Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When the rescue ship blared its horn in the distance, some sort of tension Ciel didn't know was in his chest loosened. At least, he thought somewhat sarcastically, he would not die freezing in a broken boat in the middle of the Atlantic ocean this night.

Before tonight, he didn't think he would have actually worried about that. He would have doubted he could've ever actually died--that Sebastian would ever let him.

But he had learned some limits to his butler he had not ever imagined before.

The horn sounded again, loud, washing through the air like a tangible thing he could grab if he tried hard enough, and another shiver wracked his body, involuntary and painful. The relief he felt was overwhelmed by the reminder he still had to sit in this squalid boat until his rescue.

He heard a contemplative noise from behind him that he had learned a while ago meant Sebastian was assessing his health.

"Here, young master," Sebastian said quietly, wrapping the wool coat on his shoulders tighter, as if that could help, as if he wasn't still just as wet as before. When Sebastian pulled his hand away, Ciel was dismayed to find himself automatically leaning with it, chasing the contact.

It had been a rough night. He hadn't slept yet. He doubted it meant anything.

Either way, Sebastian noticed. Fortunately for him, he misinterpreted it.

"Don't worry, young master. The ship will reach us shortly. I'm sure it won't be long now until you'll be warm again."

Ciel eyed the number of emergency boats between them and the rescue ship and silently wondered if Sebastian was purposely trying to comfort him despite the obstacles or just did not conceptualize time the same way as humans. He didn't answer.

He sat, and waited, and tried not to give in to overwhelming the urge for sleep.

The ship finally began to approach their little boat, and the relief that sunk into Ciel's bones almost knocked him out. He didn't realize how tired and unsteady he was until rest was within sight.

Theirs was the last emergency boat to be spotted and subsequently rushed to--after a bit of undignified shouting and flailing on their part. It'd taken a while for the ship to reach them, far apart as they were from the rest of everyone, but eventually it was there, and furthermore, once it was close enough he was able to see the heads of his aunt and uncle above the railing, straining to see him.

He gave a tired handwave of acknowledgement. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but he thought he saw his aunt sigh in relief while Alexis clutched a hand to his chest.

"It seems your family has arrived before us, safe and sound." Sebastian's voice was a mimicry of its typical cheerful blandness, washed out into tired bluntness. He was sitting across from Ciel now, done with slowly paddling their boat closer, also resting. Ciel didn't think he'd ever seen his butler so unkempt, with his hair a mess, his clothes covered in blood and gore and water that had only slightly dried, and his usual layers missing, both physically and metaphorically.

Some part of him relished the opportunity to see his own personal demon looking so human, but mostly--it made his chest ache confusingly in a manner that felt far too similar to fear.

"How are you?" he asked quietly, without thinking, without answering Sebastian's previous comment.

Sebastian's eyes flicked to him in the quickest movement he'd seen from him since the sun had risen. "I beg your pardon?" The clear confusion in his voice spoke volumes: since when did Ciel care about his personal wellbeing?

Well. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but he knew it to be since sometime last night.

He'd just cleared his throat to give a proper (and ill-conceived) explanation, when the ship finally pulled in far enough for voices to make themselves distinct. They were the crewmates calling out to them, shouting to ask if they were okay, yelling instructions for how they were going to pull up close and get them situated.

It was an unnecessarily time consuming process, but soon there was a painted metal hull beside them, and a rope ladder above them being cast.

He didn't see Francis or Alexis on the railing above, but he assumed they either couldn't make it through the crowd, or were simply held back by Francis's desire to not get in the way of the sailors' job.

He stood, letting the almost useless coat fall from his shoulders and slide to the ground with a wet plop. He was proud to say he only wobbled a little when he put his foot on the rope ladder.

"Young master," Sebastian said behind him, reaching out a hand to his back to steady him.

...Maybe not as solid as he thought.

Trying to climb the ladder before him felt like a losing battle before it even started, but he was determined to make it past the final hurdle of this whole ordeal. He had not faced rotting walking corpses and icy water and a ship determined to drag them all down to a bottomless hell with it only to be carried up the side of a ship like a child. Especially not in front of his family (actual proximity be damned).

"Do you--"

"No," he answered, meaning it to sound determined and only coming out tired. "It's only a few meters."

Soon, I'll be on that ship and given a hot drink and a warm blanket and eventually, a bed. This is the only thing in my way.

He could feel Sebastian's dubious gaze boring into his head, as well as his hands that kept anxiously supporting the ladder and him as he climbed, slowly, agonizingly, feeling as heavy as the Campania herself now drifting below the water.

Eventually he made it to the top, no thanks to his sprained ankle, and the feeling of the treated wood panelling of the deck under his hands felt like some sort of miracle. He was immediately flocked by crewmen helping him stand and pulling him to his feet.

"Ciel!" came an agitated voice and his head snapped up to see his aunt and uncle predictably on their way across the ship.

Aunt Francis had her skirts in her hand and was rushing in a manner that was decidedly not polite. Alexis was behind and a bit more carefully passing inbetween other rescued passengers.

"Ciel!" she called again upon reaching him, immediately grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him up and down worriedly. He didn't push her away.

She took in his ripped clothes, bruised face, bloodied knees, and the way he favored one leg with a grim but observant eye, and then stepped back, only for the process to repeat a bit more vigorously with Alexis.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Uncle," Ciel protested weakly, too sore for his Uncle's fussing and hugs right now. He'd get enough of those later from Lizzy, wherever she may be. Speaking of--

He opened his mouth but his aunt beat him to it.

"Sebastian!" Her voice was quite frankly more alarmed than he thought necessary, but when he turned to see Sebastian himself reaching the top of the ladder, he realized perhaps he may have had a biased perspective.

Sebastian was, to put it bluntly, a mess. Ciel knew that anyway, on their little lifeboat, but seeing him side by side with the rest of the crew--seeing the remains of other survivors drifting around the deck--there was no doubt in his mind that there was not a person still alive who had stepped foot on the Campania that looked worse off than Sebastian did right now.

His hair, usually a topic of distaste for Francis, was even more disarrayed than usual, falling into his eyes and clumped in patches of gelled blood. Both his overcoat and suit jacket were gone, and he was left in simply his trousers, vest, and dress shirt, all in various states of tearing and staining. He was only wearing one glove, on his left hand--which Ciel was almost certain had been on his other one the last time he'd seen it--and the white cloth hid nothing of the deep, dirty black and browning stains despite the soaking both it and Sebastian had taken in the ocean. And he was soaked, moreso than Ciel who had only fallen in once, been dragged out, and hidden in the bottom of the boat to avoid the fallout of the Dolls splashing about and surging around them.

And that was to say nothing of the sheer amount of blood that had found its way to cover him head to toe, regardless of cloth or flesh or whatever made up the chemical makeup of a demon, the color and spread horrifying and appalling in the morning sun and in the company of clean, well-dressed rescuers.

It was mostly not his blood, he'd told Ciel earlier and that was true, but looking closer, Ciel was unnerved to notice that there was more of it that was his than he had noticed before. Granted, their recent encounter with the corpses was unlikely to have done any real damage on Sebastian, mostly superficial scratches, but it still looked bad. And the real ones, left over from his fight with Undertaker (and the other two reapers) were more noticeable under said brightness of sunlight rather than seen under the light of gas lamps amidst a frenzied battle.

