Chapter One

Running. Running through darkness. Not always darkness, but always after sunset. Every night. Ultimate, unlimited power. He needed this, and with so little to do, the rest of the night was as he pleased to spend until sunrise. Of course, he'd be back before then. The swift movement was always flawless and always unmistakable, a perfect identification as he moved past the cityscape in the moonlight.

Through silver, another looks to see this unmistakable creature. One who has grown, but not yet matched himself, and he wouldn't for a long time to come. Why not? He broke out the dusty old thing, polished blade upon its end, and went after the creature. The creature in crimson red.

He stops to take in the city's moist air before the night's rain has finally come to an end. Nothing usually bothered him, except that wretched, gorgeous demon Sebastian. The butler nor the child were even in sight on this night, and so the creature in red stops to ponder the butler in black for a little while. This night seemed no different than any other. The scythe at his side, he sat down to face the moonlit path down to London's port.

The silver flash reaches his peripheral vision, but he pays no sincere head. It is not out to harm him, but it is worth a turn of his head. The silver one does not hesitate to reveal himself to the crimson.

"Is it just you, or is red hair becoming the style of a reaper these days?"

"Oh, Undertaker, you flatter me so," the crimson one says with a sigh, turning back to the view of the docks.

The Undertaker takes a seat beside him, and it's not long before he notices-

"Your scythe?" Grell stares at the blade's shimmer against the moonlight. He turns back after a moment. "You're too late, I'm done for the night."

"Then why are you out here, if I may ask?" Undertaker pries, but Grell never minds, feeling obligated to explain himself before the legend.

"Anything to get away from Will for a few hours," Grell says.

"Is that all? Surely not...it's Sebastian too, isn't it? It's written all over your face," Undertaker does know all it seems.

Grell says nothing, but secretly wonders why the Undertaker has followed him out here. Was he hoping for a reaping? Getting some air? Just wants to gloat? Well, whatever.

"Bassy? If you came out here to talk with me about Bassy, well sorry, he's always on my mind. What about you then? Why you're out here, hm? Sneaking about tonight, with no one to reap," Grell inquires.

"The red is...hard to ignore." Grell looks up, surprised.

"Was that a compliment I heard just now? From you?" he asks. The legend smiles only, looking at him (at least, Grell thought he was looking at him). They share moments of silence before the Undertaker speaks again.

"Grell...relax," he commands.

"Relax? What do you think I'm doing out here?"

"No, relax," the Undertaker says again. "Let your entire body sink down, actually lean against the post at least."

Grell looks at him again. How does he know? He smiles.

"I can tell an overworked reaper when I see one," he sits behind Grell, commanding relaxation again, and so Grell stretches his legs out, feeling the muscle firmly place itself onto the rooftop and refuse to move, as did the other when he laid it out.

The Undertaker grabs Grell from behind by the waist and pulls her back against him, letting the crimson hair rest between them. Grell places her arms over the Undertaker's, completely relying on him for support.

"My, my, how many hours do you put in around here?"

"Too many," Grell replies as the red rims of her glasses sink down. "But I'm sure you've had your fair share."

"That I have," he says simply. "Now, tell me, how is it that a heart can still beat inside your chest?"

Grell remains silent on that question, probably simply just too tired to answer. The Undertaker can feel the ravishing rhythm of life residing in Grell, even onto her fingertips as they lay at rest atop his own.

"You know, I thought you were in the right," Undertaker stated rather plainly.

Grell turned slightly in question, letting a yawn escape his lips. "What? Will? Perhaps, perhaps not, either way nothing can be done about it. It's over, done with."

"And in my opinion, you both showed great promise, but only you remained your true self as a reaper...and for that, I offer my deepest congratulations."

"More flattery? My my, you're certainly quite the conversationalist this evening," Grell observed with what energy he possessed.

"Like I said, the red is hard to ignore."

"Oh? And what colour was your hair?" Grell asked, as Undertaker could feel her lay her head fully to rest upon his shoulder, partly to gander a bit while he answered.

"White. Always white."

"And your eyes?"

"The same," Undertaker told Grell. "You on the other end, have more ravishing features."

"Oh, stop it you," Grell was enjoying this too much.

"Does Will save you because of what you did for him that day?"

"I think he'll just never admit that he has a fondness for me, and that he's been so grateful all this time. I did, after all, save both our arses from failing the exam," Grell was finally relaxing.

"You're rather warm...for a reaper."

"Well, your compliments really are astonishing me so. I guess my hair is a reflection of my heart, wouldn't you say so?"

"A perfect crimson, indeed." Grell was blushing by now, hauling himself atop the Undertaker and bringing his face close.

"I wasn't going to tell, but I'm being exchanged for a small amount of time," Grell said.

"Oh? How long?"

"Oh, just a few years, I guess Americans die left and right of something or another, far more often than in London anyway," Grell replied. "So I have to train the new kiddies. The branch is expanding, shall we say."

"Interesting, what does that have to do with right now?" Undertaker asked.

"Well, I leave a few days from tomorrow, and all I have for company is Will," he sighed hopelessly. "But not tonight..."

