Diclaimer: Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. This story is purely for fun.

Author's note: This is what happens when I attempt to write fluff, hehe. I suppose it could be that the long story I'm currently posting "Too many bridges burnt" (KS/HP/NO6) uses up all my fluff reserves, but anyway I really like how this story came out. It is inspired by a visit to Ladurée: img photobucket com / albums / v646 / IcyLady / gourmandises jpg

It you go to Paris, find Ladurée and try their macarons - they are awesome! Until then, read, enjoy and review ^^

That Butler, Gourmandises

A week has passed since the nasty encounter with Baron Kelvin and his twisted doctor. The Young Master was slowly recovering, both from the asthma attack in the circus and the momentary insanity that overtook him in the Baron's basement. In consequence of the former, the Young Master was still rather weak, while the latter brought about nightmares that prevented the Young Master from resting peacefully nearly every night. Hardly an ideal situation, but at least the Queen didn't have any new demands for the moment.

In this downtime, Sebastian could nurse his Young Master back to health. Silently taking advice from Lord Soma and Agni, he took care to prepare the Your Master's favourite snacks for the afternoon tea and choose the Young Master's favourite teas to accompany them. He knew very well that the child in his care took great pleasure from the sweets and, as this was one of very few pleasures that the Young Master allowed himself, Sebastian made sure it was worthwhile.

He was just preparing lunch, wondering what he hasn't prepared as an afternoon snack yet, when the small bell in the corner of the kitchen rang. The Young Master was calling. Sebastian looked at the bell for a couple of seconds, surprised, because the Young Master hasn't called him with demands since their comeback from the countryside. He has been listless and quiet.

He must be recovering pretty well, Sebastian thought with a wry smile, taking off his apron and replacing it with the tailcoat. He quickly made his way through the corridors, dodging May-Rin and Bard to not get unnecessarily annoyed or delayed. Besides, they have done a good job in protecting the manor, although he wished they had been more discreet about it, and they deserved to have a bit of a break from his incessant complaints.

I must be growing soft in this place, the demon thought. First I grow fond of the Young Master, now of those useless servants as well, he scolded himself as he took the last turn. He stopped short in front of the library doors, shocked. That smell! Intoxicating, he thought, taking a deep breath to savour the scent. The Young Master's soul was getting more and more appetising with each assignment from the Queen, however, this bitter sweetness just now hasn't been there when they left Baron Kelvin's mansion.

Curious, Sebastian knocked delicately and entered the library upon hearing his Young Master's voice call him in. The bittersweet smell was nearly overpowering, once he stepped into the room, and he soon realised the reason for it. The Young Master was looking through the photo album that Sebastian had recreated along with the house.

'You called, my Lord,' he said, bowing to hide the predatory smile on his face. The Young Master sure liked to torture himself with the memories that he couldn't remember. He wondered if the boy knew that having those memories taken was the price he paid for calling the demon. The photo album snapped shut and, calling up a polite expression to his face, Sebastian straightened up and looked at the child sitting in his father's armchair, nearly drowning in the vast furniture. It must have been big even for Vincent Phantomhive and it was much too big for Ciel.

'I want macarons de Paris for afternoon snack today,' the boy said in an imperious tone, glaring at Sebastian for no apparent reason. Mentally, the demon sighed, knowing that the easy times of a listless master were over. Outwardly, his smile widened a fraction even as he bowed to make an excuse.

'I am afraid I do not-' he started but his little master would have none of that.

'Then find out,' he snapped irritably, apparently anticipating Sebastian's words. 'There is a company in Paris that makes them,' he continued in a slightly calmer tone, when Sebastian straightened again to look at him. 'It is called Ladurée and if you need to, go there and find out how to make them because I want some today.'

It wasn't the first time that the Young Master demanded a particular snack, but for the first time he outright demanded that Sebastian uses his demon skills to provide a snack. The demon looked at the human child for a moment, wondering what had provoked such an unreasonable request. The boy's blue eye was fixed on the demon, cold and emotionless. The boy's pale face held no emotion either, except for possibly a pinch of irritation. It was the boy's tortured soul that betrayed him, as always, to the demon butler.

Lips stretching in a mocking smile, the demon bowed.