Were he a human, Ciel himself might have wondered how he was even standing, especially with the clear fatigue on his face.

And that was exactly what every mortal in a ten foot radius would think, he realized, evidenced by the spreading wave of gasps and alarmed cries as the crowd of rescuers began to notice the state of their second new passenger.

"Sebastian," Francis declared again, breathlessly, clearly without her usual gift for words and organization in the face of such a shock--and it must've been, for if he had never seen his butler in a state like this, then especially neither had anyone who had never even known Sebastian as more than the timely, polite servant that he played.

Perhaps the butler realized it too, because he lowered head somewhat more deferentially than required, even considering the more lax air about them all in the aftermath of a tragedy, and made an attempt at a shallow bow to presumably save face. Ciel himself was saved from further contemplation on the concept of demonic shame when Sebastian suddenly grimaced in obvious pain from the movement and hunched forward with an arm falling to his side protectively.

It wasn't exactly holding his abdomen, but it was enough to draw surrounding attention to the area of his shirtfront, which was, of course, when given a slightly closer inspection, the source of much of the blood there.

Alexis gasped with horror and without hesitation began demanding a doctor from someone nearby. Ciel wondered somewhat hysterically what would happen when a human doctor tried to treat a demon masquerading as a man for a stomach wound that should have killed him hours ago.

"I'm fine," Sebastian protested almost immediately and Ciel would've backed up the sentiment, if not for the way the butler immediately wavered and buckled and caught himself on the railing with a clearly pained air. A pained air that was only exacerbated by the heavy breathing that was only a shade away from becoming panting, and the quick, distinct creak-pop of the metal piping under Sebastian's hand giving way.

The butler jerked it back with a shocked look that faded back to exhaustion (and Ciel saw his aunt's quick eyes catch every movement) as he somehow continued to manage to stay upright by himself.

Ciel swallowed, feeling almost eclipsed by the small crowd staring at the great display that was his demon, clearly reemerged from the other side of hell again.

He had seemed fine a minute ago. Well, not fine, but better. Resting. It had been weird to see him in such a state, but not truly, worrisome, right? Surely the climb up the ladder couldn't have exhausted him that much, right?

Did he need medical attention after all?

No--that was a stupid idea and he didn't know where he got it from. There was quite literally nothing that a doctor could do for Sebastian that he couldn't do himself with a little rest. Probably.

What Ciel presumed to be a reasonably medically professional looking man came over soon enough, and the intent for Sebastian to follow him and Alexis was clear even from Ciel’s place a few meters from the action.

As was Sebastian’s reluctance. And Alexis’s insistence.

Ciel stepped forward at the same time somebody put their hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to perhaps physically drag him off if necessary and Sebastian flinched--but why shouldn’t he? He didn’t like to be touched, after all, the two of them had that in common.

“Unhand my servant,” he said, with some measure of authority that he didn’t feel, but shocked the sailors around them nonetheless. Taking in the remains of his outfit, perhaps they were less shocked--most nobles, even the children of them, had an audacity to them, no matter their real extent of power, and Ciel did indeed have even more than that perceived power that came to simply being a rich and obnoxious teenager, but he supposed it was true that he also wasn't exactly looking like anybody’s idea of an Earl or the Queen’s Watchdog right now. They could be forgiven for the raised eyebrows and the fact that nobody removed said hand from said servant.

When Francis, however, stood behind him after his command, they did. He noted how Sebastian relaxed minutely from that.

“Your servant needs medical aid, Ciel,” Alexis said, tone firm but gentled, as if Ciel was a child who did not understand the situation before him and was simply acting emotionally, irrationally. As if he was about to refuse his poor butler help when he was so clearly at death’s door simply because Ciel did not want to let his (perceived--accurately) confidante out of sight. He tried not to let his ire out.

“I know,” he relented, receiving an almost amusingly betrayed look from Sebastian. “I was about to say that myself. Sebastian, go with the doctor.”

Oh, and the betrayed look intensified, with a genuinely hilarious note of shock to it. “Young master--” Sebastian protested, one of the very rare attempts of his at true argumentation.

“Go,” Ciel interrupted simply, not having much energy to put more than that authority to it. And perhaps, not wanting to fight Alexis on this because he, too, was worried about Sebastian’s state. “That’s an order.”

Sebastian quieted immediately, mouth thinning. Before he could respond, Ciel beat him to it, with a softer explanation.

“Let them see that you are not so terribly off as that. But don’t strain yourself.” Don’t show them the gaping hole in your abdomen. But don’t pretend to be alright.

Message received, the butler bowed his head in acceptance, though clearly not happy about it. “Yes, my lord.”

Both Alexis and the doctor relaxed as well, seemingly glad they didn’t have to fight their object of concern any longer. Sebastian was led away, slowly, in the direction of an above-board cabin that may have been functioning as a temporary doctor’s office.

Ciel noticed he was limping as he went.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when Sebastian disappeared behind the door leading to the doctor's quarters. It felt like a hidden weight--temporarily alleviated--had dropped back onto his shoulders--and subsequently his leg.

He stumbled when he turned to thank Francis for her silent aid and was caught by her hands against his shoulders--capable and strong, but not the hands he was used to catching him.

"Sorry," he muttered, re-righting himself under her silent, scrutinizing gaze.

She didn't say anything. Simply held onto him as he regained his footing, and directed him carefully to another side of the ship, presumably to talk about what had happened and get him looked over as well.

It was something he both admired and loathed about aunt Francis. Her stern, observant eyes caught every movement, expression, and detail in front of her, whether or not she said anything about it. Her nature made it difficult to discern what was going on in her mind when she didn't feel the need to add any commentary to a situation.

He had often wondered what she thought about a great many things, as she did not often give out her thoughts besides critiques and simple information. Now, he wondered specifically what she thought of all this--of what had happened in the time between their separation on the ship, of what had caused the state of himself and his butler.

He had often wondered what she thought about Sebastian in general, besides her strict adherence to the unspoken rules of high society. There were some things she must know, or guess at, simply by Sebastian's presence in his life--many things. His butler's capability. The sordid nature of their meeting. And even personal matters, such as their relationship.

But he'd wondered that regarding just about everyone inside his family and out that had known him before. About the questions, and the mystery of it all. About gaps in time. About the looks he got when the adults around him thought he didn't see, and thought Sebastian couldn't.

Ciel wasn't stupid. He knew what people close enough to make guesses but distant enough to not know the details--which was everyone, actually, besides himself and Sebastian--thought about their relationship. Aunt Angelina--Madam Red--had implied it enough in her time, in her visits, accompanied by fond or amused looks as befitted the conversation, always waving away his protests of denial with an easy hand, like she was humoring him. Like she was just glad someone else was watching over him.

He'd wondered sometimes if Francis, with her keen eyes, ever saw Sebastian in a small moment of correcting his hair or clothing, and thought there was more to the butler's fond exasperation than polite humor. Or if Alexis, with his deceptively affable personality, ever looked at the same and thought not of just a boy and his butler, but of his young nephew, and of his wife's brother.

If, despite his status and position, despite all his achievements and successes, they still just looked at him and saw a child with a tragic history in need of a guiding hand.

