Well shitfuck. OK. So this is like... slightly re-written and shit. Yup. I promise, I haven't given up or anything. I had the third chapter just about done and pretty, saved in the FF doc uploader what does fanfic do? Fucking deletes it, and I hadn't saved it to my computer.

So after like... a week of sobbing and hating my life, I decided I'd re-think the entire story and yah. It's probably going to be a lot longer than I initially imagined and yeah, there will be eventual smut. So just go with me and I'm sorry.

I love concrit. Lash it out. Make me cry. Tell me how crap this is and what I can do to improve. I will love you forevs and evs.

About forty five minutes to brush the tangled mess that was his hair.
About sixty to straighten, curl and crimp it so.
Around twenty to thirty minutes to meticulously apply the lampblack to his eyelids, the rouge cheeks and the red lipstick to his pouting mouth, despite whatever laws against the wearing of lipstick Queen Victoria had enforced.
Twenty minutes to dress.
Eight minutes to inspect and file any chips on his nails and don his black gloves.
Four minutes to retrieve his chainsaw from its rack by the front door, exit, and make a portal to the Death God Dispatch Society, English Branch, on the side of a brick wall in a back alleyway.
Six minutes and forty-three seconds to skip down the hallways to his superior's office, fling the door open and plonk himself down in the chair opposite that of one William T. Spears', crossing his legs and placing his chainsaw blade to the ground, leaning against the chair.

But it only took him three and a half seconds to realise that he was the only reaper in the room.

Grell Sutcliff wasn't sure what shocked him more.

William had never, ever missed a day. Ever. Never, ever, ever. No way. It just wasn't possible. William T. Spears never took days off. They were understaffed and there was too much work to do. Grell had tried to convince him to have just one day where the dark haired reaper could spend at his home, not working.
William had replied with, "The day you do your paperwork, Grell Sutcliff, will be the day that I have off."

But as Grell sat in the empty office, he couldn't remember recently completing any Soul Collection Reports.

There was also the fact that Grell had done all that work on his appearance for nothing. Two hours, forty eight minutes and forty six seconds…Wasted.

In retrospection, the red headed reaper probably would have carried out the same routine had he known William wouldn't be at work (a lady had to look her best at all times), but it was still annoying knowing that William wasn't there to stare lustfully at him and blush lightly as Grell batted his eye lashes less than an inch away from the stoic reaper's own. Despite whatever 'flirting' he did with his other colleagues (really, how is leaning against someone and running your hand over their thigh flirting?), William T. Spears was the main receiver of the effeminate man's affections.

Grell slid down in his chair a little, his long legs nearly reaching the oak desk in front of him, and pouted. What was he going to do? He spent three quarters of his day in William's office, pestering him. The other quarter was made up of him sitting in his own office cubical doodling things on his paperwork and chatting with Ronald Knox, Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries. He had nothing against the other men, but seeing Will was the best part of his day. If Will wasn't at work… He wasn't sure what to do. But he knew that he couldn't sit in his superior's office all day alone, so picking up his chainsaw and slinging it over his shoulder, he marched, quite irritated, off down the halls in the direction of his cubical.

William would be back at work tomorrow, and keeping that in mind, Grell prepared to tackle the pile of Death Forms that had been accumulating on his desk since January.

...

But he wasn't. Nor the next day. Nor the next. Nor the next. And Grell started to worry. William wouldn't miss a day of work, knowing that for every day he was away, it meant more overtime for him, let alone a week. Grell had thought that maybe Will was coming at night to pick up several dozen forms and taking them back to his home to complete there, so on the third day of his boss' absence, he sat in the large, empty office and waited.

He waited for several hours, and ended up falling asleep on the desk. Grell knew that William hadn't come during the time he was unconscious, because he would have scolded him and thwacked him on the head with his scythe for drooling a little on his desk.

William T. Spears had not been at work all week, and the entire English Branch knew.

Everything was in disarray, and very little work had been done. A couple of reapers had asked Grell if he knew anything about his absence, and it had been the topic of several of his and Ronald's conversations, but apart from that, no one seemed to care.

Except for him.

Grell knew that if Will was sick, he'd have sent a memo saying that he wouldn't be in a for a few days. If he had been assigned a mission, perhaps in France or America, he would've heard about it. If he had been attacked and killed… No. Grell wouldn't think about that. He couldn't. William T. Spears would never lose a battle. Grell had often wondered if the workaholic was as strong as Sebastian Michaelis, the demon butler.

Thinking back to how he had easily intercepted Sebastian as he went to kill the red head with his own death scythe, and how he had caught said death scythe with just his index and middle finger, and the balance and skill he displayed whilst he was performing in the Noah's Ark Circus (William hadn't heard the end of it after he had caved and told Grell where he had been. Grell had, of course, used various methods to pester Will enough to get the information)… The red head didn't doubt his superior's strength.

But he still worried.

