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who: Undertaker, Ciel Phantomhive, Vincent Phantomhive
what: Early morning Christmas-y doings
when: Dec 24
where: The Phantomhive house
warnings: Cute

A morning person, he usually woke with the sun, but today, things were different. Today, perhaps not in this world but in their own somewhere out in the ether, was Christmas Eve, and it was the first time in longer than he cared to recollect that he had a reason to properly celebrate it.

It wasn't by intention, but maybe anticipation of that fact that had him sneaking out of bed earlier than usual, carefully and quietly. After tucking Ciel back in, he slipped from the room and into the kitchen. He took the apron from a cabinet knob and settled it over his head, then started the kettle on the stove and took out a few ingredients from here and there to set out on the counter.

He had cookies to make. Many of them.

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There was no room for a void now that Vincent knew. He wasn't the sort to hold grudges (of this nature, at least) and he understood why Undertaker had kept quiet. The truth would have ruined his mother's reputation - though, honestly, he didn't hold it against her at all. The father Vincent had grown up with had been rather cold and strict, which explained why, instead of adhering to said father, he had done the opposite and become more mischievous. When he was sent off to school, that trait had blossomed especially and he had relied upon his cunning to survive the death of his mother - and to make life-long friends (much to Diedrich's dismay).

Right now, however, he felt like himself. He didn't have to hide behind any masks and this was the side Rachel knew - as well as his sons. Vincent had a great heart for those he loved and he never withheld physical affection if he could help it. His eyes were warm with contentment and he turned his head to kiss Undertaker's cheek.

"Deciding the details seems like a group effort to me." he moved to the counter, inspecting the various icings, "We held a party each year for those in need. I do miss seeing all of the children."

That kiss returned melted a little more of the tensions he held in his back and shoulders without realizing it and he felt his neck loosen with the contact. It stayed lax even as Vincent moved away to look at the materials they had to work with so early in the morning with his cookie army that he was building.

"They do say three's a crowd. I would hate to wake your son, but we can let him come around on his own time. It's an adult's right to stay in bed late and resist sleep on such a morning as this, and he has tried to be all this time though he is but a boy."

"He is probably already awake." Vincent smiled softly, "We can make room for him. Three is not a crowd when they are..." he tilted his head, searching for a word that would not cause complaint, "...akin?" he turned to face Undertaker, eyes sparkling, "If he comes down the stairs like he used to, his hair will be a mess and he will look adorably sleepy."

No, Ciel wasn't grown. Not yet. He was still his child and he loved him dearly.

He waited, letting Vincent inspect the tools they had to work with to bring the cookie goodies to life. So to speak. If he had any objections about the word, he said and did nothing to correct it. "Maybe he is. That would be quite the sight."

Quite the sight indeed. To this day, he still had not seen that on the boy's face - come close to it! - and he felt lesser for having missed it and hoped he wouldn't again.

Some of the icing would be sampled - who in their right mind could resist? Vincent grinned conspiratorially, walking over to open the oven again.

"If the scent overwhelms his better sense, we stand a better chance of seeing him in that state." his sons should be accustomed to their father plotting against them. With love, of course.

Sampling was permitted. He knew it made his own tongue happy, but if he wasn't the only one who was enjoying the cookies when someone else found it wasn't to their liking, more for him, but it would ruin the point of his efforts. He moved back to the table with his cup and settled into the chair already pulled out for him.

"You know your sons best. Do you think that scent might do the trick?" He doesn't mind a bit of plotting. In fact, he'll help out if he has to.

Sampling was something he wasn't allowed to do normally. It was...unbecoming...of a noble. But Vincent was enjoying bending tradition a little. He licked some icing off of his finger and moved to sit across from Undertaker.

"Trial and error." he lifted a shoulder in a shrug and rested his cheek on his hand, "We must see what lures pups from their rest."

He hums and sips from his tea again, then sets it aside on the table and folds his arms over the surface and rests his head on it, tilted to be able to see Vincent still. "I made sure the door was left open a crack so it would get to him one way or another. He'll have to wake up, and he'll have to leave the room eventually. How or why he does, I'll be waiting in anticipation."

"You won't be alone." he turned his head, his smile fading to a small wince as he rubbed his temple, "Our trap has been set thanks to your hard-work!"

Yes. Our trap. He was going to take credit for this too because he was Vincent Phantomhive and that was what he did.

