I don't own anyone in this (unfortunately, owning Grell would be GREAT xD), they belong to the creator of Kuroshitsuji. Just the crazy idea and Ron's pervertedness belongs to me. ^^ And, yes, Shinigami's have coffee machines xD Specsavers belongs to its ruling aliens.
The air was unusually still for a rooftop, but, in a way, this pleased Grell. He curled one gloved finger through his crimson tresses, separating out the silky strands with an absentminded expression on his face. He was thinking of two things at the present time; Sebastian, though the handsome demon's face rarely left his thoughts and was a prominent occurrence in his daily routine. The other was his glasses. Ah, such beautiful, feminine glasses he possessed! He glanced skywards for a second, a coy smile revealing razor sharp teeth that flashed in the brazen sunlight that was streaming down from the seemingly quite close sun over head. Those glasses were one of the most important things in Grell's life, besides Sebastian, his chainsaw, the colour red, his hair and tormenting Will. Sure, they helped him see better, due to being myopic like most shinigamis, but they were also a kind of symbol, a fashion icon, almost. Narrow-framed glasses were all the rage, it was a shame about Will's-
"Grell, what are you doing on my desk?," Will's voice brought Grell back to earth (or rather, Will's desk) with a thump. Speak of the death god and he will appear, thought Grell wryly, trying to focus on Will. He couldn't really see the other shinigami, just what appeared to be a fuzzy picture of him. In a strange sense. Still, it was worth a shot and, in the absence of his favourite butler, Grell liked flirting with Will. It was one way to pass the time.
"Oh Will," he giggled girlishly, "I didn't see you there." He stopped mid sentence, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Come to think of it, did you say desk? This isn't your desk, Will, this is a rooftop. And unless you've moved your office out of that stuffy little room downstairs, though it is so very easy to get your on the-", Will's angry snarl forced Grell to focus on the subject at hand, "-well, out of downstairs finally, I think your office is inside the main building, isn't it." The red headed shinigami got the distinct impression Will was glaring at him, but his supervisor's eyes were strangely blurry, like someone had spilt water on a developing photograph. "What is it, Will?" William merely sighed, further piquing Grell's interest. The red haired shinigami tilted his head to one side, eying the blurry version of Will with a mixture of curiosity and flirtatious lust. He sure liked to annoy the superior shinigami but now Will was merely confusing him. What was he going on about now?
"You're not wearing your glasses, Grell," was the wearisome reply.
"Glasses? You know, the things that help you see? You're practically blind without yours, Grell, you idiot. What have you done with them now?" Will's voice was harsh and impatient, as the norm, but it was what happened next that always got him. He was mid-way through saying "Should have gone to Specsavers, Grell," when Grell's face fell, the innocent joy fading from his eyes as quickly as the colour drained from someone after being hit with his chainsaw. That expression was one Will hated, mostly because it made the stoic shinigami actually feel guilty. It was one of the few things that did and William loathed this lack of self control on his part. He balled his fists, feeling his neatly trimmed nails dig into his palms, and attempted to regain his stony facial expression that was so familiar to his face, it felt like it never left. The corners of Grell's lips turned down slightly, almost pouting in depression, and Will immediately regretted his tone of voice. He really did have a weakness for the red haired shinigami and he honestly didn't like it. Will sighed and lowered himself wearily into his cushy leather office chair.
"I knew I'd forgetton something," muttered Grell, "Now where did I put the-"
Will shot upwards, a yelp of surprise dying on his lips as Grell, acting on instinct, dived past him to get to the chair. The seat skittered backwards on its five wheels with Grell sprawled across the sitting area, clutching the remnants of something red and shiny, whilst Will landed awkwardly half on, half off his desk. On instinct, he grabbed the edge to stop himself toppling onto the hard wood floor, as his own, steel-framed, glasses seemingly leaped off the bridge of his nose and landed spectacularly in the out-tray. The wheels of the office chair spun a few times and slowed to a halt, Grell now lying dizzily over the arms, pale nose just touching the glass door to Will's cabinet of 'things you can't touch', as Grell put it. Both were now frozen in these awkward positions, caught between shock, mirth (in Grell's case) and dire embarrassment. At that moment, there was a sharp rap on the office door, then it opened to reveal Ronald Knox carrying a stack of papers. He appeared to be talking to what would have been where Will was standing, if this 'catastrophe' hadn't happened.