And so on Friday night after his fingernails had finished drying, the bright red shining, Grell set off to William's small house. He and William had walked to the stoic reaper's home once (though if you asked William, he'd say Grell was stalking him) after they had both been stuck doing overtime. It just so happened that William lived only a few blocks away from Grell, and though Will had asked Grell politely to let him walk alone, the effeminate one had insisted they walk together under the light of the moon.

"It'll be so romantic, Will~ You and I, arm in arm, walking to my doorstep where we'll stand there for a moment staring into each other's eyes until you take the lead and lean in and-ow! What was that for, Will? Don't you know how rude it is to hit a lady?" With a thwack to the head, William had more or less silenced the romantic reaper's fantasy, but Grell had still latched onto his arm. To anyone who saw them, they'd think them lovers, and for once William had been glad Grell looked like a woman, as homosexuality was illegal.

It didn't really matter if they were caught, because the laws in the Death God Realm were different and there wasn't really anything the humans could do to them, but it'd still lead to questions being asked and time wasted and more stress than William would have found comfortable to deal with in the workplace.

Grell hurried along the London streets until he came to William's small home. Carefully walking up the front steps, he knocked on the door and waited a minute. He knocked again, and after receiving no reply for the second time he became impatient. Using the side of his fist, Grell banged on the door and called out, "Will? Will, it's Grell." He walked over to the window to the left of him and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering in. All he could see was black, and the faint outlines of some furniture where the curtain wasn't pulled across properly. Wait, was that movement?

Walking back up the steps to the door, he continued knocking and calling. "Will~ C'mon, I know you're here. You don't have any pets. William!"

Cursing, Grell hunched over the door knob and took a hair-pin from his coat pocket. Pulling it until the pin was at a ninety degree angle, he shoved the straight part of the metal into the lock and jiggled it around. After about a minute he heard a click, and felt the door shift forward. Grinning, Grell praised his handiwork and began to stand up straight, but was stopped as a shiver ran down his spine.

Looking up, he saw a man standing in the door way, clothes hanging off him, hair in his face, glasses askew and face pale with dark lines running under his eyes. The man's breathing was laboured, and it sounded like he needed a good cough to clear the mucus in his throat.

The first thought that ran through Grell's mind was that William had indeed been attacked, and faster than he could blow a kiss his chainsaw was summoned, the blade spinning and the engine roaring. Holding it up close to the raggedy man's face, Grell growled through gritted teeth, "What have you done to Will?" He saw fear flicker through the man's eyes, and heard a faint, croaky "Grell" over the noise of his death scythe.

Wait, eyes.

Grell frowned as he looked at the man again. Black hair. Black framed glasses. Polychromatic eyes. Green polychromatic eyes.

Humans didn't have those, and nor did demons.

The only being, whether it be supernatural or human, with bright, green, polychromatic eyes was the Death God.

Realisation struck him like lightning and Grell nearly dropped his chainsaw. This man hadn't attacked William. He was William, and Grell felt the blood run from his face. How could he not recognise him? He'd been crushing, no, been in love with Will since he'd met him.

Turning off his chainsaw and dismissing it, Grell shuffled forwards through the door and helped William over to the lounge. The red head had noticed the way he was leaning against the frame of the doorway and he could tell the he was weak. Something had happened.

The only lighting in the room came from the moon, and Grell had to peer around to find anything. Everything smelt sour, a sick sour, and it took Grell a moment to place it. Vomit.

Grell swallowed, and tried to hold back his own retching. Even William, clean, pristine, perfect William T. Spears stank of it, and Grell guessed that he hadn't washed all week.

The younger one sat the other reaper down on the lounge and was able to make out more of his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was an unlit fireplace to his left, with the kitchen directly in front of him. The lounge was to his right facing the fireplace, with a coffee table in front of it. About two meters behind the lounge were two doors, and Grell guessed that they lead to Will's bedroom and bathroom. Behind him, to the right of the front door were two bookshelves filled with different pieces of literature.

"Gre... Grell," William muttered. "What… What are you doing here? I ca… Can't have you… Seeing me like this. I'm s… S… Ss…" The reaper retched, and frantically ran his hands over the ground trying to find the steel bucket he had been using. He couldn't find it, but it didn't matter. He had already emptied his stomach, and Grell watched, unsure of what to do as Will covered his mouth and his oesophagus tried to push whatever it could out of him.

"Will…" Grell murmured, cautiously sitting down next to the dark haired reaper and attempted to rub his back, but as soon as he made contact Will flinched and swatted Grell's hand away. "N-no…! I-I told you, I'm sick. Go away, Grell. I'm fine. I ca… Can… Take c-care of myself."

"Mhmm. Do you have a kerosene lamp around here somewhere? Or some candles?" When William didn't answer, Grell sighed, standing up and shrugging out of his red coat, folding it and draping it over the back of the lounge. He started towards the kitchen, figuring that'd be the best place to start looking, as that was where he kept the candles in his own house.

