The hilarity of telling a demon who undoubtedly knew that Cameron was not a demon that he'd once been exorcized wasn't lost on Cameron.

In a way, that was almost the least horrible thing about suddenly having to share that document with someone else, much less a being that probably delighted in suffering. Even though the event was recorded there in all the horrifying detail Cameron could recall—every detail, down to the itchy scratch of the cloth on his face to the cold sting and suffocating stale taste of the water they'd poured over him—somehow in felt less intrusive and personal than knowing that he'd shared his more everyday early life, and everything that had led his parents to take such drastic measures.

He'd refused to engage any further after that. In fact, he'd requested to be left alone for the remainder of the day. Cameron felt very raw, and he wasn't in any sort of mindset to analyze all his data with Sebastian or even to ignore it all in favor of learning some kind of mindfulness practice.

Surprisingly, the butler had obliged, and promised to serve him afternoon tea and later dinner in isolation. He'd explained that Ciel was busy enough anyways preparing for meetings in the coming days, and would probably appreciate the time alone as well.

It was a nice reprieve, and Cameron had spent the rest of the day in a depressive slump.

He was really beginning to feel the absence of his medication. He was sleeping worse than usual and at times his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him in a way that it hasn't for years. Thankfully, there had been no panic attacks yet. But he felt they were probably on the horizon, along with the unpleasant symptoms of withdrawing from SSRIs.

Since lazing around in bed all day was apparently very frowned upon in Victorian England, even for rich blind people with no jobs and nothing to do, he'd spent the following day poking around the manor and enjoying his last days with his trusted cane. He had a feeling that when they picked up the new one, his white cane would disappear. A walking stick was a walking stick, Cameron supposed, but it would still be an adjustment. He wasn't sure how an actual wooden cane with a flat bottom would compare to the lightweight metal one he was already used to using.

Sebastian was always busy. To be honest it was a little crazy to him that Ciel managed to have the guy around without everyone somehow suspecting he wasn't a human. His butler was non-stop, didn't seem to sleep, seemed to know literally everything, and managed superhuman feats like reading and memorizing a document with over a hundred pages in less than five minutes. In the few days since Cameron's arrival he'd witnessed several incidents of extremely suspicious behavior that apparently no one thought was questionable at all, which was crazy because he was pretty sure that even in the 21st century people would start to think something was off. Shouldn't freaking Victorians be worse? Instead, everyone seemed to believe Sebastian was a very talented but ordinary servant.

And Cameron's confusion at this only increased when he met the other servants.

"Mr. Rutherford, sir! I mean, Cameron!" Mey-rin greeted with ridiculous gusto as he came down the grand staircase during his exploration.

"Mey-rin! I was starting to wonder if I'd ever see you around here again. You must keep busy," he answered, giving her a cheerful smile.

"That I do, sir!" she said as he came to a stop a couple of feet away from her. "If I may, you're looking much better, you are."

"I'm feeling much better too," he said with sincerity. "Y'all have taken such good care of me." There was a strong chemical smell in the air, and his nose wrinkled. "What're you up to now, hm?"

"Oh, just polishing the banister, I am," she answered. He heard a liquid sound and the smell suddenly got much stronger. "It's my job as a maid to keep the manor looking nice!"

She sounded so proud of herself that he was almost afraid to follow up. "Clearly you do a marvelous job. It's certainly very tidy—that's been very helpful to me personally." No way in hell is that varnish. "So, ehm, what kind of varnish are you using? It seems like everything around here is top of the line!"

It wasn't exactly smooth, but Mey-rin didn't seem to pick up on it. "Quite right, sir! Only the best. Let's see… it's…" He heard her pick up the container, muttering softly. "It's shoe polish! Waaaah!"

Then, as if that wasn't enough, she dumped the container all over the carpeted stairs. Cameron cringed.

