes smoldered, slicing through the shadows like twin embers. Unruly strands of his ebony forelocks brushed against her cheeks, just as his words tickled the flesh of her temple. "Allow me."

Long, loving fingers trailed timidly upward, touching buttons and sternum and whispering over the curvature of a partially exposed breast… And soon Rachel's hands were once again fisted around buttons: yanking the small plastic disks from the butler's moist shirt as they tumbled wantonly backward, limbs tangling and mouths moaning and lips fervently locked…

31: Sight

"Where is the young master…?"

The six-month-old burbled, staring in bewilderment at the gloved hands currently floating above his head. But when the slim fingers parted, his delighted yelp was enough to make anyone smile.

"There he is!"

32: Shapes

Sebastian watched, faintly amused, as Ciel tried obstinately to jam a square-shaped block through a triangular hole in his tiny toy peg board. When a wandering maid attempted to assist him in the task, he yowled angrily until she left; the butler rolled his eyes with a chortle before returning to his chores.

"Just as mulish as his mother... what a fun teenager he'll make."

33: Circle

"Ring around the rosy…"

"Mistress, I… I know it is not my place, but…"

"Pocket full of posies…"

"Must you play that game with the young master?"

"Ashes, ashes…"

"It is about the plague, you know, and as such is a horrible topic to sing about…"

"We all fall down!"

"I would hate for him to have nightmares."

34: Star (Lyrics by Gregory and the Hawk)

"If you be my star, I'll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night…"

Lulled by the familiar melody, the toddler yawned and wiggled and curled more tightly around the singer's hand, holding it like a teddy bear.

35: Heart

"You love Rachel, don't you?"

"Sir?"

Behind his half-raised newspaper, Vincent chuckled and grinned, flashing his butler a heartening glance. "It's alright, Sebastian," he then reassured, flipping the crinkling pages of the daily rag. "I can hardly blame you. In fact, if I were a better man, I'd let you take her and Ciel far, far away from here…"

His employer sighed, stretched, and tossed his reading away, lifting his empty tea cup in a wordless request for a refill. Sebastian did as he was told without question, though his mind was now full of them.

36: Diamond

"You look lovely," Sebastian complimented reverentially, bowing low before his mistress. In response, the glittering vision that was Rachel Phantomhive beamed, nodded, and stooped down to kiss her son goodbye, leaving for the theater with a wave and her husband.

37: Water

"You know, little one," the butler said—amusingly conversational— as he regarded the infant splashing around in the sink, "I appreciate the help, but I am perfectly capable of washing myself."

38: Earth

"Look! Look, Ciel! We made a… a… " Exuberance fading ever-so-slightly as she tried to figure out what, precisely, she and the two-year-old had made, Rachel squinted and considered the muddy sculpture. "A mound of dirt!" she eventually decided, throwing up her arms in parody of her son. "Isn't that exciting?"

39: Air

"He'll probably have asthma," Angelina announced with a somber sigh, stuffing her stethoscope back into her lab coat pocket. The toddler in Sebastian's arms coughed feebly, sucking in a raspy breath; Rachel wrung her worried hands, close to tears and still on the verge of a panic attack.

40: Breakfast

"Open wide for the airplane, Ciel…!" Rachel cooed, bringing an undulating spoonful of oatmeal to the baby boy's messy mouth. But, as before, the little one refused to 'open wide,' instead staring impassively at his mother and the gummy paste that she was trying to make him eat. "Oh, come now, love," his mum tiredly cajoled, pulling back the spoon in preparation for another go. "Just try a little, pl— hm?"

She glanced up, surprised, when Sebastian's gloved hand fell upon her shoulder.

"If I may take the liberty," the butler said smoothly, folding the apron he'd been wearing over his arm, "the young master prefers trains to planes. With your permission…?"

Without a word, Rachel handed him the spoon, watching inquisitively as Sebastian proceeded to bring the oatmeal back to Ciel's lips, moving the utensil in the same undulating manner that she had. "Come now, young master," he then coaxed. "Open up for the choo-choo train…"

At the sound of the first "choo," Ciel's eyes (and mouth) widened with delight. He swallowed his breakfast with notable pleasure.