Taking hold of the thick, lacy curtain that covered the window above the sink, Grell pulled it to the side to allow more light to shine in the room. But half of him wished he hadn't. Dishes covered in food remnants sat piled up in the sink and next to it, and Grell cringed at the smell. He'd have to fix that later. After several moments of searching, he found a long candle stick, ceramic candle holder and a box of half-empty matches.

William watched, slumped over on the lounge as Grell lit a match, holding it against the wick until it caught. He had always found the red head rather attractive (never would he admit it though, even if you told him you'd eradicate every demon from Hell itself) and the way the moonlight and the flame combined illuminated his slight frame... The way his vest wrapped tightly around his torso... The dark haired reaper couldn't keep his eyes off of his subordinate. He was beautiful.

William didn't care much for a woman's assets, nor really that of a man's. He had seen love and thought it destructive, rather than a happy, warm emotion. He had seen the fights it caused, the lives it ruined. When he would be assigned fieldwork, every cinematic record he viewed contained some form of love, whether it be between a man and a woman or a parent and a child. For all those happy moments and memories they shared, none of them could ever defeat the grief one felt when they lost the one thing they held dear.

He didn't want that. As cold and as hard as he seemed, it was all just a facade, an exterior that he had built up over the decades as to not let anyone in, so that he or they could never be hurt. When William thought about it, it seemed almost foolish of him, pathetic, to think he was afraid to feel the overwhelming sadness one did when they lost a loved one, but he didn't want to hurt anyone; he just wanted to do his duty as a Death God. Was that really too much to ask?

Let someone else find love. Let someone else find happiness and then have it torn violently from them.

William preferred being alone. He didn't have to go out of his way for anyone (apart from his incompetent subordinates), didn't have to care for anyone but himself. And he liked that. But for some unexplainable, absurd reason, that red head Grell Sutcliff had decided he wasn't going to let him be alone and it seemed wherever he went that man was there, too, trying to burn the hard shell away with all that red of his.

And for some reason William couldn't comprehend, he didn't mind it. At times he'd almost want to let down his guard, take off the harsh, work insistent mask he wore in front of everyone and let Grell see that he wasn't just a workaholic with a tendency to whack his co-workers upside the head with his death scythe.

On the nights that William had to stay back and complete the paperwork of certain workers from his branch (of course neither Sutcliff nor Knox were to blame...), Grell would often sit in his office with him, ignoring his boss' protests of course, just filing his nails and chatting.

Well, Grell had been the one talking, William blatantly ignoring the red obsessed reaper. But deep down, he did appreciate the other man staying back at work with him. Grell was the only one... Of course, then he went and snaked his arms around William's neck and purred seductively in his ear, Cheshire grin plastered on his porcelain face and any gratitude the stoic man felt crawled into a cold, dark corner and died.

He'd react on autopilot, elbowing his comrade in the stomach and yelling at him to get out, go home and read one of his romance novels. And then he'd sit in his office all by himself until some insane hour of the night, hot and flustered from the way Grell had been rubbing against him.

The thought of indulging the effeminate man had crossed his mind on several occasions - after all, he was still part human and had his needs - but he had scolded himself immediately at his improper thoughts. A lot like the ones he was starting to have now.

As quickly as his slightly more perverted musings had come, William shook his head trying to rid himself of the images that flashed through his mind of the effeminate reaper's milky skin. He was his colleague, for God's sake! William decided that it was his fever that was causing him to have such thoughts all of a sudden, and tried to look anywhere but at Grell as he sauntered, rolling his hips as he went (whether on purpose or the way of walking having become a habit, William wasn't sure), over to light the kerosene lamp he had spied on the coffee table in front of him.

"Have you been ill since Monday?" Grell asked quietly as he turned the flame up, the light dancing around the room and exposing more of the mess on the floor. He made a face as he noticed that William had missed the bucket on the floor next to him more than once. He would have some cleaning to do, he reasoned.

"Sunday night," William mumbled. "I tried to send notice that I wasn't going to be in for work, but..."

"It's OK," Grell murmured soothingly, but frowned. Sunday night. That was five days ago... From what he could tell, Will just had a simple fever. But simple fevers never lasted more than two days.

Quicker than lightning, panic set in, and Grell's right hand was on William's forehead in a flash. The stunned reaper didn't even have time to flinch at the sudden contact, let alone dodge. The dark haired reaper watched, unsure of how to act as the red head loomed over him and the colour drained from his face. He could feel his boss's temperature soaring even through his leather glove. Grell's questions came out jumbled, sentence after sentence of verbal vomit.

"W-Will! Where's your thermometer? I have to take your temperature. Oh! Have you seen the nurses at work? They'd have something to help! Five days! Five days with a fever! That's not normal, even for humans!. We shouldn't even be getting sick! My God, we have to get you to the doctors!"

"Grell..."

"Oh my God, oh my God, this could be serious. I should have come to check on you when you weren't at work on Monday but I talked to Ronald and he said you'd probably just snapped from all the stress that I cause, and that made me feel a little guilty so I didn't want to bother you..."

