Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness.

This chapter has some hints of the shonenai kind. This is the final chapter.

The Sitter – What Little Boys Are Made Of

Dietrich had cornered the boys in an upstairs shower where they had managed to scrub the noxious mix of peppers, chilli and itchy powder off their bodies. Both boys screamed blue murder as Dietrich shoved them naked into the shower closet and emptied in a pail of the same Transylvanian leeches he had been tormented with earlier. Picking up those little critters from the empty bath was a touch of foresight on his part. The boys tried climbing on top of each other to escape from the bites.

"Darlings, Mama's home! Are you still awake?" the duchess' voice rang out like a bell. Dietrich froze. He had been so engrossed in getting his revenge on the twins that he hadn't been watching the driveway. In fact, he had expected her to be out longer, even if they had escaped arrest by the anti-vice squad, given Isaak's reputed sexual appetites and stamina. Somehow things had not gone quite according to plan…

He dashed out, hoping to delay Her Ladyship. She might be furious enough to complain to Isaak about his mistreatment of her sons. And since Isaak was apparently in a relationship with her, he might be obliged to punish him.

The lady was most likely downstairs… Dietrich hurried to the top of the grand staircase and immediately tripped on the length of fishing line stretched across it. He tumbled down head over heels in a flurry of lace. He was still wearing the maid's uniform after having failed to find his clothes or other suitable garments. He landed at the bottom with a thud.

He must have been out of it for a minute or so. Everything seemed hazy when he opened his eyes. He sat up with a groan and blushed crimson when he realized that both Isaak and the Duchess were looking at him. Isaak was fully-clothed, his clothes immaculately neat. A lit cigarillo dangled limply from his lips. The duchess was clad only in her jewels and undergarments, with her shoes in one hand and her gown tossed over her arm. She had not had the luxury of getting dressed before they were forced to cut short their tryst. The duchess did not seem at all bothered by the fact that the sitter was wearing a dress. Isaak's expression was inscrutable.

"Welcome home, Mother. Did you enjoy the opera?" Ivan called out a warm greeting as if having their parent return home from the opera in a state of undress was normal.

Dietrich's eyes darted to the top of the stairs where both twins stood. They were dressed in their PJs, their hair lightly damp as if they had emerged from a pre-bedtime bath. Most galling of all, the boys were unruffled and showed little sign of having suffered any mistreatment at their sitter's hands. The pair gracefully descended.

"One thing, Butler, those leeches were trained by me," Ivan whispered with a smirk, solving the puzzle of how they escaped injury.

"Mr Butler, would you mind teaching us how you use those invisible strings of yours, you know, to bind up annoying brats and stuff?" Dimitri asked innocently. Isaak's eyebrow arched and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. I win, the look he gave Dietrich said. Dietrich groaned.

"That dress suits you, Di, but you'll look better dressed as a barmaid," Isaak whispered.

A few nights later, Isaak's study…

"The meeting is tomorrow night," Isaak sat at his desk and addressed a blond-wigged figure clad in a Bavarian barmaid's uniform. He puffed on his cigarillo. The figure advanced, blond plaits swinging. The low scooped collar revealed delicate curves of his collarbone. A narrow waist was encased by a bodice which incongruously showed a flat chest.

"I know," Dietrich twirled the end of a blond plait with his fingers. "I want to make another deal. There's no way I am appearing in this get-up in front of Reiz and the others…"

"What kind of deal will that be, Di?" Isaak took another puff on his cigarillo before placing it in an ashtray. The boy almost flounced over to his side. "May I?"

Isaak obliged by lifting Dietrich up to sit on his desk, sweeping away his work papers as he did so. Dietrich wrapped his arms around Isaak's neck and whispered. "I'm not wearing anything under this…" His words were harshly cut off by Isaak's fierce kiss and he was forced backwards onto the table.

Author's Notes:

This is a short chapter to round off this fic. Any more and this will hit an M-rating.

I know this is a poor fic compared to my earlier ones, but I hope you enjoyed it.