Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: The result of trying to think up a birthday story for my dear Sarah. I still owe you a CielxAlois something-or-other, especially since this is more of a writing exercise than an actual fic. XD;

Warnings: Season II-related stuff. (Funny how much that warning entails, when you think about it.) SebaCiel.

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Cake

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"When is your birthday?"

He has never received a gift before.

"The sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year."

He isn't entirely sure what to do with it, really.

"You realize that I find your attempts at humor both trying and dull."

Bitter winds seep into their Nest, whistling through cracks and crannies and toying with the froth of a decorative velvet ribbon.

"Then I apologize, young master."

The scarlet trimming contrasts nicely with the emerald green of the present, heavy and hard and glimmering crystal.

"I don't want an apology. I want an answer."

For a long moment, neither speaks.

"Demons do not have birthdays like humans do, my lord. We have Been since the Beginning, and shall Be until the End. That said, however, I believe you know when the current 'me' was born..."

For a longer moment, neither moves.

"…"

One is too surprised; the other, too weary.

"You still have a month to find me a gift, if that is the cause of your current concern."

A rustling of cloth, of scattering feathers, of dispersing dust.

"Hmph. I already know what you want. You'll be disappointed again this year, it seems."

With a lethargic lilt, the fledgling lifts the blade from his butler's gloved hands.

"Ah. But there is more to a celebration than a cake."

A token gesture of resistance.

"…Sebastian."

The candles flicker.

"My lord?"

So do sapphire eyes.

"When the time comes to… blow out the candles… will you make a wish?"

Cherry syrup dribbles down a buttercream chin, soft and white and sweet.

"Will you, young master?"

The antique knife slips further inside, cutting through crust and dough— piercing jelly innards that ooze a speckled berry glaze.

"Why would I? My wish will have already been granted."

Two sets of bony knees hit the wooden floor, the moldering slats decorated with cloudy pools of sugar saliva and misshapen chunks of candied entrails.

"Indeed."

A smile.

"Well, then?"

Behind the glitter of clamped, rosy teeth, a soul waits, shimmering.

"Will you?"

The demon's mouth falls upon his master's.

"…I will."

But eating is an afterthought.

XXX