"Grell."

"And then Eric made some joke about you going home with that girl from the death scythe modification department - the one with the short, curly brown hair that stares at you all the time - and that got me kind of depressed because, y'know, she's a woman, and Alan said you're into women, so I ended up sitting at my desk crying and spoiling my makeup..."

"Grell."

"And I knew you'd be even angrier with me, assuming that you had snapped, if I went home to fix up my makeup, so I locked myself in your office for the rest of the evening, trying to do my paperwork... I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't have anyone seeing me without makeup, it'd be so degrading! Every time they saw me after, they'd all go," at which point Grell lowered the pitch in his voice to a gruff, masculine one, and William was somewhat shocked that the bubbly reaper could pull it off, "'Hey, that guy's really hideous without makeup,' and I'd never be able to go to work again! But anyway, I couldn't stop thinking about you and that woman, so I couldn't get any paperwork do-"

"Sutcliff!"

Grell stopped his rambling, eyes wide and lips pouting a little. A moment went by of complete silence, both men looking each other in the eye, before William sighed and relaxed his posture, leaning back on the lounge. "I'm fine, Grell... It's just a regular fever..." He muttered quietly, before Grell started up again.

"But you've had it so long! It's not-"

"Sutcliff! Just... Shut up." William glared at him, but not for long as he felt a wave of nausea hit him. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as the bile burned its way up his throat, and he clapped his hands to his mouth as he doubled over. Crouching down in front of him, Grell grabbed the half-full pail and held it up to William, but there was no need. Liquid trickled through his fingers and onto his pyjama pants, and initially the red head screwed up his face in disgust, before his features softened. William would need a bath.

Unable to keep the grin off his face as he thought of the prospect of seeing his boss naked (and thinking up excuses to ensure that he would), Grell grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen and gently pulled William's hands from his mouth, wiping his mouth, chin and hands. Glancing up at him, Grell saw the dark haired reaper watching him intently with... Remorse? Sadness? It was an expression that did not suit the division leader. But there was also something the younger man could not place... Gratitude?

Neither reaper had noticed that Grell had stopped his actions, and were staring at each other. Several moments passed before William coughed and looked over the red head's shoulder. What had just happened? He glanced quickly back at Grell and found that he, too, had looked somewhere else and even in the dim light, he could see the small blush appearing on his face.

"I... Erm... Y-you need to have a bath, Will..."

"No."

"When was the last time you washed? Saturday night?"

"Grell, no."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"Grell."

"Obviously, you can't wash yourself. If you could, you wouldn't smell this bad and-"

"Sutcliff, no. I'm fine. Another day of rest and I'll be better and I can wash myself. I'm a lot better than I was on Sunday night."
"- You need to change your clothes anyway because they're covered in vomit, so you may as well... Wait, what?" Grell stared at him, mouth agape. "Ah- wai- what? What do you mean you're better now than you were on Sunday? Why haven't you seen a doctor, it's obvious you don't just have a fever!" He exclaimed, suddenly standing up from his couched position and placing the pail on the ground. "Oh God, Will, I should have come over, if you were so sick..."

William could tell that if he didn't shut the reaper up now, he'd start his ramblings again and he groaned as he felt a migraine birthing in his throbbing, vomit filled head. "I have a low immune system," he muttered angrily.
Grell's rant stopped then.

"Wait, what?"

William groaned and pressed his eyelids together tightly. "My immune system is almost non-existent. It always has been. Plague destroyed what little bodily defense I had when I was alive. Even though I am a Death God now... There was nothing left for my body to work with as I became one. For me, an average head cold can last up to a week. That's why with this fever, I've..." The stoic reaper trailed off, looking anywhere but at Grell. His low immunity was his weakness, and he was admitting it to Grell, of all reapers. He knew that somehow, the effeminate reaper would use it against him.

"Oh..." Grell said quietly, eyes downcast, but he couldn't surpress his grin for long. "Does that mean I can take care of you?" William opened his eyes. What did he mean by...

"Wh-what, no, Grell! No, I'll... Be OK. Ack! Stop looking at me like that! Sutcliff, stop!" The red head had stood up and hooked his right arm under William's left armpit, forearm running across his back and hand resting on his right hip. In one swift movement, Grell had lifted him to his feet. "Sutcliff! Put me down this instant! What are you doing!"

Grell giggled. "You need a woman to take care of you, Will~ The place is a mess! I'll draw you a bath and wash you off, and then make you some soup. That should be easy to keep down."

"N-no, Grell, let me go. I don't need your help... You... You're..." William struggled to break free of Grell's tight grip, pushing against his chest and trying to weave his way out of his arms.

"Wi~ll, stop struggling. You're weak enough as it is, you shouldn't waste what energy you have left."