Clearly he wasn't alone, either. Mey-rin was flailing—in fact she batted him with her hands a few times. "Oh no! This is the third time this week! Mr. Sebastian's going to be so angry!"

His eyebrow twitched. This week? How do you manage this three times in a single week? "Calm down, Mey-rin, please! Really. Let's just clean it up before he sees it. I'll help you," he offered.

"I can't possibly ask that of a guest," she fretted.

"You aren't, I offered," he pressed, drowning out her protests. "Please, you'll be doing me a favor—I'm bored out of my mind."

It took a lot more than that to convince her, but he finally managed. When they returned with cleaning supplies, which Mey-rin triple checked, he asked how in the work she could possibly be so careless that she mistook shoe polish for wood varnish.

Except, you know… more politely.

"I'm terribly far-sighted, I am," she said, still sounding terribly stressed as they rubbed away the shoe polish that had already been applied. "I do have my glasses, but the lenses are old, and one is cracked."

"Can't you get them replaced?" he asked in confusion.

"They were a gift from the young master, you see, sir," Mey-rin explained. "I couldn't possibly."

He had to admit that it was kind of difficult not to judge. If Ciel had gotten her the glasses, he had to believe he'd probably replace them too. The sentimentality didn't really make sense. And if he allowed himself a little bitterness, he'd say that if his eyes actually worked, he'd damn well take care of them.

But Mey-rin really hadn't done anything to deserve that, and he was glad for something to do, so instead he offered advice. "You know, I think I understand," he commented. "I actually did most of my tidying at home and I'm blind… it's definitely easy to mess up if you can't see properly. But there are some things I did to make sure I was using the right chemicals. I made textured labels, you know, so I could feel it, and then I make sure to put them in the exact same place every time so I know exactly what I'm grabbing when I pick something up from its spot…"

And then when he met the chef:

"Wow," he remarked nervously. "I've, uh, never seen someone cook with a flamethrower before."

"It cooks the meat way faster!" Bard bragged.

He's gonna burn this whole place down, Cameron thought, resisting the urge to run.

"Uh, I'm a terrible cook," he improvised. "Do you think you could walk me through it the normal way? I'm incapable of using a flamethrower, obviously… and I really think I could benefit from your tutelage, Chef!"

And then the gardener:

"You nearly killed the young master's uncle, Finnian!" Mey-rin screeched, flailing. She seemed to do that a lot.

Cameron placed a hand over his heart, feeling his heart race under his fingertips as he caught his breath. He'd convinced Mey-rin to walk him through the gardens since he wasn't familiar with them at all and was pretty desperate to be outside. It had been going great: it was crisp for sure but the air wasn't too cold, the sun was shining, and Mey-rin was asking a never-ending series of questions about how he got along without being able to see. The conversation was actually pretty interesting and he was really getting into it when he felt something massive fly in front of him and heard a monstrous thud.

"There was a bee in front of him!" Finnian cried, his boyish voice pitched high. "I didn't want him to get stung so I threw the bag of gravel at it!"

"You almost hit us!" Mey-rin shouted. "And you destroyed the shrubs!"

"Are you alright, Mister?" the gardner asked, grabbing his arms in a surprisingly strong grip and, for some reason, shaking him.

"I didn't hear any bee," Cameron replied weakly.

By the time Mey-rin escorted him back into the manor, he'd decided he was well and ready to be bored again.

"There you are, Mey-rin," Sebastian intoned from the stairs. "I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised by the banisters. If you've completed the rest of your chores, you may enjoy the rest of the day off while Mr. Rutherford accompanies the young master and I on an errand. There is one condition: Ms. Hopkins will arrive with Mr. Rutherford's completed wardrobe in about an hour. Please see to it that everything is put away safely and intact in his room."

Cameron was starting to think that was rather a lot to ask.

"Yes, sir, Sebastian," Mey-rin said before practically sprinting away.

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Rutherford?" Sebastian asked, sounding puzzled.

"Miraculously, yes," Cameron sighed.