Undertaker smiled. "You're coming back with me." Grell's eyes lit up, her jaw dropped with excitement, and the Undertaker swooped Grell into his arms.

"Oooo, a ronde vu with the legendary grim reaper," Grell was excited.

"The red is hard to ignore."


"Oh! Oh my! Oh yes, please don't stop there...Now I know why they call you the Undertaker!" Grell was begging for more. The pain the pleasure were just too much to handle tonight.

"Ah ah," Undertaker lay on top, scythe in hand, pointing down upon Grell's leg. "With that comes all the more pain-"

"I don't care! I want you...I want you to take me. Just take me!" Grell could feel the blood oozing from the left leg, but he really didn't care. This felt just too good. The reaper slid his tongue along Grell's left leg, taking in the succulent blood from Grell's beating chest, but then went straight for Grell's reward.

Undertaker merged with Grell, in a grim reaper's fashion that is very close, highly pressurized, and with plenty of bloodstained sheets. The scythe's tip remained upon the red reaper's thigh, while breaths heaved between them and Grell dug nails into the Undertaker's back. Two fluids released that night, yielding two extensively exhausted reapers upon the only bed in the back of Undertaker's shop.

"You thought here was exhausting, America is much worse," Undertaker said, a few pants between. They'd been at it for five hours after all; even a reaper would be tired.

The splices upon Grell's legs were already healing themselves amidst the sweaty sting of them both. They lie together, within shades of red and gray.

"I must say, I didn't expect this from you," Grell confessed, leaning heavily against him.

"We reapers need our own time."

"True," Grell sighed. "I don't want to go to work on the nightshift again in 12 hours..."

Undertaker smiled, reaching for the phone upon his dresser. Grell looked questionably at him as he dialed a specific number.

"Yes, may I speak to the head?...Not in? Get me that Will boy then!"

"What are you-"

"Shhh..." Undertaker placed his finger upon Grell's lips and it remained there until he was done talking. Grell slouched back down, too tired to care almost.

"Yes, hello, good morning sir. I have Grell Sutcliff with me, and he shall remain occupied with me for the next day or so...yes, yes I know, he'll be ready, I promise you that. Yes, oh just a few things I need an extra hand for..."

Grell's eyes widened and a deep blush came over his face, waiting desperately to speak, for that phone call to end, and for him to kiss that Undertaker so passionately it was nealy aching him.

"Perfect, thank you Will, I knew you'd see me through. I'd run down myself, but I'm incredibly occupied. It was fortunate of me to run into Grell this perfect late evening..."

Grell's blush deepened until his cheekbones matched his hair. He'd said it was a "perfect late evening." That touched him, deeply and on a serious level.

"Ultimateness, thank you so much, Will. See you in the library." Finally, Undertaker hung up the phone, and with it, his finger off of Grell's mouth.

"Oh, Un...I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, you actually went to all that trouble for me? I-"

"You'll be working for me, I didn't lie, and you won't be paid. It's a few things, but I know you need a getaway, and this will be far less cumbersome for you," he told Grell.

"But...why?" Grell asked, coming in closer. Undertaker embraced her.

"Because, all reapers have their moments. The same was done to me, and if it hadn't been for him, I'd never have sent Marie Antoinette to hell." His smile was wide at the sight of Grell lying there, completely nude under that sheet, spectacles aside, and blushing before him.

"Oh, I can't even tell you how much that means to me! Seriously, there are no words except that I love you and will never forget this!...Oh...if I'm not going to be paid...is room and board acceptable?"

Reapers never eat, so that wasn't an issue, free labor, and a sex partner for another few nights...huh.

"Perfectly," Undertaker seemed to have already thought that through. Grell became giddy again.

"Can we...do this again?" Grell met Undertaker's eyes, the blush only slightly fading.

"Do you see another bed?"

"Oh! My my my!" Grell was overjoyed, proving it by leaning deliberately as to cause tremendous pressure on the Undertaker. He couldn't help but compliment the red hair once more.

Once Undertaker really thought about it, Grell wasn't as much a whore as everyone led him on to be. There were only three people in his/her entire life span that really made for some of those giddy feelings: himself, Will, and Sebastian. That was actually rather picky for someone supposedly a whore around the underworld.

Grell's reputation as a whore just couldn't get away from him, and he completely embraced it, which was rather impressive. He just really didn't give a fuck of what society thought of him. That was a reaper's luxury after all, at least among the living. But to ignore such a rumor among the eternal world, well that was two times now. Except, it wasn't a mistake Grell was making. Not to Undertaker.

"We start work tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll ease you into the daylight. You'll have to come out of the shadows for a few hours, but I think you can handle it...if your work is any indication of how you handled me."

"Oh, you're just incorrigible! So many compliments I don't know what to do with myself."

"Sleep. I know it sounds odd, but you'll need it."

Grell sprawled beside the Undertaker, miraculously able to relax his limbs and lean against Undertaker normally. He put his scythe in the corner and brought his other arm around Grell, leaving one free, in case anyone would dare rob his shop. He knew Grell was in a bliss, but that's what he needed. Grell wouldn't do the work he needed done if this weren't happening. Money may not even have been enough...