Nobody really expected them to go through with it, but three days after the battle ended, Undertaker and Grell arranged a wedding with a human priest. Ciel graciously offered to host the event at his manor, if only out of curiosity to see how they were going to make this work.

Undertaker stood under the gazebo before his beloved, wearing a tuxedo and his ever-present smile. He lifted the veil to look at his bride, his green-gold eyes flicking over the redhead with admiration. "My dear," he whispered, "I could not ask for a more beautiful spouse."

Grell smiled, his sharp teeth concealed beneath illusion. "And I could not ask for a more handsome one," he said, taking the taller reaper's hands in his.

He was dressed as a woman, in a lovely white lace wedding gown. Attending the outdoor ceremony were most of the Dispatch department, Earl Phantomhive, his butler and his servants. The attending priest had no idea of the bride and groom's true nature, or that of the guests. He stood quietly and waited for the couple to settle.

"This is insane," muttered William to Ronald out the side of his mouth.

"Not to them," whispered the blond back. "Look how happy Senpai is. He makes a pretty girl, if you ask me."

William's answering scoff held no real vehemence. "Dressing up as a woman to take a human bonding ceremony…only Sutcliff could—"

"Shh," interrupted Ron with a nod at the couple. "It's about to start."

The supervisor subsided into silence, though he was still mentally ranting over all this. The priest began to speak, addressing the crowd. "Friends and family, we are gathered here today to—"

"I do," said Undertaker.

The priest looked at him and blinked. "Sir, you must allow me to speak the vows, before you agree to them."

"Oh," said the silver-haired reaper. "Right. Carry on, then."

Several people chuckled, and the priest smiled a little. "Now, as I was saying: We are gathered here today to see this man and this woman wed in holy matrimony. Should anyone have a reason why they should not become man and wife, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Grell immediately shot a warning look at William, but the supervisor only smirked and held his tongue. The priest went on. "Let us continue. Khronos Undertaker, do you take Grell Sutcliff to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"Khronos?" whispered Ronald, blinking.

"So that's his true name," muttered William with interest.

"I do." Undertaker beamed at his lover happily.

"And do you, Grell Sutcliff, take—"

"Absolutely," interrupted Grell. He looked down at himself. "Though I probably shouldn't be wearing white, after all."

The priest cleared his throat and people chuckled. "The rings?"

Ciel came forward with the wedding bands, and the Shinigami couple took them and placed them on one anothers' fingers.

"Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife," finished the priest. "You may kiss—"

Undertaker already had Grell in his arms, lip-locked with him.

"—the…uh…bride," finished the priest awkwardly. It must have been a rarity for him to see a wedded couple so obviously in love, given society's penchant for marriages of convenience.

Eric was the first to begin clapping, and others soon followed. The newlyweds finally broke apart from each other, and Grell turned his back on the crowd to throw the bouquet. It was a sad irony that it practically landed on Eric Slingby's head, and he stared at it stupidly and flushed when his fellow Dispatch officers looked away uncomfortably. The blond forced a smile as Grell turned around, and he held up the bouquet. "One of the ladies should have caught this," he sighed, glancing around at the female reapers and the one human woman present for the ceremony.

"You never know, Eric," stated Grell with a smile; mindful not to discuss the tragedy of the man's love-life in mixed company.

The blond nodded, absently brushing his fingers over the flower petals. "I suppose."

"Well, that was nice," said Undertaker, putting an arm around Grell's waist. "Now, let's eat!"

The banquet was held inside the manor. Many of the reapers excused themselves for work, offering their congratulations to the new couple before leaving. Some stayed for the food, including Ronald, William and Eric. The champagne flowed freely and Baldroy indulged too much and ended up being carried to his room by Finnian—which was a comical sight, considering how small the gardener was compared to him. Sebastian gracefully offered a toast to the newlyweds, and when the banquet was over, the reapers thanked Earl Phantomhive for hosting the occasion and teleported back to their realm.

Much like London, the Shinigami city was in a shambles. It would take months to fully repair the damage done from the weather abnormalities and the battle. Grell and Undertaker went straight to the redhead's apartment to celebrate their wedding night, and their mouths met in a heated kiss as soon as they stepped through the door.

"So," Grell said between kisses, "Bermuda?"

"Sounds like a fine place for a honeymoon," agreed his spouse huskily, "but you'll have to forgive me, love…I can't wait that long to have you."

"Nor would I expect you to," giggled the smaller man. "Oh, this dress itches! It's beautiful, but not very comfortable at all."