"If I may be so bold, you look rather a mess," Sebastian told him politely. "We'll be departing shortly; please allow me to assist you."

"Sounds great," he answered dryly. "It'll be refreshing to witness some competence."

"I see," Sebastian remarked as they made their way upstairs. "You've finally met the household staff."

"Yeah," he answered tiredly. "Tanaka is okay. Is he narcoleptic or something, though?"

"He does tire easily," Sebastian agreed.

Getting himself in order sadly involved replacing the shirt he'd borrowed from the gardener with the formal one. The front of it was strangely stiff and itchy and the back was lined with too many buttons to count. Sebastian had it on him in a flash, but it irked Cameron beyond belief that he couldn't manage to get it on himself without assistance.

"I can manage the bowtie," he said, swallowing dryly at the feeling of the demon's gloved fingers at his throat.

"Ah, but it's already on," Sebastian said, voice dark and velvety as he maneuvered Cameron into his waistcoat (which at least covered most of the stupid shirt). Then he began to button that too, placing his whole palm acoss Cameron's stomach until he was seated on his bed.

"I can do the vest, too," Cameron said, perturbed. "I'm blind, not incapable, you know."

Sebastian ignored him, moving on instead to lace up his borrowed shoes, which they'd stuffed with loose fabric so they were easier to walk in. "I do apologize that there's no time for refreshment before we leave," he said instead, placing a hand behind Cameron's calf to pull his other foot forward. Cam hadn't been dressed like this since he was a child—it felt so degrading that his skin itched. He was relieved when both his shoes were laced and Sebastian hummed his satisfaction at his appearance.

"It's alright," he answered. "I had lunch with Bard."

"Really?" Sebastian answered. "And he prepared something edible for you?"

Cameron quirked a brow. "I mean… he's the chef? It was definitely food. I guess it wasn't as good as everything else has been, but I thought he might have been distracted because I was in the kitchen." He'd spent most of an hour pretending he'd never chopped vegetables or sliced bread before, and trying at all costs to distract Bard from his preferred cooking implements, which apparently included dynamite.

"Oh, dear," Sebastian sighed. "I didn't hear any of the usual racket, but I suppose I'll have to check the kitchen when we return."

What does that even mean? "He kept trying to, uh, flambé everything," Cameron commented.

"Even with a guest present?" Sebastian sounded annoyed, and Cameron cringed—he hadn't exactly meant to land the guy in trouble. "Perhaps I should have warned you that the kitchen is best avoided when Baldroy is present. I'm not sure how you avoided witnessing it today but our chef favors creative methods unsuitable for company."

"Noted," Cameron said, recalling with clarity when the chef suggested using some of the gardening equipment to hasten the processing of the vegetables.

"One more thing," Sebastian said suddenly as Cameron stood and walked towards the door, thinking they were finished. Suddenly the demon swept behind him, his long fingers carding through hair hair, drawing it back from his hairline until it was half up. Cameron could feel the scratch of nails on his scalp even through the gloves, shockingly pleasant, and smothered a sound at the surprising touch—he couldn't, however, withhold the slight shiver that ran down his spine.

Perhaps Sebastian didn't notice—he said nothing. Instead, he swept some kind of ribbon from his coat and tied it with a flourish, securing the hair from Cameron's face before replacing a pair of his sunglasses—the octagonal ones, Cameron realized.

"I thought that my appearance was already too eccentric with Nina's modifications," he commented, surprised, as Sebastian released him and indicated they should take their leave.

"Think of it as a precaution, Mr. Rutherford," Sebastian answered, handing him his cane as they left the room. "As we haven't yet made any progress with your condition, those will help hide any obvious abnormalities if you begin to experience another vision."

Cameron flushed a little; that was his fault, wasn't it? He hadn't exactly made himself available to discuss any of his data or practice… meditating since that first time. Maybe the glasses were a good idea, then. And he liked wearing them.

