FOUR- What if Claude cared?Pairing:
Alois x Claude (Kuroshitsuji)Warnings:
Self-harm, blood, Claude is out of character and I am a shitty writer.A/N:
"Someone, write a fanfic on this!" has been commented both on dA and on tumblr
on several of my Alois fanart and a headcanon I submitted to Kuroshitsujiheadcanons.
Nobody wrote it, so I took matters into my own hands.
I'm not really a writer, my thing is to draw, so excuse me if this is really bad, you have been warned!
Oh did I mention this hasn't been Beta:d ? Well, there's that, too.
Please tell me if there are any mistakes, I wrote this 4 am so there's probably a lot XDBy the way, should I put a warning on this?
I don't know how to categorize it x_x
There should be a category for "triggering"
There it was.
That... that itch.
I didn't even bother to fight it anymore.
I dropped the papers back onto the desk,
got a new pack of razor that I had hidden well beneath the sole in a pair of shoes,
and went straight to the bathroom.
The bathroom used to be full of them. The razors.
I used to hide them in every place I could, but whenever Claude found them,
he'd throw them away and by now, Claude knew all of my hiding places.
I sat down on the edge of the bathtub and opened the new pack carefully.
Before, I used to stress about this; get it done quickly,
clean up and go back to whatever I was doing before.
Now I knew I could take all the time in the world if I wanted to.
I pulled the fabric of my shorts up, and held them there.
Cuts in several different stages of healing criss-crossed across my thighs and
I smiled sadly at them as I twirled the razor between my fingers.
I couldn't make a lot, so I'd better make them count.
I put the sharp piece of cold metal against my upper inner thigh and, before moving it,
put enough pressure to break the skin and make it bleed. Only then did I drag it across my skin,
making me gasp and go dizzy from the pain.One.
It was like I could never really think straight until the first cut was made.
Damn Claude, the thoughts started flowing, they always seemed to start from there.
If he could see he was part of the reason I had to do this, would he just... let me?
Claude only cared because it was his job to care, anyway.
A silent tear ran down my cheek.
I gripped the razor again and dragged another line just beneath the first.
This one was sloppier, angrier, and I immediately regretted making such a shallow and sloppy cut.
Surely that wouldn't count?Two.
I scoffed at myself. What, now I couldn't even do this properly?
What a joke! But then again, I've never been particulary good at anything.
The next cut would have to be better. Larger. Deeper.
I placed the razor firmly against my thigh, and once again, put pressure on it, enough
to break the skin, before moving the piece of metal slowly. I stopped halfway, feeling sick.
The gash opened and oozed blood. I'd never felt this way while doing this before.
I quickly grasped the metal and kept moving it, before stupid, uncaring,
Claude counted it as my fourth.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Oh, of course
"That was three!" I growled.
Claude opened the door and stepped through,
looking worried and sadder than I had ever seen him before.
He rarely showed any emotions and he never spoke while patching me up.
"This madness has got to stop, your Highness," he said as he poured alcohol onto a piece of cotton.
He gently placed one of his hands on top of my tigh and went about cleaning the first wound with his other.
Though the alcohol should sting and hurt, all I could think of was
his hands touching me, sofly, tenderly. He always made it seem like he cared when he did this.
I couldn't contain my tears any longer. "I have one cut left, Claude!" I choked out.
"Your little tricks won't fool me, Alois. Look at me," He said,
while he put the alcohol and the cotton pad aside to hold my face in his hands.
"You never call me that," I half laughed, half sobbed, "And now I'll bleed to death." I tried to joke.
"Is that what you want?" Claude asked seriously, looking into my eyes, searching for... something.
There was a small pause.
"That would violate the contract," I replied quietly, avverting my eyes from his.
Claude looked like he wanted to say something; his mouth
opened and closed uselessly a couple of times before he picked up the alcohol and the cotton and began cleaning my wounds again.
He did this in silence, only interrupted by my quiet hiccups and sobs.
I never cut my wrists or my arms; how horrible it would be if I someday had to wear short sleeves!
My thighs, however, felt safe. Nobody ever saw my thighs.
Oh, who am I kidding?
People saw them all the time!
And that was what was so brilliant about it.
Nobody ever suspected a thing, because they saw my thighs all the time.
