crescentview | 🍇 the winter of our discontent 🍇

[It's been a few days. The winter is upon them, so it cuts down on available time he has to tend to the farm, more happy to stay indoors and be toasty. But now there's another soul to think about, here - he may not be tending crops, but he'll tend to Lovecraft all the same.]

[Which is why he's out here getting some groceries and a bag of some lingering apples from the trees outside, coming in with a light greeting for his now-fellow-farm-sharer.]

Hey, Lovecraft! Look who got dinner for later.

[In those few days, Lovecraft has managed to settle in well enough. Steinbeck did a remarkable job at getting him fed and rested, and after cleaning up he even traded out his disheveled suit for some cozy winter wear.

Not having to work is still taking some getting used to, though. Under normal circumstances, if he's not working he's sleeping. Now, he's been making a conscious effort to attempt to keep to Steinbeck's schedule. But what does he do with all of this free waking time?

Today, he has chosen to wrap himself up in a comfy blanket, lounge on the sofa and drink some of the hot chocolate that he received for his snowperson-building adventure. On the television is some sort of marine life documentary which he is glued to.]

Welcome back, John.

[He doesn't take his eyes off the screen...until he hears the word "dinner". That's when he tips his head back in a weird angle to peer in Steinbeck's direction.]

What did you get...?

Some stuff for a beef casserole.

[Spinach, sour cream, mushrooms...and a big aluminum pan to mix all the things into. He sets it all on the counter, pulling off his winter wear as he heads over to the sofa to sit himself on the armrest.]

[He glances to the TV, then the cup in the other's hand. His partner looks so cozy...]

Aha, did you get some hot chocolate? How is it?

Oh, that sounds tasty...

[Definitely not something they could have made while on the road. He's looking forward to it already.

He nods when asked about the hot chocolate.]

It's very good. [He could let Steinbeck know that there's more in the kitchen, but he decides to just offer up the cup.] Do you want to try some?

It will be when I'm done with it, that's for sure.

[He perks up at the offer, but doesn't shy away from it, reaching forward to take the cup. A little blow on the top to cool it before he takes a few sips-]

Ahhh. [He grins - its a warm feeling, to drink hot chocolate during cold times like this.] That really hits the spot.

[Another nod from Lovecraft, this time one of agreement. Before his abrupt arrival on the island, he was much more fond of the cold. He always got the best sleep down in the icy depths of the sea. But now that he's actually susceptible to the cold, he's seeing more of the merits of warmth. Having some hot chocolate after being out in the winter air? Immaculate.]

I can make you a full cup...if you'd like.

[As he moves to retrieve his own cup, his hands brush up against Steinbeck's.]

You're cold.

[An obvious statement, considering where Steinbeck was. Lovecraft can't even talk either- he's naturally cold to the touch!

And yet he finds himself cupping Steinbeck's hands anyway, as if he can provide any sort of warmth to them that the cup of hot chocolate can't.]

You can? That's-

[He doesn't get to finish his though, as the other's hands move up to surround his on the cup. He's always remarked to himself how interesting the man's hands are. Slender, adroit fingers, bony, yet just like most of the man, there's a power here more controlled than not.]

[Even if they're cold, though, it somehow feels the opposite - perhaps its an illusion created by the drink in his hands. He doesn't know. But he doesn't move, gulping down a breath before he speaks again.]

O-Of course. I just came from outside. I'll be alright. A little cold can't get to me.

[Lovecraft does believe Steinbeck, and yet...when he finally lets go, he rises to his feet and directs Steinbeck to the place he was just sitting.]

I'll be right back.

[Well, "right" back is a bit of a strong phrasing, but he does eventually come back with a second cup full of piping hot chocolate. He refilled his own to the top while he was at it.

Once Steinbeck has his cup, Lovecraft takes a seat beside him and pulls the blanket so it's covering both of them.]

There... Now the cold has no chance of getting you.

...?

[Steinbeck isn't the type to raise a fuss, so he moves to the sofa, glancing over his shoulder as he watches Lovecraft move away. What is he doing?]