But the thing was that--even now, with all of his experience of the world, both the mundane and grand, the pleasant and the distasteful, all of his real experience with the real nature of life--with all that he had earned and all he was capable of--even now, in moments like this, of quiet strife and private thoughts, he couldn't read his own family's expressions as they talked to him. He couldn't grasp the look in his aunt's eye as she asked him what had happened, nor whether the tilt to her mouth upon receiving the answer was positive or negative. He still felt small in response to both.

Even now, he sometimes wondered himself if he was that child.

And what would that make Sebastian?

The reunion with Elizabeth was predictably emotional, with both her tears and Edward's glaring overshadowing most of everything else about the interaction, even seeing Snake again--perfectly fine besides worry for his small companions and how to hide them aboard the chaotic rescue ship. They'd all three (and more, if you counted Snake's snakes, which he didn't) also made it out fine, thanks to him and Sebastian drawing the Dolls away--something he made the mistake of mentioning to his family at such a highly charged moment, leading to even more retroactive alarm, which of course meant even more crying and even more useless anger Ciel didn't know what to do with.

Elizabeth had demanded to know what he'd been planning, echoed by Francis herself, asking how he could do something so reckless, and he'd said it wasn't recklessness, it was a carefully thought-out and rationalized choice, and that had just caused more issues.

Eventually, things settled down, but he couldn't shake the dual looks that both Francis and Alexis (when he'd returned) had taken to giving him after the admittance. Nor could he shake Elizabeth clinging to his side, unwilling to let him out of her sight, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to match his own (as much for shock as it was for warmth, he imagined), and looking stupidly more upset by his confession than by the actual ordeal she'd just been through.

"No wonder you and your butler were so beat-up," Edward muttered at one point, and received a clipped warning of his name from his mother. "What?" he said, gesturing at Ciel. "It's not exactly a secret that the two of them are the worst-off looking survivors on the ship."

Ciel didn't say anything. It was true. The twinge of pain in his now wrapped ankle only testified to Edward's point. The state of Ciel's clothes alongside it made the rest of it for him.

Alexis gave Edward a silent look of admonishment and his cousin quieted. But not before a final observation.

"If you take the rest of the family, I reckon we make up over 75% of all the injuries or dishevelment of the rescued passengers. And I don't even have any injuries…" he added under his breath.

"As we should take the brunt," Francis snapped. "As knights, it is our duty--"

Ciel tuned out the rest of her scolding. He didn't need a reminder of status and duty to do the right thing--it wasn't why he'd done what he'd done. Nor did he want the reminder of the state of the survivors, not when he'd spent the past hour of settling down trying to avoid commiserating with his fellow shipmates; if he compared himself to those tragically traumatized rich nobles around him being confronted with perhaps the first hardship of their lives, he might throw away his entire Earldom in the ocean along with the bodies of those who weren't lucky enough to see the surface again, and he had worked hard to attain that.

Silence fell again, and a cold breeze off the ocean hit him, hard. He shivered under his blanket, clutching it to his chest, and though he knew it was irrational, or had been a symptom of the consequences of extreme cold he shouldn’t have been in, he thought he'd felt somehow warmer with Sebastian's wet coat around his shoulders; was more comforted by the demon's bloody visage at his side.

But he didn't need to think about that too hard.

He caught his aunt staring at him again, and this time, whatever was warring for dominance in her expression won out, and she broached a question--the question, he'd wager.

"How did you survive?"

She didn't need to elaborate. She didn't need to explain whether she meant the entirety of the night, or simply the aftermath in the lifeboat. She didn't need to differentiate between the deadly consequences of the corpses themselves or the terrible and vast watery deathtrap that still waited beneath them, rocking the rescue ship like a taunt. After all, the answer was much the same, no matter what. The one she was already expecting.

"Sebastian saved me."

He saw through the corner of his eye Francis and Alexis trade looks, and for a moment he thought he could see exactly what rested beneath the surface--some combination of respect, and latent worry. And when they looked back at him in unison--maybe just relief.

It wasn't even noon yet when Sebastian rejoined them, nearly giving his aunt a heart attack. He announced his presence just on the outside of their little cluster of family--things were still being moved around on the rescue ship, room still being made for the survivors, and most of those that knew each other and had reunited onboard were sitting in little groups on the deck as out of the way of the crew as possible. Theirs happened to be somewhat near the railing, and Ciel made it a pointed priority to not look overboard. Not difficult when Elizabeth was sitting on that side of him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on others like that," his aunt said sternly, with a hand over her chest that spoke of a deeper anxiety than just being startled--they were all still a little on edge, despite the attempts at relaxation after everything.

"My apologies, my lady," the servant apologized, with an answering hand over his chest. Ciel noticed he barely leaned forward this time with the motion.

Some part of Ciel had expected his butler to have returned with every hair perfectly in place (or out of place, as Francis would say), his clothes magically fresh and new, smiling and pouring tea he'd obtained from somewhere, but that wasn't the case. Though he looked notably better--there was no longer gore in his clothing and hair, and his skin was clearly washed free of most dirt and blood--the remains of his suit stayed ripped and stained (possibly totally unsalvagable at this point if even Sebastian couldn't fix them), and all that the cleaning had done was reveal how much of the blood had been his, how many bruises and wounds were underneath the dirt and grime. There was a particular line of purplish-red marks that caught Ciel's eye, tracing the edges of the demon's cheekbones, falling from the corner of his eye to the edges of his mouth, and back down around his chin. It looked painful.

He also had a blanket wrapped around his own shoulders that nearly made Ciel do a double take at how strange it looked on Sebastian, despite the fact almost every other person on the deck had one, as well as the fact that he actually appeared to be clutching it around himself. Even as the pieces he held closest became predictably stained by his still drying midriff. Ciel wondered, vaguely, if he had only taken it in an attempt to shield the rest of the mess that was his abdomen, or if he actually did appreciate the cover.

Either way--he looked tired. He looked shockingly human, and vulnerable.

"Shouldn't you still be with the doctor?" Alexis questioned with a clear look of concern on his aged face. He took in Sebastian's form from head to toe, and though even he couldn't deny that the servant looked better, he still seemed doubtful of Sebastian's ability to remain on his own two feet. Francis's slightly dubious look and Elizabeth's bitten lip accompanied the onceover, and Ciel felt much the same as all of it.

"The doctor was kind enough to release me from treatment," Sebastian said politely. Ciel could read inbetween the lines (specifically, the ones inbetween Sebastian's eyebrows) and guess at how long the butler had been trying to get free without looking like he was trying to escape. It almost made him smile.

Alexis looked like he wanted to argue, but with Sebastian continuing to stand upright on his own, and with the apparent doctor's blessing, he couldn't argue. He made a gesture at Edward to make room for Sebastian between himself and Snake, but Ciel beat him to it, scooting closer to Elizabeth with an unspoken command or perhaps invitation.

Sebastian followed it without a word, sitting on Ciel's other side silently. With some difficulty that he was obviously trying to cover up, but maybe that was really only obvious to Ciel. But he managed to sit without apparently injuring himself further, letting out a quiet, forceful exhale as his back hit the metal wall that was behind him--and Ciel and Lizzy, where they sat in the same line to his right. This close, he could notice the minute trembles coming from the man--exhaustion or cold? Sebastian was in the freezing water longer than him, of course, and it wasn't like it could kill him--but could it actually affect his body like a human's? Before today, Ciel didn't think he'd believe the answer could be yes, but...