This time, however, I might have placed one of the cuts a bit to low for the shorts to cover.
It was the second, shallow, one.
I'd never live it down if anyone saw that. They'd bloody think I scratched myself
with a needle or something. How... embarrassing.
Lucky for me, my entire upper thigh was covered in bandages.
Claude, who's not used to human wounds, tends to overdo things.
"Master," Claude said when he entered the room to dress me,
"Would you prefer to wear trousers instead of shorts today?"
"Oh, because that won't make people suspicious!" I laughed. Claude kept looking miserable. Boring bastard.
"No, thank you very much, they're uncomfortable," I said, as if i hadn't made myself clear already.
Claude picked out the longest shorts I owned for me to wear.
Somehow, that annoyed me beyond belief.
As if the other servants couldn't smell
Or could they? Maybe they couldn't. I had always assumed that demons could smell blood.
If they couldn't, that would mean there were so many ways I could get away with... this.
Claude wouldn't have to worry his pretty little head and supervise me if I hid them well, right?He deserves this anyway for not letting me finish yesterday,
I thought as I put my ring aside
and cut deep into my finger. Until I hit something hard. Oh God, that's disgusting,
I thought as I put my finger beneath the running cold water, not even wanting to look at it.
I dried it and stuffed a small piece of paper between the ring and my finger before I went downstairs.
I poked at my breakfast disinterestedly, lost in thought.
I could feel the servants' eyes on me. So bloody annoying.
"You're dismissed," I said, wanting to be left to mope alone.
Hannah and the triplets hurried away,
while Claude remained where he was.
I arched an eyebrow, "That includes the head butler."
Claude took a deep breath, as if to compose himself, then nearly slammed his hand down on the table.
"Don't you think I can't smell that?" He hissed.
I gulped. "What?" I asked. Damn it, what was wrong with me? I never had any trouble lying before!
"I don't know what
, but that is not yesterday's cuts," Claude replied irritably.
Claude's eyes were full of emotions. It shocked me into silence;
I could sit and watch the show play before my eyes.
Rage, disappointment, sorrow... and something I couldn't quite place.
Barely contained hunger? Maybe... maybe lust? I gulped.
When I didn't reply, he grabbed my chin and made me look at him, "Where?
" he asked.
His rough touch frightened and excited me at the same time. He cares.
I brought my hand up into view and wiggled my fingers.
My hand was taken firmly but gently between white gloved hands.
He carefully removed my ring and the tiny piece of paper.
"You didn't even clean it!" He accused incredulously.
Claude, so deeply upset he forgets to to call me "Master", or treat me as such for that matter.
This is definitely something I'll keep in my memory, for ever, I tought.
"Sorry," was all I could think of saying. He looked up at me as if surprised.
He wasn't wearing his glasses.
I shivered. If he knew what that look did to me,
he'd probably take pity on me and avvert his eyes.
However, this was Claude, so he held his gaze steady.He cares,
was all I could think, and that was why I didn't complain when Claude told me I needed stitches.
"I don't need
stitches!" I complained when I could finally think straight. Claude had a firm grip
on my hand and was leading me upstairs. His hand was really warm. I tightened my hand around his, just a little.
The corner of his mouth twitched a little. Was that a smile?
The hurricane of butterflies in my stomach strongly suggested it was.
I wrapped my free arm around his and leaned my head against his upper arm,
making it really difficult to walk. He didn't seem to mind.
I only barely managed to contain my giddy giggles.
He opened the door to my bedroom and disposed of me on the bed. How rude.
He went into the bathroom and retrieved a box I knew all to well. The first aid kit.
"Is it going to hurt?" I gulped. He gave me a slightly curious look.
"You're not afraid of cutting your finger to the bone," I winced,
"but you worry about stitching it up? Oh Master, you amuse me."
I blushed. "I don't have a very high tolerance for pain," I mumbled.
Claude removed his gloves and put alcohol onto a small piece of cotton
which he put firmly against the gap in my finger. I hissed.
"Could have fooled me," he said, with an amused glint in his eye.
The pain lasted one, two, three, four seconds, then it was gone.
However, my relief at having the alcoholsoaked cottonpad gone was shortlived.
