kilter me to the right
Yes. I'm into Kuroshitsuji now. I could go on about kljgklagjaklhadgsomesmerizingSebastian! and oajgkajtkalejtklajtadorabledeterminedproudCiel! but I'll just let this fic speak for me at this moment. Really quite new to Kuroshitsuji, so please please tell me if the characterisation or anything like that is off.
Untitled
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Characters: Ciel, Sebastian
Pairing: Sebastian/Ciel
Rating: G
Summary: Ciel asks a question of Sebastian that he himself is unsure of.
Ciel sat upon the edge of his bed and Sebastian knelt on the floor before him. This was the end of a daily routine that had been almost constant for nearly two years now. Neither Ciel nor Sebastian spoke. Normally the space between them would be filled with directives from Ciel, Sebastian's acceptance of these directives and his inquiries. Natural intercouse between a butler and his master. Although the murmur of conversation had gradually become the norm during this last part of their day, this silence was not unprecedented. It had occurred before, and both Ciel and Sebastian could, if they desired, recall the circumstances during which these previous silences had existed. Most recently: when Sebastian had been in a clean, freshly pressed suit but with the imprint of the sharpness of knives and forks still in the web of his fingers and Ciel, with his no longer wearable clothes discarded and the imprint of a heel along his cheekbone.
Another moment passed. A crash sounded from the direction of the hallway, an impact which made the candlelight in the room waver and the orange and amber hue of the walls shift. Sebastian opened his mouth to speak - something about Bard and the kitchen and how the kitchen was beginning to resemble a smithy more than a place where food was prepared. However, before he could, Ciel frowned. The meaning behind it was unmistakable - 'be quiet, don't talk'. Sebastian's reaction was more ambiguous, though if it had to be described, it could be said to be a combination of the typically haughty, English question 'Oh?', the raising of an eyebrow, a near imperceptible satisfaction and then acquiescence into a single smooth expression. So they continued in silence, largely unbroken save for the distant sounds of Bard and various kitchen-smithy-weaponry implements. Ciel stretched out his feet and Sebastian removed his shoes, careful to cup Ciel's heel in his palm as he slid off each shoe. This same attention was applied throughout this task - rings, cuff links laid on a velvet bed, jacket brushed down and then folded. Yet while Sebastian's eyes were focused on Ciel or whichever item was in his hands, Ciel seemed to be glancing at the wall behind Sebastian, at an ornament over Sebastian's shoulder, a bookshelf to his left - anywhere save for Sebastian himself. Once again that indescribable, imperceptible expression flickered over Sebastian's face.
"Stop." Sebastian's fingers were now at the ribbon at Ciel's throat, ready to draw out one end to untie it. He could feel the beat of Ciel's living pulse. Sebastian stopped. This was another anomaly in an already strange alteration to routine. He looked up at Ciel who was now looking directly at him: one blue eye meeting two red.
"What is it, young master?" Sebastian let Ciel decide which order he would answer for. He had to admit, though, he was mildly curious, but not apprehensive. No, not apprehensive. Ciel was frowning again, except now it was faint as opposed to his previous decisiveness.
"Sebastian." Ah. So he choose to answer neither.
"Yes, young master?"
"That's not your true name, is it?" There was nothing different in Ciel's voice from his ordinary tone, and thus Sebastian responded as if it was an ordinary question about the running of this or that factory.
"No, it is not." Whether satisfied or not with that answer, Ciel seemed to leave that thought with a slight uplifting of his one eye, a movement that was his equivalent to the common shrugging of the shoulders.
"You're too close, Sebastian," Ciel replied irritably, mundanely. They were in the same position that they had been in when Ciel had ordered Sebastian to stop, as Sebastian had taken Ciel's order literally.
"My apologies." Sebastian sat back, letting the ribbon slip out from his fingers. He made no further attempt to move. Ciel felt the touch of the ribbon again as the end brushed the exposed skin at his neck as it came to rest, half-undone. He looked once again around the room, at the sheet bunched beneath his fingertips, and at Sebastian below him, expectant and calm.
"I can trust you to be loyal, devoted, faithful. Devoted. Will you...Sebastian?" Looking down, Ciel sees that the sheets had been changed last Tuesday. They were now a crimson-maroon lightly threaded through with yellow and gold. The soft light also made the sheen of Sebastian's necktie seem more dull, almost matte.
"Of course, young master. I am, after all, a butler."
"Don't play your games with me!" Despite the crashes from the kitchen, despite Bard's audible curses and mutterings, Ciel's snapping, snarling reply still jarred. There was a golden thread tangled between Ciel's clenched fingers. Stiffness along his back as intense as a indrawn breath, neck where Sebastian's gloved fingers had brushed, arms which could reach to tear off his eyepatch and reveal the contractor's mark.
"If there is something that -"
"Leave." Sebastian did not reply in any more words. He rose, made a full bow, inclined his head for further effect and exited the room, taking with him the cushioned rings and the bottle green jacket. Ciel sat on the bed, watching. Will. Free will. Devotion, faithfulness, lo- loyalty.
There is a reason why Sebastian and Ciel do not allow these silences between themselves persist. For during these silences, it is too easy to imagine.