'Is there any flavour my Lord would particularly like?' he asked with the utmost politeness, belying his mocking smile. Or was it the mocking smile that belied the polite tone? Sebastian loved to play mind games with his prey and this particular one was exceptionally adept in them. He could hear the boy scoff and his smile widened, even though the Young Master wouldn't be able to see it.

'Cassis-violette,' the boy said in his perfectly trained French. His tone was cold and indifferent, but the demon knew that it was exceptionally important that he manages to get the taste just right. Did the boy remember the taste? Or did he somehow know that this was what he ate and he wanted to see if the memories would come back? In any case, he could simply take the sweets from Paris, rather than make them on his own, and like that the taste would be perfect.

'I do not care what else you take,' the Young Master added offhandedly and Sebastian straightened up, his mocking smile erased by the surprise at the statement. The Young Master didn't make mistakes like that: if he had meant to say "make" he would have said that. So the little devil has seen right through him? The demon butler smiled softly, inexplicably proud.

'As you wish, my Lord,' he said and excused himself out of the library. As he went back to the kitchen, to finish the duck for the Young Master's lunch, his thoughts swirled around the demand for the snack.

Soon after they had established their daily routine, Sebastian took the liberty of studying the history of the Phantomhive family, wanting to know what he had gotten himself into. He had read all about the previous Earl Phantomhive's business, both the toy company and the favours he was doing for the Queen. He had read that, on certain occasions, the latter had forced him to leave the country for a short while and that, the last time he had visited Paris, he had taken his beautiful wife and their precious, eight-year-old son with him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the boy stumbled upon a photo album with souvenirs from that particular trip, probably even one where the happy family was enjoying the sweets from Ladurée, since he so promptly provided Sebastian with the name. That was where the sweet scent of his soul came from, the demon reasoned, and the bitterness was caused by the fact that the Young Master probably didn't remember those blissful moments. Between the price to call a demon and the torture that the boy endured, it seemed like plenty of memories were gone from the Young Master's head. Of course, the lack of cheerful memories was what caused despair and a despairing soul had the most exquisite taste that Sebastian cherished.

If the boy ate some of those macarons, would he remember the happy days? Would the taste of his soul change? As worried as he was, Sebastian has been ordered to bring the sweets and he would have to obey that order.

Furthermore, there was a chance that the sweet treat would not bring the memories back and the Young Master would despair even more. The demon smiled at the very thought of how delicious the little boy's soul would become in that case. The incident in Baron Kelvin's basement, as atrocious as it has been, helped to soften the soul again, to make it more susceptible to pain and torture. With every sleepless night, with every nightmare, the soul was gaining a more refined taste. It obviously made the Young Master wish for the past as well, since he went as far as watching the old photos.

Sebastian had thought it would be impossible to make the soul even more delicious, other than by making the Young Master suffer through more episodes like that with Baron Kelvin. However, the Young Master just handed him a perfect weapon to spice up his exquisite meal without the gruesome encounters: macarons de Paris au goût cassis-violette. He smirked, committing the fact to memory and looking forward to how the situation would unfold. It was only fortunate that he usually stayed close by when the Young Master enjoyed his afternoon snack: he would be able to witness the evolution of his delicious soul first-hand.

})i({

As the door to the library closed, Ciel looked away. Even though his demon butler didn't say anything, Ciel knew what he must be thinking. Really, was he going to torture himself with the memory he was unable to attain? Didn't he have enough pain in his life already?

Ciel wasn't sure what possessed him to reach out and take the photo album, filled with memories of happiness. Memories that he had lost, somehow, to never get them back. He was sure of that, yet as he watched the faces, smiling at him from various photos, he couldn't stop the feeling of longing. The first photo was of his parents on their wedding day, smiling as they held hands. On the second, his mother, heavily pregnant, was sitting on a plush chair, while his father stood behind her. They were smiling again and their smiles continued when a small bundle joined them on the photos. Ciel knew it was him, a couple of months after he was born.

Captions next to each photo, told him about the occasion on which it was taken. It seemed normal that he didn't remember the first few photos taken but as he looked older and older on the photos he knew that something was wrong. For example, he should remember "the coldest winter since Ciel was born", when he was seven and had his photo taken while sitting on a large sledge with his parents. He should definitely remember the trip to Paris when he was eight. It must have been a memorable occasion, since there were as many as three photos.