[When he comes back with more cocoa, he just laughs a little to himself - classic Lovecraft - but the next gesture is not so classic, really, if at all. Being taken care of in this way makes him blink a little, surprised.]

....Thank you. [He shifts a little closer, to minimize the space. More heat for the both of them.] Are you warm?

[It's certainly not classic, but it's not forced, either. Being awake with nothing to do has given Lovecraft a lot of time to contemplate, especially after a certain conversation he had with the goddess. Ever since then, he's become acutely aware of how Steinbeck acts when it's just the two of them.

The twinkle in his eyes that isn't there when he's simply putting on a smile for others.

The lightness in his voice when he recounts the day's farm activities.

The way he swallowed when Lovecraft enveloped his hands with his own.

...

Lovecraft shifts even closer, their shoulders now making contact.]

Mmhmm. Very. [He takes a sip of hot chocolate, not even bothering to blow on it.] You will be too...soon.

[Soon? He feels like he's already warm now. It almost doesn't make sense. Even hot chocolate can only do so much.]

[Perhaps, he realizes, its because of how much he's beem missing things like this. Not that he had it all the time, but loneliness makes the heart grow fonder and a little more desperate for connection. After everything with Kaspar, he had settled for the monotony of life on his own like he did before he came to this place. To have it again with someone he really truly liked seemed to be something he didn't think would be reality.]

[He leans back against that shoulder, letting out a hum.]

What were you watching on TV? Anything good?

[Lovecraft had always been more of a solitary creature. His interactions with humans tend to be brief and antagonistic, so it really is something of a miracle that he ended up paired with Steinbeck that fateful day. Steinbeck gave him plenty to enjoy about life on land during their time together. And much like back then, he feels that same sort of contentment now.

...He really was too quick to return to the ocean. Too quick to leave Steinbeck behind.]

A program on marine life. [His gaze shifts from Steinbeck to the television.] Humans know so little of what dwells within the ocean.

[And he's not just talking about himself. What would humans think of the life that thrives in the depths that they could never reach?]

[He always had a sense for a long while that Lovecraft was something else. His "ability" was too powerful, his invulnerability unexplained, his behavior odd at its best and a bit horrifying at its worst. And yet, despite all that, he never pried, never prodded. Whatever Lovecraft was, human or not, it didn't matter.]

[Lovecraft was Lovecraft. Lovecraft was his friend. That's what it came down to.]

[He nods, a little thoughtful.]

I'm sure. Not like we can breathe under the water. And the stuff we have to help us do that can only take us so far. [He glances out of the side of his eyes at Lovecraft, cheekbones and sunken features, ever distinct.] How is it like down there? I admit, I worried that you were cold...

[And that is what Lovecraft appreciated most at the beginning of their relationship. Not only did he never ask, but he never treated Lovecraft any differently. He made Lovecraft feel like he had a place on land. Lovecraft genuinely couldn't remember the last time he was treated with such kindness.]

Mm. Even with technology, your bodies cannot withstand those depths. Similarly...the life down there can only exist down there.

[Every so often they find their way to the surface and are treated like beings from another world. They become creatures of legend.

When asked what it's like in the depths, he closes his eyes.]

It is very cold, but...it's perfect for sleeping, so you needn't worry. It is also very dark. The sun's rays have no hope of piercing darkness that thick. If we want light down there...we have to make it ourselves.

[Bioluminescence.]

The pressure down there is another thing. Human bodies collapse in on themselves due to it. But for me, it's like... [He ponders how to phrase it.] Being swaddled in a comfortable blanket.

[He thinks of it. An overwhelming darkness, with spots of light from organisms that probably must seem very alien to the world on the surface. Lovecraft being there, in the midst of...nothingness, dark waters...]

Must be like...the night sky. Though the night sky isn't like a blanket that can collapse you, I guess. [He thinks of it some more, though his mouth twists to the side.] It sounds nice, in its own way. But I dunno.

[His shoulders move up and down in a shrug under the blanket, shifting against where he's leaning against the other man.]

Sounds kind of lonely, too.

I agree with that comparison. The depths of space and the depths of the ocean are two of the most unknown existences to humans...so they are often likened to one another.