Undertaker scooped him up bride style, grinning. "Then allow your new husband to relieve you of it, my dear."

Grell put his arms around the ancient's neck and kissed him as he carried him into the bedroom, his long train trailing along the floor. It was a miracle that Undertaker didn't trip over it, but they made it into the room without an incident, and he laid Grell on the bed and bade him roll over so that he could unfasten the dress for him. Grell sighed with relief as the back of the dress came open, and he sat up so that his companion could slide it down over his shoulders. The balled up stockings he'd stuffed down the front to give the illusion of breasts fell out, and Grell reached up to unpin his hair and let it loose. He hadn't bothered to alter the color of his hair for the event, and it spilled down around his shoulders in a glorious curtain of red. The illusion hiding his teeth faded, and he made a delighted noise in his throat as his spouse kissed his neck and shoulder, running his hands over his arms as he slid the material down and helped him out of the sleeves.

"You are very good at that," complimented Grell, shutting his eyes.

"At what, dear?" Undertaker pressed another kiss against his skin, tugging the dress down over his hips.

"The soft touches," answered the redhead, "and undressing me with ease. Most men would struggle with a dress like this, but you make it slide right off."

The ancient's mouth grinned against his neck. "I've had my share of practice, love."

"I'll just pretend you're a natural, thank you. I'd rather not picture you with anyone else, tonight."

"Well, quite a bit of that practice was with you," informed the older reaper, "back when you were a human woman."

"Oh." Grell blushed with pleasure. "You undressed me a lot, did you?"

"Mm-hmm. My lady never had clothes on for long, when in my presence."

"Insatiable rogue, you." Grell turned around to face him, grinning. He sat up on his knees and he wriggled the rest of the way out of the dress, before pushing it aside. He smiled at Undertaker as he noticed the way his eyes roved over the lacy white panties and the stockings covering his legs to the thigh. "See something you like, darling?"

"Indeed, I do," agreed the older man. "Oh dear, we never tossed your garter." He reached out to hook a finger beneath the white lacy garter in question, and he released it to pop lightly against the redhead's pale thigh with a satisfying sting.

Grell chuckled and scooted toward him, maneuvering his body so that he was straddling his lap. He untied the bow holding Undertaker's hair in its ponytail and he kissed him softly on the lips. "Khronos. I really like that. Why did you never tell me that was your name, before we made our wedding plans?"

Undertaker shrugged. "The subject never came up, and I've been going by simply 'Undertaker' for so long that I'm just used to it now. I think the only reaper alive that actually remembers when I last went by 'Khronos' is Mr. Anderson, and he respects my privacy enough not to have spread it around."

Grell combed his fingers through the pale, silken hair, gazing into his companion's compelling eyes as he brushed his bangs aside. It was growing out fast, and soon the fringe would again be as long as it was before he cut it.

"Want me to trim it again, lovely?"

Grell thought about it, and he shook his head. Undertaker was already keeping his nails trimmed short for him, because he liked to do the honors of preparing him when they made love. "The shaggy bangs are part of who you are, now. As I've said before, I fell in love with an eccentric mortician, and I like him just the way he is."

Undertaker squeezed him affectionately and kissed him. "I'm a very lucky man, to have a wife that doesn't want to change me."

"Oh, I'm going to train you to put the toilet seat down," assured Grell. "And to wipe off the mirror after you brush your teeth. Some things even I just can't abide."

The mortician laughed and shifted beneath him, pressing their groins together through the material of their garments. "You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks, dearie."

"You're never too old to…oooh!" Grell's rebuttal was lost in a moan of pleasure as Undertaker kissed his neck and fondled his nipples. Feeling his hardness grinding against him, he undulated on top of him and barely resisted the impulse to bite his lips. He was just too bloody good with that mouth and those hands!

"Khron-Undy," sputtered the redhead, unsure of which name his lover wished to be called by, even though he had again hung up the mantle of a death god.

A soft chuckle emitted from the velvet lips caressing his throat. "Call me whatever you want in the privacy of our bed, my dear. It's only in public that I'd prefer to go by 'Undertaker', though I suppose it doesn't matter much now, since half of Dispatch heard my old name at the wedding." He lowered his head and he flicked his tongue against the right bud, making Grell shiver with lust.

"D-darling," gasped the redhead when the mortician's hand slid down his taut abdomen and between his parted thighs, settling on the growing bulge in his panties. He rubbed against his palm impulsively, whimpering with desire. Undertaker gave a gentle squeeze, before tugging the material down to expose the stiffening shaft. He began to caress it in a teasing manner and he switched to the other nipple, licking and sucking it.