Ciel tried not to inch closer, and Lizzy had her arm wrapped around his so it wasn't like he could move much without being obvious anyway, but couldn't resist nudging his leg over the slightest to feel the butler's press against his, and he felt the tiniest, invisible, answering push.

He didn't look up at Sebastian's face--didn't think he would smile so obviously or openly at such a thing, didn't want to see the bruises and cuts marring his usual flawless facade--but he did breathe a little easier.

And then there they were. All of their group, safe and sound, rescued and bandaged and once again reunited. The four Midfords, and the (singular) Phantomhive, and his two servants.

Conversation petered in slowly, starting with Alexis asking Sebastian how he was, and getting the (glanced over) details of his treatment--a bandaged torso, ointment for lacerations, and a pain medication that Ciel was certain did absolutely nothing useful for the demon, if the overly enunciated and sarcastic (but again, only to his ears) mention of the thing proved anything.

Topics around him began and changed and were thrown over his head as the sun continued to rise across the sky--usually they'd have some sort of shade on luxury ship for that, but they were not on a luxury ship any longer, and the rays of approaching noon began to warm and dry him quicker than anything else. Lizzy relaxed again and demanded his attention via small but harmless and distracting chitchat. He saw Edward grow bored as the minutes passed on and he pestered Snake into an actual conversation--it was amusing to see the noble boy's reactions to Snake's strange but now familiar method of communication, and learn to accept and manage it (much as he seemed to hate snakes, also to Ciel's amusement.) And Alexis even struck up a discussion with Sebastian, about the rescue ship and the crew and their intended destination and time of arrival, and all sorts of polite, boring things that interested Alexis and were still appropriate and not uncomfortable for a servant to respond to.

Still, Ciel almost felt the need to save his butler during a lull in his own chat with Lizzy about plans for upcoming Summer events and fashions wherein he overheard his uncle trying to unironically discuss the weather of all things. He looked over at Sebastian at that, seeing his slightly forced cheer and overenthusiastic tone, and resisted the urge to smile.

Then he accidentally caught Francis's gaze from Alexis's side, and the knowing, barely repressed look of humor in her eyes, and then he didn't resist anymore.

He laughed.

Chapter Text

The door to the room creaked open softly, far too softly to even be called a creak really. More like a puff of the hinges. A transference of air boosted by the wooden door.

The room was dark when Ciel entered, completely silent except for the vague half-felt half-heard lunges of the ocean, and distant rumblings that might be the sounds of human activity or perhaps just inner workings of the ship itself. Inside, the room was well-furnished for an occupant whom was only a servant, as least as far as Ciel could make out with only the barest glimmer of moonlight slipping through the porthole, but that was what uncle Alexis had asked for.

He'd insisted on properly repaying Sebastian for his effort to defend both Elizabeth and Ciel from the monstrous corpses he'd fought off, propriety damned.

Francis had been a bit more hesitant, propriety being one of her strongest suits, but her gratitude and admiration must have been great to have given it very little argument. Sebastian was a high ranking servant, after all, she'd said. And his injuries had been deep and exhaustive. A slightly more private room couldn't hurt his recovery. And Alexis--and Elizabeth, once she had overheard the conversation--had been so insistent.

Ciel was grateful for that privacy now, the ability to visit his own sleeping demon in the untouched peace of the night without worrying about prying eyes and ears. What he did not want them to be privy to, he wasn't sure yet. He still didn't know what he planned to do now that he was here. He just--knew he should be here. Needed to be here.

He half-expected to hear something else, as he stepped softly into the room, closing the door behind him. Shallow breathing, laborious inhales and exhales as he'd subconsciously come to expect from visiting sickbeds, but no. That was ridiculous. He didn't even really need to breathe at all, did he? It was, like many things about him, just a very good imitation of humanity.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the minimal lighting and even more expansive dark and he stared, finding the object of his search nearly immediately. Sebastian lay on a cot placed horizontal to the entrance, back to the wall, totally unmoving. Despite the lack of any real logical reason for it, his heart started beating faster, memory taking the place of rationality and tripping over itself over the idea of Sebastian, unmoving, grievously injured, not breathing.

Like he'd been before. Ciel still remembered the fear in his heart when they'd been thrown by Undertaker's blow and he'd risen to find Sebastian exactly like that, seemingly unconscious beneath him. He'd never seen the butler injured--not really--before and the sight of him bloodied, the feeling of him completely still, it had done something to him. Even now, here he was, ruminating over the event, when his servant was before his very eyes.

Ciel fisted his hands in the cloth of his nightshirt, inhaling hard and slow like Tanaka had taught him and holding it.

The memory trapped him for a few more mere moments, but he had practice in dispelling hauntings of the mind, and so pushed it away forcefully.

He wasn’t here to worry about the past. And, though it was only last night--lord, how was it already one day? How was it not even 24 hours yet?--it was in the past. Things of the past needed to stay there, either by design, or by choice.

He moved forward, into the future and into the room.

No sounds of life met his ears as he drew closer, moonlight shifting through the air with the rocking of the sea and the movement of his feet, and it felt strange. He was no stranger to quiet moments with Sebastian, and had often himself had this exact position, with Sebastian standing still in his room while he rested. It felt odd the other way around. He wasn’t used to the demon not--responding to him. Not moving around, with, and behind him at all hours, acting always in reaction to Ciel’s behaviors and choices first. He wasn’t used to being the one who needed to follow, to chase, to pick up extra slack and wonder at the internal monologue of his companion or their state or--

Worry.

His breath hitched when he stepped around the other side of the bed properly and found the form that he'd thought unconscious clearly staring at him, two spots of glow in the dark of the room just visible enough to be unquestionable, but vague enough that he wasn't quite sure if it was the natural luminescence of the demon's true eyes or simply the shine of dim light peeking in through the window above them.

He exhaled, steadying himself, and sat down in the single chair in the room and scooted closer. He'd think after 3 years he would have lost the ability to be startled by little things like that, and in most ways he had (he knew better than anyone the kinds of things you could become used to, given enough time), but occasionally the inhuman nature of his closest companion still took him unaware.

Usually he was at least semi-sure that Sebastian relished the opportunity to catch him offguard, but for some reason just right now he didn't think that was his butler’s intention. Sebastian's true nature tended to sneak out in little ways when anything primal and as close as the demon could get to real emotion--usually hidden under his perfect and servile facade--rose to the surface. He supposed if there was any time his butler might be involuntarily peeking at him through eyes glowing with unholy reddish-pink irises, it would be now.

He didn't speak. Not yet, at least. He didn't know what to say, why he'd come. Just that he needed to. Needed to sneak out of his unfamiliar, empty, new bedroom he’d been assigned next to the Midfords’ rooms on the rescue ship, needed to walk through the semi-darkened hallways that reminded him too much of the Campania’s, needed to be here.

The demon said nothing either, content to stare silently through slitted eyes at his contractor. Ciel made himself look into those eyes, pushing away any instinctive unnervement his body summoned as some weak warning signal for danger. He knew. That was, quite literally, the raison d'être for his contract with Sebastian.

"You're awake," he whispered, and almost winced at how rough his voice sounded.