"What is that?" I asked worriedly, pointing at the needle in Claude's hand.
"Is that really necessary?"
"Master, would you rather I stitched you up without it?"
"Point taken," I sighed and steeled myself for an undescribable ammount of pain.
Claude inserted the needle and the pain never came. Just a slight sting.
"Not so bad. huh?"
"Shut up," I replied sullenly.
I tried to sneak a glance when Claude started sewing, but the bastard always made sure I couldn't see.
It didn't hurt, the only thing I could feel was the warmth of Claude's hands and the slight pull of my skin.
Just knowing what he was doing made me want to be sick, but that didn't mean I didn't want to look!
"Done," Claude declared and before I could get a look, he wrapped my finger up in a band-aid. I pouted.
"Kiss it better, Claude, it hurts," I lied, but I really thought
I deserved something for my efforts.
Don't all kids get stickers at the doctors'?
"Yes, your Highness," he said, lowered his head and placed a kiss on top of the band-aid.
I shivered, "It won't work if you kiss the band-aid
," I explained impatiently.
Claude raised his head and looked at me curiously. "Where do you want me to kiss you, your Highness?"
He looked at me intently. My brain short circuited and I felt dizzy. All I could do was stare.
Was Claude really saying all this? No, surely this was all a dream.
But the anesthesia wearing off and the pain returning told me otherwise.
I swallowed thickly.
As if I would pass up on an opportunity like this.
It was just an exhalation, barely a whisper,
but Claude must have heard it, because he was kneeling between my legs,
resting his hands on my thighs and coming closer.
I felt faint with anticipation; If I'd been standing up, my knees would have buckled.
His breath on my lips startled me and made me whimper, and I realized I had closed my eyes.
He began rubbing soothing circles on my thighs, kneading almost, as if to calm me down.
I swear, I'll never understand the logic of Claude Faustus, of course that didn't calm me down.
"Like this, Master?" His lips touched mine with each syllable.
He was trying to sound calm, but I noticed his breath was coming in short pants.
My brain couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence, and I doubted I could calm down enough to speak anyway. I was panting and trembling too hard and he hadn't
even kissed me yet! He was thoroughly enjoying being in control for once, I could tell.
He was trying to drag out the sweet moment of almost
for as long as he could, but it was inevitable now.
I steadied myself by putting my hands on his shoulders, then I leaned in.
That was as much of an answer as he would get.
Claude's hands moved from my thighs to my waist as he let out a shaky breath into the kiss.
I replied with a muffled moan and moved my hands from his shoulders to his hair.
I had always wanted to do that. Claude practically purred.
His tongue caressed my lower lip and it was with great relief that I finally, finally
, parted my lips and let him in.
The sound he made then was just barely human. He growled, deepened the kiss and pulled my body forwards
so I was sitting on the very edge of the bed, nearly falling onto my back.
I had to wrap my legs around him not to fall back, but clearly that was the intention, because
his hands on my waist were pressing me into the mattress, urging me to lay down
and he was leaning over me and crawling onto the bed, ontop of me.
I clawed at his clothing, pulled his hair, desperately trying to pull him down, dying for him to come closer
so I could finally feel his body pressing up against mine.
"Master, I'll squash you," Claude complained at my attempts to pull him ontop of me
"Won't" I panted.
Claude raised his eyebrows at me, and for what I guess was the first time in his life, he looked playful.
"Alright then," he whispered against my lips and rested his entire weight ontop of my small body.
The air went out of my lungs with a quiet "oof".
"You were right, you are
He hummed and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I froze.
Something must have happened, maybe his part of the contract was done,
and now he was going to bite my neck off and eat my soul.
Why else would he act all nice all of a sudden?
I was going to die and I was going to be foolish enough to enjoy it--
Claude's nose nuzzled behind my ear.
"What are you doing?" I asked. I could feel him shrug.
I relaxed and put my arms around his back, "You're so weird."
His chuckle vibrated through my body.
He kissed the side of my neck, wound his arms around my back and promptly fell asleep.
I rolled my eyes.
Maybe I was safe for another day, but now I was stuck beneath my heavy demon butler.
And wasn't that what I had wished for from the very first time we met?
I figured that maybe I didn't mind all that much.
I was asleep withing minutes.