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“Who was your previous contractor?”
“Is my lord curious of a demon's affairs? Though I do suppose children are curious by design.”
Instead of answering with the usual sharp quip, Ciel's faces scrunches uncomfortably. After a moment of silent tension, the young man sneezes into his sleeve, and instead manages little more than an indignant sniff. The demon cannot suppress a patronizing smile while the young lord withers down into his pillows and claws miserably at the oversized duvet.
Ah, his latest gift from Lady Elizabeth. The common cold.
Ciel had gotten much more comfortable with his fiancée over the last few months. Since the incident aboard that corpse infested ship, the relationship between the two had been taking a slow, steady curve in an … alternate direction.
Sebastian had noticed it in the posture of his young master. The demon could no longer sense the lingering stress in the young lord's mind. Nerves no longer frayed under the surface of his skin when Lady Elizabeth moved to hold him. Instead of jumping into his rigid form with a happy squeal, she had begun to gather Ciel into her arms in a much more relaxed embrace – almost like a sister might hold a younger brother.
Whatever it was, it resonated with the young lord. Their relationship had finally formed into something less superfluous. A lovesick facade dropped, replaced with something sincere that they could both nurture – something to call their own.
And then Lady Elizabeth caught a cold and it all went downhill since then.
A clear chicken broth ripples softly as Sebastian straightens the serving trolley at the boy's bedside. “A suggestion from Tanaka, my lord. It seems to have done the job in the past, and Madam Sullivan also vouched for its medical properties.”
“Do not dodge the question, Sebastian.”
The demon smiles once more at his contractor's tired scowl. “I am merely taking my lord's well-being into account, first and foremost. Our contract dictates that I only protect you from external injuries, although I can still -”
“- Butler aesthetic,” Ciel finishes for him with a throaty cough. “I get it. Who was your previous contractor?”
He's always pushy when he's ill, Sebastian has come to realize. Usually because he is too weak to engage in work, too weary to read or play chess, and too tired to do anything except exist in bed and occasionally sneeze. And for someone usually so proactive, being pushy is all he has left.
Before the conversation can carry him away from the task at hand, Sebastian lifts the steaming kettle and prepares a drink to help with the earl's sore throat. “Might I be so bold as to probe your thoughts, young master? Why the sudden interest?”
Ciel furrows his brow and watches as his demon adds hot water to a mug of blackcurrant cordial. “I have to think about something while I waste time waiting for my health to catch up with me, no?”
He takes the saucer and teacup that Sebastian hands to him. “I suppose feeling like hell spurred the sudden interest in … whatever else you do.”
Sebastian smiles again; a devil's smile that reaches his eyes and almost betrays the butler's mask that he wears. Ciel grumbles at the gesture, taking a careful sip of the steaming, syrupy drink. The burn soothes his throat, and he swallows thickly before adding, “Or don't bother answering. It's not important either way.”
“Of course, my lord,” the demon answers, straightening up. Sebastian is acutely aware that his young master is searching for the answer to a question he cannot quite bring himself to ask – and as always, Sebastian absolves to make this as tedious as possible for the boy. At least until he can use his words. “Contracts have little bearing once they run their course. Until ours does the same, I am devoted entirely to your needs. You needn't worry about the past interfering, should that be what bothers you.”
“I'm not -” there's a clatter as Ciel quickly returns the cup to the trolley, gathering tissues up to his face so he may sneeze without spilling anything, - “I'mb not bothered.”
“Perhaps simply congested, then.”
Ciel sniffs forcefully, as if he could will the cold right out of his veins. “Shud ub.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
His small master's hand twitches, almost as if he were debating throwing the hot drink over his butler in frustration. It wouldn't be the first time, although the boy had become wiser about picking his battles. Content with the knowledge he isn't about to be subjected to a face-full of boiling water, Sebastian folds his hands neatly behind his back. “Perhaps we should start from the beginning, young master. To what do I owe the sudden interest in my past endeavours?”
Instead of answering, Ciel wearily reaches for his teacup once more to soothe his throat. Even through sore, reddened eyes, their focus shows the boy is trying to restructure his interrogation and avoid simply asking his question. Sebastian fears this may drag on for quite a while, unless his young master adopts a more candid approach. And with the rest of their staff entertaining Elizabeth and Sullivan in the earl's stead, Sebastian has many chores to attend to.
“Do you remember your last contractor?”
There we go, Sebastian thinks to himself. “I do.”
Ciel is silent for a long moment while he plans his next move. “And you've clearly no interest in talking about it.”
“There's nothing particularly stopping me from talking about it, per say.” Sebastian taps a long, gloved finger against his chin in thought. It's not as if the earl has ever spared a drop of interest about the poor fools that came before him. Which of course, meant he was still being obtuse. “Though I'm certain those details in particular aren't the ones you're searching for, young master.”