---------
Ciel actually gave Sebastian the name 'Sebastian'. I wrote this before discovering that, so just gloss over it, if you please.
Untitled
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Characters: Ciel, Sebastian
Pairing: Sebastian/Ciel
Rating: G
Summary: Ciel asks a question of Sebastian that he himself is unsure of.
Ciel sat upon the edge of his bed and Sebastian knelt on the floor before him. This was the end of a daily routine that had been almost constant for nearly two years now. Neither Ciel nor Sebastian spoke. Normally the space between them would be filled with directives from Ciel, Sebastian's acceptance of these directives and his inquiries. Natural intercouse between a butler and his master. Although the murmur of conversation had gradually become the norm during this last part of their day, this silence was not unprecedented. It had occurred before, and both Ciel and Sebastian could, if they desired, recall the circumstances during which these previous silences had existed. Most recently: when Sebastian had been in a clean, freshly pressed suit but with the imprint of the sharpness of knives and forks still in the web of his fingers and Ciel, with his no longer wearable clothes discarded and the imprint of a heel along his cheekbone.
Another moment passed. A crash sounded from the direction of the hallway, an impact which made the candlelight in the room waver and the orange and amber hue of the walls shift. Sebastian opened his mouth to speak - something about Bard and the kitchen and how the kitchen was beginning to resemble a smithy more than a place where food was prepared. However, before he could, Ciel frowned. The meaning behind it was unmistakable - 'be quiet, don't talk'. Sebastian's reaction was more ambiguous, though if it had to be described, it could be said to be a combination of the typically haughty, English question 'Oh?', the raising of an eyebrow, a near imperceptible satisfaction and then acquiescence into a single smooth expression. So they continued in silence, largely unbroken save for the distant sounds of Bard and various kitchen-smithy-weaponry implements. Ciel stretched out his feet and Sebastian removed his shoes, careful to cup Ciel's heel in his palm as he slid off each shoe. This same attention was applied throughout this task - rings, cuff links laid on a velvet bed, jacket brushed down and then folded. Yet while Sebastian's eyes were focused on Ciel or whichever item was in his hands, Ciel seemed to be glancing at the wall behind Sebastian, at an ornament over Sebastian's shoulder, a bookshelf to his left - anywhere save for Sebastian himself. Once again that indescribable, imperceptible expression flickered over Sebastian's face.
"Stop." Sebastian's fingers were now at the ribbon at Ciel's throat, ready to draw out one end to untie it. He could feel the beat of Ciel's living pulse. Sebastian stopped. This was another anomaly in an already strange alteration to routine. He looked up at Ciel who was now looking directly at him: one blue eye meeting two red.
"What is it, young master?" Sebastian let Ciel decide which order he would answer for. He had to admit, though, he was mildly curious, but not apprehensive. No, not apprehensive. Ciel was frowning again, except now it was faint as opposed to his previous decisiveness.
"Sebastian." Ah. So he choose to answer neither.
"Yes, young master?"
"That's not your true name, is it?" There was nothing different in Ciel's voice from his ordinary tone, and thus Sebastian responded as if it was an ordinary question about the running of this or that factory.
"No, it is not." Whether satisfied or not with that answer, Ciel seemed to leave that thought with a slight uplifting of his one eye, a movement that was his equivalent to the common shrugging of the shoulders.
"You're too close, Sebastian," Ciel replied irritably, mundanely. They were in the same position that they had been in when Ciel had ordered Sebastian to stop, as Sebastian had taken Ciel's order literally.
"My apologies." Sebastian sat back, letting the ribbon slip out from his fingers. He made no further attempt to move. Ciel felt the touch of the ribbon again as the end brushed the exposed skin at his neck as it came to rest, half-undone. He looked once again around the room, at the sheet bunched beneath his fingertips, and at Sebastian below him, expectant and calm.
"I can trust you to be loyal, devoted, faithful. Devoted. Will you...Sebastian?" Looking down, Ciel sees that the sheets had been changed last Tuesday. They were now a crimson-maroon lightly threaded through with yellow and gold. The soft light also made the sheen of Sebastian's necktie seem more dull, almost matte.
"Of course, young master. I am, after all, a butler."
"Don't play your games with me!" Despite the crashes from the kitchen, despite Bard's audible curses and mutterings, Ciel's snapping, snarling reply still jarred. There was a golden thread tangled between Ciel's clenched fingers. Stiffness along his back as intense as a indrawn breath, neck where Sebastian's gloved fingers had brushed, arms which could reach to tear off his eyepatch and reveal the contractor's mark.
"If there is something that -"
"Leave." Sebastian did not reply in any more words. He rose, made a full bow, inclined his head for further effect and exited the room, taking with him the cushioned rings and the bottle green jacket. Ciel sat on the bed, watching. Will. Free will. Devotion, faithfulness, lo- loyalty.
There is a reason why Sebastian and Ciel do not allow these silences between themselves persist. For during these silences, it is too easy to imagine.
---------
Ciel actually gave Sebastian the name 'Sebastian'. I wrote this before discovering that, so just gloss over it, if you please.