"There, you see?" the butler concluded, handing the oatmeal-less spoon back to his stunned mistress. "It's all quite simple."

"…you really are amazing, Sebastian," Rachel praised, accepting the plastic utensil and dipping it back into the bowl, merrily feeding the now-eager toddler. "Sometimes I wonder how you do it…"

"Oh, such a feat is hardly impressive," Sebastian returned easily, amusement in his voice as the jolly infant gurgled. "After all, as a servant of Phantomhive, it is only natural that I should know how to care for my young master."

41: Food

"Young master, what are you—? No, get that out of your mouth! That food is for the dog, not for you!"

42: Drink

"That wasn't an invitation to play in the dog's water, little one!"

43: Winter

Bedecked in a puffy white snowsuit and a pom-pom laden hat, Ciel looked more like a discarded snowball than an infant child as he watched his mother and butler build him a snowman.

44: Spring

"Then you prick a tiny hole in one stem, thread another flower through it…"

Ciel watched, utterly transfixed, as his mother carefully laced one butter-yellow blossom through another, forming a bright, woven chain out of the colorful spring weeds.

"…and there! You have a crown."

Rachel grinned as she dropped the flora circlet atop the two-year-old's head, giggling as he released an enthusiastic squeak. He then immediately sneezed, yanked the crown off, and attempted to eat it.

"Very impressive work, my lady," Sebastian commended, tugging the bitter buds from the baby's mouth and admiring his mistress's (slightly gnawed) handiwork. "Might you be able to teach me how to make such a crown?"

The lovely blonde beamed. "Of course!"

45: Summer

"Please stop your squirming, young master. You shall get sunburned if you don't let me put lotion on your nose…"

46: Fall

"Up high, Ciel! Up high! Wheee…!" Rachel sang, nimbly lobbing the laughing little boy up and down, up and down, amidst the swirling crimson leaves.

47: Passing

Sometimes, it was too painful even to look at each other when they passed in the halls.

Other times, Sebastian would allow the back of his hand to brush, just-so, against his mistress's— more of a teasing breath of air than an actual touch, but telling all the same.

And once in a while, when Rachel could stand it no longer, she would stall the butler with her body: accidentally-on-purpose running into him just so that she could feel his warmth pressed against her.

48: Rain

The young master was a force of nature in and of himself, and nothing—not wind, not hail, not sun, nor showers—could stop him when he got going.

Though on days like this, Sebastian lamented, he rather wished the latter would at least slow the two-year-old down… he'd only just finished cleaning up the mud from last week's adventures in the rain.

49: Snow

"Tilt your head back and say 'ah,' Ciel! Come on, pet, try it! See? Mummy caught a snow flake on her tongue. Can you do it, too?"

50: Lightning

There was lightning on the walls (again), and Rachel was afraid (as always), and Vincent wasn't home (like usual), and Sebastian couldn't bear to see her scared, or sad, or oh, no, he shouldn't, they shouldn't, but ah…

51: Thunder

"There, there, young master, do not be scared… Oh, listen—you are far louder than that silly old thunder. It should be frightened of you, not the other way around!"

52: Storm

It was storming on the day they first met—when Rachel opened the manor door and there he stood, suitcase in hand, respectfully tilted forward as he murmured a modest sort of greeting.

It was storming on the day she first noticed— became fully aware of the way he made her heart leap into her throat, and her pulse echo so loudly in her ears that it obscured even the most deafening claps of thunder.

It was storming on the day he first kissed her— velveteen lips brushing oh-so-tenderly across the cut she'd given herself, the paring knife nipping her finger when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

It was storming on the day they first made love— their shadows intertwining as the pounding rain silenced their gasps, their groans, and their desperate, three-word confessions.

It was storming on the day that he left—though her son undoubtedly shed more tears than any raincloud could ever hope to produce, sobbing ever-harder as the day turn to night and the night turned to day.