He immediately realized it was a stupid statement--Sebastian didn't even need sleep, of course he wouldn't be unconscious when Ciel walked in, of course he wouldn't leave himself vulnerable like that right after the circumstances they'd just been in--but he was spared a slightly condescending chuckle as Sebastian made no verbal acknowledgement of his statement. He just continued staring with half-lidded eyes that Ciel was now certain were glowing, not just reflecting light.

He shifted uncomfortably. And then realized--he could hear Sebastian’s breathing now, this close--subtle, quiet, but… not quite ragged, but neither was it easy and loose so that he would never notice it. It was irregular.

His heartbeat picked up, not helped by the general anxiety of his lingering unease and the solitude of the past handful of hours ever since him and Sebastian had had to separate on deck with the approaching dusk, and therefore, nightfall, and the urging of both Ciel’s family and random crewmates for Sebastian to retire early.

“Sebastian…?” he questioned softly, and he didn’t sound like himself. He didn’t know what that should be, but it wasn’t this, tense and apprehensive and… frightened.

Maybe Sebastian heard it too, because a second later he got a response--not verbal, but visual. The lantern--a lantern Ciel hadn’t seen before now--on the single bedside table opposite them lit, fire blooming to life with a soft displacement of air that startled him. It granted the room a nice contrast, adding a flare of warm, orange light to mix with that of the cool, white one that came from above. He noticed it was smaller than he would’ve expected from a lantern that size.

Ciel also noticed that the positioning of the lantern also meant that very little light actually illuminated Sebastian's hunched figure, while Ciel was sure he himself was in perfect view, if he had not been already while it was still mostly dark. He wasn't sure if that was some sort of purposeful decision on Sebastian's part, to manipulate a sense of control over the situation, or involuntary, the pure instinct of an animal wounded and in a vulnerable position, or perhaps just chance, his butler reaching out to the first source he'd found and stopping there.

It didn’t matter, because it served its purpose--Ciel could see his servant now. He was laying on his side, not flat and straight and strange like he usually associated with the few times he’d seen the demon attempt at some sort of parody of human needs, but almost curled up. Not comfortable, really, but… more natural. He could guess why when he saw Sebastian’s face, which was flat and straight and tired.

Sebastian said demons didn’t need to sleep. But he never said they didn’t need to rest. Ciel couldn’t imagine that anything that existed in this state of reality, natural or unnatural, didn’t need a time to recollect its own energy.

Especially if it was injured.

The light also exposed other details he hadn’t noticed in the dark--the shoes by this side of the bed, dirty and sitting neatly and just out of line; the overcoat hanging on a peg on the opposite wall that was clearly the one given to Elizabeth, not the one left behind on the lifeboat, and was now dry; the way even now, Sebastian kept his left hand carefully hidden under the pillow by his head--the dirty glove from earlier was gone, who knew where, and he still apparently hadn’t retrieved his old ones or made a new ones or whatever it was he did when he procured things from seemingly nowhere.

He turned his head and saw a half-eaten tray of food on the table next to the bed--Ciel was honestly surprised Sebastian had made it that far before giving up on it. It's not like he needed it, not like it helped, and the pretense seemed like it would cause him more grief than anything, but still, half of it was dutifully consumed. It was probably a carefully measured move of the bare minimum necessity to ensure his assorted caretakers' satisfaction before it was taken away again. Ciel understood the feeling.

His stomach jumped at the idea of the meager food on the tray, almost betraying him with an angry, determined growl, but it jumped more at the thought of opening his mouth and forcing anything else inside it. The crew had done their best to feed all of them, but he hadn’t had the stomach for breakfast, and barely touched his lunch, but for the fact both Sebastian and his family were nearby to notice if he didn’t eat. Even water made him feel sick, remembering the taste of the acrid ocean water filling his throat as he tried to yell, burning his tongue with its taste almost as badly as his lungs with its existence.

Sebastian's voice finally broke the lull of silence in the air, unexpected and quiet. "Are you alright, young master?" Ciel wouldn't have called it hoarse, but it wasn't smooth as usual. It, too, was tired. The question seemed to exhaust him further, seemed to take something out of him, and Ciel wondered--suspected--that his silence may not be intimidation or lack of care--just simply that: exhaustion.

The glow of his eyes lessened with the addition of more light, and they opened a bit further when Ciel didn't answer right away. He wasn’t sure what to say.

The butler began to sit up, a bit more aware now, and Ciel noticed suddenly that his vest was gone. It shouldn't've been that weird, and it made sense, but he'd never seen Sebastian so dressed down before, in just his undershirt. Much less looking so disheveled, with an unfamiliarly normal amount of messy bed hair and wrinkles in his clothes.

He also moved and--through the half buttoned shirt, Ciel saw glimpses of the bandages Sebastian had mentioned earlier, white and thick and he was guessing wrapped around the demon's entire abdomen. His movements were slow, and so very normal, but clumsy-looking on the usually precise and impeccable butler.

Something in him snapped. "No!"

Sebastian startled, freezing in place with one arm propping himself. "No?"

Ciel breathed heavily in the dim room, feeling his hands clenching involuntarily in his nightclothes. He saw Sebastian's arm shaking from the weight of holding himself up. "Lay back down," he commanded, flatly.

Sebastian obeyed without arguing, collapsing carefully back. His breathing was a little hoarser now.

Ciel had thought he was alright. He'd thought Sebastian would recover.

He was recovering. But he was recovering like a person. Like a fragile, easily breakable human. Like someone who was, indeed, vulnerable.

What was he supposed to do with that?

"Young master?" Sebastian questioned. It was almost unsure, almost hesitant. Ciel was more used to it from him, that edge of not-quite-worry, rather than disconcerting and injured silence.

"You should stay laying down," he said in response, and was glad to have won the fight for an even tone, even if it was a flat one. "You'll injure yourself further if you strain yourself."

There was a temporary loss of shine that meant Sebastian was blinking at him. "I am not so frail as that, my lord."

"But y--" Ciel faltered, not knowing how to say what he meant, not knowing quite exactly what it was that he meant. "You're not--" His voice took another unexpected turn, sounding distressingly close to wobbly even to his own ears. He had no idea what Sebastian might be hearing.

"I've had worse," Sebastian said lightly, as if making a joke but being too tired to carry it out all the way. There was also a chiding note in his voice Ciel couldn't quite place, a sort of… comfort offered that he wasn't used to hearing from Sebastian. It was almost soothing, doing more to calm his nerves than he liked, and it was probably close to the line of how far Sebastian could express reassurance in genuine sincerity, before his consolations turned to empty imitation.

He tried to steady his own breathing. "You have?"

A minute movement of a nod. "This may be the first time I've been so injured in front of the young master, but this is not the first time I've received an injury to this extent."

There was a pause.

"Even if this is the first time I've received the blow from a reaper." There was some sort of enunciation in that sentence, betraying some semblance of emotion there that Ciel couldn't parse out. It wasn't clearly anger or humor or even admiration, just some sense that underneath the surface, Sebastian had some sort of thoughts regarding that encounter and his own history.

Ciel wondered, not for the first time, at the history of his demon. He often got snippets, bits and pieces of facts and insinuations that often as not were provoking and picking, attempts to rattle or unnerve him for the demon's own amusement, or were elsewise just pessimistic and strange. But he didn't really know anything about Sebastian, not the way Sebastian did about him.