"I am not weak, Sutcliff." William growled, and to drive the point home, his legs gave way and he collapsed against the other reaper. He felt his mind clouding over in a smog similar to the one constantly covering London, and fought to keep his eyes open. He wouldn't let Grell...

Grell sighed at his boss' stubbornness and hefted him to his feet again, taking his left arm and draping it over his feminine shoulders. He half carried, half dragged the dark haired reaper around the lounge and in front of the two doors. "Which one's the bathroom?" William didn't answer, and for a moment Grell thought he had fallen unconscious, but saw him shake his head. The red reaper waited a moment, before sighing and trying the left door. Honestly, being uncooperative wasn't going to get him anywhere...

Stepping into the room it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust, but after a few seconds he could make out the bath's silhouette. He set William down gently against the wall and watched as his head rolled back and his eyes closed. Even in the darkness, he was so pale...

William listened as the sound of Grell's heels resonated around the tiled room, exiting, and clacking against the floor boards. Honestly, why couldn't he just wear men's shoes? They didn't sound half as annoying.
When Grell returned, William noted the stool and candle in his hands, watching him as he set them both down against the wall to his right. He didn't know how, but when he opened his eyes again, he was on the stool and Grell had his back to him, bending over. What are you doing? Stop looking, stop! William shut his eyes tightly, fatigue coming over him in strong waves. Why wouldn't Grell just leave?

William watched, half-conscious, as Grell turned the faucets on, the warm water falling from the pipes in a steady stream. Half of his mind was screaming at him to get out of the situation. The other was dead.
He watched as the red headed man turned around and scanned the wooden shelf next to the mirror, and having found what he was looking for, Grell grinned, pointed teeth illuminated slightly from the flickering light of the candle. Only slightly though. The white, shark-like fangs were bright enough as it was.

Grell's fingers deftly removed the lid to whatever he was holding, tipping the thing over and pouring its contents into the swirling water. William's eyes lingered on the red head's long, nimble digits, and in some part of his sick, bile filled mind, he wanted more than anything to be whatever item the feminine man was holding.

Mentally scolding himself, the stoic reaper tried to focus on sitting upright on the stool when a wall of lavender hit him, assaulting his senses and wiping any course of action from his mind. The scent was too strong for his nose to handle. "Grell..." William groaned and swayed, resting his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in any of the potent aroma.

"Hmm?" Grell spared him a glance before replacing the lid on the container and sliding it back into its place on the shelf. The red head's heels click-clacked on the tiles as he walked over to the stoic reaper. "What's wrong?" William opened his eyes to find Grell's less than four inches away from his face, crouched in front of him and hands on his chest popping open the dozen buttons on his night shirt, his gloves finding a nice home somewhere on the floor. He hadn't been serious about wanting to feel Grell's fingers on him, he was delirious!

William spluttered, resulting in a coughing fit, and tried to push the effeminate man away from him. Grell sighed, somewhat irritatedly, and grabbed both of the other reaper's wrists in his left hand and held them above his head, pinned to the wall behind him. William was dumbfounded.

"Sut-Sut-Grell! What... Let-let go!" Again, Grell sighed, and continued to undo the buttons.

"Look, Will, I'm helping you. You need a bath. You're too sick to wash yourself, and if you don't wash it'll only make you sicker. Obviously you have no idea how to take care of yourself in such a situation, that's why you're still vomitting. Have you tried to lower your temperature? Do you even know how to?"

William ignored Grell. Because he was right. Not washing wasn't doing a thing for him. He had had a fever before, but he was at the Reaper Academy, and he had the infirmary take care of him. Even then, Grell had insisted to care for him, often arguing with the nurses as to who could do a better job. But it was no use now; there were no nurses, no one to save him from the chainsaw wielding Death God's actions. He'd just have to let him do as he pleased, but all that didn't stop him from giving one last feeble attempt.

"N-no... I can take care of myself," the stoic repaer defiantly mumbled, trying to free his wrists from Grell's steel-like grip. It was no use though, as Grell was right. He had wasted his energy in the struggle earlier, and all he could do was go slack against the cool wall.

Raising his delicate eyebrows and smiling, Grell released his wrists and leaned back a bit, giving William some space. "OK, then, you do it." He had trouble stifling a giggle as he watched his boss' fumbled attempts to undo the fourth button. Several moments went by, and William grew more and more uncomfortable and frustrated.

"Honestly!" he cried out and slumped on the stool, hands falling to his sides. Grell grinned victoriously, hands flying to the other man's chest. The rest of the buttons were undone in less than seven seconds, and before William knew it his night shirt was over his head and in a crumpled heap on the floor. He frowned distastefully, feeling the urge to straighten it out and hang it up.

"Alright, up." Grell said, grin still plastered on his face, taking William's arm and pulling him to his feet. He noted the faint blush that dusted the red head's cheeks, and cocked his head to the left, but didn't give it much thought as he felt the slender fingers at his crotch.