That wince caught his attention and he turned focus to it, silent for but a moment. "It was already partially successful." Let Vincent take credit for half of it. He would ensnare them both eventually.

The smile never left his face, but he hadn't forgotten about that wince either, or the rubbing at the man's head. "Something the matter?"

"Was it?" he blinked and focused on Undertaker, smiling slowly again, "Were you luring me? And I fell for it too." he had to bow to the Master, though it was no secret that the Phantomhives all loved their sweets.

However his precious, sickly son was the one who loved them best.

"Mm?" he put off the question for a moment, closing his eyes, "I have a small headache. I slept well, but it remains."

He couldn't have hidden the slow grin that spread over his face then if he'd wanted. "I think you would have fallen for it if or not you'd known. I would have fall for it, for curiosity alone if nothing else." No one in the house but him ever really seemed to bake, but he was okay with that. Had been for a long time.

Besides, it gave him a control group to test his experiments on and he loved it. But that headache wouldn't do. He hummed and stood from his chair to step around behind the Earl. "Allow me to try something?" He settled one hand on either shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as he did so.

"Are you saying you may have, unknowingly, trapped yourself?" he toyed with the idea, finding it an amusing concept, "I will keep your weakness a secret."

Who else would really care to know? He couldn't say but they wouldn't hear it from him. He liked this arrangement of theirs entirely too much to risk ruining it.

Vincent showed his trust in the man by not moving an inch when Undertaker stood behind him. The hands on his shoulders did earn a small sigh.

"I don't mind. Go ahead."

Edited 2017-12-28 02:53 (UTC)

He grinned behind the man, squeezing his shoulders one more time. "That, I may, my lord. I make no promises."

With that, he lifts his hands to the Earl's hair and starts a gentle, very light massage over the scalp, working his fingers over Vincent's temples and scritching lightly with his nails over his hair. The way that he works, there is care in it, precision, though he has certainly left some improv along the lines. And that's okay. The lighter his touch, the better for the poor Earl's headache, and that's all he cares for. "I've always wanted to do this."

"You never make any you can't keep." Vincent murmured, eyes closing almost the instant he felt the touch. He may have inherited something else from Undertaker and his enjoyment was clear as his muscles relaxed. With the relaxation, his pain decreased until it was but a shadow of its former self.

Yet, as much as he appreciated the effect, Vincent was aware of how warm and comforting the other man's hands felt. He felt like a child again and the memory was so strange - and vivid - that he tipped his head back to lean against Undertaker's chest.

"A man in black with long silver hair... Mother told me a story about him." his lips curved into a smile, "In the great wide world, a Phantomhive never need fear for he was always near."

Even when Vincent's pain was gone, even when the Earl leaned back and into him, he kept the touch moving, working his fingers ever so lightly over every inch of skin to be found, brushing his fingers through every lock of hair to be touched. Over and over and over again, he went, stroking and finger brushing and caressing until his fingers were numb from the contact and still he couldn't bring himself to care.

This was bliss, as much almost as receiving the affection himself. He stepped closer, even, to give Vincent something to comfortably rest his head against.

And yet, he couldn't help himself. "She never wanted to lie to you, but ours was a secret that had to be kept. I'm surprised you knew about me at all."

He could almost fall asleep and he had a feeling his dreams would be good. There would be no fire in them; no screams or pain. Undertaker's hands could somehow reach beyond the physical and calm his spirit too. Did all fathers have this capability? Oh how he wished it were so. He would never stop embracing his son.

After Undertaker moved, Vincent rested his neck and shoulders against him too. He amused himself, for a moment, trying to find the Reaper's heartbeat. Were they allowed to keep something so mundane?

"I'm not angry at her or you." he never could be, "I was an odd child, more suited to the grimmer aspects of life from the beginning. The man I called father, then, was strict and somewhat detached from me. Mother wasn't." he smiled up at Undertaker, "She stayed with me during nasty storms and she would invent stories off the top of her head."

Quietly, in himself, he's thrilling at being allowed to indulge in this little fantasy of his, played out in reality at long, long last. He'd known for some time that he himself loved having his hair played with, even if it was only ever he who played with his own, but he knew enough to know how soothing it could be, what pains it could ease.

