Spoilers: Grell/Will oneshot [Vampires]
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji.
Author: write_rewrite
Rating:
Pairings: William/Grell.
Warnings: Cracky AU.
Notes: Spoiler post for a one shot I am planning about the vampire!Will/huntress!Grell thing.
Summary: Just bits of random conversation and Grell being a general pest.
William wasn't entirely sure what to think when he knocked on Grell's door, and the redhead came out toting a chainsaw that looked like it belonged to that gore movie about Texans. 'Insane' was probably the safest assumption.
There was dirt smeared on her left cheek. It was oddly endearing, if messy. Cobwebs in her hair. Hair falling around her face.
"Do you normally open your front door carrying a chainsaw?" William tried for charm, but it came out rather curious instead.
"Only when I'm spring-cleaning the garage," Grell didn't seem to notice the oddity,and turned to walk into the house. Like a shadow, William followed, pointing out one very crucial flaw in her plan:
"It's... summer...?"
"I left it a bit late."
. . .
In one of the faded boxes, he found a picture of three young men with their arms around one another. He recognized the redhead in the middle only by the colour of her hair; otherwise, she looked virtually unrecognizeable. Her hair had been short then - it framed her face rather nicely. If William was pushed for an opinion, he'd have to sway towards the short cut.
The other two men were an odd form of blond. One of them had his head on Grell's shoulder; the other just an arm about the waist.
"Who are these?" he asked, and pushed the picture at her.
"Oooh! That's from Uni - Oh God, don't look at that, I look terribly old now." She snatched it loose, tossing it into a myriad of files and boxes and random brown coloured things, "And those're Ronnie and Eric. Lovely chaps."
Boyfriends?" William stood up, rooting in the pile for the picture again.
"To each other, not me. Sort of. They used to have a few and beat the shite out of one anther; I was always patching them up. It was sort of ridiculous."
Grell's soft smile flickered in the dark, bright as lamp-light. "We'd be at a club, and they'd be dancing with other people to try and piss one another off; and, well, neither of them are bad-looking blokes, so when they actually pulled, they'd have to invent crazy excuses for not going home with the person. I know Ronnie's personal favourite was something along the lines of 'I just got out of Broadmoor'."
He didn't much like the laugh that followed; it sounded too much like more than friends. William pushed it aside, picking up the picture again, turning it over; then, he handed it back.
. . .
The chainsaw was bloody.
"It's fake blood. Ronald went to a halloween party as Ash from Evil Dead, and we dipped that chainsaw in fake blood."
"That's not fake; the texture's wrong. I'm afraid you'll have to think of a better lie than that. Alternatively, you could tell the truth."
"Mmmh... no, not the truth. I don't like making it easy for you. You look so cute when you're thoughtful."
. . .
There was a terrarium in the living room.
The snake was called Shylock.
William wasn't sure what he was most amused by - that there was a snake in a non-wearable form in the house, or that Miss Grell seemed to have a habit of naming things after Shakespearean characters. Cordelia, Shylock. This was a house where the fridge being named Hamlet would not surprise him in the slightest.
The snake did, a little.
"He comes in handy for getting rid of ex boyfriends," Grell said cheerfully, with a bright little smile that just didn't quite hide the steely ring of truth in her voice.
. . .
"Any relation to Peter Sutcliff?"
Shoulders deep in a box, Grell's voice was muffled as she answered. "Distantly! We didn't used to talk about him in the family, he was an embarrassment."
"Well, he was a serial killer," William shrugged, and wasn't really surprised when she straightened up, dusted off her hands, and said:
"Nah, he wore sweaters on his legs. That's bloody weird. Humans kill humans, but by God, you can at least dress properly while you're doing it."
. . .
She was so close, he could taste her heartbeat in the air, and if she didn't back away now, William was going to do something he regretted - but oh, her mouth was wet and warm and close, and her heartbeat was rapid and quick, and those big green eyes were fearless.
The knowing grin on her lips only made him more aware of how bloody long it had been since ... anyone. Ages. Decades.