But Ciel was the one who always said that people's pasts didn't matter, only what they chose to do now. And he had stuck by that, in his own life as well as how he treated others. Curiosity of details did not outweigh the truth inherent in existing day to day with someone, seeing their habits, or their humor, or just them, living.

Ciel knew who Sebastian was. He knew all he needed to for the sake of their contract, and partnership. It would be very hard at this point to not know him well, and he was very aware of the fact that there was not a single human alive who knew the demon better than him. And he knew that that went both ways.

He inhaled forcefully, and exhaled shakily. "You should tell me about it."

A note of confusion in Sebastian's voice. "My lord?"

"Sometime. Not right now." He let a corner of his mouth tug up."It's too late for whatever horror stories you have to pass off as anecdotes."

A pause, and then a chuckle. "Of course. Whenever you like."

Ciel nodded. And couldn't find anything else to say. Just that he did not want to leave.

"My lord," Sebastian repeated. "You're right. It is late. You should be in bed."

"I was in bed. I left to come here."

The demon's voice was mixed with tinges of curiosity and puzzlement. "Why?"

Something buzzed under his skin, wanting to be let loose. Did Sebastian really not know? Or did he just want to hear Ciel say it?

He shouldn't. It was never good to give the demon another thread to pluck when he was bored, another source of amusement in the struggle that humans called their emotions, but… it was true, and he was too tired, physically and mentally, not to.

He took a deep breath. "I was worried about you."

Ciel waited for a response. He waited a long time.

"Oh," Sebastian said simply, something indecipherable coloring his tone, but no obvious mockery. And then, "I told you, I am--"

"Fine, I know," Ciel finished, a touch snappishly. "I heard you the first time."

"Then you can leave--"

"I won't," he declared stubbornly.

Sebastian inhaled deeply, as if searching for patience. "You will need to sleep at some point, my lord."

He rolled his eyes. "Spare me, Sebastian, it wouldn't be the first allnighter I've pulled." He didn't even realize that that might be what he wanted to do until he said it.

"You don't need to stand vigil at my bedside like I'm a weak and fading sickly character from some tragic novel." He sounded so insulted; Ciel wanted to laugh.

"I'm not standing, actually," he said loftily, just to irritate the demon. "I'm sitting."

The butler's voice was clipped. "Fine. Then you don't have to sit awake at my bedside all night--"

"I can sleep here if you prefer." Ciel knew he was being difficult, but honestly, it was funny, and a much needed relief from the rest of the stress of the day. Not to mention this was the first private conversation they'd been able to have all day since the lifeboat itself; they were overdue for picking at each other.

That seemed to get through the butler's now-everpresent listlessness. He tried to sit up again, a truly incensed quality to his voice--a protective irritation that Ciel was much more familiar with. "Young master, you absolutely cannot sleep there, that is horrible posture, you will hurt yourself and get no rest--"

"Lay down," Ciel intoned calmly, voice firm enough that the unspoken order in it was clear.

Sebastian collapsed again immediately, and this time he shot a small frustrated glare Ciel's way.

He couldn't help it. A giggle escaped him. He covered his mouth to hide it but it was too late; he saw the glare lessen into something softer and a small smile replace the frown on his butler's face.

If Ciel shouldn't've said what he said earlier, he really shouldn't say what he wanted to now. But again, he was tired, and now he felt a pleasant warmth in his stomach. Still, he averted his eyes, knowing he'd probably regret it later. "I'm glad you're okay."

Because he wasn't looking at Sebastian, he didn't see his response to the claim, just heard a long, empty silence, followed by an even longer sigh.

"I was serious about staying here, you know,” he added when there was no other answer and the idea of sitting in more silence felt unbearable. He turned his eyes back towards the bed.

"I know," Sebastian said, with the kind of exasperated misery he usually reserved for dealing too long with the idiot entourage back home. Then, to Ciel's confusion, he began to shift.

"I told you--"

It was Sebastian's turn to interrupt him. "I'm not getting up," he explained, and then Ciel saw that he wasn't--he was scooting over. Careful and delicate, clearly trying not to aggravate his own wounds (for which of their sakes, Ciel didn't know), but obvious.

"What are you--"

"I meant what I said about you getting some rest." The exhaustion had not left him, but there was a steel in his voice despite that, that spoke of this being a last resort, a middle ground.

An offering, if Ciel were to take it, and probably an argument if he didn't.

Ciel hesitated. It wasn't like he hadn't been comforted by his servant before, but not this close. Not something so obvious or familiar. Understandable, since he'd never even seen Sebastian appear to need rest before this moment, and when he was in the middle of one of his fits, he would rather die than have an adult so near to comfort him, even Sebastian.

But Sebastian did need rest and Ciel wasn't in one of his fits and--

And he did want comfort. And Sebastian was the one offering. And didn't seem to be doing so as some sort of joke--truly, it was an attempt to appease him and ensure his health.

It seemed quite stupid to protest something that did no harm and he really did want.

"Alright," he said softly, and rose.

The bed was a bit hard when he crawled into it--at least, it was to him, compared to his bed at home. But it was a fairly normal bed--it creaked under his knees, which he wasn't used to, but it wasn't unsteady.

He untied the nighttime eyepatch he'd put on for walking down here, and hesitated, then leaned forward decisively to lay it on the table on the other side of the bed. Sebastian moved with him to stay out of his way as he did, and didn't say anything when Ciel laid a hand on his shoulder to hold himself steady.

Then he sat awkwardly on his knees for a second, unsure exactly how to proceed--where to lay--where to put his arms--he hadn't slept in the same bed as someone else in years and--

And Sebastian--as always, damn him--looked amused. "It is not an ordeal, young master, you can simply lay down."

He huffed, and used the heel of his hand to smack Sebastian on his upper chest (away from any wound) and then flopped down facing the other way, fluffing his pillow with the tossing of his head.

There was an unrepentant laugh to his side, and a tugging underneath him--ah, the blanket. He rolled and scooted obligingly and allowed Sebastian to pull the cover out from under him and then over him. It wasn't his comforter in his own bedroom, but it was surprisingly warm. Plus the body heat already collected underneath the sheets from however long Sebastian had been there--they helped chase away the chill that had crawled inside his bones and stayed ever since the ocean had drained his warmth from him, as if the water itself had seeped into his body and refused to dry.

He tucked his nose under the covers and just breathed, feeling himself relax little by little from the great ordeal of the past days.

With a soft puff of air, the warm-toned light in the room vanished. He heard an exhale, and felt a small but noticeable relaxation of the form behind him.

Despite the small(-ish) bed, Sebastian managed to give Ciel enough room to sleep without touching him, which Ciel was grateful for, but a small part of him wanted to bridge the gap anyway--that instinctive urge to be held, have his hair stroked, to be comforted until he fell asleep with everything that comfort entailed to other children.

But he was not most children and this wasn't even his bed and he did not want to tarnish the memory of his parents by allowing something wearing a human face (a face that was far, far too similar sometimes to another, and he was never sure if that was some hellish coincidence, or simply hellish manipulation) to take place of the familiar, warm embrace in his dreams.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sebastian?" Ciel inquired into the darkness.

"Yes?" came the instant reply, echoing in that strange way of things that came from behind oneself in a small room.