"Leave the garter belt and the stockings," demanded Undertaker in a passion roughened voice when Grell started to undo the clasps to remove them.

Grinning, the redhead complied. He was quite fond of his lover's particular little kinks when it came to undergarments. He moaned again when the hand fondling her arousal gripped it and began to stroke with even, steady pumps. Undertaker released his nipple and he claimed his lips again, groaning into his mouth with need. Deciding that one good turn deserved another, the redhead reached down to undo the fancy trousers. He did adore his silver lunatic all dressed up and dapper, but removing the clothes was just as much fun as looking at him in them. He got the pants unbuttoned and he slipped his hand in to free the substantial erection from its confines. Undertaker sighed with relief and Grell smirked, guessing it wasn't very comfortable to have such an impressive shaft restrained.

"There now, my love," purred the redhead as he began to stroke it. "Mmm, I know this fellow was eager to get out."

"Always, darlin'," panted the ancient. "He's a greedy thing, when it comes to you."

Grell swallowed another moan as the older man's stroking sped up. "Khronos," he sighed, shifting atop him. He started to loosen the rest of his suit with his free hand while they fondled each other, and he sucked on his tongue when he slipped it into his mouth to explore. Somebody's phone started to buzz, but they both ignored it. If Will thought he was coming in to work on his wedding day, he was sadly mistaken.

Undertaker's tie landed on the floor, and his jacket soon joined it. Grell unbuttoned his shirt and he left it that way, finding his spouse unbelievably sexy just like that, with his shirt hanging open and his pants undone. "I predict we aren't going to get fully naked before you're inside of me," he said when Undertaker's lips broke away from his to kiss their way down his throat again.

"Sounds fair to me," murmured Undertaker. He blindly reached for the bottle on the nightstand, still stroking Grell off as he retrieved it. Just as eager to join their bodies in the most intimate way, Grell helped him unscrew the cap and he dribbled the oil over Undertaker's fingers for him. He stopped fondling him long enough to apply some to his own hand and begin lubing up his erection with it. Undertaker hissed and sucked in a sharp breath as Grell's gripping hand slid easily over his sex, slippery with oil.

"Now, now," admonished Grell in a soft, teasing command. "You aren't permitted to finish before you are inside of me, darling."

"Then you…ought to stop petting it, love." Undertaker bit his neck lightly, making him gasp and shiver. His fingers burrowed into the back of Grell's panties to seek out his entrance, and the redhead relaxed for him, letting the first digit ease inside.

"But I love to pet it," whined Grell, loving the feel of his finger pushing deep inside, then withdrawing to do it again. "Undy…oh, my darling!"

The mortician grinned. "We haven't even really gotten started yet, little rose. Unh…oh, you've really got to stop that now."

A growl rumbled in Grell's throat, and he pushed Undertaker down on the bed to lie beneath him. The silver reaper bore an expression of faint surprise, before the delighted grin returned. "Are you topping tonight, then?"

"I'm still taking you inside of me," panted Grell, "but I do want to be on top. I'm on fire with need of you!"

"So I've noticed," teased Undertaker. He thrust his finger in again, drawing another whimpering moan from him. "I half expect you to burst into flame right on top of me. It would be an interesting sight, but it would ruin your nice bedding."

"Don't…tease," gasped the redhead, rocking on top of him encouragingly as he fingered him. He cried out when the determined finger stroked him inside just right, and he bit his lip.

"Kiss me," demanded Undertaker, watching him with lusty intensity.

Grell obeyed, and he moaned when the older reaper sucked the blood from his lips that he'd drawn. It seemed there wasn't a single encounter they shared that didn't end up with cut lips or tongues, but it added a certain spice to their lovemaking. He continued to stroke his shaft, but he was careful not to put too much pressure and speed behind it. Undertaker knew his own limits and when he said he was in danger of spilling himself soon, Grell believed him. When the mortician's breath caught in his throat and he grunted a pained warning, Grell reluctantly stopped and settled for caressing that toned, scarred torso instead.

"I love your body," he gasped. "Every ghostly inch of it."

"And I love yours," replied Undertaker. He swatted Grell on the bottom without warning, making him flush and gasp with delight. "Especially when I draw a blush in certain parts."

"And you do that so well," breathed the redhead with a smile.

