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Sebastian doesn’t often think of Ciel as something frail. While he is a child, the boy is headstrong and proud, and loathe to ask for help. Countless have been trampled by those dainty feet and strong will.
Now, though, he looks nothing like the formidable force he usually is. Trembling, sheets pulled over his head, he’s sniffling. He’s always small, but he looks especially so without his bravado.
“...My love?” Sebastian asks, taking a seat at the end of the bed.
No answer, except for a soft sniffle.
Carefully, Sebastian tugs at the sheets just enough that Ciel’s head and slight shoulders are freed. His face is pink and his eyes are wet. His nose is running, and his lower lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at Sebastian pitifully. Something crumbles inside Sebastian at that face. He’s reminded of a baby bird, shuddering in its nest.
Slowly, as if approaching a feral animal-- the comparison is fitting, Sebastian thinks-- he reaches out a hand towards the boy.
Eyes flitting around the room anxiously, Ciel recoils slightly into the pillows, almost hissing like a kitten. Sebastian finds it endearing despite the tense of the boy’s shoulders. When he reaches out again, fingers almost brushing the boy’s shoulder, Ciel flinches slightly. Sebastian doesn’t take it to heart-- he’s certain that there isn’t anything in the world that wouldn’t make Ciel jump right now.
“It’s only me,” He says, voice teasing. “Have you forgotten me already? You saw me a mere few hours ago… how tragic, that I’m so easily forgettable to you.”
It’s interesting to watch the desperation and fear war with the need to snap at Sebastian. Even afraid of something Sebastian can’t see, Ciel’s base instinct is to not let Sebastian get away with any snark. “...Shut up,” He says, sitting up slightly. He’s wearing one of Sebastian’s t-shirts, the collar slipping off his shoulder and revealing smooth skin, blemished only by a few bruises of Sebastian’s making.
Sebastian moves a bit closer, watching Ciel slowly unwind. His muscles untense, and he starts batting the tears away from his eyes.
“Another nightmare, my love?” Sebastian asks, sitting beside Ciel against the headboard. Of course, the bed is huge, so it’s easy to leave space between them. Whenever this happens, Sebastian has learned that touching Ciel too much too quickly will only make it worse, as his nightmares are often revolving around touch. Sometimes it’s hard to resist the urge to wrap the boy up in his arms, but he manages, sitting beside him and turning his head to look at him.
He can hear the boy’s breath getting slower, steadier. Ciel pulls the sheets down enough to fold them around his lap, melting back into the pillows and folding his hands over them. He doesn’t have to say anything for Sebastian to know that’s a yes to his question.
“Darling boy,” Sebastian purrs, “What am I going to do with you?”
C iel shifts against the mattress, scooting ever so slightly closer. Sebastian smiles. If he waits long enough, Ciel will come to him when he’s ready. It’s a game, of sorts. Everything is some kind of game between them, and there’s no reason this should be any different. The boy seems to be allergic to vulnerability, and Sebastian has learned to coax him out by keeping things normal between them whenever this happens. If he makes too much of a fuss, Ciel shuts down and yells at him, but if he doesn’t fuss at all, Ciel accuses him of being heartless. It’s a thin line to walk, but Sebastian knows the path well.
“Whatever I tell you to,” Ciel says petulantly. He turns onto his side, curling towards Sebastian, but not close enough to touch. His cheek presses into the pillow. There are bags under his eyes-- this is the third night in a row he’s had a bad dream. Sebastian feels bad for the little imp. He’s hardly as fun to tease as usual when he’s so exhausted. He misses the liveliness.
“Of course, my love,” Sebastian says easily. “And what do you want me to do?”
“Stay here,” Ciel says, squishing his face deeper into the pillow. He lays one hand on the mattress between them.
Sebastian puts his own hand over the boy’s small one carefully. It’s tiny underneath his, enveloped completely. And warm. He always marvels at how warm such a small body can be, a ravenous fire of a boy. He can feel frail fingers twitching under his, and then Ciel turns his hand until their palms are kissing, small fingers sliding between larger ones.
“As you wish,” Sebastian says with a dramatic flare, watching the sheets shift as Ciel’s foot presses outward, reaching towards him.
Five warm toes press into his shin. Sebastian squeezes Ciel’s hand, and then says, “Would you like something to drink? It might help to calm you.”
“No,” Ciel murmurs, lips barely moving. He’s looking at Sebastian quietly but intensely, gaze flickering over his face like he’s trying to find some kind of puzzle piece there. His toes flex against Sebastian’s shin, and then he scoots ever closer, close enough that he’s nearly pressed to the man’s side. “Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story would you like?”
“A good one,” Ciel says, ever the brat.
“How descriptive of you, my love.”
Ciel kicks him softly. It doesn’t hurt, and a faint smile passes over Sebastian’s face.
“Maybe a Latin lesson will calm you down,” He muses, laughing softly when Ciel groans.
Instead of answering, the boy finally climbs into his lap, throwing a leg over Sebastian’s hips and tangling the blankets around them in the process. He puts his chest to Sebastian's, cheek to the man’s shoulder. It’s easy to wrap him up in Sebastian’s arms; he never seems so small as when he’s pressed against Sebastian’s body. He almost disappears in the man’s arms, whining irritably when Sebastian lets go of him for a moment to adjust the sheets around them.
As soon as he returns his arms around him, though, Ciel is melting into his chest. The shivering has died down, and Sebastian raises a hand to gently thumb the drying tears away from his lower lashes, fingers tucking behind his jaw so he can hold his cheek. It’s like porcelain against his palm. He does so love teasing the boy, pulling out curses and flustering him, but he loves this too: Ciel, small and vulnerable in his arms, trusting him to take care of everything.
And he will-- he always does. Whatever the boy needs, he’ll take care of it.
Ciel’s eyes close, and he rubs his other cheek once, twice, three times against Sebastian’s shoulder before falling still, the only movement his breathing. He looks almost like a doll. Sebastian rubs his other hand up and down the boy’s back soothingly, getting comfortable against the headboard. His back is going to ache in the morning, but the boy told him to stay, so he’ll stay.