[closed]

[somakemelaugh]

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.

Comments

[earlofphantoms]

Vincent will do what was necessary. Period. He had no qualms about killing or getting his hands dirty. Furthermore, he had no qualms about embarrassing himself if it resulted in the knowledge he sought. The Queen knew what sort of man he was and she knew too that the only way to silence him - to stop him should he forget his domesticity - was to kill him.

"Mm." he scrambled the eggs with surprising ease - he had always been good with his hands - and soon he had toast to accompany them, "I can't say I ever have." he tilts his head curiously, "Good memories?"

[somakemelaugh]

The cookies came to form easily enough, and soon he had a little stack of uncooked dough in the shape of the delicious little undecorated treats they would soon become. His attention stayed on this, unconcerned with the cooking Vincent had to attend. Eggs were easy enough, and toast with this world's devices? A child could make this kind of meal easily.

But he hesitated at the question, taking the time to fold and roll the last of the dough first. "Not good. Not bad. Just memories." Just memories, made of boredom and perhaps more than a touch of loneliness. He baked because it filled his time and kept his mind off of other things, and that was its true purpose, but he'd become quite good at it in time. "I'll teach you one day, if you wish."