Ciel frowns at him. They've both gotten better at reading eachother. Perhaps too better for each other's liking, but three years is a long time for a human and a demon to be chained together. It's no surprise.
“I hate being ill,” Ciel says suddenly, glaring into his teacup with an angry sniff. “It offers far too much time for idle thoughts.”
Sebastian considers him for a moment. Well … his master certainly isn't one for idle thoughts. From the moment he awakes, he treads a strict and busy schedule until it leads him back to bed – only to be repeated the next morning, over and over like a well oiled machine. Any downtime between his obligations as Earl Phantomhive are devoted entirely to fulfilling their contract.
The only time his thoughts wander is when he sleeps. And he's woken up screaming much more than a mere handful of times.
“Am I being led to believe you wish to abandon this train of thought?” Sebastian asks with a thin smile, tilting his head to catch his master's expression. “Perhaps before you ask something you regret?”
For once, Ciel doesn't snap back at him. That usually means Sebastian is off the mark. The young lord only prickles when Sebastian is right about something – when he feels like he's being read like an open book.
“You have no interest in talking about it,” Ciel repeats with a bit more certainty, looking up from his drink. “Do you think about your old contractors?”
Ah, now that's a different question entirely. Truly, Sebastian had indiscriminately sampled every soul he could sink his fangs into in the past. Contracts and covenants coming and going in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a heart. After all, humans had a tendency to want for such simple things; money, sex, power, revenge. When wishes are simplistic enough to be granted instantly, the amount of souls a single demon can devour without pause is …
Well. It's quite a number.
“The covenants I forged in the past ran their course in a matter of hours, more often than not,” Sebastian answers quite honestly, refilling his young master's teacup when it is placed back on the serving tray. Ciel doesn't watch him, scrubbing his blotchy face in frustration, but it's clear he's listening intently. “Even for a demon like me, it would be cumbersome to commit the face of every meal to memory.”
“'Meal',” the young lord scoffs, dropping his hands to the duvet with a soft thud. The mark burned into his right eye flashes dully; a gentle reminder that he is next on the menu. “Of course. You are a beast, after all.”
With a knowing smirk, Sebastian hands his liege another drink. “That I am, my lord. In regards to your question, I would have to say no. I don't think about my previous contractors.”
Ciel merely sneezes in response, rubbing at his sore eyes, and Sebastian does his best not to chuckle at the sudden thought. He really doesn't want that face-full of boiling water. “Perhaps my lord is concerned about me committing his unseemly state to memory for centuries to come?”
The earl's knuckles pop white as their grip tightens on the teacup, and Ciel studies his butler with a withered, knowing grin. “You would remember it merely to spite me, wouldn't you?”
Sebastian presses a hand earnestly over his chest, brows arched. Unapologetic. “Ah, I can't promise I won't, my lord.”
With a sigh that deflates his frail frame, Ciel shuts his eyes and returns quietly to his drink. Sebastian watches him wince through the burn as it spills down his throat, but he has gotten much better at powering through such things for the sake of his health. Having a healthy body is, of course, just another factor in the grand scheme of Ciel's revenge.
Through the fluttering net curtains, the late summer air carries the sound of Lady Elizabeth, Madam Sullivan, and the residents of the manor playing in the garden. When Sebastian asks if he would like it closed, Ciel shakes his head 'no'. Apparently even the earl's illness cannot save him from the company of other humans determined to burrow their way into his life.
“Will you remember me after all is said and done, I wonder?”
Sebastian blinks, but as usual his blank face betrays nothing. “My lord?”
Without opening his eyes, his young lord takes a slow, deliberate sip of his drink; a sign he doesn't intend to answer. It seems Sebastian has been left to his own devices to figure out the boy's words.
The sound of Madam Sullivan and her butler lecturing Bard in broken English on the downsides of smoking makes Sebastian's lips twitch.
“You will surely be remembered by your peers and your servants, my lord,” Sebastian decides on, as conversation continues quietly down in the garden. “You have amassed quite the number of them in the past three years, after all. Though I must say, I didn't think you one to concern yourself with posthumous thoughts.”
“I don't care what happens once I've attained my revenge,” Ciel snaps with a frown, opening his eyes to scowl at the demon. Slowly, he returns the china teacup to the trolley and sinks back down into his bedding. “But perhaps you are right. They will certainly remember 'Ciel Phantomhive'.”
...
Ah.
Sebastian folds his arms, resting his chin on one loose fist as he turns the thought over in his head. He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this. The sneer that bares his fangs cannot be suppressed. “How … unnecessary, my lord.”
“Unnecessary?” Ciel wonders quietly, running a hand through the tousled mess of his hair. “Maybe. After all, there is no me besides the me now. And that person is Ciel Ph-”
The earl inhales sharply, and then sneezes once more into the crook of his arm. With an annoyed sniff, he lets it drop back to the bed.
