A.N. I really should be working on my other story, but I needed to write something different.

Beware: FWP. Fluff without plot. And slightly out of character. Slight SebaCiel

P.S. sorry for the bad editing.

Regardless of the events that transpired during the day, teatime was precisely at four o'clock. Always.

Behind a cherrywood desk sat a rather unimpressed boy with calculating azure eyes, and a glowering face. The boy, who had admittedly been eying the mahogany clock, ominously hanging beside him, felt exhausted in every single way. Why? Simply because he hadn't received a moment's rest since his return from the last impossible-if-you-didn't-have-a-demon-butler-at-your-disposal mission from Her Majesty, the Queen.

Each hour seemed to shift into the next, like a well rehearsed drill. In the morning he woke up and had a quick breakfast before walking to his office and engraving his bottom firmly in his seat. The rest of the day would be packed with excessive reports to fill in, so much so that the boy was not permitted to sigh, in case his breath droned on for too long and disrupted his work. He would remain in the room until the sun disappeared, when he would ultimately be forced to retire, and his next day begun.

After dipping his quill in the ink jar, he paused for a second, his stuffy chair reminding him how incredibly uncomfortable it really was. Placing his forefingers on the bridge of his nose, he applied some pressure and closed his eyes. Doing the same tediously routine tasks had finally defeated him. His headache was much too persistent to attempt to work through anyways, and he was getting nowhere trying.

So, he took a deep breath, and, upon glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, sat back and allowed himself a minute of vacancy. Yet, the process of allowing his mind to be free merely opened the door for other thoughts to enter. All he could think about now, was the fact that his stomach was half empty and his butler was very, very late. Well, later than he normally was.

He shook his head from his mental scolding. Frustrated that his butler was not presently by his side, he once again picked up his papers, tapped them on his desk to force them into a single pile, and started the next page of his report.

The scratching of his quill deviated from the page, as he unconsciously rechecked the clock, disappointed to know that less than a minute had passed since he last looked up. Two minutes to four. Annoyance crept onto his face when an image of his butler popped up in his mind, because, for someone who prided himself on his punctuality, he was very late.

Suddenly, the wheels of a trolley sounded, squeaking as they turned in unison with the elder's swift footsteps. It was so light that he would not have heard it, had he not been eagerly waiting for it.

The squeaking stopped, and gloved hands rapped at the door. Sebastian slowly poked his head through the opening, dashing as ever, with an apologetic smirk on his face. A feeling of relief washed through the boy when his butler crossed the room.

"I'm sorry for the wait, sir," Sebastian said as his hands quickly poured Darjeeling tea.

Ciel checked the clock a final time. A minute after four.

"You're late," Ciel replied, accepting the cup that was handed to him. Sebastian lifted up a small dessert tier, promptly displaying the desserts. Spread evenly on the bottom was a delicate array of macaroons in every colour on one side, and an arrangement of tarts and cookies on the other. Above it was an assortment of finger sandwiches that were made of the freshest ingredients, with the crust carefully cut off. However, while the presentation was more than splendid, and the food would no doubt taste delicious, something was missing...

"No cake?" the younger asked, irritated that his butler decided to forget the only thing he requested.

"I'm sorry, my Lord?"

"The cake, Sebastian." Ciel seethed. Sebastian merely smirked as he nodded his head.

"It will be on its way shortly, sir. I was simply thinking you would prefer one of these desserts before stuffing your face in an entire cake."

"Sebastian..."

"Yes young master?" Ciel glared at him, feeling almost betrayed by the lack of confections he had been patiently waiting for. What other reason would he want to see his butler so soon, if not for the fact that he was bringing him cake? He tried to mask his disappointment by taking a sip of his tea and gently returning it to its matching saucer.

"This tea is tasteless. I will not eat anything else until I receive the cake I expected to have, and tea that doesn't taste like lukewarm water."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Is that so my Lord?"

"Yes," he replied, not willing to back down. He was very persistent when things involved sweets his butler made- especially his decadent cakes.

"Very well, young master. I have indeed prepared something for you. However, it appears I miscalculated something," the demon smiled.

"You? Made a mistake?" Ciel asked incredulously. Impossible. Sebastian never did anything incorrectly unless he also did something else perfectly to compensate for it.

"Yes, it is waiting in the corridor."

It was the boy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for, then?"

"Well, if you will follow me,"his butler motioned to the door. Ciel stood up cautiously, closely following Sebastian as he lead him into the hallway.

"I warn you, my Lord, I might have gone a tad bit overboard…" Sebastian said, clearing his throat before stepping aside to reveal his masterpiece.

"..."

"My Lord?"

"..."

"Is everything alright?"

Occupying the majority of the hall, was a grand, four tier cake. Coated in pristine cream, it stood tall, overwhelming its surroundings with its need to be looked at. The edge of every layer was adorned with intricate silver beading, and swirls of piped ivory icing. A cascade of white roses, so finely crafted that they seemed ready to float away, spilled from the top tier all the way to the lowest part of the tray. The cake had a nostalgic feel to it, and the boy was very aware that he had seen similar productions on matrimonial occasions.

"T-t-this isn't what I asked for!" they boy shouted, a blush dusting the tops of his porcelain cheeks.

"Whatever do you mean, my Lord? I made a cake, just as you wished."

"Clearly! Are you aware this looks like a wedding cake for god's sakes?" Ciel brought the palm of his hand to his forehead. Another headache making itself known.

"But my Lord, you specifically told me to make you the best cake I possibly could."

"And you thought it would be perfectly acceptable to make this? Sebastian, are you..."

"I see nothing wrong with it. Pardon me for praising my own skill, however it is quite a spectacular cake," Sebastian said cheekily, enjoying the flustered look on his master's face.

"YES BUT I DIDN'T WANT THIS! What's more, the figures on the top are…"his blush deepened until his entire face was a new shade of pink.

"Really, out of all the things you should be worrying about... If it clears your conscience my Lord, I instructed Bard to make figurines of everyone important to the young master out of modelling chocolate. In spite of my better judgement, I left him, and came back to find that he had only finished making two figures. I was about to make the others when I realized that doing so would make me late for tea. Besides, I think it suits us. Who else would you prefer on the top of a wedding cake with you?"

"I-"

"Ah, ah, my Lord," Sebastian gracefully shook his head, "Lying is unbecoming. In any case, I have made it for you. Will your pride forbid you from even tasting it? It would be such a waste," the butler commented, internally laughing at how the boy was rendered speechless.

And so, with Ciel's approval, Sebastian sliced off a piece of the cake, and, after rejecting Sebastian's advances to feed the boy ("Say, 'ahh,' young master"), he had finally eaten the cake he had been yearning for all day.

. . .

Later that night...

"Sebastian…" the boy called after settling into his bed.

"Yes, my Lord?"

He looked his butler in the eye before turning over in the bed. Making sure his back was facing him, he buried his face in the sheets. Sebastian watched carefully as his master's heartbeat suddenly increased. Then, almost inaudibly, the boy whispered, "I suppose you are right," his cheeks regaining their previous embarrassed colour.

And while the earl could have been speaking about anything, Sebastian knew the admittance might as well have been a confession from the child. He forcibly removed the smile off his face, and bowed.

"Whatever have I done to receive such a compliment?" he wondered aloud. "Perhaps I will have to make you cakes more often," which Ciel knew meant 'I do too'.