got sick in a +13° weather. can I pretty please have your hcs on Sebastian being all lovey-dovey with sick Ciel🫴
sebastian had seen ciel ill twice: once when he learned he had asthma and coughed his lungs out in a dusty circus tent, and the second time when he nearly died from poison gas (whether that can even be called an illness, sebastian does not concern himself with. what he does know is that he has no intention of letting the saying “third time’s the charm” come true).
one day, while preparing a snack in the kitchen, he suddenly heard a cough—and within a fraction of a second, he was at his master’s side. he couldn’t even say why he did it; it was instinct. ciel, startled by the demon’s sudden presence, only said:
“i am aware, my lord,” he began, not entirely sure what he meant to convey. he removed one glove and placed his hand against ciel’s forehead. “however, i am concerned—you appear to have an elevated temperature, which may lead to illness.”
“nonsense,” ciel replied, brushing his hand away and turning slightly in his chair, cheeks faintly flushed. the sight only alarmed sebastian further, memories of ciel’s previous condition clouding his judgment of the true cause of the blush. “leave, and return with tea.”
“i will return with tea—but elsewhere.”
in one smooth motion, sebastian pulled the chair back and lifted the young master, supporting his knees and back.
“put me down!” ciel struggled, but sebastian was already out the office door before he could finish. “have you lost your mind? you will release me, i ord—” he fell silent as sebastian kicked open the bedroom door.
“forgive my impertinence, but my duty is to protect your life, and illness is a direct threat to it.” he set him down on the bed and turned toward the wardrobe, already searching for sleepwear.
“you are to protect it from physical threats.”
“that was before i learned that your constitution is more fragile than that of the average human.”
“i do not recall amending the terms.”
“shall we argue as we did on the first day?”
he was already beside him again, undoing buttons with his bare hand. ciel fell silent, watching his black nails.
“even your heart is beating faster. this may be serious. perhaps i should summon a physician—” he started to get up.
“don’t!” ciel grabbed his hand—the same hand that had moments ago brushed against his chest—and sebastian froze. “don’t. i will allow you to take care of me, but you will not call anyone.”
the demon knelt once more, continuing to undress him.
despite the daylight outside, ciel lay in bed, wrapped as if it were night. every ten minutes, sebastian entered the room to ensure he needed nothing.
“young master, i shall replace the pillows.”
“young master, warm milk with honey.”
“young master, shall i draw the curtains?”
“young master, i will change the splenium.”
“young master, is it too cold? shall i open the window?”
“young master, is it too warm? shall i stoke the fire?”
“young master, i have prepared a light stew.”
he had already sat beside him, lifting a spoon toward his lips, when he paused mid-motion, recalling the order he had once received. he lowered the spoon back into the bowl, stood, and placed it on the bedside table.
“my apologies. i forgot myself.” he bowed and left.
when he did not return for twenty minutes, ciel assumed perhaps the demon had grown bored (“what is this strange feeling in my chest… i am too young for aches of that sort”), and decided to sneak back to the office to at least retrieve some papers. but the moment he stepped into the corridor, the one-who-hears-and-sees-everything appeared. apparently, walking on tiptoe had not helped.
ciel sighed, turned on his heel, and retreated before sebastian could comment, accepting defeat (and the faint smile creeping onto his face was, of course, because of the pudding in sebastian’s hand—nothing else).
“young master, i believe i made it clear that you are to remain in bed.”
“remaining in bed does not mean doing nothing.”
“you will not recover if you overexert yourself.”
“i am bored,” ciel muttered, climbing back under the covers.
sebastian regarded him in silence for a moment, then left the room, leaving ciel confused, wondering if that alone had been enough to irritate him. but not even half a minute passed before he returned—this time carrying a chair.
ciel raised a brow. “so i am to sit instead of lie down?”
“this chair is for me,” sebastian replied with a faint smile.
“for you,” ciel repeated, failing to see the logic. since when did sebastian need a chair?
“if you are bored, i shall keep you company.”
and so what ciel had initially dismissed as overprotectiveness became their small tradition. whenever ciel showed the slightest sign of illness, sebastian would leave his side only to fetch something—and once he returned, he would sit beside him. sometimes he read aloud, stopping only when ciel’s breathing softened into sleep. other times he told stories from his past—of different eras—making warmth spread in ciel’s chest, because sebastian never sounded even remotely interested in the one who had placed him there. or he would speak of the manor, gently mocking the incompetence of their staff. he brought games that required little effort.
over time, only one thing changed: sebastian moved from the chair to the bed. at first sitting beside him, then gradually closer, until eventually he lay beside him with ciel tucked against his chest.
“how convenient, being a demon who cannot fall ill.”
the first time truly frightened sebastian—memories of almost losing ciel still fresh—but with each passing instance, they both knew his life was no longer in danger. neither spoke it aloud, unwilling to spoil those moments. a minor illness became the perfect excuse: for sebastian to never leave his side, and for ciel to show vulnerability without shame, because “illness weakens the body.”
(including the once-spoken “i feel too weak to lift a spoon,” just so sebastian could conveniently forget a long-standing order.)
sometimes, when ciel felt he needed those moments, he would deliberately murmur, “i believe i have a fever.”
and sebastian, finding his temperature perfectly normal, would give no sign that he knew ciel was feigning.
“in that case, i recommend postponing today’s duties and retiring to your bed.”
“for once, i believe that may be wise.”
“then allow me, young master,” sebastian said, taking his hand and closing the office door behind them.
