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“Here,” Ciel says definitively, stopping in the middle of the garden.
Sebastian hums, peering at the boy from a few feet behind him. “Are you certain?”
It’s with a glare that Ciel turns to look at Sebastian. “Who are you to doubt me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord.”
“Hmph.”
Without replying, Sebastian sets down the large basket in his hands. From it, he removes a wide blanket, thick and woolen. There’s a flourish in the way he sets it out in the ground by Ciel’s feet, whipping it through the air theatrically before gesturing for Ciel to sit upon it.
Ciel rolls his eyes but obeys.
Next Sebastian pulls from the basket an array of dishes, all covered, and a flask of tea. Silently, he sets it all on the blanket in front of Ciel, then pulls from the basket a teacup, delicately wrapped in soft cloth so as not to break on their journey.
The garden is expansive and remote, tucked away in the outskirts of London. Well-kept and not often frequented, it’s a property of the Queen, and open only to high society. Today, Ciel and Sebastian are the only inhabitants.
“It’s so bloody hot,” Ciel complains, watching Sebastian’s practiced motions as he pours tea for the boy.
“Would you have preferred to stay inside?”
“No,” Ciel says sourly, taking the teacup from the saucer. It’s just cool enough to drink.
Sebastian chuckles and lays out a napkin beside Ciel’s saucer. It’s all very familiar, the ritual second nature by now. It’s only after he has finished that he breaks routine.
Here, alone with the flowers and the bees and the sun, Sebastian takes a seat beside Ciel.
Ciel sips his tea again, leaning slightly towards Sebastian. A thrill goes through him.
He’s well-respected, if not feared. The people close to him are quite familiar with his eccentricities and his unusual relationship to his butler. Were he at his own manor, or with the people he calls acquaintances, or God forbid, friends, none of them would bat an eye at Sebastian being so close to him.
Still, it’s a different kind of danger to be beside Sebastian like this, so casual and so outside of decorum. Sebastian sitting in his presence is already out of the norm for a butler, and such a devoted and regimented one at that, but him being next to Ciel, letting Ciel lean into his shoulder, cheek pressed to the crisp like of his suit jacket, is even more extraordinary.
But no one's looking. They’re alone, and the sun is shining, and there’s a butterfly fluttering nearby, and Sebastian is humming softly. It’s a lovely afternoon in Ciel’s books, though he would never say so.
Instead, he says, “Hurry up. I’m hungry.”
Sebastian laughs again. “Patience, my lord.”
“Why should I be patient when it’s so sweltering out here and I’m famished.”
“It’s not befitting of a young Earl to complain so much.”
You like when I complain, Ciel wants to point out, and they’re alone, so he does. Blissfully, almost. “You like when I complain. In fact, I’d say you like it a little too much.”
“Perhaps that much is true.” Carefully, Sebastian lifts the lid of a small silver tin. When Ciel peers inside, he finds chocolate-covered strawberries, six of them, so beautiful and perfect they almost look fake.
“Where did you find strawberries? The season’s ended,” Ciel asks with interest.
“I happened upon them in France.”
Ciel frowns. “When did you go to France?”
Plucking one from the tin, Sebastian tilts his head down to smile at him. “I ventured across the border two evenings ago to procure ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner party.”
“Oh.” Ciel doesn’t ask further; wherever Sebastian goes at night is not much of his business as long as he keeps the manor in spotless condition. And he does, somehow managing to tidy the house and prepare breakfast by morning, even with his own little nighttime excursions.
Something soft presses to Ciel’s bottom lip, and he opens his mouth, looking up at Sebastian through his lashes. With care, Sebastian presses the tip of the strawberry past his parted lips, watching his face intently as he bites down. It’s weird to chew like this, the side of his head still mashed into Sebastian’s shoulder, but he manages, humming in approval.
“Satisfactory, my lord?”
“Yes. The strawberries are fresh and…” It pains him to praise the demon, even if he means it. But Sebastian had put a lot of care into this little trip of theirs-- procuring and creating a lovely teatime meal, packing it, driving the carriage out here himself, just so they could be alone-- so Ciel begrudgingly continues, “You’ve tempered the chocolate perfectly. It’s balanced, and not too sweet.”
When he looks up at Sebastian shyly, almost nervous to see the demon’s reaction to such earnest words from his master, he finds the man beaming. “How kind of you, sir.”
“You don’t have to be weird about it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”
Ciel glares, feeling his ears warm. “You know exactly what I- mmph!” The words die into an irritated noise as Sebastian quiets him by pressing the strawberry into his mouth again. Grumpily, Ciel chews, then swallows and huffs, “Childish bastard.”
“I’m childish?” Sebastian echoes, so clearly delighted that it makes Ciel want to box him in the ear. “I don’t think you should be saying such things when you’ve got chocolate all over your face, my lord. Messy eating is a human child’s habit, is it not?”
Frowning, Ciel pats his chin. “I don’t- hey! You did that on purpose!” Sure enough, there’s a smear of chocolate on the corner of his lip where Sebastian had pressed the berry to his skin. He picks at it with a finger, only managing to spread the mess.
Clicking his tongue in false derision, Sebastian sets aside the strawberry and instead thumbs at Ciel’s chin with a gloved hand. It makes him feel even more like a child, and he squirms, hissing.
“Hold still, my lord. Truly, must you be difficult at every turn?”
“Difficult?! You’re the one who made this mess, you ought to clean it up!”
Voice rich with amusement, Sebastian purrs, “Perhaps you’re right, my lord. How unbecoming of a butler to be so neglectful.”
Ciel wants to chastise him further, or maybe point out that they’re alone, so he can really act however he pleases. The game is fun, and Ciel enjoys the roles they play in it. But it’s when they’re alone that Ciel wishes, if only to an extent, that they could drop the farce and be as they are: a little boy and his demon, playing a fantasy. Doomed and trying to fill the time with something sweet before the end.
Instead of saying as much, Ciel wordlessly tilts his chin up expectantly.
With a grin, Sebastian swoops forward to press his lips to the smear, a soft, warm tongue darting out to lap at the chocolate. Ciel gasps softly at the feeling, then turns his head down enough that Sebastian can slip that same tongue into his mouth. He tastes like chocolate and smoke. Ciel sighs.
It’s an odd strain on his neck, so Ciel lets Sebastian haul him up onto his lap without complaint, curling forward into the demon’s chest. Sebastian kisses him almost tenderly, then pulls back and takes up a fresh strawberry, this one covered in white chocolate, pressing it to his lips.
Ciel glares but accepts it, their faces close, the strawberry between them. He tries to chew angrily, but fails and instead lets a giggle free.
“How does it taste, my lord? To your satisfaction?”
Instead of answering, Ciel mumbles a rudimentary, “Shut up,” and presses his lips to Sebastian’s to let him see for himself.