He didn't remember.

Ever since he had returned as the master of a demon and the head of the Phantomhive house, Ciel never dwelled on memories. He had a vague feeling that he should have more of the happy ones, being a loved child he was, but he never stopped to wonder. Why had he never wondered if he could remember anything else than the horror of his captivity?

Screwing his eyes shut against the memories from his most recent assignment for the Queen, Ciel took a deep breath to calm down. It was bad enough that he couldn't control his dreams. He wasn't going to make a scene in the middle of the day as well.

As his heart rate calmed down, he looked at the album with disdain and pushed it off the desk with annoyance. It fell and opened on the page where Ciel, sitting between his parents at the table, was happily eating a cookie. Next to the photo, in his mother's elegant handwriting, was a caption: "Enjoying the famous macarons de Paris from Ladurée. Surprisingly, Ciel particularly liked the cassis-violette flavoured sweets and not the chocolate ones. Maybe it was not so surprising: they were wonderful."

He cursed. Sebastian must have seen right through him, when he had demanded such a particular treat for the afternoon, but Ciel would be damned if he let the demon see the photo and outright mock him. Displeased, he got up from the too-large armchair and made his way to the album. At least his strength, however little it was to start with, was returning after the asthma attack, he thought as he leaned down to pick up the offending item and put it away.

Would he remember that day when he tried the macaron?

Ciel couldn't decide if he wanted that memory or not. One, fond memory would not change anything for him. It would not make him stop on his way to get revenge. It would not salvage his immortal soul from the beast. It would, on the other hand, make the suffering and pain more difficult to cope with, he understood that. Younger than most people when they realised, he knew already that the contrast between happy life and loneliness and pain was worse than the pain and loneliness themselves.

Yet, there was this insupportable longing deep in his heart: longing for a memory of happiness. Was that feeling, when he sat with Lizzy and Soma, happiness? It hurt to realise that he didn't know and maybe that was why he yearned to get the memory from Paris back. If he had a happy memory, he could compare the feelings and he would know.

Torn between conflicting emotions and desires, Ciel went through the rest of the morning and the early afternoon in a daze. He barely tasted the exquisite duck breast, accompanied by roasted root vegetables, which Sebastian had prepared for lunch. He couldn't focus on the company work afterwards, looking at the clock every five minutes. When Sebastian finally knocked on the door to the library, Ciel was a bundle of nerves. He took a full minute to calm himself before calling out for the demon to enter.

Perfect as always, his butler opened the door and rolled in the small cart elegantly. He bowed, announcing that he brought the afternoon snack and he made his way closer to the desk, where Ciel sat, stiff and anxious.

'As requested, I have acquired macaron de Paris de Ladurée for today's afternoon snack,' said the butler's silky voice as the cart stopped just next to the desk. 'Lemon, chocolate and, of course, cassis-violette, as my Lord requested,' the demon added, placing a delicate, porcelain plate in front of Ciel, who eyed the small cookies warily. Dared he?

What if the memory didn't come? Was he prepared for the disappointment? Worse: what if the memory did come?

'As tea, I have prepared Earl Grey from Mariage Frères,' the butler spoke as though oblivious to Ciel's inner turmoil. A cup, matching the porcelain plate, was placed next to it and Ciel took a sip, satisfied that his hands were not shaking. He could feel the demon's eyes boring into him and he fought the urge to throw the beast out of the library. No, he wasn't going to give Sebastian any excuse to mock him further.

'Is my Lord not satisfied by the snack?' the butler inquired and Ciel glared at him with hatred. It was a mistake to ask him, he thought. The tiniest of smiles twisted the corners of the demon's thin lips as he continued. 'My Lord should know that the memory will not return. There is no need to fear.'

'Fear?' Ciel repeated condescendingly. 'Do you think I am afraid?' he asked in the same tone, but the demon only smiled. To prove his point, Ciel reached out for the deep violet cookie. Only when his fingers touched it, did the demon speak again.

'Young Master should know that I can feel the smallest changes to the delicious soul residing in my Lord's frail body,' he said. There was something in the tone of his voice, something that Ciel didn't get to hear often: desire. Aware that the gleaming, red eyes were focused on him, Ciel slowly raised the cookie and took a bite.