It was storming on the day that she died—or, at least, the day that he heard of the Phantomhives' deaths, and the only thing that kept Sebastian from drowning in sorrows of his own was the knowledge that the little boy who'd cried for him was still alive… out there, somewhere, waiting in the rain.

53: Broken

"What's the matter, mum?"

"Hm?" Still notably dazed, Rachel nevertheless managed to tear her gaze away from the foggy bay windows, distracted from the summer storm clouds she'd been watching roll in. Behind her, framed by his old nursery doorway, the six-year-old Ciel offered his mother a quizzical look. "Oh, hullo, dear. I'm sorry, I was just thinking..."

Biting her bottom lip, Rachel twirled her marriage band around her finger once, twice, three times, and then forced a smile for her befuddled son.

54: Fixed

"And… there." With an elegant flourish, Sebastian lifted the freshly patched footie pajamas, giving Ciel the opportunity to scrutinize his handiwork. "How does that look, young master?"

The one-year-old blew a spit bubble, chewing on his bitty finger.

"I am glad they meet with your approval."

55: Light

"You needn't carry him around like that all of the time, you know," Rachel told the butler, watching with poorly suppressed amusement as Sebastian's rag sent a fine spray of dust into the misty air, and Ciel—cooing in the older man's arms—tried to catch the glittering particles as they twirled and spun in the golden light of the study.

56: Dark

Ciel wheezed, Rachel fretted, and the whole house seemed so much darker than it had mere days before.

57: Shade

The dappled light of midmorning filtered through the summer trees, casting leafy shadows of forest-green and dark emerald upon the grass. Heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and lavender, the impish west wind danced a mischievous waltz through the blossoming garden, running invisible fingers through waxy petals and loosened locks of flyaway hair. Beneath the sheltered rustling of the old oak tree, Rachel and her baby son lay in a tranquil slumber, smiling as the butler kept silent vigil over them both.

58: Who

"My lady, do—?"

But Rachel was already shaking her head, trembling hands fisted over her still-flat stomach.

59: What

Sebastian froze. Gawked. Turned mechanically around, eyes automatically dropping to the kitchen floor. Near his feet, a small child wearing a tupperwear bowl on his head was staring readily back at him, admiration in his eyes as he hugged the butler's pant leg.

"…what did you just say?"

The eleven-month-old flashed the startled Sebastian a jubilant grin, one strap of his jean overalls dragging behind him on the floor. And then he squealed again: "Da!"

60: Where

"And where do you think you're going? Oh no, don't think that innocent face will work on me, young master. You know that you are not supposed to be crawling around the servants' quarters."

61: When

He wasn't sure when, but Vincent knew that—someday— business would catch up with him. And if no one else, he wanted to save Sebastian from its repercussions.

62: Why

Sometimes, he wondered why everything he loved belonged to his master. But— more often— Sebastian wondered why he'd never hated his master, despite that truth.

63: If

"With all due respect, sir," Sebastian frowned, shooting his employer an abnormally incredulous look, "I am merely a butler. In the event that anything should happen to you or your wife, it would make far more sense for the child to be given over to the Middlefords, or the lady's younger sister. While I am… flattered that you consider me a suitable candidate, I hardly think I would be qualified to raise a child, should the need—God forbid— ever arise."

Vincent listened to his servant's sensible objections without speaking, amiable eyes sweeping leisurely up and down the ashen countenance of his half-panicked employee. "…are you quite finished?" he asked lightly, once Sebastian's tirade seemed to have worn itself to a close. Sebastian, a bit jadedly, nodded. "Good. Now then, I'll need you to sign here…"

"Sir, did you hear a thing I just said?" the butler dryly intoned, markedly exasperated now. "I really don't think—"

"Sebastian," Vincent interrupted lazily, twirling the fountain pen that he had, 'til that moment, been holding aloft for the other's use, "how long have you known me?"

"Five years, sir." Sebastian's response was immediate.