He closed his eyes in bliss and uttered another shaken moan as Undertaker pierced him with a second finger. He began to thrust on top of him, matching the rhythm of the pumping fingers. He caught hold of the single small braid in Undertaker's hair and he brought it to his nose, enjoying the scent of it. His darling used some sort of herbal shampoo he blended himself and while the aroma didn't suit Grell, it was very fitting for Undertaker. It smelled like black opium to him, and since the mortician had gotten the opportunity to make it and start using it again, Grell didn't want him to wash his hair with anything else.

"You smell so good," announced the redhead as he undulated on top of him. "Oooh…aahh, d-darling…oh gods!"

The combination of being stroked off and fingered at once finally overcame him, and Grell tensed and came all over his love's tight abdomen. It had come on so suddenly and so strongly, all he could do was shudder and whimper as he rode it out. His crimson hair fell over his eyes as he bowed his head and pressed his hands against Undertaker's chest for balance, and he didn't even mind when some of it got in the seed he'd just ejected.

He didn't get much of a chance to recover; Undertaker made a low sound of need and withdrew his fingers, only to replace them with the girth of his sex. Grell moaned as his spouse drove into him, tossing his head back and deliberately sinking down to sheath him completely. Panting at the feel of him inside, Grell opened his eyes and looked down at him, smiling. He looked so very handsome, lying there like that with his masses of silver hair spread out around him. Undertaker gazed up at him and he cupped his hips, guiding the redhead's motions as he began to slowly thrust beneath him. He was very good at detecting how much Grell could take, as he demonstrated now.

Grell placed his hands over the ones resting on his hips and he began to undulate, his eyes locked with his companion's. "How did I ever survive without this every night, before?" wondered the redhead aloud, his voice winded from his climax. He moved sinuously on top of him, his pelvis rotating as Undertaker's hard length pumped in and out of him. The silver reaper was quiet, gazing up at him with love and passion in his eyes as their rhythm picked up. Guessing that he was concentrating on not coming too soon, Grell kept his hands over his and he avoided touching him anywhere that might stimulate him too much. When the ancient began to relax, lips parting with pleasure and eyes going heavy-lidded, he knew he was back in control.

"My beautiful rose," sighed Undertaker.

He took his hands off Grell's hips to explore his body, sensitive, talented fingers stroking, caressing and kneading. Sensing that it was safe to do so again, Grell did the same. He ran the back of his nails over his love's cheek, and Undertaker turned his head to kiss the fingertips. The gesture made Grell feel cherished, and his emotions rose to the surface at the thought of how close he'd come to losing this man. Undertaker could be a fierce, aggressive lover or a tender one, and right now he seemed inclined to the latter. Grell had no issue with that. Nobody had ever truly made love to him, the way Undertaker did. He bent over to kiss him, purring against his lips as the older reaper rubbed his back.

"I love you," sighed the redhead, "no matter what name you go by, you are my prince."

Undertaker smiled and combed his fingers through Grell's hair, deepening the kiss. He put more force behind his thrusts, but he kept them slow and steady. He kissed away the moans that broke on Grell's lips, his tongue danced against his and his low exclamations of pleasure mingled with the redhead's.

They must have stayed like that for a half hour or more, lovingly caressing, kissing and rocking, until Grell hardened again and Undertaker started to peak. The ancient gasped Grell's name and held him tight, pumping harder and faster beneath him. Grell matched his pace and traced his panting mouth with the tip of his tongue, getting close to another climax, himself. He felt it when his lover reached completion; felt his long, thick shaft twitching inside of him to fill him. He muffled Undertaker's resulting groan with another kiss and he watched the beautiful expression of bliss flitter over his handsome, scarred features.

He didn't mind that he didn't get his second orgasm. Just seeing the pleasure on Undertaker's face and hearing his helpless, breathy cries was worth ten of them, to him. He sighed in satisfaction when Undertaker began to soften inside of him, and he lay his head on his chest and relaxed on top of him, his hardness pressing between their bodies. Undertaker stroked his back and his bottom, spiraling back down from his pleasure.

"You're still unsatisfied," observed the older reaper, kissing the crown of Grell's head.

"Hardly." Grell lifted his head off Undertaker's chest and smirked at him. "I love watching you spend yourself in me, and I came first."

"Hmm, but I'd be a poor husband if I left my lady wanting," sighed the ancient with a smile. He rolled Grell off of him and he lay half on top of him, kissing him softly. "And so, I'll take care of this now."

Grell's brows shot up, but he smiled and giggled as Undertaker squirmed down to finish him orally. He parted his thighs and closed his eyes, stroking the older man's soft, pale hair as he took him into his mouth and started pleasuring him.

