The Shinigami Nursery 2 (Sequel)

Chapter 1 - The Ribbon

"Uncwe! Uncwe look I drew you a pictuwe!" Grell held up the large colouring sheet, on which there was a crudely drawn stick figure of a cute little child in a bright red dress, beside them a man dressed in black.

"That's wonderful Grell! You're such a good artist, let's put it on the wall shall we?" Grell felt himself being picked up,  lighter than air, strong hands, strong arms. He felt like he was flying. Air passing through his...was he wearing a dress? He'd always wanted to but he couldn't remember ever doing it in front of someone."You're my pretty little lady!"

His small hands grabbed out for something and he caught it. What was this, hair? But it felt like silk, like beautifully spun fabric in his fingertips that shined so brightly, reflecting light like fairy dust. "What the-?!"

^

Grell awoke with sweat trickling down his forehead, his long red hair doused in sweat, sticking up at odd angles around his bed. His fingers had gripped his red and white ribbon in his sleep, and that was crinkled, safely crushed within his enclosed fist. He didn't want to let it go. He hated these dreams. These overwhelming, soul-destroying dreams. They weren't even like dream, but more like...memories. He had so many questions. The only person, the only one he could think of who could answer them was William. They were at the same orphanage together of course, at age three. That was as far back as he remembered. Having to hide the ribbon from their caregivers. Whichever nurse or adoption agent he had been placed with. Whichever institution they had dumped him in.

So he decided to do what he said he was going to; confront William about it.

*

"Do I haaave to go?" William groaned, pulling on his knee-high socks.

"Yes," Undertaker decided sternly. "You may be my boyfriend but I was your father once upon a time. I still have ultimate authority,"

"I'm not even supposed to do field work, I'm a Managerial class," William elaborated. "Why can't one of the Dispatch agents handle it?"

"You're only avoiding the job because it's at the Phamtomhive manor," Undertaker sighed dismissively. "If I had raised you you wouldn't be so quick to judge demons. Bloody propaganda turned you into an authoritarian enforcement machine. Demons ain't all that bad you know," Undertaker complained.

"It isn't that I don't like demons Adrian, it's that I don't like that demon," William huffed. Undertaker pulled him closer by his Windsor single knot, slamming their lips together.

"Have a good day Willy, my uptight enforcement machine,"

"You too my liberal longhair lunatic," William teased, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek, opening the window to fly out. "Give my love to Alan for me," he shot up into the heavens, past the clouds, gliding across Victorian rooftops.

"Alan..." Undertaker hummed. "Shit, Alan!" He realised, running into the front room of the shop and waking his four year old from inside his 'sleeping coffin' "You're late for nursery!"

"But Uncle Undie I don't like nursery!" Alan whined.

"Come on, you'll get to see that nice teacher you love," Undertaker coaxed, which made Alan spring out the coffin, wide awake and raring to go, dashing around the room getting dressed. The old mortician had known for some time now that his little boy had an extreme crush on his blonde teacher; a young, tall reaper with blond hair. The teacher was called Eric and he spoke with a Scottish accent that made the brunette boy giggle. So if Undertaker wanted anything done, all he had to do was bribe Alan by pretending to be his 'wingman' at the next parent-teacher conference. Eric was in on it of course. Undertaker really hoped he wasn't giving his son a complex.

"And after that we can go out for ice cream!" Undertaker decided. Alan stood with his little nursery uniform on, his satchel slinging over his back. Undertaker had to bite back a small cry at how adorable Alan looked; how much he reminded the old mortician of William before he became Mr Stick-Up -His-Ass. So innocent, so curious about everything. It was sad, really. Undertaker pushed these thoughts from his head as he opened a large portal to the Shinigami realm, adjusting his large, scruffy top hat.

The scenery changed dramatically. From cobbled streets and buildings blackened with soot became skyscrapers and huge complexes. Like everything skipped a century. Even the clothes, the suits were much more advanced, made of cheaper plastic materials than the silk suits of the mortal realm. The elderly reaper despised how nothing had any respect in it anymore. Undertaker was the only on in the street wearing civilian clothes. He was about to take Alan to nursery when- "Hey Uncle Undie, the man made of gold looks like you!" Alan pointed to the large golden statue outside the old library, which was indeed a statue in Undertaker's honour. Before he could stop the little boy, Alan bounded up to it.

"Er, we should probably go-"

"'In honour of Adrian Crevan'" Alan read out from the plaque. The child was a very good reader for his age. "Hey, doesn't Uncle Willy call you Adrian sometimes?"

"Nursery time!" Undertaker exclaimed, steering his son away from the memories that haunted his past.

The little boy was all too happy to run into the nursery to be with his favourite teacher. He was the only four year old there, compliments of the incredibly low Shinigami birth rates of (on average) one baby per year being born. Undertaker thought about how lonely Shinigami children must be, having nobody else their age who understood them. Despite this isolation, Alan never put up a fuss at nursery time.

After waving a small salute to the hot Scottish teacher, Undertaker portalled back to the mortal realm to keep his cover; pretend to be an undertaker, earn his keep, don't look to conspicuous in London society. That was difficult enough being an old man with thick scars and long hair, even more difficult being a single father to boot. Everyone mistook him for Alan's grandfather. He despised that fact.

Several hours later and Undertaker was waiting to collect Alan from nursery when he noticed it. A shock of bi-coloured hair, that goofy smile, loud voice, effervescent personality. His stomach dropped.

"RONNIE?!"

*

Grell bounded up to William, who sat at his desk looking even more frustrated than normal. Yet, the redhead thought, it was a different kind of frustration. Not really 'God what will the higher-ups think of me?!' Kind of frustration but rather 'I want to get the fuck out of this filing room and climb into bed with my lover eating chocolate strawberries and I can't because I HAVE TOO MUCH PAPERWORK!' Kind of frustration. Grell decided he could bug William about it later. For now he had something else on his mind.

"Willy~?" He asked, leaning over the manager's desk like a stretching cat. He didn't really know why he called William 'Willy'; nobody else did, and never had, as far as he could remember. "Willy, do you remember where I got this ribbon?"

William glanced up, seeing the cute redhead pouting and pointing to his ribbon with a gloved hand. "If you don't remember it isn't my place to tell you Grell," William retorted in a pained voice, his stoic pride not letting him break. He wanted Grell to know everything. He wanted Ronnie to as well. Undertaker prayed at night for them to remember him, cried in the bathroom since his beloved children didn't remember him, and at least one (Grell) had an active distaste for him.Yet Undertaker had made William promise not to tell them; it would be op big a bomb to drop on somebody and could reopen so many old wounds. William had scolded Undertaker for reading too many books on child psychology. Wait...what was he talking about again? Oh right, The ribbon.

"Oh you always take everything so seriously Willy," Grell chuckled. William cursed that blasted nickname.

Grell started prattling on about something or other and all William wanted to do was dash home and drown Undertaker and him in a bath of chocolate.

Author's Note: So how is it? As good as the first? I really tried to make it as good as the first. Maybe it's better but I doubt it. Please don't judge it too harshly against the first story 😳😳