Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: This quickly-written/poorly edited piece of derp is the result of a conversation with Maddie. So it's her fault. Again.

Warnings: Part of the "Bicentennial" series, post "666"/"Jewelry." Fanboy Sebastian. OCs and George Clooney. Yeah, that's right.

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Starstruck

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4:34 PM

"—the movie gonna have horsies in it? 'Cause I saw a carriage and I like horsies and I think we should get one and name it Loki and—"

"—sure he's not Grand-papa, Daddy? Or related t' us? 'Cause he real'y looks—"

"Hey, welcome back," an absentminded Ciel called from the study, glancing up from his paperwork when the front door slammed. He'd been able to hear his family's approach from half-way across the building, so their appearance, despite being earlier than anticipated, wasn't much of a surprise; he and Sebastian had yet to teach their four-year-olds the epoch-honored tradition of slinking like shadows, of sneaking about as silent silhouettes. (It seemed a waste of effort to attempt now, seeing as children their age were incapable of shutting up.) "How was the location shoot?"

"It was fun! We watched behind orange cones and bars and stuff. There were lots of people and trucks and cranes and video-cameras. And yelling. I liked when they yelled 'cut!' And 'new take!' I like new things. Like movie sets. I hadn't been to a movie set before," the ramble-happy Asmus reminded, as if her parents were unaware of this. Nevertheless, Ciel listened indulgently, twisting his spindly chair away from his desk so that his daughter could scamper over and clamor onto his lap, thus making their conversation more intimate. Her bitty feet— clad in glossy Mary-Janes and frilly socks—floundered back and forth as she scrambled, her pink dress wrinkling and riding up her little legs. Once she'd settled atop Mama's knee, she smoothed her skirts (like a lady), fluffed her hair (like a lady), and frowned disapprovingly— like Sebastian. It was still a bit disconcerting to see his butler's old glower grace a young girl's round face. "Daddy said he was sad that you didn't want to come, though."

At this, the once-earl snorted, slipping Sebastian's (stolen) spectacles from his nose and toying with the plastic temples between his fingers. "Did he? I'm so sure," Ciel drawled, gaze flicking over to the devil in question. Sebastian returned the glance with a smile, busily helping Toth wrestle off his green windbreaker. Once the boy was free, the younger of the twins shuffled forward to join his sister: draping himself across Ciel's other knee and chewing on his forefinger. He looked expectantly up at his mother, mutely asking for affection; Ciel offered him as much in the form of a tender pat, though his attentions were still on his husband. "You do seem the sort to get off on rubbing infidelity in someone's face."

"You wound me," Sebastian retorted with an affronted gasp, a hand leaping to his chest as he tried to keep a tickled grin from overtaking his lips. In Ciel's lap, the twins exchanged bemused glances. Asmus made a show of shrugging her shoulders, thus prompting her brother to seek out a new source of knowledge.

"Mama, what's 'in-fa-dell-itty' mean?" Toth inquired, giving the earl's sleeve a demanding tug. Ciel's teasing smirk softened a fraction as he again regarded his son, fighting the urge to tell him that infidelity meant a whole world of pain for his father.

"Use context clues," he encouraged instead, watching from the corner of his eye as his old butler folded three autumn jackets over wire hangers and hung them in the closet. "What do you think it means?"

The apartment quieted for a moment as Toth considered, thoughts deep and intense enough to scrunch his button nose. As Sebastian meandered over to join his flock—pulling a stool from the island and turning it to face the rest of his family— the young boy formulated his hypothesis. "Well… Daddy seemed t' liked rubbin' his cheek 'gainst George Cwoony's face. Is that what infidelity means?"

A pause.

"…close," Ciel then returned with a thin smile, irises flashing a bloody vermillion as he glanced once more at Sebastian. Sebastian, who had nearly topped from his seat in surprise—palms out and waving wildly as if trying to bat away his child's unintended accusations.

"M-my lord, it is not at all what it sounds like!" the once-butler reassured, a touch of anxious laughter coloring his frantic words. He must be nervous, to have regressed so quickly to archaic honorifics. Still, though the elder demon's cheeks had turned a heady pink, the hue was more reminiscent of flustered exasperation than it was of rosy embarrassment. It was a detail that Ciel took some comfort in. "We barely even saw George Clooney, it was so packed. But he did come and mingle with the fans for a few moments, and we were lucky enough to be near the head of the throng when he did… I wanted to tell him how much I enjoy his work, but the noise was incredible, so I had to lean right up next to him to be heard. Then we shook hands and that was that. Right, loves?" He gestured encouragingly at his fledglings, as if to seek out their validation.