William jerked back, knocking the stool over and falling against the wall. Another wave of nausea hit him, and once again he felt the bile start to rise in his throat. "Will!" Grell was at his side in a flash, hand on his back and holding the hair out of his eyes and he coughed into the latrine. The red head couldn't stop his eyes wandering over his boss' back and arms, breath hitching.

His muscles weren't big and bulky - to Grell's surprise, the workaholic seemed rather lanky - but Grell could feel them move under his palm. He couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as he moved his hand soothingly over the other man's back, careful not to catch his manicured nails on the smooth skin.

As William finished, Grell grabbed a hand towel, dabbing it over his boss' mouth, and pressed himself closer. He knew that he was playing with fire, but... He had on more than several occasions caught the dark haired reaper staring at him without the slightest hint of irritation or contempt. If William did think of him as a little bit more than a colleague, a little bit more than a friend... Grell grinned internally, but his good mood evaporated with the steam in the room as he felt the other tense up at his actions. William pulled back, resting his head on the wall, breath coming out in short, sharp huffs. Several moments passed before the red head deemed it safe to start on the man's pants again.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the other reaper's, Grell slowly moved his hands to the buttons.

"Gr... Grell... No... I-I can do that." The effeminate man arched an eyebrow at his superior's stubbornness.

"Will, we both know-"

"Please, Grell..." Only then did he get it, if the way William was looking anywhere but at him and the blush that covered his cheeks didn't give it away. He was embarrassed! Grell suppressed a laugh and instead smiled. Will was just so cute~!

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Will, it's not like it's nothing I haven't seen before." Grinning happily, he carefully pushed the first button back out of its hole. William scowled.

"Of course."He said curtly, bluntly, and felt the air around him turn to ice. Grell looked up at him, fingers wavering above his crotch. The grin was no longer on his face.

"What do you mean by that?" His voice was low, menacing even, and immediately William regretted making that comment.

"... I... Erm... I..." the stoic reaper spluttered. Had Grell's teeth always been that sharp?

"As much as I hate to admit it, I'm male, too, William. That's what I meant when I said, 'it's nothing I haven't seen before'. I have no idea what you were implying, though." His face held no expression, his voice in monotone, and William knew he knew what he had meant.

As quickly as it had come, the freezing atmosphere vanished and William felt slightly relieved. Only then did he remember where Grell's hands were and the mood he had been in but a moment ago. He was glad the dramatic reaper had decided to ignore his comment.

Before he could protest any further, the buttons on his night pants weren't in their holes and William made a panicked noise as Grell started to pull his pants down, and grabbed at his crotch to try and hide himself. Grell glanced at him, frowning, and pulled the material down to his ankles with one, sharp tug. The workaholic blushed as deepa red as Grell's hair and looked over at the door, hands still covering his crotch. Perhaps with Grell tending to the bath, he could make a break for it... But William could hardly move his legs, let alone stand on his own.

Any thoughts of escaping were cut short a Grell turned off the taps, spinning on his delicate high heels and starting towards him. Oh, God, no. No. No. This wasn't really happening, was it? It couldn't be. Not to him. He was William T. Spears, head of the Death God Dispatch Society, English Branch! He couldn't have his subordinates trying to break their way into his home using a hair accesory, stripping the clothes from his person and trying to wash him!

With every step closer Grell took, William wished him away with his mind, but it did nothing to stop the red head's pace and with four steps it was all over. And he gave up. He let the red head hook his arms under his armpits, let him pull him to his feet and help him to the bath. Grell had seen him - hair a mess, stuttering, vomiting. Really, what was the point of trying to maintain any of his dignity and pride at this point?

He stood for a moment, watching the swirling water as it settled and glanced at Grell, who huffed and turned away from him. "Happy?"
No.

Taking hold of the rim of the tub, William steadied himself as he swung a leg over into the lukewarm water, and immediately tried to pull it out. "It-it's freezing, Grell!"

"No, it's room temperature, perhaps even a little warmer. Your body temperature is too high, Will. Relaxing in a piping hot bath, as lovely as it sounds, what with the weather we're having, will not do a thing to lower your fever. You want to get better, right?" William groaned, rather uncharacteristically. He was right. Again.

Angrily muttering to himself, William lowered himself into the water, trying to ignore the cold seeping into his bones. A gravelly substance was layered over the bottom of the tub, which added to his discomfort. It took him a moment to place it, but Grell seemed to have acquired telepathy and spoke before him. "The bath salt is because, well, you smell really bad, Will. No offense. Though, obviously, it didn't all dissolve... That water is a bit too cool too, I think." He sighed. "But oh well. I'll be back in a moment..."

When Grell returned, William felt the panic set in again, but at the same time he coudln't keep his eyes off of the other reaper. Top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Grell walked in wearing nothing but his shirt, trousers and glasses. His long hair had been tied up in a messy pony-tail with his red and white striped ribbon at the nape of his neck, strands already falling out and dangling in front of his chest.

