🍇 the winter of our discontent 🍇

[graftage]

WHO: Steinbeck and...you!
WHAT: Open prompts and closed starters for the winter!
WHEN: wimter
WHERE: Everywhere
WARNINGS: Nothing ATM will update as needed!

bingo

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[graftage]

[Lovecraft is not punctual. He's not quick on the draw. "Fast" could never be used to describe him. And yet, when the words tumble out of his mouth, Steinbeck stares for a moment, a little surprised to hear it in a tone that is not quite as anxious as he expected, before he breaks out into a peal of laughter.]

Are you getting eager on me, partner? [Partner. He likes the sound of that, with new layers of meaning - his teeth shines as brightly as his eyes as he grins.] Why, make you all your favorite foods. Give you all the gifts you like. Spend time with you tryin' out whatever you want.

[A little pause as he inches closer, peppers another kiss to below his jawline.]

Even more of stuff like this, if you know what I mean. I just want you to feel good.

[cthulwho]

[It's hard not to look a little embarrassed upon being called out so clearly, but Lovecraft is also painfully honest, so...]

...Yes.

[He is very, very eager, and that eagerness only grows as Steinbeck elaborates. If he'd configured this body to an actually human temperature, there's no doubt that there would be color creeping into his face when Steinbeck goes in for another kiss. Hopefully the bashful look on his face and the slow swallowing of excitement is enough evidence for Steinbeck to enjoy.]

That sounds amazing. I am looking forward to these spoils.

[It's his turn to plant another kiss upon Steinbeck.]

Thank you, John. Thank you for being...you.

[Lovecraft's life has primarily been a subservient one. Whenever he wasn't sleeping, he functioned as a tool to further someone's goals. This is the first time anyone has wanted him around for him. Not to make him work, but to care for him and spoil him. To love him. Him! How could he not fall in love in return?

John Steinbeck is one of a kind, and Lovecraft is grateful to be his partner.]

[graftage]

Eagerness is a good look on you.

[He's seen it before in Lovecraft's eyes - the emotion that pulls him away from a job, or towards some chocolate pastry in a bakery. But here, Lovecraft is eager for him.]

[He catches the bob of the other's neck, a little thrill of delight singing through his chest as he meets the kiss like its as natural as breathing.]

Ah. [That statement catches him by slight surprise, his eyelashes fluttering as he draws back, bright blue staring into dull purple. His hand tickles over the back of the other's neck, drawing a little figure eight as he lets the words settle into his heart and mind. He wants to remember them forever.] I should be saying that. Thank you for being you.

[A kiss to the nose, a kiss to his lips, a kiss to his chin, eyes a little wet. Must be raining in here.]

Thank you for everything, honestly.

[cthulwho]

[A figure eight...the symbol of infinity. Eternity. That certainly gives Lovecraft further confirmation that this is also what Steinbeck wants.

By the time Steinbeck finishes his flurry of kisses, he'll find that a small smile has crept onto Lovecraft's lips. A herculean effort, all for him.]

I think...we'll both be here for a while if we keep this up, so...

[He pulls up his sleeve to dab at Steinbeck's eyes. For once, he doesn't fret about his partner being brought to tears. If he's reading the situation correctly, surely they can only be from joy.]

You're welcome.

[graftage]

You sound like you don't mind it.

[Lovecraft can be a sort of an abyss, he thinks. A mysterious pit to wander into and be lost forever, like the depths of the ocean, almost never seen, altogether unknown.]

[But here, he wants to embrace it, sink into it, hold it close, infuse it with what little warmth he has. Perhaps that's pathetically human of him, but...if Lovecraft doesn't mind, then why should he?]

Mm. [He makes a little face at his tears being dabbed, but he doesn't mind it, snuggling in a little more.] I'm never going to let you go.

[cthulwho]

[Once Lovecraft is satisfied with handling Steinbeck's tears, he shifts to fully embrace him. The warmth of Steinbeck resting against him feels very nice- like it was meant to be there. He could get used to this.

Except a thought occurs to him.]

You're going to have to at some point, John... How will we cook dinner attached to each other like this?

[But in a metaphorical sense, he's glad to hear those words. He has no intention of letting go either. Steinbeck will never be lonely again, not on Lovecraft's watch.]