"George Cwoony touched my head," Toth announced cheerfully— in lieu of a more relevant or customary confirmatory phrase—, pointing to his crown as if to indicate where the star had set his hallowed hand.

"So we shall never wash your hair again," Sebastian sweetly decreed, chuckling when Ciel rolled his eyes. "I am kidding," he then tacked on, noticing how his child's eyes had lit up in delight at the prospect. The sunny beam immediately grew cloudy; Toth groused against his mother's thigh, bitter at his father for having gotten his hopes up. "In any case, it was an exciting and memorable outing. That having been said, I'm off to prepare supper. Then perhaps we can all watch Fantastic Mr. Fox to commemorate the day."

"Sounds like a plan," Ciel agreed, tone light and expression innocent as his husband stood and bowed. Once the former servant had wandered off to the kitchen, however, his expression fell flat; he leveled his children a somber stare, brow arching, as he blandly demanded: "…so what really happened?"

The twins didn't miss a beat.

"Daddy shrieked like a little girl who'd eaten a helium bal'oon and said a bunch of crazy stuff too fast for anyone t' hear—I think somthin' 'bout havin' a wedding picture with George Cwoony at a wax museum? Then he fainted," a solemn Asmus pronounced, all while her brother nodded, soberly confirming her story. "Right when George Cwoony was walkin' by. So Toth started cryin' to get his attention and I asked if I could use his cell phone t' call 911. And then George Cwoony helped us prop Daddy up against a fire hydrant after a doggy had peed on it and he called 911 for us, and we told him that he looks a lot like our Grand-papa and you say Daddy has a com-plex 'cause of it. I dunno if he liked that much, but he still gave us the French fries from his lunch while we waited for th' ambulance. Then he went back to work and Daddy woke up and we ran away before the ambulance could show up 'cause Daddy didn't wanna pay for it, and he told us he'd buy us ice cream if we promised never t' tell you any of that happened."

"…" Ciel lifted an eyebrow, momentarily startled by this deluge of potential blackmail— er, by this flood of information. A few seconds later, however, and the implications of his twins' tale began to settle in his mind. Biting his bottom lip in a fruitless attempt to keep from grinning, the nobleman coughed delicately and murmured: "…and yet, here you are. Telling me everything. You two do know that devils are not allowed to lie, yes?"

"Yeah, well. He bought us frozen yogurt," Toth helpfully explained. "Not ice cream."

"Ah." That made it okay, then. Indeed, they were Sebastian's children— deviant little creatures already adapt at sniffing out loopholes. The once-earl made a mental note of this, lest he later fall into such a trap, himself. But for now… Well. Winking at his precious babies, Ciel cleared his throat, trying to rid his voice of snickers before he next spoke.

"Hey, Sebastian," the demonling then called, cupping a hand to the side of his face so as to be properly heard in the kitchen. He waited until he was answered by a distracted "hm?" prompting him to continue. In his lap, the children giggled and sniggered, eyes bright with delight as their mother's smirk contorted, turning wolfish. "When you say that the noise was incredible, were you referring to the crowd… Or to the noises that came out of your mouth?"

A plate shattered; the sound of it echoed with the same crystalline clarity as the family's screeches of laughter. "What th—? You little imps— you promised!" Sebastian whined over the others' animated amusement, sticking his head around the corner to flash them all a dour pout. When his scowl did nothing but exacerbate their shrieks, he narrowed his eyes, growled, and stormed off shouting: "Oh— that's it! I'm making the lot of you sprouts and raw carrots and spam for supper!"

"S'okay," Asmus calmly rejoined, her wicked sneer straining for her ears. "We're still full from fries and yogurt."

"What? Rgh! Well, then— more for Ciel!"

"Still totally worth it," Ciel cackled, unrepentant, as he open his cell phone to text Uriel. Certainly the angel would find this little turn of events equally entertaining, considering his past with Sebastian. Hell, he'd likely want to swing by and poke fun at his old boyfriend personally. And maybe—if he picked up some take-out on his way over—Ciel would promise not to lock him in the bathroom, this time.

Or maybe he'd take a leaf out of his kids' book and do it anyway.

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