[Lovecraft presumes that he originated there- somewhere in the night sky. Perhaps even beyond it. But it's been so long that he can't remember for certain if he did or not.

Lonely, though, huh...? Lovecraft tips his head to ponder that. In the process, he ends up resting his head against Steinbeck's.]

I suppose it could be...but I am usually asleep, so I hardly notice. It is...better for me to be accustomed to solitude, anyway. Other existences come and go in the blink of an eye, yet...I remain. I always remain.

[And normally this doesn't bother him. But this time...this time, there's a hint of sadness in his voice.]

And I guess both places are waaaay out of our reach.

[Maybe that's a good thing. Humans weren't made for either. They were made for earth.]

[He lets out a little noise at the head against his, but doesn't move away - his eyes are still on the other, bright and blue as anything, but tinged with concern.]

You always remain, huh. [And a light nudge with his elbow.] That's a little sad, but...I'm glad you get to enjoy things like this when you can. I think it would be pretty miserable if you missed out on it all.

[That little nudge is acknowledged...and appreciated.]

That is true. It would. [...] Imagine all of the sweets I would never know existed.

[It's difficult to tell if Lovecraft is being serious or if he genuinely just made a joke. Maybe both?

But in all seriousness, this seems like the perfect time to express what he agreed with the goddess about. He lifts his head to meet Steinbeck's bright blue eyes. There's the faintest hint of light in his own.]

I...owe it to you, you know. [He lets that sink in before continuing.] When I am with you, I feel like I actually have the ability to slow down and enjoy being awake. It doesn't feel like...a burden.

Edited 2023-03-07 19:11 (UTC)

Haha, that's true! You'd go your whole life without ice cream!

[And he knows how Lovecraft gets around ice cream. No Coldstone Creamery can stand against him.]

[Lovecraft lifts his dull purple eyes to meet his, and he feels like his body feels a little warmed over, just from that gaze. He's seen the depths of them at their worst, in the heat of battle. They feel reassuring now. A friendly wave from a distant star.]

[The words themselves make him want to cast aside his own stare, bashful, but he keeps strong.]

...I'm glad. [He says, quietly, touched.] You know I always look after you. Seriously, that...means a lot for me to hear. I just like when you're happy, y'know?

[Lovecraft can see the color creeping into Steinbeck's face, and it stirs something within. He knows what that something is by this point: happiness.]

I do know. You're very kind, John. [...] Just being by your side makes me happy.

[Lovecraft's tired expression never changes much, almost as if he configured this body to be devoid of emotion. But that just makes all the subtle shifts that much more substantial. When he speaks of how happy he is with Steinbeck, his eyebrows lift those drooping eyelids just a little bit higher. His lips quirk upward out of that frown he so commonly wears. His dull eyes gain a semblance of life to them.]

...Do I make you happy, too?

[He's wanted to ask this for a while now.]

[He wants to say "I'm glad" again, but that's embarrassing. God, what is he, a broken record? Still, he's feeling a little more emotionally moved, his smile creaking up all the way into his eyes, something that happens less frequently than people think.]

Ah, well...

[He tries to find the words, failing, noticing the shifts in the other's expression - things people would easily miss, but he's known Lovecraft long enough to catch them easily. What a rare thing to see such a thing, he knows. He cherishes it.]

...Of course you do. You're my best friend. I would be a liar if I said you didn't.

Edited 2023-03-07 20:56 (UTC)

Your best friend...

[When was the last time anyone considered Lovecraft their friend, let alone their best friend? He truly can't remember. Steinbeck is so, so special, and...Lovecraft is glad, too. He's glad that he didn't miss this chance.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that he's glad he was given this chance.

Curiously, he reaches over to hold one of Steinbeck's cheeks, running a thumb over the bone and studying how that radiant smile meets his eyes. It's so much prettier when he doesn't have to force it like he so often did on the job.

Lovecraft wants him to be able to smile so freely more often.]

As your best friend, I want to correct a mistake I made. [...] I want to stay with you. I won't leave you again.

...?

[The hand on his cheek makes him still - Lovecraft has never touched him like this before. It feels gentle, like he's some jewel to be admired, and he feels a healthy amount of heat move into his cheeks as he tries to solidify his thoughts and taken in what he's saying.]