Oh yes, he was the luckiest reaper in the world.

Undertaker returned to the mortuary business after spending a week in Bermuda with Grell. He had quite a bit of fixing up to do, having abandoned the shop for so long. He'd had the sense to put dust covers on all of his furniture in the living quarters in the back, and he'd emptied his pantry of all perishables before leaving. There was a leak in the roof that required fixing, and the wiring needed maintenance too. He was forced to work by candlelight during the first week of his return, but he soon got it sorted out with his spouse's help. Knowing that he didn't like to spend much time in the Shinigami realm, Grell moved some of his things in and though he still kept his apartment, he stayed at Undertaker's most of the time.

Life went more or less back to normal—or rather, as normal as it could be with such a shortage of agents in the London branch. Every one of them had overtime each day, and the only thing Grell had to look forward to was coming home to his love at the end of each day and getting a foot rub and a hot bath. Unlike his redheaded coworker, William did not take any time off—and his exhaustion made him slip up.

It was an innocent mistake…barely noticeable, in fact. Grell was a shrewd reaper, though, and one day a couple of weeks after his return to work, he heard William say something that threw him for a loop.

"You look terrible," said Grell after he and Will finally finished up some paperwork that they'd had to stay late to complete. "When are you going to go on a bloody vacation, already?"

"When the other branches send enough workers to make up for our losses," said the supervisor coolly. "I'm fine. Ronald's snoring just kept me up last night."

Grell nearly fell off the desk he was casually sitting on. "Wait…say that again?"

William frowned, looked up at him and swore. "Nothing."

"You said Ronald's snoring kept you up," insisted Grell, crossing his legs. "How did that happen, Will? What was he doing, sleeping close enough to you to…to…oh. Oh!"

"It's nothing," snapped the brunet, flushing.

Grell hopped down off the table and peered closely at him. "William T. Spears, are you involved with my trainee?"

He looked strangely uncomfortable. "Yes," he admitted.

"For how long?" sputtered Grell. The thought of little Ronnie having sex with the man he was once so in love with was disturbing to him. "Tell me you weren't together when we kissed!"

"That was a—"

"You two kissed?" The shocked question startled both of them, and Grell turned to see Ronald standing in the door with a handful of documents. He turned his shocked gaze from William to Grell. They had both been so involved in their discussion that they didn't realize the office door wasn't locked, and they didn't hear him come in. "When did that happen?"

William closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Not long after you and I got involved, Ronald. It was just a brief, foolish moment when stress got the better of me. I've been meaning to tell you."

Grell threw his hands up. "When? After you told me that you've been sleeping with my trainee, or before?"

"I didn't have an order planned!" snapped William. He looked to Ronald, his expression softening slightly. "Nothing happened. It was a single kiss that lasted for only a moment, and we both came to our senses quickly."

Ronald dropped the paperwork on the floor, shut the office door and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. "Who initiated it?"

William hesitated, and Grell acted on impulse. "I did," he fibbed.

Ronald gave him a sullen look.

"It was when my darling Undertaker was incarcerated," defended Grell. "Ronnie, you know how long I pined over our cold, handsome supervisor. For years, he was the one I wanted the most, and when my heart began to drift in another direction…well, I needed to know if it was real. I thought I would risk one kiss, because I was unsure whether my growing attachment to our gorgeous legend was sincere, or simply brought about because he was kind to me in ways that this one never was."

William held his tongue, watching the exchange with a stoicism he probably didn't truly feel. Ronald looked at him suspiciously. "But you said stress got the better of you, Will. What's that all about, if Grell initiated it?"

"I…briefly fell into the kiss," explained the supervisor. "I think perhaps because it occurred to me that it was my last chance to find out if there might be something more between your mentor and I than my constant irritation with him."

"And?" Ronald raised his brows expectantly.

William glanced at the redhead. "There was a spark, but Sutcliff and I never have and never will be compatible on any other level than volatile attraction."

"Angry sex is all we would have had together," assured Grell with a shrug and a toss of his head. "Not that I have any particular objections to that, but the kiss did help me realize that the one I truly wanted was the madman in the cell, not the stiff-laced workaholic. I'm married to the man I want now, and I didn't know that you were in a relationship with Willikins, or I wouldn't have done it."

"I don't know about that," sighed Ronald. "So there's nothing going on between you two now?"

"Absolutely not," said William vehemently. "And nothing ever will be."