William watched over his shoulder as he picked up the stool from its spot on the ground and placed it behind his head, taking a seat. "Lean forward a bit, Will," he requested softly, and William felt a folded towel being placed between the back of his head and the ceramic. He also felt Grell's hand against his forehead, pushing his head back until it hit the material.

He noted the way Grell ran his hand through his hair, gliding over his right ear and to his glasses, removing them in a way much too sensual for the situation. Well, maybe not, had they been lovers, but... Wait, why was William thinking about that? He tried focusing on the wall in front of him, but in his peripheral vision he could see the way the red head folded them and placed them on the two-trayed stand next to the tub, and that also looked much too unchaste.

William still had his hands covering himself, and Grell pursed his lips together as he noticed this. He was doing this for William, to help him. He truly did care about his boss' welfare, but if getting to see him naked was part of his recovery... He wasn't just going to let the opportunity slip by. Besides, it could come in handy as blackmail whenever he wanted to skip out on doing overtime.

Reaching over, Grell picked up the sponge from the small stand. He soaked it in the water, slowly dragging it up William's chest and over his shoulders, wringing the water out as he did so. The division leader couldn't deny it felt good on his hot, clammy skin. Maybe if he pretended it wasn't Grell who was tending to him... Grell leaned forward, head next to William's as he brought the sponge over his toned arms, lifting them and washing underneath. This was so degrading! He was a grown man (or rather, a grown Death God. But he was still in his prime, retirement was very far off). He didn't need another grown 'man' washing him!

"I'm not going to hurt you, Will," Grell whispered. "Please... Trust me." There was hurt in his voice, but William had to strain to hear it. Before he could stop himself, William snorted and seethed from between thin lips, "Why should I? You never do anything that you are told, you constantly violate regulations and whenever I do allow you a lunch break unsupervised, you go off and associate yourself with that demon."

Grell didn't reply, instead placing his hand over William's eyes and wringing the sponge over his head. He ran his fingers through the dark strands, making sure not to leave any parts dry. Picking up the soap, he lathered his hands before replacing it on the stand and rubbing his fingers through the stoic reaper's hair. Before long, the silence grew unbelievably awkward, and William tried to think up something, anything, to break it.

"I... I'm sorry. Grell. I-"

"What for? It's all true. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry. After all, I am the cause of virtually all of your stress lately, am I not?" William thought about it for a bit. It wastrue; Grell's carefree behaviour often lead to other dispatch officers believing they could get away with just about anything, which lead to seldom work getting done.

But none of the workplace stress Grell caused could compare to the way he burdened the stoic reaper when he was in his home, alone; his perfume sending his brain to a far away place and the patterns his fingers had traced over his arm earlier that day, burning him, scaring him. The only thing the division leader could do to was sit in front of the fire intoxicated on memories of the red reaper, the flames dancing before him looking much too sultry and much too familiar. If anything, Grell affected him more in that way than his incompetence ever could.

"No, that's not true. More demons have been creating contracts with humans, all over the United Kingdom and Europe. Since Europe is so big, a lot of our officers have been sent over to aid in the situation. Despite being contracted, the demons are still sneaking souls behind their master's backs. We've been incredibly short on officers, and I've been having to complete their paperwork. They need their time and energy to catch and destroy the demons, not complete paperwork."

"But that's not fair on you!" Grell cried, pulling William's hair a little as he did so. "You already do enough for this branch, why can't the higher ups have someone else do it? Why can't they send officers from America or Africa or Australia?"

"Because, Sutcliff, who else in our division is going to do it? Certainly not you or Knox. Mr Humphries and Slingby have been helping - Slingby only because Alan is forcing him in some lewd way - but apart from a couple of other reapers, that's it. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the absences, or are your thoughts always on that filth?" William sat up abruptly and Grell pulled his sud covered hands back.

Turning slightly, the dark haired reaper cast a cold glare at the other over his shoulder (at least, he hoped he was glaring at the man. He couldn't actually see anything...). "The American, African and Australian branches have very little experience with demons. The vile creatures tend to prefer souls that are filled with spite and evil, not purity. A lot of the aristocrats and even royalty tend to become corrupted and want revenge, so they contact a demon. In which continent is there the most royalty and aristocracy?"

"... Europe." Grell mumbled.

"Exactly. The other divisions encounter demons once every year, whereas we in the European division encounter one every month. We have more experience, so we've been sent to help."

William laid back down again after finishing his rant. He had no idea how he'd the energy to talk that much, and felt his eyes growing unbearably heavy. He almost drifted to sleep, Grell's fingers returning to his head and rubbing soothing circles on his scalp. Almost. But the damned red head had to start talking again.

"I'm sorry, Will, I really am, for not doing my paperwork... It's just... If I do my work, then I won't have any overtime, and nor will you, and then I'd have to go home and not be able to spend time with y- I mean! Um! Ahh, that is... I'd have to go home and then who would I ask which colour to paint my nails? It's a very difficult question, Will, especially when you want your nails to look good for the one you love~"

William didn't miss the slip up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise and his heart skipping a beat. Wait, no it didn't. No. Of course it didn't. As if he'd get excited at the prospect of Grell Sutcliff wanting to spend time with him. Honestly.