That he was sharing it now with Vincent was nothing short of incredible, but he said nothing of it. His focus had been set on keeping his fingers moving over the man's head as long as he would allow. And Vincent would find his heart still beat, past life though he was. His heart still beat, his lungs still breathed. He was still warm. If not for the fact that he could remember the tug of the noose about his neck and his induction into the reaper organization, he would very easily pass for a living person.

He smiled back down in kind at Vincent and trailed fingers under his chin and down the front of his throat to a shoulder in a caress. "She was every bit a woman, her love deep and true. If nothing else in this world, she loved her children."

He would allow it to continue forever. It was unfortunate that life needed to intervene at some point - for whatever unimportant, distant reason (or so it seemed at the moment). But Vincent would savor this gift - and the relief it brought him - for as long as possible. He also made a mental note to return the favor later - perhaps as they all prepared for bed.

The heart-beat was found and Vincent turned his head, nuzzling against the pulse. A Reaper as alive as Undertaker certainly deserved a heart, lungs and all the rest. It was a nice surprise. Of course, as he inspected the body behind him, his thoughts went to Undertaker's numerous scars. Where had he gotten them? Had his mother known?

He blinked calmly, his smile growing under the touch.

"Every child likes to imagine they were created from love. In the perfect world, perhaps. But I am satisfied that you are fond of each other."

Whatever happened, he could leave this if Vincent wanted and return to it later. He wanted the man to feel better, wanted to relieve him of his headache, and it seemed he had done just that, or at least he had provided some manner of distraction. The nuzzling brightened his smile, but didn't stop what he was doing. If anything, all it did was to move his affections elsewhere on the Earl's head, soothing him where he could.

"It was... most certainly out of love. Perhaps a forbidden love, but love nonetheless." He trailed fingernails down the man's cheek and brought them back up again, scritching lightly at the back of Vincent's head. "Is it better?"

He did feel better. While Vincent was in good health, he did get a headache now and then. Undertaker's skillful fingers would be most appreciated; he was, admittedly, quite easy for the Reaper to soothe. Some bonds went beyond words and there had always been a rapport between them.

With his cheek nestled against Undertaker's shirt, he listened to the other man, calmly smiling. There was no greater thing in all the world than love. The fact that it had to be forbidden was the part that made him sad.

"I am glad you and her could share it - no matter how brief." he captured one of Undertaker's hands and kissed his palm, "Yes. Thank you."

The hand caught will stay as it is, though he does curl his fingers about Vincent's chin as the kiss is pressed against him and he grins at it, humming lightly for the returned affection. "Of all of your greatest accomplishments, it's the small things that make life worth it for you."

He leaned down and let his arms drape about the man's shoulders and nuzzled the top of Vincent's head, giving himself that much, and turned his head to kiss his exposed cheek for just a moment before he straightened and continued playing with the Earl's hair. "And you, my lord, have a lot of small cookies to help me decorate once they're finished, if you feel up to it."

"Love is no small thing." he spoke the words clearly, though he held Undertaker's hand close to his lips, "I should think no less of it considering it is why I exist!" or existed? Did he truly have to use the past tense to refer to himself from now on? What a sad thought.

Vincent gave the arms a gentle squeeze and he grinned at the kiss. If death was the reason he was brought here, well, he wasn't exactly going to complain - yet he knew that was a selfish thought.

"I do! I suppose it would be going too far to give them names."

Even as he straightens again, he keeps himself close to the Earl, allowing him to keep hold of his hand and sets the free one to roaming over the man's hair instead. "Your sons knew a love like that as well, I can tell. Still do, I should say." He knows what Vincent is edging toward and he'll start to back away from it a little again, even if it does make his heart wince.

He looks back over at the oven to wonder if they've a moment or two longer, just at a guess. He can't see the timer and it hasn't gone off yet, but it should soon. "I won't say no to it, but I won't name mine myself. We won't know them long enough."

Dark strands fell before his eyes, but he didn't care. If he were a cat, he would be arching and purring. That would be quite odd for an Earl, however, so he must settle for holding Undertaker's hand against his cheek for a moment longer.

"They were welcome surprises from the beginning. I worried that Rachel wouldn't be able to carry any baby - even though she was determined to try." he chuckled softly, "Then she gave us twin boys. Even Angelina was in tears."

He sensed the tension and fell silent. Undertaker's answer was sweet and he bowed his head, rising from his seat.

"You're right. I'd rather see them as delicious art." not as little people.

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