"Indeed. And in that time, have you ever once seen me rush into a decision?" the young man prompted, arching a single thin eyebrow.

"…"

"Well, Sebastian?" he pressed, leveling his friend a pointed stare.

The butler sighed heavily before admitting, "…no, sir."

"Exactly so," Vincent nodded, dropping his pen—with a metallic clatter— atop the collected pile of documents. "Sebastian, I have, of course, thought of my sister, as well as Rachel's. But Ann, I fear, is too consumed by work and the desire to have a child of her own to have merited serious consideration on my part. As for Frances, well…" He cleared his throat delicately, and for an instant a dark and rather sour expression overtook his pleasant features. "While I love my sister, I am afraid she loves my money and position in the government more than she does my family. I would not want my child to be subjected to that, you understand?"

Sebastian supposed that he did. "Even so, why me?" he demanded, his horror only partially mollified. It was still quite a jump from family to hired help, after all.

Vincent, for his part, looked mildly surprised that his decision merited further explanation. "Because I know you, Sebastian," he then said simply, as if the answer was entirely obvious. "And I trust you. You don't just care about my family because you have to—you care about us because you are a good person. And you will continue to care, even after you leave my employ."

The butler couldn't argue with that. But that didn't mean he was prepared to adopt his master's child, should the need ever arise.

Vincent sighed, lowering himself behind his desk and folding his hands over the contract. "I am not going to order you, Sebastian," he told his servant good-naturedly, tolerant and patient as the butler continued to dither. "It is simply my wish. In the end, of course, the decision is entirely yours… should the choice ever need to be made."

Silence.

"…if that is so, sir," Sebastian finally managed, voice still faint after a minute of soundless thought, "might I ask to wait and make my choice as necessity dictates?"

In reply, Vincent tucked the papers and pen back into his desk. He then granted Sebastian his leave.

64: And

And he could never tell him—no, not ever. Could hardly bear the thought of what the 10-year-old might say if, someday, he were to discover his caretaker's secret… Though (sometimes) Sebastian wished he could use the past to bolster the boy—comfort the jealous child, hug him close and promise, no, I do not, would not, could not love Beast more than you, even if he wanted to, because it was impossible to give a heart to someone when that heart was already bursting with love for another. And my heart will always belong to your mother, Ciel, and there is no one in the world who I could possibly love more than you.

65: He

"It is a healthy baby boy, my lady," Sebastian whispered, handing the tiny, wrinkled bundle of powdery skin to the exhausted Rachel.

In response, the new mother—hair matted with sweat and pallid skin clammy— pushed herself painfully upright, keenly inspecting the newborn despite her evident weariness. He had a pair of matching ears, a little button nose, cobalt blue irises and downy tufts of… slate-gray hair…

Sebastian said nothing when Rachel's eyes filled with tears. But all through the night, he remained attentively by his mistress's side: a consoling hand on her shoulder as she sobbed over her son.

66: She

She was the most beautiful creature in all of the world, so far as he was concerned— summer sunshine and moonlit nights and chiming glass bells, her amorous, soprano endearments gradually fading into alto-sweet purrs… husky, licentious moans… breathless gasps and shameless groans as she tossed her flaxen head, arched her fragile back, and clutched ever-so-feverishly at the tangled sheets and wooden bedposts. From beneath the coil of her thick, lowered lashes, she would watch Sebastian's slow descent with sparkling, lust-hazed eyes… But her smile always spoke of purest love, and he could ask for nothing more than that.

67: Life

"Sebastian! Sebastian, put down that tea and come over here. It's ever so exciting!"

"Sir?"

"Quickly, put your hand on Rachel's belly! The baby is kicking!"

"… sir, that sort of conduct would be highly inappr—"

"Come now! You don't mind, do you Rachel?"

"Um, no… No, not at all…"

"There, see? Come on, Sebastian! Don't make me order you~"

"…if the master insists…"

"Wonderful! Alright, here, let me scoot over. Okay, now you put your hand where mine was. Wait a moment… wait… there! Did you feel it? Sebastian?"