He'd have to get to that sooner or later, wouldn't he? On the off chance that there was some way to control the visions, it would probably be well worth the effort anyways. Wouldn't life be better if he wasn't always worried about having some kind of cryptic daydream about things to come when he was around other people, especially in an era where any kind of mental abnormality was already frowned upon? And it was the only reason he had shelter here… he was kind of forced to make it work.

There was something else, though. Under all the guilt, he had this nagging feeling that he was missing something obvious, almost like he wasn't being given a complete answer. Still, he didn't really feel as though he had any choice but to ignore it; was he really in any position to demand answers? And more importantly, was it wise to demand anything from Sebastian, who he knew little about except that he wasn't human? What happened to mortal men who made demands of demons?

As Cameron followed Sebastian out, satisfied that the demon's eyes were no longer on him, he bit his lips. "I keep telling you, it's Cameron."

In front of him, the butler only chuckled.


"What had that guy so rattled, anyways?" Cameron asked hours later as the horses slowed their trot and the carriage began to come to a halt. "He seemed like he was in a huge hurry to get us out of his shop. Do I really look so strange? I thought Sebastian was exaggerating."

He'd never imagined that an artisan would be so unhappy for a rich kid with no parents to be in his shop, but the woodworker charged with producing Cameron's new cane had been stuttering the whole time they were inside. Granted, it was a markedly short time. When Cameron walked in he'd been polite enough, but as soon as Ciel and Sebastian followed him in, he'd handed them the walking stick and ushered them out almost immediately.

"I daresay he remembers our last visit," Ciel commented idly.

"What happened?" Cameron repeated with raised brows. How the fuck do you as a lord start beef with a woodworker?

"I merely commended him on the quality of his craftsmanship," Sebastian replied with frank amusement.

"Right," Cameron replied. "Well… it is nice enough. I thought it would be more of a learning curve."

"The blind have been using canes to aid their mobility for hundreds of years," Sebastian said, though Cameron suspected that tidbit was more for Ciel's benefit. "It is likely this isn't the first time he's produced one with that purpose in mind."

"It is a fine cane," Ciel agreed. "It certainly looks less cheap than the old one."

Cameron snorted. "I'm sure it is less cheap than the old one," he answered, thinking of the heavy clink of the coin bag Sebastian had dropped on the counter. "In fact I'm certain nearly everything is; but you have better quality goods. Everything is mass-produced in… well, well before 2022 actually. Things are pretty cheap but they fall apart easily."

"I did wonder at the quality of your clothing when you arrived," Sebastian commented. "If I might be so bold, it was rather drab."

Cameron snorted. "I was dressed for a walk in the woods," he said. "You people dress like you might pick up and go to a wedding at any time. Or a funeral."

"Your interactions have been limited to the upper classes," Ciel pointed out. "Perhaps the common folk would dress more like what you're used to."

He shrugged. "I'm sure that's true. I can't imagine anyone working in a factory or a warehouse in all this."

Ciel snorted. "Of course not."

"It seems we've arrived, young master, Mr. Rutherford," Sebastian said.

"Pay the coachman," Ciel directed on his way out.

Cameron rolled his eyes. He was beginning to feel fond of the kid in spite of himself. Bossy brat, he thought as he followed the sound of Ciel's short footsteps crunching against the leaves.

"It appears that Finnian failed to clear the walkway," Sebastian expressed in annoyance.

"Are you surprised?" Ciel complained. "Those three…"

They walked into the manor, where it was notably warmer, even in the large, open space of the entryway.

"And what in the world happened to the hedge?" the boy continued.

Cameron cringed at the fresh memory of his close call with death by bag of gravel. "It is nice to be back, though. The air's so much fresher out here." "I never want to visit that frightful city again," agreed Ciel.

"You say the same thing each time we visit the townhouse," Sebastian remarked, "or indeed the city, my lord."

