Fandom: Kuroshitsuji: The Musical, The Most Beautiful Death in the World
Rating: PG for now, will go up after the first chapter.
Word Count: 5,048/18,000
Trigger Warnings: Frequent mentions of death, per standard for this fandom.
While their secret after work get togethers have become a source of comfort for Alan, there’s one subject that’s off-limits. When he decides to push the boundaries, he drives a wedge between himself and Eric that might lead to a new understanding of why he pulls away.
The world is condensed in the nooks and crannies of Alan Humphries’s small flat. The remnants of everyday life are scattered across shelves and side tables, pieces of art and trinkets that have been acquired here and there, or brought home when someone else has abandoned them in the Dispatch’s Lost and Found for an indecent amount of time. His entire home is decorated this way, as if life had just sort of stumbled through the front door and made itself at home.
But for Alan Humphries, home was not defined by the things in it so much as the atmosphere that fills the rooms. On nights like that, that is made up of warmth, companionship, and badly made tea. The living table in the drawing room was covered with folders, papers, and hand-scrawled notes on scraps of both that were meant to be placeholders. Spaced throughout were a pot of ink for the fountain pen Alan insisted on signing forms with, two teacups, a plate of well-ignored biscuits falsely claiming French origin, and at least seven individual ledgers, not even one opened.
Despite the neglected action abandoned on the coffee table, the remains of the fight with bureaucracy were still evident on the laps of the two men sitting on opposite twin sofas. Alan’s collection of forms was made up primarily of the delayed filing reports that had been accumulated during the last three and a half weeks across their entire department. Eric had done the brave thing and volunteered the task of reviewing weekly complaint forms, most of which dealt with Grell, but all of which still required summarizing, cataloging, and some form of response. While work was the focus, the tasks were made easier by the quiet comfort between them, highlighted by the crackling of the warmth of the logs burning in the fireplace.
Few people relished taking their work home, but this was the part of the week Alan looked forward to most. On occasion, he would even slack of slightly at work just to make sure there was still something to be done, even though the very effort of doing so went against his grain. Even then, these nights didn’t always go as planned. Sometimes they would fall by the wayside as he dealt with the effects of his disease, or Eric might bow out after finding himself preoccupied with parties or whatever else it was that he got up to outside of the office. But when they did happen, these nights were what kept Alan going. They were why he had never requested a transfer to a desk position or a quieter office. After all, neither of those would have made for such good conversation.
“Bloody hell,” came the expected commentary from the opposite couch. Eric held up one of the complaint sheets, squinting at it to make sure he was reading it correctly. “I’m used to the sexual harassment complaints from the men about Grell, but I think this one’s actually from a woman.”
Keep reading over on AO3!