The sweet taste invaded his mouth and his eyes closed in pleasure. He thought he could hear the demon gasp, but it was irrelevant as he revelled in the exquisite taste of the macaron. The slightly crunchy exterior protected the inside that almost melted in Ciel's mouth, releasing more of the amazing flavour.

For the moment, he forgot all about the memory he wanted to have back, but as reality came crashing down, he put the cookie back on the plate and looked away from the wide-eyed Sebastian. He didn't want to know what the demon was thinking or why his expression was so hungry. He didn't want to talk with the insufferable beast that was his most faithful servant and the only one he truly trusted. None of that mattered in the disappointment that flooded him when he realised that he didn't get the memory back. For all that amazing taste and pleasurable experience, the macaron had failed its purpose.

'My Lord,' Sebastian whispered and, unwillingly, Ciel turned to look at the demon. As his eye met the red, burning gaze, he saw the hunger there, the desire to consume Ciel's soul right then and there. Was it because of the disappointment? The demon liked it when Ciel was hurting because that made his soul tastier, Ciel knew that already.

I'm an exquisite snack as well, just like that macaron, he thought bitterly.

'Please enjoy today's afternoon snack,' the demon continued, ignoring Ciel's glare. 'Happiness and pleasure are fleeting things, Young Master. To enjoy them means to lie to oneself about the power those feelings have, but it is such a delicious lie. Young Master deserves that fleeting pleasure, that little moment of indulgence, more than anybody else.'

'How does that indulgence taste on my soul, demon?' Ciel asked harshly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. The smile that twisted Sebastian's lips was answer enough: apparently pleasure tasted well.

'Purity and pleasure, hate and innocence,' the demon purred and paused with a sigh, before continuing in the same tone. 'To me, it will taste just like that sweet treat tastes to my Young Master. It will be a taste that lingers in the mouth, pleasurably making worries disappear for a moment. It will be a taste that I shall cherish for years and years to come. So please, try it yourself my Lord and enjoy while you can.'

'Is that so?' Ciel asked, looking at the innocent treat doubtfully. What was the point in enjoying a lie? Yet Sebastian sounded so convinced. Hesitating, Ciel reached out slowly, taking the chocolate flavoured macaron. The crunchy exterior gave way with just a slight pressure from his teeth and the rich flavour of the finest chocolate clouded his senses for the briefest moment. It wasn't as good as the other sweet, but it was delicious nevertheless.

The strong tea was bitter in comparison, but that was how he liked it. He savoured the flavour of the drink for a moment, before turning his gaze to the plate. Without hesitation this time, he reached out for the yellow cookie, well aware of the studious gaze that the demon kept on him throughout the whole time. Somehow he was more conscious of that gaze than usually.

The lemon macaron was so good that Ciel almost saved it to eat as the last one. With eyes closed in pleasure, he enjoyed the sweetness of sugar entwined with the lemon flavour in perfect, sophisticated harmony. Briefly, he wondered if that wasn't maybe closer to how his soul would taste to Sebastian than the other ones.

The demon poured him more tea, which he sipped, stalling. The last cookie was more than just a sweet treat, he knew, even if it didn't fulfil its purpose. Whether he remembered it or not, he knew that it was the taste of his childhood, the taste of his happiness. Sweet, almost overly so, it melted in his mouth pleasurably as he bit into it again. As he closed his eyes to enjoy the taste fully he thought that he could feel the sun on his face, hear laughter in his ears.

It lasted just the shortest moment, before he realised that it was a cloudy day and nobody was laughing. Could it have been- He took a deep breath, not letting himself even finish that thought, but a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the sugary treat he still held in his hand, filled him from the inside. Tears welling up in his eyes, he took another bite and for the shortest moment he could imagine that he did feel the sun on his face and the warm feeling intensified.

Blinking rapidly, he finished the cookie and washed the taste away with the bitter tea, feeling emptier than before. Now that he knew what happiness was, would he be able to continue in despair? His mind asked him that question in a voice that sounded surprisingly like Sebastian. He looked at the demon, whose eyes were quite literally glowing.

'My Young Master is truly exquisite,' the demon purred as he leaned in to pour more tea. Ciel looked away before the beast could see a tear, treacherously trailing down his cheek.