"I agree with him. The city stinks." The second the sentence left his mouth, his eyebrows rose in recognition.

He tensed up before he ever felt Sebastian's presence behind him and then loosed up, lifting his arms loosely from his sides as the butler slid his coat from his shoulders. Was it because he'd already experienced this, or did Sebastian truly linger longer than necessary? "Believe it or not, this is a great improvement from just a few decades ago. The English have improved their waste management practices immensely since the Great Stink of London in 1858."

"The Great Stink," Cameron echoed with a different inflection than he remembered. "Really?"

"Indeed, the smell of the Thames that year was enough to drive people from the city in droves."

He paused, a moment too long, then cleared his throat. "I shudder to imagine it any worse than it already is. We're spoiled out here in the country."

Ciel's voice sounded out from the stairs, just as he remembered. "Speaking of which, I want something sweet."

"Chocolate?" Cameron asked before he could stop himself.

"Perhaps I should strive to be less predictable," Ciel said wryly.

Ciel's soul is forfeit. The memory washed over him in a wave, though he didn't know what it meant.

"It's nearly time for dinner," Sebastian told them, "but I shall be sure to include chocolate in the dessert preparations."

"See to it that you do."

Does Bard ever cook at all? Cameron wondered absently as the sounds of Ciel and his cane faded away.

"Mr. Rutherford, are you quite alright? You look rather absent of mind," Sebastian commented.

Cameron's eyes snapped in the direction of his voice, though he could see nothing. This was no vision. In fact, he couldn't even recall what the picture had been before him. Tall, dark, and handsome, he remembered saying snarkily, though he wished now that he'd been more specific, more serious. What was he looking at right now? Were his eyes at the right level, looking the demon in the face—whatever face he wore?

A demon. He knew logically that he should be more afraid, more cautious. But somehow it didn't register.

"I'm fine," he answered. "I was lost in my thoughts for a moment."

"I see," Sebastian said lowly, and before he could reply, his glasses were gently plucked away from his face. "No need for these here." Cameron nodded. How many times had he let this demon casually touch him? It bothered him when Sebastian helped him dress because it bothered him when anyone helped him dress, but it should have bothered him that something that was supposed to be so evil had him so close. And in the bath—he'd been afraid of being discovered, as if Sebastian was any other man, when he really should have been afraid that a demon was standing over him, had its hands on him, while he laid in a most vulnerable position. He should have been more than scared… repelled, even.

"Right," Cameron agreed, absent again.

"What happens next, Mr. Rutherford?"

Cameron startled, the way he probably should have when he was touched. "I'm sorry?"

"This is the vision that you shared the first evening you were present here," Sebastian recalled. "It seems that the young master behaved exactly as anticipated, but I'm curious. You didn't share your vision in so much detail. What do you expect from me?"

Cameron thought Sebastian must be smiling. That was a broad question, and he doubted it was unintentional. Probably nothing was, with this butler. "Tonight?" he replied, ignoring the underlying question. He couldn't even imagine why Sebastian was here, in service to a child; much less what he should expect from the demon in the long term. He was just a tool for now, wasn't he? Useful for his glimpses in the future. "You were going to offer to draw me a bath, weren't you? Right now, before you start supervising the dinner preparations." He paused. "Or before you start dinner, I suppose. I'm starting to think Bard doesn't actually do much of the cooking."

Sebastian sounded mildly amused with him. "You're quite right. Lord Phantomhive typically bathes after dinner, so now would be the opportune moment. Perhaps you'd like to clean off the smell of the city, since you both are so unimpressed with it."

Cameron cracked a smile at that. Whatever half-assed misgivings he had about Sebastian—because for some reason he didn't care that much—a bath did sound nice. "If you really are making dinner, won't you have your hands full?" The conversation seemed to be easing back into the pattern of his vision, as if it was meant to be. He wondered how much he could really change them. If he couldn't, was there really a point?