That line of thought wasn't helping.
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji.
Author: write_rewrite
Rating:
Pairings: William/Grell.
Warnings: Cracky AU.
Notes: Spoiler post for a one shot I am planning about the vampire!Will/huntress!Grell thing.
Summary: Just bits of random conversation and Grell being a general pest.
William wasn't entirely sure what to think when he knocked on Grell's door, and the redhead came out toting a chainsaw that looked like it belonged to that gore movie about Texans. 'Insane' was probably the safest assumption.
There was dirt smeared on her left cheek. It was oddly endearing, if messy. Cobwebs in her hair. Hair falling around her face.
"Do you normally open your front door carrying a chainsaw?" William tried for charm, but it came out rather curious instead.
"Only when I'm spring-cleaning the garage," Grell didn't seem to notice the oddity,and turned to walk into the house. Like a shadow, William followed, pointing out one very crucial flaw in her plan:
"It's... summer...?"
"I left it a bit late."
. . .
In one of the faded boxes, he found a picture of three young men with their arms around one another. He recognized the redhead in the middle only by the colour of her hair; otherwise, she looked virtually unrecognizeable. Her hair had been short then - it framed her face rather nicely. If William was pushed for an opinion, he'd have to sway towards the short cut.
The other two men were an odd form of blond. One of them had his head on Grell's shoulder; the other just an arm about the waist.
"Who are these?" he asked, and pushed the picture at her.
"Oooh! That's from Uni - Oh God, don't look at that, I look terribly old now." She snatched it loose, tossing it into a myriad of files and boxes and random brown coloured things, "And those're Ronnie and Eric. Lovely chaps."
Boyfriends?" William stood up, rooting in the pile for the picture again.
"To each other, not me. Sort of. They used to have a few and beat the shite out of one anther; I was always patching them up. It was sort of ridiculous."
Grell's soft smile flickered in the dark, bright as lamp-light. "We'd be at a club, and they'd be dancing with other people to try and piss one another off; and, well, neither of them are bad-looking blokes, so when they actually pulled, they'd have to invent crazy excuses for not going home with the person. I know Ronnie's personal favourite was something along the lines of 'I just got out of Broadmoor'."
He didn't much like the laugh that followed; it sounded too much like more than friends. William pushed it aside, picking up the picture again, turning it over; then, he handed it back.
. . .
The chainsaw was bloody.
"It's fake blood. Ronald went to a halloween party as Ash from Evil Dead, and we dipped that chainsaw in fake blood."
"That's not fake; the texture's wrong. I'm afraid you'll have to think of a better lie than that. Alternatively, you could tell the truth."
"Mmmh... no, not the truth. I don't like making it easy for you. You look so cute when you're thoughtful."
. . .
There was a terrarium in the living room.
The snake was called Shylock.
William wasn't sure what he was most amused by - that there was a snake in a non-wearable form in the house, or that Miss Grell seemed to have a habit of naming things after Shakespearean characters. Cordelia, Shylock. This was a house where the fridge being named Hamlet would not surprise him in the slightest.
The snake did, a little.
"He comes in handy for getting rid of ex boyfriends," Grell said cheerfully, with a bright little smile that just didn't quite hide the steely ring of truth in her voice.
. . .
"Any relation to Peter Sutcliff?"
Shoulders deep in a box, Grell's voice was muffled as she answered. "Distantly! We didn't used to talk about him in the family, he was an embarrassment."
"Well, he was a serial killer," William shrugged, and wasn't really surprised when she straightened up, dusted off her hands, and said:
"Nah, he wore sweaters on his legs. That's bloody weird. Humans kill humans, but by God, you can at least dress properly while you're doing it."
. . .
She was so close, he could taste her heartbeat in the air, and if she didn't back away now, William was going to do something he regretted - but oh, her mouth was wet and warm and close, and her heartbeat was rapid and quick, and those big green eyes were fearless.
The knowing grin on her lips only made him more aware of how bloody long it had been since ... anyone. Ages. Decades.
That line of thought wasn't helping.