Pairing: William T. Spears / Grell Sutcliffe
Rating: T (elevates)
Summary: It was the blur that burst into his office every morning just to say hello, and the lingering scent of vanilla and currant on his bed sheets. It was annoying hands that fussed over the neatness of his uniform, and the warm, velvet skin beneath his fingertips. It was the daily headache of scarred memories, and the taste of cinnamon on his lips that promised to heal all the pain. It was red. It was bold, passionate, tempting; completely undeniable. The colour had invaded his senses.
It was a mistake. A horrible, unforgivable mistake. He stood a moment, wavering as though the slightest wind would send him falling. The chainsaw was still clutched in his hand, its blade plunged into the chest of a young girl as her Cinematic Record poured forth from the fresh wound. Tears prickled at the backs of his eyes, threatening to spill over.
He hadn't tried to kill her. It was just one of those things that tended to happen when he was upset. Of course now
well now he had to tell Will. Just the thought of those golden-green eyes burning holes through him was enough to make the tears appear.
The knock was meek, almost silent. Will knew that knock. It seemed to state all on its own Will-I've-done-something-wrong-again. He sat up straighter, adjusting his glasses before clearing his voice to say,
"Come in, Sutcliffe."
As expected there was a slight pause. A high-heeled shoe snaked its way into the room, followed by its owner. The red haired reaper had his gaze cast to the floor.
"Well?" the man clad in black prompted him. Grell swayed, stumbling into a chair in front of the desk. He folded his hands across his lap, and spoke without looking up.
I've done something wrong." He tensed at his own words, preparing himself for the worst. The bruises still adorning his arms and legs were testimony to his superior's means of handling things. Then again, he was not entirely sure that those wounds hadn't been caused by the demon-butler.
"What is it this time, Grell?"
well you see
I seem to have
" he stopped, feeling those same tears threaten him again. God so help him he would not cry.
"What happened?" Will asked again. He leant forward, across the desk to look the other man in the eye. Grell averted his gaze and whispered softly.
"I killed someone, Will." There was a sharp breath, and a short cry. It took both of them a moment to realize that the other had yet to even move.
why would you-,"
"I didn't mean to!" he interrupted, practically throwing himself atop the paperwork in front of them. "Really Will, I swear I didn't! It just
"Killing people doesn't 'just happen', Grell."
"Well what do you want me to tell you?" the redhead lashed out, eyes wide with wild anxiety. "That I planned on it? That I wanted to?"
"Grell, that's not what I-"
"Because I didn't! Not that I expect you to believe me, of course. You don't understand, well how could you?"
"Mr. Sutcliffe, if you would just let me-"
"It's not like I try to do these things, Will. They really do just happen. One minute I'll be walking down the street and the next there's blood on my hands." Grell finally ended, taking a series of short breaths while choking back sobs.
"Are you quite finished?"
The redhead nodded sheepishly.
"You're right. I don't understand." William finally said, adjusting his glasses out of habit. "But attempting to inject logic into your actions will prove to drive us both insane. Instead, let's focus on the case at hand. You killed someone, correct?"
Again, Grell nodded. A sense of normalcy returned to him. Something he knew only William to bring. Then again, that was just like him. Always trying to put reason into feelings, or rationality into the senseless.
"And you're aware that as of current you're already on probation for the Jack the Ripper murders, and that this is a very serious violation of said probation?"
A third nod.
Did you collect the soul of the girl that you killed at least?"
"Yes, I did." He extended a leather-bound book to the dark haired man. "Her name was Yvette, age 23. If it makes things any better, she was supposed to off herself by jumping into the Thames next week."
Golden-Green eyes glared up at him from behind the thick rimmed glasses. Grell's hands flew over his mouth, having completely forgotten how William himself had died.
I'm sorry, Will
I didn't mean to
" he stuttered hopelessly, sure that his face was turning the same, fabulous colour of his hair.
"Quite alright, Mr. Sutcliffe." William said. "And if that is the case
Then I suppose I am willing to overlook the situation."
"Overlook?" He repeated, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Isn't that against the rules?"
"Technically, yes, it is." William mumbled. "But seeing as you've already collected her soul, at least we have it on record. I'm willing to write off her death as an accident."
"What's the catch?" Grell said immediately, leaning in to question his boss's motives. "There has to be some sort of condition."
William thought a moment. Truth be told, he had no "conditions" in mind. It had truly been easier to simply overlook the crime, rather than write it up and file the case work that went with it. Besides, the holidays were approaching. People would be dropping off like flies in a matter of few days, promising overtime. He simply did not have the patience for one, insignificant case.
Still, the word rang in his ears. It was not often that he could control the red-haired Reaper, simply because Grell was not the type to be controlled. Now, as he stood cowering in front of his superior, asking for some sort of reprimand, William was not about to deny him.
"You want a condition?" he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Grell nodded, shoulders tensing. William quickly thought of a fitting punishment.
"For one week you are not allowed to visit, mention, or even think about talking to that demon-butler you're so fond of."
He'd made sure to make it hurt on a personal level. Just the notion that the other Reaper spent all of his time fantasizing about Sebastian Michaelis was enough to make William sick. Why a god would ever fall in love with one of those creatures, he would never know. The least he could do was prevent it from happening to the best of his ability.
"What!" Grell said instantly, his normal behavior igniting immediately. "You can't be serious! That's entirely unfair!"
"And I suppose you think that taking someone's life is fair then?"
"And I can promise you that this is far kinder than any punishment you would receive from the Board if they knew, Mr. Sutcliffe." A triumphant smirk played about Will's features are Grell frowned.
"Fine! One week it is
" he sighed, defeated.
"Until then, I suggest you stay out of trouble."
"Of course, of course! You worry too much."
But before William could say "we'll see about that", the red nuisance had already evacuated the room, leaving only papers fluttering to the floor in his wake.