Sebastian's response was immediate and precisely as expected. "It's kind of you as always to worry, sir. I assure you that I can manage the workload. After all, I am—"

"—one hell of a butler, lest I forget," tumbled from Cameron's lips, and then he stopped.

"Mr. Rutherford?" Sebastian said again in response to his sudden silence. "Are you sure you're well? Perhaps you should rest instead."

"I'll have the bath," Cameron said decidedly. "I'm well enough. I promise. It's just… I usually chalk this up to deja vu and it's a little different this time. It's thrown me off a bit."

"That's understandable," Sebastian said. "If you would like to leave your cane and shoes in your room, I'll draw the bath and come to assist you." Sebastian swiftly cut Cameron off before he could even protest. "If you recall, I instructed Mey-rin to unpack and organize your new wardrobe. I don't doubt your capabilities, but I believe you will need help making a selection for dinner."

Cameron's cheeks reddened. "I suppose you're right."

"Additionally, I would like to see how your wound is healing before I see to dinner," Sebastian continued.

Cameron frowned. "Is that still necessary?"

"It is, sir," Sebastian confirmed, "only for a while longer."

"Hm," he answered noncommittally. "How many times do I have to beg you not to 'sir' me? All the formalities of this age are driving me up the wall."

"Since you asked… I don't believe that you have resorted to begging, yet." There it was… the conversation had wound its way back to normal again.

Cameron's heart thudded with an intensity he couldn't explain. "Begging? Is that what you want from me, Mr. Michaelis?" The playfulness came naturally and he nearly bit his tongue. He wasn't with his friends here. And in his scramble to recover, he seemed to make things worse. The ribbon that held up his hair came loose with a single, long pull; his hair sprung free, falling into his face. "Anyways, I'm starting to think you're just making excuses to play with my hair. If we're that close, surely you can manage it. We're alone here, after all. No one would know."

His hand fell on his hip as he awaited a response, suddenly realizing that things had absolutely not gone according to plan and that it was 1889, not the proper time to pretend to flirt with a friend and certainly not someone who wasn't his friend at all. Of all the times he'd put his foot in his mouth, this had to be one of the biggest. He wasn't even sure how to begin a recovery from that.

Cameron decided he better hurry up and backpedal before he was totally beyond recovery, but he didn't even have a chance to open his mouth.

There was a pull on the other end of the ribbon and he stumbled forward at the unexpected force. It wasn't too harsh, he'd have caught himself; except he fell into a long, lean body, smelling woodsy and spicy, and of lavender. Sebastian. When had he gotten so close?!

One of the butler's hands was splayed out on his lower back, holding him pressed against the butler's body, and the other gripped the back of his neck, gente but inescapable. Cameron was suddenly stricken by the fact that Sebastian's hands were huge, but with long, slender fingers, and strong. He gasped and slid his hands along Sebastian's waistcoat to push him away, but the demon was immovable.

"Mr. Rutherford," Sebastian chided, voice so low Cameron was sure that even if the room wasn't empty, only he would hear it. He could feel the hum of the demon's voice under his palm, and wondered if Sebastian could feel his pulse racing away at a rabbit's pace as his breath stilled. "You shouldn't tempt me so."

Then he was released. Cameron nearly fell from the suddenness of it, but somehow stayed upright, releasing a gasp. His mind was utterly blank; he was utterly incapable of any response.

"Prepare for your bath," the butler said, his self-satisfied voice still so deep Cameron could feel it in his chest. "I'll return for you shortly."

The door clicked shut, and Cameron stood, utterly stunned, in the heated silence the demon left behind.


finally! the fun stuff!

just kidding, kinda. obviously if i wasn't having fun i wouldn't have cranked out so many thousands of words in just a couple of weeks lolllll. but like, come on. half the reason a lot of us read fanfiction is for self-indulgent romance

sooo, i hope you enjoyed. leave feedback if you want! see you soon :) 10.30.2023