Lovecraft. [Hold on. Hoooold on.] That's...you can't mean....

[His mouth feels dry. I want to stay with you.]

Like. Ever again? I mean, I-I thought, um, you need your sleep, and like...I don't want to keep you from that, I don't...

[Words are tumbling out with a hint of nerves.]

Yes. Ever again.

[Hm. Lovecraft thought he could avoid this sort of reaction from Steinbeck if he eased into the subject. Would being blunt have actually been the better move? Hmmmmm.

Let's see if he can calm those nerves.]

In my haste to rest...I failed to consider something crucial: that it may well have been the last time I'd ever see you.

I have nothing but time, John. A long sleep can wait.

[In another universe, Lovecraft delivering it bluntly and Steinbeck melting at the spot. RIP JOHN STEINBECK indeed.]

[He has to take a little quick moment to really step back mentally - Lovecraft is...saying all that. That leaving him was a mistake, that Lovecraft thought it was crucial to stay, because it was so important to be here, with him, and...]

[He's...wanted? Lovecraft.....wants him?]

Ah... [A deep breath.] You really mean it. You're that sure. And that means....

[For the rest of his life...?]

It can mean whatever you want it to.

[And by that, he means...]

I understand humans have a...process, to relationships. I did not want to rush you.

[He didn't come back from his conversation with the goddess with a feather in hand, but he really is speaking in forever terms here. "Forever" in human terms is not nearly as long as it seems. It's not long enough, but it's all Lovecraft can promise.]

Oh.

[Oh.]

[For a second there, his brain was trying to save face. Pull in the reins, like some horse rider going whoah whoah whoah there before he jumped to conclusions. Lovecraft wanted to stay with him, yeah, sure, like some forever partner, sure, he can manage that, just have his squid buddy always at his side, and-]

[The word relationship comes like a particularly heavy bat to the hypothetical horse rider's head, and its feels like a dam has broken loose.]

[He lets out a little noise like a balloon losing air, cheeks now a rosy red.]

Oh.

[By now, his head is already full of thoughts, as chaotic as can be. Relationship implies...romance. Does Lovecraft want romance? Does he want to be wooed? Like, more than friends? Is he sure? Kissed? Does he give good kisses? God, I want him to give good kisses. Why did I think that. More than kisses? Wait, we haven't dated, but...wait, this is just? Is this...wait forever means...?]

[His voice cracks.]

Like.....marriage?

[Lovecraft watches completely stonefaced as Steinbeck goes through his inner emotional journey, which probably doesn't help all that much.

Eventually:]

Well...marriage is at the end of that process, yes. But first we have to date, say "I love you", date...some more, I think...?

[He is counting on his fingers as he does this, for the record.]

...and eventually form a contract of marriage. That's how it works...isn't it?

[Muttered:]

Human romance is so complicated.

[SAY "I LOVE YOU"?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?]

...Y-Yeah. [It feels like a lot of doors just got opened all at once. He raises a hand to cover his eyes, flummoxed.] I mean.

[OKAY. GATHERING HIS. FACULITIES. HOO. BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT. LOWERING HIS HAND.]

There's like. Um. No hard rule for romance. Or order. Well, maybe there is, but...

[Hnnnrghhhh.]

We don't have to...do it like we're doing ten million steps. [He's putting the cup of hot chocolate down on the table, turning to face Lovecraft directly. He reaches out, gently places his hand on the other's.] It doesn't have to be complicated.

[Why is that such a big deal?! Why is Steinbeck getting in such a state over it?!

Lovecraft's eyebrows start furrowing in concern, but Steinbeck is able to recover before things get out of hand. He stares down at Steinbeck's hand on his, expression softening.]

Not complicated is good.

[He shifts his hand so he may hold Steinbeck's.]

But...do you actually want to do any of it? It wasn't my intention to make you anxious...

[That's the last thing he wanted. Seeing Steinbeck as distressed as he gets sometimes was a little alarming to say the least.]

[....Well, that's right. It really must be weird for him to be the anxious one. Usually he's the one telling people that Lovecraft did NOT ask for pickles, thank you.]

