Sebastian’s eyes glowed eerily as he took in the situation before him. Admittedly, the demon understood that it was somewhat his fault to have let down his guard around the Death Gods in spite of their previous encounters. He’d damned those folk to Hell if he hadn’t adored the place as much as he did.
The rugged breaths of his young master in his arms grew more and more erratic, it made his non-beating heart flutter in panic for not more than a second. Composure was the key, in any case. Sebastian had sworn to keep his little master safe even if he let the boy be tossed around a bit ever so often, but the situation shouldn’t have to had come to this.
“S-Sebastian…” Ciel’s breath flagged as his grip tightened on his butler's blood stained uniform. A puff of mist escaped his paling lips.
Sighing, the ebony-haired demon cursed Ciel in the sense that the young boy managed to achieve what many others couldn’t in centuries. By all unholy creations, the demon actually grew attached to his young charge. Putting pressure on the fatal wound on his young master’s side, Sebastian came out of his denial and understood that the reason he didn’t want young Ciel to die was because he cared for him.
Yet, to call upon his father was a measure Sebastian loathed to resort to. The boy had been cut open by a death scythe, however, and perhaps summoning his creator was the only way to save him. Allowing a flicker of worry to flash by the dilated slits he called his pupils, Sebastian cradled the young master in his arms and knelt down on his knees.
Grell was kicking up a fuss on how her Bassy wouldn’t pay attention to her in spite of the time she’d taken to touch up on her make up (which had been for hours, by the way) and pick out just the right outfit for this fateful evening. Blowing a kiss, the reaper prepared to rev up her precious scythe of death. Grell hummed a sweet tune as she did, but her eyes widened when the hot piece of work known as Sebastian Michaelis got on his knees in seeming surrender.
“Oh~” Grell drawled coyly. “Giving up already, Bassy darling?”
Sparing her a glance, Sebastian felt his lips twitch. “Unlikely, I assure you.” He counted the seconds in his head, stilling his soul quivering in reluctance. William pushed up his glasses, spectacles gleaming under the moonlit night. “Begging, then.” He stated, leaving no room for denial.
Scoffing, Sebastian let the chant leave his lips.
“My Father, who art Master of Death, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy Will be done on this realm as it were the next.
Give us this night your daily praise; and forgive me my sins as I offer those who sin against you;
And lead me not into Heaven, but deliver me from death.”
Sebastian refused to let his body twitch when he felt the cold air of London tremble. The things he did for his (dying) master, it made the demon want to screech, were he a lesser demon. The Death God’s eyes all widened in curious shock, the presence coming upon them familiar and revered.
“I admit,” a smooth, deep baritone voice said from amidst the creeping shadows, “that when I claimed you as my own when you were but an angry, suckling little thing, it was not to let time pass to face this.”
Facing the pair of emerald eyes framed by round golden glasses that were like a Death God’s but not, Sebastian murmured a soft “Father.”
The body in the demon’s arms startled weakly. “Father?” he whispered weakly, mirroring. Mind attempting to comprehend the newest piece to their dangerous game of chess. The latest addition’s accent sounded similar to Ciel’s own, the boy thought. Yet, the air of power that surrounded him felt thicker than Sebastian’s when he appeared before him on that night when the (helplesshelplesshelpless) child had sworn upon his brother's death to make lies become truth.
The blue-eyed Phantomhive wanted to ask Sebastian who this man was, and why his voice lit itself with the fondest of amusement when he implicitly addressed his butler. Why Sebastian called him ‘father’ like how a petulant teen sulked in embarrassment over their parent.
In the distance, if Ciel were paying attention to the lesser predators in the room, he’d hear the disgruntled breath choked by William. It was their Boss! The highest on the hierarchy, what in all 7 layers of Hell was he doing out of his office on a weekday?! He and Grell hadn’t even gotten their jobs done yet- in front of the most important superior even. Both of them would be getting a pay cut and little to no chance at a promotion at this rate!
“I hear you call yourself Sebastian now.” Their founder said with a smirk in his voice. Something Grell recognised as Sebastian’s own smirk. Or rather, his father’s apparently. Why wasn’t anyone calling this out, by the way. Perhaps they were all still shocked speechless like the red-head herself? Still, to have her mouth wide open like this was unbefitting of a lady. Grell shut her mouth with a large, stiff ‘click!’.
“It’s been a while, my child. Teddy misses you, you know. Come home more often, haven’t you wandered enough?” the man smiled softly. The demon grimaced at the image of his sibling tackling him in a bone-crushing greeting-hug. “Perhaps, Father.” Sebastian said somewhat truthfully. Steeling himself (not that anyone noticed, maybe Harry Potter, but the man didn’t count) “Please save him.” he asked, edging on pleading.
Harry touched his chin, “Oh? And this is your newest contract?”
“Indeed.” Was bit out grittily.
“You’ve called away the Master of Death for a mere contract? You should know better than to treat me like some common circus trick, my child.”
“He is no mere contract!” Sebastian raised his voice while remaining strangely polite. “He is different from the rest. And I ask that he remains alive for more years to come until I claim him myself.”
Harry raised a brow, internally grinning at his son learning how to treat humans like a pet! The dark haired man wanted to shed a tear from the improvement; it felt like just yesterday that ‘Sebastian’ made clear on his thoughts on how all of humankind were but insects under his shoes.
William and Grell, forgotten at the side, widened their framed eyes a shade lighter than their Boss’s own. “Boss!” Grell shouted uncouthly, William immediately nailing her down with his own Scythe. Coughing into his fist, “It is against a Death God’s code of conduct to allow one of his kind to consume the souls of a human being, Mr. Potter. We ask that you let us reap Ciel Phantomhive’s soul.”
“I’ll deal with the paperwork, so don’t worry so much, Will.” Harry waved a nonchalant arm. “Besides, you two can leave now. Return and rest for a bit. I expect both of you to be in my office tomorrow afternoon, so don’t be late alright?”
Grunting a reply, William headed back as per orders and dragged the unconscious Grell behind him, his ear tinted a suspicious red.
“Now, let me see the boy.” Harry grinned. The symbol chained around his neck shining.