Er, nothing in the way of actual romance happens here, just Grell pulling a JIIII~ on Sebastian while William isn't paying attention. I set this between chapters twelve and thirteen. No spoilers, unless you count the wreath?

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It happened even faster than his Hell-bred eyes could catch.

The young master had then been too intent on throttling the luckless urchin who'd crashed into him to pick his pockets. Sebastian — a name of convenience, for this was not the demon's true name — for his part, had been restraining the young earl with one arm while keeping the wreath of roses from damage in the other, when he felt the god's presence like a cut from fresh-forged steel.

He was so sure he'd caught it — the briefest flicker of a grin with a dagger-sharp edge, the stench of blood that lingered like a woman's perfume — but when Sebastian whipped his head round, there was only a blanket of fog under the grey London twilight. Ciel had given his uncharacteristic inattention a quizzical look, yet Sebastian could not explain his prickling desire to crush the vivid red flowers underfoot. As they walked away, the young earl threatening the poor urchin boy against a second offense, Sebastian had convinced himself that it was merely a trick of the dying day's light.

When he shrugged off his greatcoat in his quarters later that night, an impossibly long strand of hair slowly wafted down from his shoulder to the floor, catching in the copper-bright glow of the lighted tapers. Sebastian knew then that he had not imagined the stranger who'd vanished that afternoon, and he wondered idly if it was given to demons to summon the fell gods.