Grell nodded in agreement. "Though I can't help but flirt now and then, it isn't a sincere invitation, any longer. He's all yours."

"Gee, thanks so much for 'giving' him to me," huffed the blond, almost pouting.

"He gave nothing," William said, and he went around the desk to approach the young man. Hesitantly and awkwardly, he put his hands on Ronald's shoulders. "I faltered once, but I've stayed true to you since then."

"He has," agreed the redhead. "When does the man ever have time to pursue anyone else, really? I was beginning to think the only romance in his life was with his death scythe an his glasses. Imagine what a sight that would be, Ronnie."

William colored with indignation, but Ronald finally cracked a smile. "Good point. He wasn't an easy fish to reel in." He looked up at his lover. "You're taking me out tonight. Dinner, then a party somewhere. If we can't find one, you'll take me to a club and we're going to throw down on the dance floor whether you like it or not. Got a problem with that, boss?"

William sighed. "I suppose this is my penance. Very well, Ronald. We'll go out wherever you like."

The blond nodded in satisfaction. "That's what I wanna hear. And you—" He looked at Grell. "—keep your lips off my guy, Senpai. I guess it's not really your fault since you didn't know, but if you and Undertaker ever split, don't go thinking you can rebound on Will."

Grell smirked in amusement. "My darling keeps me well satisfied, and I return the favor. Nevertheless, I swear to you that I'll keep my lips—and other parts—off of Chilly Willy in the odd event that my spouse and I part ways." He winked. "It isn't as though I have no other romantic options, after all."

"Good. I'll go get ready for tonight." He looked at William. "Don't be late or try to make excuses."

They watched him go and when the door shut behind him, William relaxed a bit. Grell turned to him with a chastising glare before he could enjoy the relief for too long. "This isn't over, William. I'm angry with you for corrupting my sweet little Ronnie behind my back, and I'll be keeping an eye on you!"

He stomped out of the brunet's office, slamming the door behind him and making William wince.

Undertaker was just putting the last finishing touches on a coffin, when his spouse came through the door of the shop and locked it behind him. He knew that grin and he hastily stepped away from the coffin as Grell pranced across the distance separating them and jumped into his arms.

"Watch the paint, lovely," cautioned the mortician with a laugh as he dropped the brush he'd been using to support the redhead's slight weight. Grell's lips were covering his face with kisses, as if they had been parted for a week, rather than a couple of days. "Mmm, I could get used to this enthusiasm," approved the ancient.

"I've missed you," said Grell un-necessarily. "And not just because you're so well-endowed and fantastic with your hands and mouth."

"Good to know I'm not just your concubine," snickered the older reaper. He kissed him lingeringly on the lips and carried him through the curtains into the separate living quarters. "At least you're getting out of the office a bit earlier now than you were before."

Grell sighed, resting his head against his husband's shoulder as he was brought into the little kitchen. "Well, they've sent us more temp transfers from other branches, until more reapers are born and trained. I still don't see myself getting a day off anytime soon, but at least it helps me get home to you sooner. I just hate it when they send me so far out of town that I'm forced to seek accommodations, when I'd much rather be in your bed…or you in mine, though we hardly use it any longer."

Undertaker nodded and placed him in a chair by the kitchen table, before going over to the kettle hanging on the nearby cooking hearth to pour some tea. "I'd like to make it easier on you love, but it isn't practical for my business to live in the Shinigami realm. I can't ask you to give up your apartment there either, so we're at a stalemate."

Grell shrugged and thanked him when he brought him a proper teacup full of Earl Gray. Undertaker still drank out of his beakers, but he'd bought the set so that his darling rose could have something fancier to drink from. "I don't really mind," said Grell as he sipped his tea with appreciation. "It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to give up what you love to come and be my house husband. I want you happy too, and you make it up for me with those fantastic massages."

The mortician smiled at him and sat down in the chair adjacent to his. "I know how sore your feet get when you're on them all day, dear one. The fact that you come home to me when it would be more convenient to go to your apartment after clocking out does my old heart good, so I enjoy spoiling you when I can."

"Spoken like a true gentleman," sighed Grell, returning his smile. He sobered as he thought of the events of the day. "William and Ronald are sleeping together."

Undertaker dropped some sugar cubes into his beverage, keeping his eyes on the drink. He'd already guessed as much. "Oh? Does that make you jealous?"

Grell shook his head. "It might have a year ago, but not now. I suppose I still think of myself as Ronnie's guardian on some level. Being his mentor allowed me to vent maternal instincts, after all…though I tend to think of him more like a kid brother than a son. I'm just so annoyed with Will for keeping it from me!"

