What Is: Love
Title: What Is: Love
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji.
Author: write_rewrite
Rating: G.
Pairings: Implied William/Grell.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Just a quick little thing before my beach trip.
Summary: Ronald had no-one else to ask.
Ronald needed advice, and the only person available was the boss - otherwise, he'd have sooner asked someone else, like Eric or the cleaner, or, hell, a plant would've done; Ronald would've guaranteed that a plant knew more about love than William T. Spears did.
Sadly, there was no intelligent horticulture to discuss this trying issue with, and Eric was (as far as Ronald knew) 'working' in the abandoned room on the third floor, and if he'd attempted to ask Miss Grell, he'd have died of old age before he got an answer and, honestly, rationalizing this on the way to William's office was not helping him a bit, so Ronald thought of cats instead.
Specifically, that one cat that lived by his flat that thought it perfectly acceptable to roger all the female cats in the vicinity as loudly and shrilly as possible at an hour where no sane human being would be awake.
Ronald knocked twice on the door, and catered to the idea of clamping the cat's jaws shut temporarily with some of the neighbour lady's fudge; fudge, of course, being a term stretched as widely as it possibly could without turning into taffy.
William sat at his desk, as always, surrounded by paperwork. The glare over the top of his glasses was overkill, but Ronald tried his utmost to ignore it, and walked in and sat down.
There was a prickling British uncomfortableness in the air that seemed as part of the office as the carpet and the windows.
William already knew his question, and laid down the pen.
"So, uh.. boss. Got an answer for me. H-How, uh, ho-how you figure out you're in love?" Ronald tried gamely for a smile, and could only get as far as 'grimace'.
"Love is having someone aggravate you, and smacking them without the intention to hurt," William said, his toneless and strict voice unwavering. "I would not, however, suggest that you say that to the lady of your choice. It seems to be an unacceptable sentence. Is that all?"
"Y-Yeah, boss, I-I guess." That didn't really make sense, but he hadn't expected otherwise from William, and rushed out of the room.
Nobody could really figure out, later in the day, why Ronald Knox was talking to a rose bush.
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji.
Author: write_rewrite
Rating: G.
Pairings: Implied William/Grell.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Just a quick little thing before my beach trip.
Summary: Ronald had no-one else to ask.
Ronald needed advice, and the only person available was the boss - otherwise, he'd have sooner asked someone else, like Eric or the cleaner, or, hell, a plant would've done; Ronald would've guaranteed that a plant knew more about love than William T. Spears did.
Sadly, there was no intelligent horticulture to discuss this trying issue with, and Eric was (as far as Ronald knew) 'working' in the abandoned room on the third floor, and if he'd attempted to ask Miss Grell, he'd have died of old age before he got an answer and, honestly, rationalizing this on the way to William's office was not helping him a bit, so Ronald thought of cats instead.
Specifically, that one cat that lived by his flat that thought it perfectly acceptable to roger all the female cats in the vicinity as loudly and shrilly as possible at an hour where no sane human being would be awake.
Ronald knocked twice on the door, and catered to the idea of clamping the cat's jaws shut temporarily with some of the neighbour lady's fudge; fudge, of course, being a term stretched as widely as it possibly could without turning into taffy.
William sat at his desk, as always, surrounded by paperwork. The glare over the top of his glasses was overkill, but Ronald tried his utmost to ignore it, and walked in and sat down.
There was a prickling British uncomfortableness in the air that seemed as part of the office as the carpet and the windows.
William already knew his question, and laid down the pen.
"So, uh.. boss. Got an answer for me. H-How, uh, ho-how you figure out you're in love?" Ronald tried gamely for a smile, and could only get as far as 'grimace'.
"Love is having someone aggravate you, and smacking them without the intention to hurt," William said, his toneless and strict voice unwavering. "I would not, however, suggest that you say that to the lady of your choice. It seems to be an unacceptable sentence. Is that all?"
"Y-Yeah, boss, I-I guess." That didn't really make sense, but he hadn't expected otherwise from William, and rushed out of the room.
Nobody could really figure out, later in the day, why Ronald Knox was talking to a rose bush.