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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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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.

Before the hair fallen in Vincent's face can bother him much, he brushes his fingers back over the Earl's head and pulls them with him, or what of them aren't too stubborn to stay. Vincent can keep hold of his hand all he likes, and while he can he may even curl his fingers around the ones holding his. "The human body is a strange thing, my lord. It baffles people even now, in this world, where they've found ways to make some of the diseases and ailments of our time a thing of the past."

In that silence, he continues to work over the Earl's hair, and when Vincent is ready to let it stop, he takes a step back and lets his own hands fall back to his sides and be useless for now. "That, they will be. Very soon."

His hair was like the rest of him - stubborn to do as it pleased no matter who stood in the way. But it was soft too and Vincent tipped his head back to make the job easier, his eyes half-lidded. He felt the hand he was holding return the grip and he entwined their fingers without thinking.

"I witnessed a miracle that day and if humanity can produce more, I am glad of it." he hummed, "Wouldn't it be funny if we could put your sort out of business?"

Of course, then, births would need to be monitored closely to avoid over-population. Yet Vincent would much prefer it over having to mourn the loss of someone.

After standing, he moved to Undertaker and gently nudged their heads together.

"You have given me another miracle. I thank you for it."

Just like the man. If nothing, it was amusing to see. He would like to have played around with the locks to see what else they would do, but Vincent stood and he stood back and there were cookies to tend. He would save it for later for sure.

He stepped over to the oven and checked the cookies one more time, though the timer had a very short time left, and stood back from it again. "That would certainly be something." And it got him thinking. What if they could somehow prevent true death? Would that prevent new grim reapers from being trained? Certainly over population would be a concern if humans could still reproduce then, as death followed life, but what of the existing grim reapers?

Maybe they would all be forgiven. That would be something indeed. "I would like to see that, I think."

He hummed at the nuzzle and tilted his head back against the Earl's, shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he did. This man was going to make a slow second death of him. "I don't take credit for it, but you do flatter me, my lord."

Just imagine him growing them out longer! Ciel had inherited the stubborn locks - as had his brother. Vincent found it absolutely adorable that his sons were mirror images of one another even in that respect. It made it slightly easier to tell them apart (though their personalities usually gave that away).

"You wouldn't disapprove?" he grinned and was drawn to Undertaker's side - partially in order to inspect the cookies. They smelled heavenly.

"I would too." Vincent, like many, was so very tired of dealing with death. He had never gloried in another's demise, though that might have changed if he had lived.

With their heads nestled, he slipped an arm around Undertaker's waist. "Not at all. You are the seed of it and the roots have now taken hold."

If Vincent had grown that long, dark hair out, he might not be able to keep his hands off of it or his mind off Claudia. Not that he didn't think of her every time he saw the Earl's face. He had so much of his mother in him. Long ago, that hurt dearly. It still did now, but time had done much to dull that blade, though he did have moments still where he held onto his chain a little too tightly.

"I wouldn't disapprove if it meant the end of sorrow and mourning, but... It has its complications." When Vincent moved closer to him to watch the cookies with him and the arm moved about his waist, he sighed, leaning in a little himself.

The comment drew another wince from within his chest, and he found himself glad to hear the alarm go off at last and guilty at the same time. "There we are!" And he moves gently away from the hold to get his hands in oven mitts and opens the door to remove the tray, breathing in deeply as he does. Mm, cookie goodness.

Some past Phantomhives had sported long hair - pulled back in a ponytail, of course. Vincent was blessed with a pretty face, so it was quite likely that if he followed suit, he would be the spitting image of Claudia. Only...taller. And without breasts. ~~Of course such things could be feigned in the right scenario.~~ Oh the extents the Watch-Dogs went to for the crown!

"Ah, it does." his voice was soft and a little sad, "Those who desire an end would not be able to find one." which meant endless suffering for them. Idly, Vincent drew Undertaker's hair into his hand, assisting the man in removing the cookies from the oven. It wouldn't do to singe such pretty silver.

"They smell delicious." he released the other man's hair and smiled down at the tray, "Shall we leave a few for him to decorate?"

He can't really say much about that himself. But he's not doing that in the name of the Queen, oh no. Never for her. And not any time soon at that.

He leaves that much without comment and sets the tray on the stove burners to let the cookies cool so that they can decorate them in a few minutes. "Of course we should. It'd only be fair and I'm given to a little fairness in the spirit of the holiday." Besides, he still has at least one more batch to make with the dough he has left.

They were a very attractive family. Of course that could, in theory, balance out some of their less sane traits. Like how Vincent had kept the dress and, well, he and Rachel had had their fun.

"Just because of the season? How kind of you!" he chuckled, picking up the blue icing first, "Our self-control should be focused on not eating them." which was why he was suddenly regretting not having breakfast yet.

Such torment.

They certainly are an attractive family. Every time he thought of Claudia, he was reminded of it. Every time he saw Vincent or his son, he thought of Claudia. It was a never ending cycle of aesthetically pleasing highborn people. How in the world did he ever find himself mixed in with all of that, he would ask himself one more time?

Still no answer to that. But he does find himself regretting having had only tea for breakfast. Not much sustenance in that other than the caffeine content. He picks up a green icing tube himself and removes the cap and tilts his head back to squeeze a bit in his mouth. Mmm. "Indeed, it should. I might require a bit of a distraction from that myself. My self control is... wobbling."

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