"Ronnie kept it from you too," reminded Undertaker gently.

"Yes, but he's still a kid." Grell waved it off. "William should have known better."

"Perhaps he didn't tell you because he hasn't told anyone at all," reasoned the mortician. "Workplace romances can be a tricky thing, especially between a manager and his underling. Are you planning to lodge a complaint, love?"

The redhead sighed and shook his head. "No. Their relationship isn't interfering with anyone's work, and who in blazes am I to judge them, anyway? I ran away with a criminal, after all." He winked at Undertaker, who chuckled. "I did enjoy seeing him rattled, though. Ronnie and I both gave him an earful."

Undertaker frowned. "What did Ronald have to be brassed off about?"

"The kiss," reminded Grell. "The one we shared when I was still trying to work out my feelings for you and decide if I still had feelings for him. Apparently, they were involved when that happened and Will never bothered to tell me."

"Ah, you know I'd actually forgotten about that." Undertaker sighed. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Oh, don't sulk," coaxed Grell, giving his knee a squeeze under the table. "You said you understood and there hasn't been any romantic contact between him and I since."

"Right." Undertaker smirked. "There might just be a bit of lingering jealousy in my fool heart. So, Ronnie took it badly, did he?"

Grell sipped his tea and shrugged. "I don't think he was that surprised when I told him how it happened…though I fabricated it a little to spare William some grief. That boy is going to milk Spears' guilt for as long as he can." The redhead grinned. "I taught him well."

Undertaker snorted. "I could almost feel sorry for the chap…if I still didn't think he was such a wanker. And how is Mr. Slingby holding up?"

Grell frowned. "Not very well. The man seems…flat…since Alan was taken away. He still does his job well, but it's as if he's locked away everything that made him who he was, personality wise. He never smiles anymore. Eric used to have such a handsome smile; I think that was what drew Alan to him romantically, in the beginning. Now he just clocks in, does his work, files reports and leaves. He barely talks to anyone, unless they address him directly first, and then it's simple, short answers. You can't hold a conversation with him any longer."

Undertaker nodded, quite able to relate. "When you lose someone that means that much to you, it's like a piece of yourself goes with them. You try to fill the void with whatever you can—laughter was my method—but it never fills. In time, you learn to live with it…or you give up and sink so far you can't climb out again. Sounds like Mr. Slingby could use a bit of counseling."

Grell's eyes softened on him. "I don't think I could have ever comprehended that, if it weren't for you. Now I find myself thinking: 'What if it were me in his place? What if my Undy had martyred himself to servitude for us?' When I think of it that way, my heart really aches for them both. You've made me soft."

Undertaker smiled. "Love can do that; but it can also make you stronger than you ever knew you could be. If it weren't for love, do you think Mr. Humphries would have been so resolved to his course of action? Do you believe for one moment that in his heart, he was really making his sacrifice to spare his beloved partner? I know I don't. I would have done the same, in his place."

Grell thought it over. "One hundred years. That's not so long in a reaper's lifetime."

"It feels like forever when you're living it without the one you want…the one you need in your life," explained the mortician softly, and he smiled. "But then sometimes, that person comes back to you and it's even a greater blessing than it was before. It's just a matter of surviving long enough to see it happen."

"You managed," Grell pointed out. "And I was fortunate enough not to recall that we had loved each other before, until that night on the ship. I suppose it was easier for me."

"No doubt about that," conceded the ancient. "Unfortunately, those lads don't have the luxury of having their memory of loving each other wiped. I doubt the demons would be that merciful to young Alan, and Mr. Slingby can't ask Dispatch to alter his records and spare him the pain. They'll both remember every kiss, every smile and every—why darling, are you…crying?"

"No," denied the redhead, even as he wiped frantically at his eyes to keep his mascara from running. "Yes! It's just so…tragic. You see? Soft!"

Undertaker put his beaker aside and grabbed his spouse's chair by the legs, scooting him closer so that he could put an arm around him. He fished out a hanky from his robes and he dabbed Grell's eyes with it. "Shh, don't fret. Nothing wrong with a little compassion, even for a reaper."

Grell clung to him, letting him wipe away his tears as he comforted him. "Things like this are romantic and compelling in books and poems," snuffled the redhead, "but when…when it happens in reality, it's just…awful!"

Undertaker cuddled him and let him have the hanky. He kissed his forehead and pulled him into his lap, rocking him gently. "I know, my dear…I know. I didn't mean to upset you so much with my careless words."