"Mm, it's fine, Grell. If it wasn't me, it'd be someone else you'd be pestering, and I doubt that there is a Death God in this realm that can handle you and your antics."

Seeing past the insult, Grell cried, "Really, William? Re~a~lly? I don't annoy you? Oh, Will!" The flamboyant man's arms wound around the other's neck, hands brushing over his abdomen, chin resting on his shoulder away from the suds.

"Ack! Sut-Sutcliff! Get off me this instant!" William wriggled in the embrace, trying to dislodge the man without the use of his hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Will~ But after hearing that you've become fond of me... I just couldn't help myself~! I was overwhelmed with hap~pi~ness! Ahh~" William huffed. He never said anything about being fond of the reaper. He was exaggerating. Of course. Because he couldn't get a word in to tell the red head so as he was in his own little world, 'Ahh~n'ing and 'Ooh'ing and giggling girlishly.

"Sutcliff. Sutcliff. Would you stop acting so over the top and wash the soap from my hair? It's falling into my eyes and I can't wipe it away as my hands are... Occupied."

"Hehe, of course, Willy dear~" William sighed and glared at the wall, hoping it would turn into some sort of black hole and suck him up. He would let Grell carry on like this for a while, let him have his fun, then he'd kick him out faster than he could mutter, "Honestly." But he couldn't stay irritated with the man for long as the cool water cascaded down his face, and he felt his temperature lowering instantly.

He listened as Grell hummed a happily little tune, the name he couldn't place but he was sure he'd heard children singing it at some point when he was doing fieldwork, and felt the sponge's rough surface over his abdomen. A little alarm went off in his head, but he decided to ignore it. After all, Grell wasn't actually a woman, so it wasn't as if it was indecent exposure. Wait. That brought back that insult he had thrown at him earlier. Regret pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"Please forgive me for what I said to you earlier, Grell. I was... Snappy, I didn't know what I was saying."

"Hmm?"

"When I accused you of having... Experience with a man's penis. I didn't mean it. I just..."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's not like I haven't heard it before. I just didn't expect to hear it from you. Do I really come off as that slutty, William? So I like to flirt a little, that doesn't mean I shag anything that flirts back! Besides, most men think me a woman, which, y'know, I am, but still. I think it'd be quite a shock for them when we got back to their apartment and they found out my true gender. Ha! But that'd never happen. There's only one man I'd give myself to, but I doubt he reciprocates my feelings. Ohh, the drama of it!" Grell slapped the back of his hand across his forehead and swooned. William thought over his words.

"You mean to say, you're a virgin?" He couldn't help the surprise that lingered in his voice.

"Well, more or less... There was the incident with Angelina, my beloved Madame Red... But she really only used me for her own gain. She was lonely. She didn't love me like I wanted to be loved. She didn't love me like a man would. We made love several times, but she initiated it. After a murder, she'd be in tears, and I'd be there to comfort her... In more ways than one, it seems.

"Those times, I was with a woman, so it doesn't count. I'd never give myself to just anyone, Will. I'm a lady after all, I need romancing and wooing and comfort and trust.The idea of being with one person, preferably another virgin like myself, for the rest of my life seems appealing to me. It shows that there couldn't possibly be any traces of lust still left over from the relationship they were in previously. Plus, I don't want someone easy or anything."

The fact that Grell had been with a woman who didn't really care about him made William's blood boil, but he tried to calm himself in the cooling water. "So I take it you'd never be with Sebastian, then? Seeing as he left his mark on that nun."

"Ahh, Sebby~ He's so... Ahhhhh~n! But he'd never be able to make me happy. He belongs with that stupid brat. The pair of them would be happy, being all... All them like. Sebastian doesn't have the potential to be romantic, I don't think. As amazing as he is, he's just something for me to fawn over, and I absolutely love it when you get jealous, Will~"

"I-I don't get jealous! I simply don't want to fraternizing with him! It's bad for the Death God name, and if something were to happen to you, I'd, of course, have to come to save you and waste precious time. That's all."

"Heh, of course, just like my own prince, coming to my rescue~ Ahh~ But anyway, you should finish washing yourself. I'll prepare you some warm clothes and get started on the soup. You seemed so set on bathing yourself before, it should be no problem. Unless, now you want my assistance...?" The flamboyant reaper's breath ghosted over William's ear, and he struggled to contain a shiver. His fingers were at his collarbone, tracing patterns in the dips above them. He shrugged him off and muttered a, "Bugger off, Sutcliff," whilst doing so.

Grell skipped out, lighting a few candles from the lamp on the coffee table and started rummaging around in William's bedroom for another set of night clothes. The dark haired reaper could hear him from the bathroom and sighed, hoping that his personal quaters were still partially intact.