Trapped in Black Butler || Sebastian X Reader

XVIII

Just as you had remembered, Grell took the napkin and the tablecloth with it, sending the entirety of the young lord's meal clattering to the ground. At the realization, Grell jumped up in alarm, stepping away from the mess with arms raised.

You turned your head to look back at the butler, finding that he had moved back to where he was before the commotion, by his master's side. The master whose hand had once again returned to being pressed to his temple with a sigh.

The two were joined by Bardroy, who ducked his head to whisper to the boy. "You're one to talk, Bard." came Ciel's cutting response. "It didn't seem like such a bad idea." he pondered mostly to himself, even with two sets of eyes on him. "I thought Sebastian would be the only one inconvenienced, I never expected that I would be affected by it as well."

Your lips pursed, fighting back a smirk when you looked to see the twinge in the demon's cheek. Turning your attention to the cause of the mess, you saw Grell being berated by the three stooges, whom you felt were not in the position to be telling others how to do their job. "I'm so sorry for causing all this trouble, I simply don't know how I can apologies enough." the reaper lamented, crocodile tears threatening to spill from closed eyes, "Wait that's it!" You heard before Grell jumped up, produced a knife from... somewhere and held it a breath away from their throat, "The only thing I can do now is die. I shall atone with my death!"

The display shocked the three servants, spurring them into action. "Whoa- calm down-a secon'!" the cook bayed as he reached out to grab for the knife, the motion deftly avoided by the wailing reaper. "Gimme th'knife!"

Mei-rin and Finnian covered their mouths, looking onward in shock at the scene before them. "There is no need for that." the butler crooned and he placed a light hand on Grell's shoulder. The tension in the room faded as green eyes opened and the knife dropped down from a limp clutch. Grell looked back at Sebastian, who smiled with feigned delight, "Just think of the horrible mess you would make. It would take hours to clean up all the blood."

Grell looked up, hands clenched together as if praying to a deity, "Thank you Sebastian, you're so very kind."

The other three, still in awe at the situation, gathered together, murmuring in hushed voices and shaking their heads.

"Now what I'd like to know is how you could ever think it was acceptable to serve the master such weak tea." the butler contemplated aloud as he picked up the surviving pot, sniffing at the contents inside with a furrowed brow. "Watch me." He made his way over to a trolley in the corner, pulling up a new teapot, a container filled with tea leaves and some boiling water. You wondered to yourself how tiring it must be to always be so prepared.

You looked elsewhere, having heard the spiel before. While all the others in the room were enthralled in the display of professionalism, you had busied yourself with looking at the young boy who busied himself with studying the unchanging scenery past the large window before him. As if sensing your attention on him, his one visible eye flits your way, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

After a few moments, Sebastian presented his master with the freshly brewed beverage, bowed slightly at the waist. The boy picked the cup up, taking a small sip before he hummed with a raised brow, as if to say the tea was simply mediocre. His unchanging desire to piss off the demon was an entertaining change from the constant sorrow he portrayed in the show.

With a look that bordered murderous, Sebastian produced his pocket watch, not even looking at it as he informed Ciel it would soon be time to leave. "As for the rest of you, I want this place absolutely spotless, understand?"

After a particularly eventful gardening session with the rest of the staff, in which the reaper had pruned a bush into a rather anatomically correct skull, you found yourself in the foyer of the manor once you had heard a loud few knocks. As it turned out, those knocks were those of Elizabeth Midford.