A.N: Just a one-shot I thought of. It was going to be a poem and then I thought, eh, might as well make it a shot. It's my first Kuroshitsuji shot, as my other 'story' on this fandom is poems. Feel free to check them out if you can.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and if I did... Well, we all know what would happen.

Enjoy!

Sometimes, Ciel found his pride slipping more than it should.

His pride wasn't supposed to slip. After all, he was an Earl. Earl Phantomhive, the head of the Funtom company. During the day, he did important paperwork, suffered through important lessons, met with many important people, and dealt with ridiculously incompetent servants.

During the day, he was The Earl.

But at night...

Night was always a different matter.

The night was filled with horrible nightmares that even Ciel couldn't always take.

So.. When his pride slipped and he couldn't take the silence anymore, he called out into the night: "Sebastian!"

He hated himself for it. Seeing that smirking demon appear in his doorway... Well, it was enough to make him regret calling out.

And he hated regretting anything, so he tried to avoid it.

It felt so weak, needing Sebastian in the room. But even the great Ciel Phantomhive could admit that something about having him there was .. comforting. Even as he admitted this, he knew he shouldn't. That 'Tch' noise he always made when angry or upset would escape his lips softly, and he knew it shouldn't be comforting.

The way those crimson eyes would twinkle, as if the demon had won something he'd been craving for. It was enough to make the boy slightly, if not fully, angry.

And then after the anger, he was curious.

It wasn't a huge curiosity, yet he always wondered why. Why his butler didn't just well, laugh at him. His weakness.

Surely he must have wanted to, what with that smirk that would flit across his lips.

But behind that smirk was something Ciel didn't know, something he had never asked to know, or maybe he just never wanted to know.

Behind that smirk... Maybe Sebastian cared a little.

The demon had never questioned Ciel's small spouts of weakness. He knew why the boy wanted him there, yet even Sebastian wondered of things.

He wondered why his master seemed to trust him as much as he did.

Sebastian was there to take his soul, plain and simple. That was the deal, it always would be.

Yet over the course of the years.. Well, Sebastian wasn't allowed to lie. He did care for Ciel more than he should. And he found it funny, no, ironic, that everyone except Ciel seemed to see it.

The boy ordered him around like the servant he thought the demon was without sometimes a second thought, and Sebastian took it because that was what he was meant to do.

During the day, the Earl was arrogant, rude, demanding and a brat.

At night.. Sebastian saw what he hid under his pale skin.

His master would call his name out in the night when the moon was high, and the demon would come to him in the darkness of his room. Sebastian would be told to stay until Ciel fell asleep.

Sometimes, he stayed after that.

He knew why he did. It wasn't to make sure that Ciel didn't have another nightmare. He had to be honest, and that included himself, so he knew why.

Sebastian stayed simply because he liked watching his young master sleep.

That sounded rather horrible, when he thought about it, but it was the truth.

At night, Sebastian saw his master's face without frustration, sadness or anger. The crease between his eyebrows would disappear, and the worry lines would vanish. It surprised the demon that sleep could work such wonders on his stressed young master, though he didn't complain.

When he finally would leave the room, he would sigh to himself. The fact that a human, a small boy nonetheless, could make him feel caring was ... disturbing, to say the very least.

Demons such as himself weren't supposed to feel anything in the first place.

But just as the night changed 'The Earl' to Ciel, it changed 'The Demon' to Sebastian.

The night was the one thing that could make them forget. Could make them forget their image, who they were and who they pretended to be.

The night made them forget themselves.

A.N: Dang, I haven't wrote a shot in forever. I forgot what it was like to type a piece of work up with my own fingers... It's very satisfying to see it come together in the end. Hope you all enjoyed!

After all, what kind of author would I be if I couldn't please my readers with a simple one-shot?