"Are you going to sleep?" Ciel asked him quietly.

"Do you want me to watch over you?" Sebastian questioned neutrally, in a measured but fatigued tone.

He thought about it, tucking his chin into his hands that were curled around his pillow. A part of him liked the idea, the familiar comfort of knowing he was watched over and cared for and safe. The presence that had been his anchor for the first months of the contract, and still grounded him occasionally on the long nights when he found himself unable to sleep, shaken too deeply by images he knew he would never forget. He knew he'd be adding some of the experiences of this horrible, failed mission to the long list of things that disturbed his sleep.

But that's not why he allowed himself the indigity and indulgence of crawling into his butler's bed like this, like a child, like he was 6 years old and beseeching solace from his parents. Perhaps a small part of it, but Ciel did not come here tonight to assuage his worries over his own safety. Even now that he was mostly sure (at least rationally--no promises were made for his emotional certainty) of his servant's continued existence, that lingering dread in his stomach did not want to dissipate.

"Not necessarily," he said at last. He didn't not want that. It just… wasn't the point. "I was just curious."

A silence that he couldn't read filled the air for a time. Then, "If you're wondering if I was going to sleep, to rest to heal from my injuries, the answer would be no."

"Why?" he was asking before he could think better of it. He didn't know why it mattered to him.

"I don't need to," the demon said bluntly, "and besides--" And then he stopped.

Ciel sat up a little to look at him. That sounded important.

Sebastian wasn’t exactly averting his eyes when Ciel could glimpse his face again, but they were slitted in that way Ciel associated with Sebastian hiding something that hit too close to a particular kind of truth the demon didn’t want exposed. "Sebastian?"

He was silent for a minute until it was clear Ciel wasn't going to let the moment go. "It's nothing, my lord. I’d just prefer to keep you in my sight. After the events of yesterday."

Oh.

Sebastian's eyes flicked to him when he began laughing, but he couldn't help it.

"We are a pair, aren't we?" he giggled, closing his eyes and falling back down to the bed, this time facing inward--Sebastian automatically tucking him in with a weary arm as he did.

"Why?" the butler questioned, sounding wary.

Ciel waved a hand beneath the covers; knew Sebastian would catch it anyway. "Me, the human, worried unnecessarily over the demon who is my companion. You, the demon, worried too genuinely over the human in your contract--It's funny, isn't it?" Usually he wouldn’t be so blunt, wouldn’t say something like this--he wasn’t sure he’d even think of it in those terms before now. But this voyage, this mission, this ordeal… something had changed. Between them. In how he saw Sebastian. In how he saw himself, in relation to the demon--or in relation to the idea of his absence.

Sebastian didn't laugh. But nor did he contradict him. And Ciel knew Sebastian couldn’t lie to him, knew Sebastian knew it as well, knew Sebastian had mastered the art of avoiding questions and statements he didn’t want to elaborate on. His evasive, literal answer only further deepened that observation in Ciel’s mind. "To be fair, it is my job to be worried about you."

"And you do it exceedingly well," Ciel smiled into his pillow. "You don't have to be, right now, though. I'm fine."

Sebastian hummed noncommittally; thoughtfully. "And so, too, could you have stayed in your room. But here you are."

Ciel opened his eyes again to see Sebastian watching him carefully from the other pillow. His eyes were heavy-lidded again, however not as a beast in defense, nor a demon in mystery, but like a man, worn out and restful, if not comfortable.

"I could've," he admitted. "But I didn't."

One side of Sebastian’s mouth tugged up in a tired mimicry of fondness.

Ciel sighed and then, for the last time, closed his eyes and settled down. "While you're not sleeping..."

"Yes?"

"...will you wake me up if I have a nightmare?" His voice was once again fragile, but at least this time, it was allowed on purpose.

Sebastian didn't ask him why, didn't ask how, didn't want to know what Ciel's bad dreams may be of. Probably he already knew. "Of course," he whispered, his voice low and soothing like a filigree of shadow itself stroking Ciel's eardrum, "my lord."

Ciel did not answer. He fell asleep, under the watchful gazes of both steady moonlight and soft darkness.

Morning came, and Ciel barely noticed it. He did not wonder the time, did not wonder when they would be expected, if at all, did not think about if the ship even had a schedule for the survivors to work around at the moment, or what his family may think of his absence if and when they discovered it. His thoughts were foggy and pleasant in the way of one who has awakened, only to find themselves comfortable and in no need of further rousing, rather than basking in the warmth and ease they currently experienced.

He woke with his head on a chest and a hand in his hair, and not a thought of either of him, just that the tension and cold and anxiety of before had gone away, and he was relieved. Whatever in him that was conscious enough to be semi-present knew, instinctively, that he was safe and cared for, and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, some more semblance of awareness came to him, the gradual process of awakening, even if he was not awake just yet. Something tickled his nose and he wrinkled it and opened one eye to see sunlight, bright and yellow, streaming through the porthole, and a stray ray slanting out at him and reaching the edge of his face. He shifted just slightly, settling back down, but this time not without the realization of where he was. The ship--not the Campania--below deck, in his butler’s room.

Ah. That was Sebastian’s arm around him, wasn’t it?

Nevermind. It didn’t matter. Ciel wasn’t going to wake himself up by worrying about it, or thinking too hard. He’d save that for later. That was a problem for the Ciel of the future.

For now, he relaxed again, drifting back into sleepy comfort curled across the form of his butler, who seemed content to let him stay. Maybe it was because he didn’t get up, or maybe the servant just also did not want to move, but either way, the hand on his head stayed and continued its slow, gentle movement. Maybe if Ciel stayed asleep, or something close to it, or pretending at it, it wouldn’t stop.

Sebastian did not say anything in the silence. Ciel wanted to look up and see if he was also relaxed, or fond, or simply acting on what he thought was his duties as Ciel’s servant and contractor at the moment, but he didn’t want to break the spell. Probably the demon already knew Ciel was more awake now, from a million tiny things, not even counting just his actual shifting--heartbeat, breathing rate, the tons of minute ways a human could change and move without consciously doing so--but he, too, did not break the spell.

Before Ciel had made his mind up on whether he’d purposely keep the act up even when he properly woke, there was a noise--his ears pricked as footsteps stopped outside the door, and then, a knock.

He tensed, definitely alerting Sebastian to him exiting his daze now, but still did not move, waiting. Sebastian hadn’t tensed, but his fingers paused a moment in a show of his own surprise at the approach. A familiar voice came from outside the door when there was no reply.

“Sebastian?”

His aunt. Her arrival probably meant that whatever time it was, it was nearly on the dot of the hour. She was always punctual, especially when greeting someone. That meant it was near when the passengers might be expected to begin waking soon, and something like breakfast may be served. Ciel didn’t think he had the stomach for either the food or the company.

He was almost, but not quite, shocked at the next thing that left her mouth. “Ciel?”

Ah. So she figured it out. He should be insulted or terrified or both by being so easy to read, but just now, he still wasn’t ready for that barrage of emotions, or anything else that’d disturb the peace he had within his hands at this moment.

He said nothing, and kept his eyes closed, and his breathing even.

He heard a soft exhale, quiet and not unlike a normal breath, but he’d spent enough time around Sebastian to know a suppressed laugh when he heard one.