“- Pantomhibe.”
Sebastian is pointedly ignored when he laughs. However, he ought not let his young lord riddle his bedclothes with any more germs.
Ciel takes the handkerchief that is offered to him, burying his face into the soft cotton and groaning loudly. It seems he is incredibly bored of being ill. Or at least, bored of the luxury of time to think. Sebastian would force the bowl of soup into his lap and leave the boy to recuperate and rest, but his master has left open a window to such an interesting line of conversation.
And Sebastian is loathe to let anything interesting slip through his fingers.
“I am certain your allies will remember Ciel Phantomhive,” Sebastian agrees. “However, no one will remember the tenacity of the small human who turned his back on this hopeless world-”
The demon's pupils tighten into slits. “-And marched upon a path of corpses to attain his revenge.”
“Not for anyone else -” Ciel starts.
“- But for himself,” Sebastian finishes.
“Only once I've gained my revenge and cleared my own shame, only then will I give up my soul to another.” Ciel levels his butler with a look of unbridled determination – one the should not belong on the face of such a small human. “Until then, I will walk this one-way path to hell without hesitation. I refuse to die with regrets.”
Sebastian's smile is thin. Cruel. “And no one will ever know the depth of your resolve.”
“... No,” Ciel cedes with a vacant look. “I suppose they won't. No one besides the demon who walks this path with me.”
“My my, being ill certainly does burden you with idle thoughts.”
Ciel's brow slopes angrily, and he glares at his butler. Ignoring it, Sebastian urges him to sit back up with a gentle hand, before he can get too comfortable laying down. After all, what kind of butler would he be if he let their conversation take priority over his master's meal?
Not a very good one, the past three and a half years have taught him.
Neither of them speak for a few long moments. Sebastian steadies the service tray over the earl's lap, and moves to fluff a pillow that has long since sunk beneath Ciel's weight. Perhaps the boy has exhausted all he wished to say, or perhaps he regrets sharing such things in the first place. Sharing them with a demon incapable of a number of simple human emotions, no less.
But his lord isn't looking for pity. Sebastian has witnessed enough humans grovelling for sympathy at his feet to know when to spot it. As troublesome as his young master is, he has never forced Sebastian to endure such a pathetic sight. Just as some things are not in a demon's nature, such a thing is not in his master's nature.
The fact that Sebastian suddenly has the capacity to separate human nature from this boy's nature, however, gives him pause for thought.
“If you permit me to confess, my lord,” Sebastian says, only after Ciel has managed a spoonful of soup. “Such a spoiled little master like yourself would be difficult to forget.”
There's a beat of silence. And then -
“Ha!” Ciel laughs, his voice cold and sore. “Good! If my last earthly sight must be you ripping my soul from my body - then what kind of master would I be if I didn't engrave myself into your memories in return?”
“To think, I have been burdened to carry the memories of being your butler to the end of time,” Sebastian sighs, pressing a hand over his mockery of a heart. “How irksome.”
It is said in jest, but Ciel still makes a pleased hum through another spoonful of soup.
For all of the ways that Ciel is pathetically human, there are another number of ways that he is simply not. From the moment they had established their contract at the negotiation table in that den of filth, his master has continued to surprise Sebastian at every juncture.
This charade of earl and butler they play is incredibly unlike any other contract, after all.
“Demon,” Ciel demands, with all the resolve that belays his small, sick form. Once more, he meets Sebastian's eyes with a burning will. “Remember me. Remember the small human that wanted for things beyond him, yet did not rest until he achieved absolute victory.”
Sebastian gives him a thoughtful look. “Is that an order?”
“I cannot order you to do something after our contract is completed, can I?” Ciel drums the spoon against his lips, watching his butler intently. All of a sudden, the brand on his eye looks deceptively pale. “I am telling you, as just another self-righteous human.”
Just as a human might hope their prayer reaches god, Sebastian thinks. It is rare for the two of them to speak of things outside their covenant – and unheard of for Ciel to ask for something outside its boundaries. And his master may be foolish and arrogant, but he knows exactly the depth of what he is asking. Not for pity, but for his own pride.
Humans will continue to want for simple things, until time itself comes to an end. When his future covenants come and go, Sebastian knows no human will have the ability to provide him with such an interesting time. To not be used as a means to an end, but as a pawn for a grander purpose.
It is, perhaps, the closest Sebastian will ever come to feeling some sort of respect for a human.
But it remains unsaid. Ciel asked him as a human, not as his master. Sebastian ought to reply as a demon, not as a butler. Elongated fangs strain through his human visage, and Sebastian chuckles.
Humans might be interesting. But his master is much more so.
Even when he's sneezing into a handkerchief with a frustrated groan.
“In that case, I shall consider it.”