He cupped Grell's chin and made him look up at him. "It won't last forever. As you said, it's one century in countless they could have before them. The demons are under contract not to kill Alan, and Eric simply needs time to cope with things. In one hundred years, they'll be together again."

Grell's weeping quieted, and he stared thoughtfully at his forgotten drink. "What if they don't have to wait a hundred years?"

"Pardon?"

He looked at the mortician again, an expression of resolve forming on his face. "What if someone found a way to make the contract null and void, or offer something of greater value to them?"

"And what would that be, sweetheart? Exchanging one reaper for another wouldn't change anything, except for Mr. Humphries and his partner…and he would be awash with guilt if one of his coworkers took his place. Don't cheapen the sacrifice he made for us."

"I'm not talking about a hostage exchange," said Grell. He blinked. "Oooh, or maybe I am, after all. The Duke that holds Alan prisoner might be willing to trade one of his generals in exchange for Alan's freedom. That spider demon that came with Sebby seemed to have some authority. We could ask him about him."

"And by kidnapping the chap, you'd risk dishonoring your organization and starting a war with your treachery." Undertaker sighed. "My poor head isn't used to being the voice of logic, but think about that, before you go making rash plans."

"As if their kind are always honorable with us," snorted Grell. "Please. I know my history, and I know demons have invaded our lands before under false pretenses of treaty. This is the way things work between our races, and you know as well as I that those demons wouldn't have lent their aid if they didn't stand to suffer for the results if we lost. Anyway, that damned archangel played us all. There was never any real danger of the library falling, if you recall. Gabriel wouldn't have allowed it; he said so himself."

Undertaker took in all this information, and his brows lifted. "Hmph…when you put it that way, their is a loophole in that contract. The demon army didn't actually save the day, did they?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned," said Grell fiercely. "They certainly helped cut down on our losses, but in the end it was the archangel's final intervention that halted it completely. We had Barachiel down but not out."

"Indeed." Undertaker tapped his fingertips on the surface of the table. "You may have something there, my love."

"And if we can't use that loophole to free Alan, we can capture whoever the Duke's closest and most valued advisor is," Grell went on, "whom I believe to be the spider."

"Be careful with that thought," cautioned Undertaker seriously. "I don't think their kind places the same value on their associates as we do. All that might succeed in doing is pissing them off."

Grell shrugged. "Then we could kidnap the Duke himself."

Undertaker stared at him, and he started to laugh. "Oh dear me," he snickered, wiping his eyes. "And they call me unhinged! How would you propose we do that, Grell? The Dukes of Hell are the equivalent in power to seraphs, themselves. It took an entire army to bring Barachiel to his knees."

Grell deflated with a sigh. "I didn't think of that."

"You were setting your sights too high." Undertaker stroked his hair. "Is this an endeavor you mean to go through with, or were you just thinking aloud?"

Grell kissed him. "I mean to set it into motion, if I can get Eric on board."

"Mmm, and what happens if negotiating the contract fails?"

Grell shrugged. "Then the kidnapping plan comes into play. Not the Duke," he amended hastily when Undertaker frowned. "His right hand. We have to try, Undy."

The mortician smirked, unsurprised that he'd already been recruited into this plan. "Grell Sutcliff, doing something noble for a comrade. Huh."

"Well it's just wrong," excused the redhead. "No reaper should be enslaved by demons like that. I think it was a foul, underhanded contract to make, knowing that failure to stop the angels would have hurt them as much as it hurt us. They did it for self-preservation and we just let them take one of our own as a toy. We should take him back."

"Then we'd best figure out how to get this plan started." Undertaker absently toyed with the lockets belted around his waist. "Seems we'll have to pay a visit to the Earl and his butler soon, but first, I think you should work on getting Mr. Slingby on board with it. His partner is far too honorable for his own good, and he might refuse to dissolve his contract unless he sees his dear lover present there as incentive, even if he has every right to."

Grell nodded. "I'll start on Eric tomorrow," he promised. "Perhaps you can get the information we need from Bassy. I'd love to do it myself, but his master hasn't grown fonder of me."

"Wise choice," agreed Undertaker. He nuzzled Grell's throat and gave him a squeeze. "Now, about that nightly massage…"

Grell smiled and let him pick him up to carry him to the bedroom. Pampering tonight, business tomorrow. At least nobody could say he never tried to look out for his coworkers.

-The End; the story will continue in a separate installment later. Thank you for reading!