"Here's the latest assignment reports, Mr. Spea-," Ronald stopped mid sentence and mid stride; mouth open and one foot hovering a few inches off the shiny floor. He surveyed the room and it's, uh, contents; Grell flopped across Will's chair, legs splayed in a rather all-too-inviting fashion, Will mid-slide on his desk, one hand on his glasses in his out-tray and his outfit in a mess. All three looked at each other for a moment, before Ronald ventured to opened his mouth, albeit tentatively. "Alright, I will just leave these papers in your in-tray and leave right now, no questions asked. I'll probably be at the coffee machine or in the library if you need me, Mr. Spears." With that, he hastily put the stack of papers into the in-tray, avoiding Grell and Will's eyes, which followed his movements beadily, and exited hurriedly, shutting the door behind him with a slight bang. They could hear his thudding footsteps are Knox streaked away along the hallway outside and didn't dare to move until he was well into the distance. A few seconds silence reigned until Will spoke.
"I-I assume those were your glasses, right?", he slid off the desk gently and landed softly on his back, looking at Grell. Grell merely nodded, both of them with flushed faces from the brief exertion. Will got up slowly and looked down at himself, then grimaced. He certainly was a mess; glasses on wonky, tie over his shoulder and top two buttons undone, shoes laces somehow untied. He quickly tidied himself up before turning his attention to Grell, who was still holding what must be the remains of his glasses. After Will sat on them, of course. Will winced at the thought, recalling the sharp pain as the chains that were supposed to keep them on Grell had dug into his behind. Well, the only one here really compromised was Grell, so he couldn't really punish the inferior shinigami. This was a tough one since, for once in his career, William T Spears was in the wrong in the presence of Grell Sutcliffe. This just didn't happened. Will watched as Grell levered himself painfully out of the chair, being careful to avoid the glass cabinet.
"Um," Will started awkwardly, "well, uh, can I help you fix them?" Stupid question. Will was no fixing person; he was a command-you-to-do-the-fixing-douche person. Grell was usually the failing fixer in a situation like this. Grell straightened up and readjusted the ribbon round his neck. "Uh, are you alright?" Will was genuinely worried now; this certainly wasn't the Grell he knew. The Grell he was familiar with would likely as not flounce up to him and complain loudly, and dramatically. The Grell before him was silently inspecting himself, lip curling in distaste at the sight of a broken nail. But, nevertheless, utterly silent. Will took a tentative step forward towards the other shinigami, cautious, but even he didn't expect the reaction. Just when he was arm's length away and about to reach out to Grell, the other shinigami flung out his hand, stopping it right in front of Will's nose. Will's caring question died in his throat with a strangled "eeerrkkk..."
"That is no way to treat a lady, William," Grell huffed, eyes closed and a very prim look on his face. Will rolled his eyes. This was the Grell he knew alright. Grell continued in the same tone, "You must remember to treat a lady with respect, how many times have I told you?" He sniffed, and Will stifled a snort of derision. "We women are not subservient creatures to be manhandled and tossed around in such a fashion, and you," he opened his golden green eyes and focused them accusingly on Will (which made it all the funnier to the supervisor, since he knew Grell couldn't see anything without his glasses), "should know that more than anyone. I wouldn't have come here if I'd know I would get such rough, unjust treatment, and," Grell glanced at the door, Will's eyes followed curiously, "you can stop eavesdropping now, Knox, and get right in here." There was a muffled cough before the door swung up slowly, and Ronald edged back inside. Grell put his hands on his hips, a 'well?' expression on his face.
"Um," Ronald seemed a little lost, eyes scanning the pair. Will tried to appear smaller and not really there, though he failed miserably. This was too embarrassing.
"Well, since you're here now, you can take me to the optician's, my glasses are broken," he held up the fragments of broken spectacles disdainfully, whilst Ronald hid a smirk and Will's face flushed. Grell grabbed Ronald's arm in a death lock and flounced out the door with him, Ronald's facial expression quickly changing to one of dismay and regret that he'd been standing outside the door. He cast one last 'help me!' look back at Will as Grell continued airily, mood suddenly heightened at the prospect of torturing someone else, "I will send you the bill on the frames, Will-san!" And with that, the door closed and Will was alone again. He relaxed and flumped down into his now vacant office chair, stupidly exhausted. He suppressed a smile at Grell's somewhat wild, if almost well-meaning, antics. At least they brought some, eh, diversity to the drab life at the office, to say the least. Just then, his door opened briefly and a sheet of paper floated in and onto his desk. It was the bill for the glasses.
"That was quick," Will mused, before reading the piece of paper. His jaw dropped.