A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Fanfiction
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la…”
You were humming and quietly singing along to another Christmas carol, as usual nowadays. You were often found murmuring a song or another under your breath nowadays, as if this was quite the norm—and it was, at least for the season that was in store.
“‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la…”
You continued the song with only a fraction of a second’s pause, then resumed by humming to the tune as you stood tentatively on a stool, your arms reached up agonizingly as you tried to hang the lights on the tree, as you had been ordered to do by the young lord, Ciel.
"'Tis the season to be jolly", you found out, depended on the situation. In this case, you realized that you were finding it hard to enjoy the season while setting up the Christmas tree at Ciel's demand.
Your arms were aching as you tried, in vain, to try to adjust the lights on the tree. It was absolutely useless, because by now your arms were sore and in pain, and you were feeling very partial to a bit of rest. Afterwards, you might be able to continue without overly frustrating yourself.
You were never very good at decorating--if you were truthful with yourself, you'd say you weren't good at it at all.
This was a fact that Ciel Phantomhive chose to ignore.
“Oh, honestly… I have no time for these little decorations…” you mumbled to yourself as you very nearly got tangled in a batch of stringed lights, at the same time attempting to step off the stool...
Which didn't prove to be the smartest move.
Perhaps what held you back from being able to decorate to the best of your abilities was that you were somewhat clumsy... if you could, you would've avoided decorating completely. The process made you too prone to falling, slipping, cutting yourself, and acquiring many a great injury.
... to speak the truth, you might’ve been in a pleasant enough mood to find it in your agenda to finish the task of decorating at a later time, maybe after you had a break—if you hadn’t tripped over your own feet and fallen right off the stool in the next second, finally deciding to yourself that you would never accept an order to decorate the house again, as angry as you were with those arrangements.
Fortunately, you had an extremely hard skull (of course, people would occasionally call you a hardhead, which you weren’t sure was a joke anymore) and bones, that was true… but the floor, apparently, was harder than that.
… that fall hurt like hell.
“Ow…” you mumbled as you struggled to a sitting position, your elbows and knees aching with soreness. “What the hell, I’m going to die doing this!”
Decorating the manor had never been your ideal profession; however, your master Ciel, who seemed to think the precise opposite, was having you set up for every major holiday there was in the Phantomhive manor. Thankfully, you’d managed to easily convince Lizzie to handle Valentine’s Day, but that was the only brilliant stroke of luck you’d had in the past year… Ciel had learnt, from that unfortunately experience, not to accept any decoration plans that had the slightest trace of pink or lacey ruffles on them.
And you still hadn’t managed to explain how poor Tanaka’s head had been mercilessly stuffed through the centre of a heart-shaped, metal piece that was meant to be hung on a pin on the wall. All you knew was that it’d taken a lot to manage to pull him out of that metal heart.
“Oh, damn you, gods…” You sighed as you got to your feet, brushing off your maid’s dress and feeling completely useless. “Why am I so clumsy?”
“The question is—why are you spending your time wondering why you’re clumsy when you should be decorating the manor?” came a slightly mocking voice behind you.
You knew that tone immediately. There was only one man in this manor who would sound so mockingly taunting and, at the same time, ridiculously attractive—nor was there any other who would show up instantly when there was a problem or dilemma. When you’d first come to the Phantomhives, you’d proven to be highly susceptible and fallen over, every time, at the tiniest hint of Sebastian Michaelis’s voice, but he’d proved quite elusive to any form of romance, as was proved by Mey-Rin. So instead of chasing after that man and even reacting to him like she did, you left him alone.
And I hope he dies alone and miserable too, because he and his little lord are making my days of decorating miserable—oh wait, they were the ones who put me to decorating in the first place!
“I don’t know,” you said sarcastically, turning around to glare at him, and it was no shock to you that he was dressed properly and groomed nicely as usual… and just a tad bit more attractive, as his face seemed a bit more brightened and illuminated by the extra lights in the manor that had been set up in preparation for the holidays. “Perhaps I’m just a bit too… in pain to be decorating!”
He only gave that slight smile of his as he glanced down to examine the basket of lights you’d placed at the foot of your stool. Immediately, it occurred to you that it would’ve been easier to put the basket at your level so that you could reach it without stooping over. Oh well, it was much too late for that now, as Sebastian was doing his daily inspection over your mediocre skills.