Sebastian made the choice for him, as Ciel had let him. “Come in,” he called quietly. He resumed the motions of his hand in his charge’s hair.

Ciel stayed extra still as the door opened and his aunt’s footsteps echoed into the small room. “Oh,” she said, and Ciel heard the slight--and similarly, not quite--surprise in her voice, and how she lowered it immediately to below an average speaking level as to not disturb him. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d both be awake.”

“It’s quite alright. I am, at least, and well--you can see, my lady, why I was not able to answer the door myself.” He could hear the smile on his servant’s face. Almost wanted to wake up properly to wipe it off his smug face, but that would require waking up, and again, Ciel did not want to do that just yet, even if he was on his way there.

There was a pause, as Ciel took catalogue of what exactly his aunt did see--Sebastian laying on his back, probably just as disshevelled as last night in plain clothes and messy hair, Ciel at his side with his knees tucked up and one of his arms thrown carelessly across the butler’s chest, his head pillowed on the other one that was also resting on the demon’s shoulder, Sebastian’s hands--re-gloved, Ciel just noticed--respectively laying on his own stomach and carefully stroking the hair that fell into Ciel’s face and from his nape back into place.

“Yes, that and your wounds, I imagine,” she continued, never one to beat around an issue. The mixture of her blunt nature and strict adherence to politeness always baffled and amused Ciel. “Speaking of, that was what I was here to talk to you about.”

Ciel could hear the vibrations in his chest when Sebastian spoke. “Oh?”

She cleared her throat--she was somewhere just inside the doorway, only a few feet from the bed. Ciel could clearly imagine her standing there with her hands folded together neatly, and Sebastian’s attentive expression as he attempted his best imitation of accommodating regard waiting for her intentions.

“I wanted to thank you, properly. For protecting Ciel. I cannot imagine that anything that transpired the night before last was easy, or pleasant, but Ciel was returned to us with barely a scratch. That is thanks to you. So you have my gratitude.”

There was a second shocked silence in the air, but this time longer. For Francis to be saying such a thing… she didn’t even like Sebastian, first of all, and second of all there was no need in her world to thank a servant for anything, much less their duty--and they all knew what Sebastian’s real job was when he was acting as servant of the Queen’s Watchdog, and not just butler of the Phantomhive Estate. Plus, she did not give away praise so easily, and her and Alexis had already made their point with their insistence on Sebastian’s health, the casual inclusion in their discussions, and the decision to persuade someone to give Sebastian his own room. This conversation wasn’t necessary, and yet…

“My lady, I don’t know what to say to such praise. I was only doing my duty,” Sebastian spoke at last, that slightly ingratiating tone to his voice that Ciel found equally amusing and irritating because of how he knew it was often faked--but there was a real thread of respect in there, he believed.

“And is that your duty as well?” There was a slightly sarcastic--but not quite, a Marchioness in polite society would never stoop to sarcasm and Francis knew that, even if she had her own tendencies--quality to the words, and Ciel knew immediately that she was making a somewhat pointed gesture of expression at the bed in general.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Ah, well…”

No. That answer was clear in his hesitant tone. Ciel resisted the urge to clench his hands on fabric at the confirmation that Sebastian did not actually consider this part of his job, whether that was as a servant or as a contractor, and may actually be antithetical to both responsibilities, in his mind.

A soft puff of air that was definitely an amused and fond chuckle from his aunt. “He trusts you. That means something. To him, certainly, and to me as well. He doesn’t trust us like that, for whatever reason, for whatever things that’s happened to him and thinks we won’t understand… and maybe we wouldn’t. I don’t know. I wish he did trust us and knew we would be here for him no matter what, as family, but for now… I am glad he has you. That’s all.”

Longer silence. Ciel’s heart beat faster and some emotion he couldn’t decipher tangled itself in his chest. Trust… could he trust them? Did he not? The answer was of course, no, but he’d never consciously chosen that. But she was right. Despite being family, despite being involved in the same business, from the same life, he did not believe they’d understand him anymore, if ever. Not since he’d changed. And Sebastian… well, the answer to did he trust him was so obvious it was stupid--of course, and of course not. He couldn’t trust anyone else. He couldn’t trust Sebastian more than most. But Sebastian was the one who was his confidante, and his protector, and his--his something-close-to-a-guardian that he knew everyone else around him already assumed Sebastian to be, but he tried not to think about.

It was hard not to think about, right now.

And deep, in his heart, where he buried all these feelings he didn’t want to think about, he wished he could trust the Midfords, too.

When the silence dragged on further and the butler said nothing--Ciel desperately wanted to know if he was baffled at the conversation or genuinely floundering for words for once--Francis seemed to take that as her cue. “That’s all I wanted to say. I won’t bother you further. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes on the main deck--at 8:15. I think both of you should come eat with us, for your health. I’ve spoken with the doctor and he says if you need someone to help you around, you need only summon him.”

Then there was a curt swish of skirts, and the door closing, and she was gone. She said it so smoothly and quickly, there was no room for an interjection or decision on whether or not he wanted to call her back and--say something? Do something? He didn’t know. But he knew there was a restlessness in his chest now that he didn’t know what to do with.

Silence reigned once more in the quiet, small room that was devoid of even the patterned ticking of a clock. There was just the silent, unceasing rhythm of Sebastian’s hand still in his hair, the sunlight pushing through the window like a quiet kind of miracle for a person who had wondered if they’d ever see morning again, and the two of them.

He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t need to, anyway.

“You should get something to eat, young master.”

“‘m not hungry,” he mumbled into the crinkled shirt beneath his face.

“Still.”

He didn’t move. Then, “In a few minutes.”

Sebastian accepted that in silence and Ciel finally opened his eyes. As unobtrusively and quietly as he could manage--which didn’t really matter to a being that could sense the flutter of an eyelash across a room--he looked up.

Sebastian was laying the same as Ciel had noticed just through the sleepy awareness, and his head was actually resting on the pillow, looking almost like a normal person woken from sleep. Ciel had wondered what his eyes would be turned to when he eventually saw--would they be closed? Looking at him? Staring at the door, or even nothing in particular?--and he knew the answer now. They were open, but not in blank awareness, they were focused with a look of almost soft contemplation towards that which had woken him up--the porthole, where the sun made its intrusion into the room.

He noticed that while it managed to just cast an angle of light across himself, the illumination didn’t reach Sebastian’s face similarly--he stayed in morning shadow as he blinked thoughtfully at the radiance above them. Ciel wondered, idly, if he only turned his head back towards him… would Ciel see another kind of light entirely, or simply regular, human brown irises?

He closed his eyes before he could find out, and rested his head back on the warm, steadily rising and lifting chest beneath his head, scooting the barest inch closer. He did not hug his servant nearer, but neither did he remove his arm.

The demon let his other hand drift away from his stomach in response, finding its way to Ciel’s arm and making aimless, repetitive, soothing motions that he knew were meant to rouse him further. He sighed softly through his nose, knowing that he had to get up in actuality soon, that neither his family nor his servant would really let him sleep the day away, or ignore the callings of morning responsibilities, such as dressing and eating.

But not right now. Not yet.

He turned his face back down, letting the warm rays of day cover his head. Sebastian’s hand followed the movement, of course, and though he could not see it, he knew they were surely casting their light upon him now, too, however minisculely.