"…"

"Oh, look, Vincent, Sebastian is smiling~!"

"I— I am not!"

"Haha, I knew you had a smile in there, somewhere, my friend!"

"Sir—!"

"Oh, don't tease him, Vincent, you naughty thing."

"Would you look at that— I never thought I'd see you blush, Sebastian! And ah— look! Your antics have amused the baby, too."

"…I should return to my chores."

"Oh, stay, do!"

"Yes, stay Sebastian. The baby clearly likes you—the little thing is kicking up a storm, now!"

"… if the master and mistress insist."

68: Work

"…you are never going to let me finish any of my work, are you?" Sebastian sighed, shooting the little boy a dry (but affectionate) downward glance. Clinging happily— as was his wont— to the butler's crisp pant leg, Ciel responded with an impish giggle.

69: Home

"Why don't you come back and visit?" Tanaka suggested— wheedled—as his weathered face contorted into an expression of pointless yearning and futile hope. "It has been three years… The mistress misses your company so very much, and I know that the master feels the same."

"I was ordered to leave."

The elderly steward winced and sighed, readjusting his arthritic grip on the handset. "I know, but… Well, perhaps the master's hunch was wrong?" he tried, attempting to sound convincing. "Maybe he'd hire you back, if…"

But it was hard to sway a second party when you couldn't even persuade yourself.

"As always, it was nice to hear from you, Mr. Tanaka."

"…goodbye, Sebastian."

He didn't bother calling again.

70: Choices

"…has apparently requested to leave his son in your care, Mr. Michaelis," the woman on the other end of the line decreed, speaking loudly over the chatter and cries of the recently orphaned. "At the insistence of the family, we have placed Ciel in the temporary care of the Middlefords, but the Phantomhives' will states explicitly that the final decision— in regards to permanent guardianship— is to rest with you."

Sebastian pursed his thinning lips, face as white as the knuckles he'd clenched around the telephone.

"…Mr. Michaelis? Are you—?"

"Yes. Yes, I am still here." The butler cleared his throat, messaging his temple with his free hand. "Um… I'm sorry, I just…"

"I understand, sir," the orphanage worker soothed, though she did sound a little hurried. As well she should, Sebastian mused; there were other children and families who needed her time. He wasn't being fair, all things considered—he'd had eight years to think about this, after all. Even if he'd never dreamed that he'd actually have to make a decision…

"Does he…" Sebastian coughed again, switching ears as he drew support from the kitchen wall. "Does Ciel seem happy with the Middlefords?" he inquired cautiously, not entirely sure what sort of answer he was hoping for. On the one hand, he still thought it best that the boy stay with his biological family. But on the other…

On the other…

It was the caretaker's turn to hesitate for a moment. "…between you and me?" she eventually muttered, lowering her voice to a gossipy mumble. Sebastian offered a prompting nod, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "His aunt scared me, to be frank. Polite enough, but her eyes seemed oddly cold… It's well known that Ciel has a small fortune in inheritance money, and I fear… I mean, her husband didn't even seem to want— Well. It's not my place to judge, but it was pretty clear to me that Ciel's time with them would only be temporary, so long as they could help it. His cousin seemed sweet, but I hardly think that enough to make things work, you know? And I don't think Ciel really meshed with them—he's a good judge of character. Tragic story, though— gone through a great deal of stress, that one… What he needs now is somewhere safe and stable to recuperate. I'm half-afraid that his time with the Middlefords will make things worse…"

"…indeed."

Sebastian's cinnamon eyes flicked to the adjacent living room, finding and lingering upon a framed polaroid. It hung on the furthest wall, just beside the television; he was too far away to make out the details clearly, but he no longer needed to look at it in order to see the picture. Himself, Vincent, Rachel, and little Ciel, posing beside a magnificent sandcastle on a sunny summer beach…

The butler sucked in a steadying breath.

"When's the soonest I can pick him up?"

XXX