“Well,” he drawled on, ignoring your comment, “I’ve been hearing little complaints from my lord about your… poor decorating skills.”
Sebastian looked, with an expression that almost seemed like pity, down into the basket’s contents, which he held tightly in his gloved hands, and you scowled unhappily at this gesture.
“Well, your lord Phantomhive is the one making me decorate! So you can’t blame everything on me—naturally, he’s the one who appointed me, so it only shows that he must want the job to turn out badly!”
“On the contrary,” argued Sebastian, “He merely wants to help you to improve your skills.”
On the contrary. It was unlikely that Ciel wanted to have anything to do with your decorating skills. It was more probable to be a means of tormenting you.
“Skills?!” You stared at the man, half-amused and half in shock. “You’ve got to be jesting. Decorating is an absolutely useless skill—why, if I lived in my own house and had the holidays coming around the corner, I wouldn’t even bother to decorate! I’d… I don’t know… hang a wreath over my door and be done with that,” you added grumpily.
“You haven’t got a house,” pointed out Sebastian, that signature smirk on his dark and handsome face.
“Theoretically, let’s say. I still wouldn’t decorate it.”
“In theory,” corrected the butler, setting down the basket with a frown now as he continued to speak: “However, I doubt that in your lifetime of service to my master, you would acquire a house of your own. So I wouldn’t get my hopes very high up…”
“And why would I want to stay here forever?” you snapped right back. “Why would I even want to stay in this hell of servitude? You must have very high hopes, seeing as you’d prefer to waste away as a butler your whole life, that you might be able to imprison me in this manor for years, but it’s not going to work.”
“…” For a moment, it seemed that he would have nothing to say to that, and you were about to turn on your heel and walk off, leaving him standing, forlorn, with the decorations, when he suddenly spoke.
“… On the contrary,” repeated Sebastian, a sly look suddenly, quite unexpectedly, creeping across his pale face. “I think that it will work.”
“What?” You gave him an incredulous look, frowning at the idea of Sebastian locking you into the Phantomhive manor for the entirety of your lifetime, and you dismissed it as a very unpleasant thought. However, you didn’t like the expression on his face…
With that clever look never melting off his carved and fine facial features, Sebastian countered: “I think I’ll be able to keep you here for quite a long time… if I’m not mistaken.”
“What? Keep me in this place?”
You blinked; surely Sebastian had gone insane at last. No doubt too, he had been cooped up for too many years in this hell of a workplace. He couldn’t have been able to keep his mind in its right place after all that serving and making tea for his little master.
“Yes. After all, I know the most reliable methods to keep you here, and you know that I do.”
Er… wait… I knowthat he does? Now you were effectively confused. What the… is this another stupid trick of that butler’s?
It was quite true that Sebastian was a sly fellow--even he had found ways to thwart his own master. Playing tricks seemed to be absolutely in his nature.
You didn’t have time to counter his attack--in another moment, Sebastian had suddenly descended upon you in a flurry of black and crimson… and as you took in the sight of his pitch dark colour of the fabric, the flashing of white that was his ironed, smooth shirt, and found yourself facing the beautifully crimson red of his eyes, it occurred to you…
That you had had a crush on the Phantomhive butler for a very, very long time…
And as his lips pressed against yours, it had suddenly occurred to you what his “reliable methods” had been referring to. But all you could taste then was the warm, sweet flesh of the butler, and your eyes were closed, you were taking in his scent as much as you could…
When he pulled away, you were suddenly left feeling a bit forlorn, but your heart was jumping considerably.
“So, Sebastian… got any little complaints for your little master now?” You frowned up at him—just because he kissed you did not mean that you would be any more kindly towards him…
“Yes,” replied Sebastian coyly, and you gave him a hard glare. Of course you expected this, he would always be so conniving and disappointing—
“That one of our maids is a bit too… slow at decorating. I think a bit of help is in order.”
Your eyes widened in delight at this, and for the rest of the afternoon, you and Sebastian set up the Christmas tree together, sharing a bit of warmth and laughter and holiday cheer…
… and not to mention, there was also quite a bit of snogging too.