[Lovecraft's hand holds his, and he glances down at it, slender hand held in calloused thick fingers. After a moment, a laugh bubbles out of him. He's being so anxious over...what, exactly?]

[Lovecraft wants this. He's here now. Willing to stay with him. Why should he worry, as if this will be pulled out from underneath him like a tablecloth?]

...I do. [He finally says.] I...do want to do that sort of thing. Anything. All the things. I mean...it's you.

[A little hum, fondness seeping in to his expression.]

There couldn't be anyone better.

[Ah... That laugh. That fond smile. He wants more of that. It's a good thing Steinbeck said yes.]

I'm glad. [He voices it aloud this time. His cold, bony fingers intertwine with Steinbeck's.] I feel the same way.

[Lovecraft honestly didn't realize he could harbor such feelings after how long it's been since he last found interest in another human. But this level of contentment...he understands that by human standards, this doesn't just come from any simple friendship. They are partners, yes, but there are multiple meanings to the word "partner". He believes the two of them slot neatly into each.]

Then...let us take this at a pace we can both work with.

I like that.

[He doesn't really want to rush. He has yet to date the man officially, after all. And yet at the same time...

[And yet.......]

[He gives a little curious glance at Lovecraft, fingers flexing a little in the other's grip before holding firm.]

["Partners" could mean a lot of things. And now, there's something burning in his chest, wanting to try what he can, see what works and what doesn't.]

Want to try something right now to see if we like it? [A little pause, his voice low - his words end on a chuckle.] I think right now, I...want to kiss you.

Edited 2023-03-08 11:15 (UTC)

[A kiss, huh? Lovecraft isn't sure what got humans so into the idea of putting their lips together as a romance thing, but it's definitely a good sign if Steinbeck wants to do that with him. And he is curious to know what Steinbeck tastes like...

He nods.]

I want you to kiss me.

Then we're on the same page.

[His free hand moves up to cup over the side of the other's sunken face, soft fingertips pressing against hard cheekbones before he leans up his head. A pause - he internally worries there's a chance that the other may not like it, its always so hard to say with Lovecraft - before he meets the other's lips gently, sweetly.]

[Nothing at all major. But it somehow feels major, heart racing a little in his chest from the contact.]

[Lovecraft's eyes slide closed before Steinbeck even gets to the kiss, taking in the sensation of Steinbeck's hand against him. It's nice to have that done to him.

He almost cracks an eye back open when the kiss doesn't come immediately after, but before he can, he feels Steinbeck's lips on his own. To his surprise, it sends a delighted shiver down his spine, almost as if the joining of their lips created an electric spark.

So that's why humans like kissing so much.

He blindly tries to find a place to put his cup of unfinished hot chocolate so he give Steinbeck his full attention. The kiss that he returns is a little more needy- a little more hungry. It could be likened to when Lovecraft happens upon a particularly tasty treat. He can't get at it quickly enough.]

[He's half expecting the kiss to be short. Perhaps Lovecraft would pull back, crinkle his nose, murmur that he would have to get used to the sensation before trying something like that again. Or maybe he'd just stares down at Steinbeck and offer nothing at all in terms of reaction or expression, like water sliding off a duck's (octopus's?) back.]

[The return of the kiss in this way is a surprise. Steinbeck lets out a little nose in the midst of it, but doesn't pull away. His grip tightens slightly on the other's face, before sliding down to his neck as he meets the other's effort with a little more passion from his slide, sinking into the feeling of cool lips against his own warmth.]

[There's...nothing like it. There's something about this that's getting a little addictive, like stepping down into an abyss.]

[It's a perfect combo, hot on cold. Being right up against Steinbeck's warm body like this reminds Lovecraft of how good it felt to be tucked into bed on his first night here in Crescentview. It's the sort of warmth that makes him feel safe and at home.

It feels right, in other words.

At some point, they do have to separate just for a little bit. Lovecraft licks his lips after he pulls away a little.]

I could taste the hot chocolate on you.

[That's it. That's the first thing he's going to say about it. But his actions beforehand speak louder, surely.]

[When they separate, he has to take in a little shuddering breath as if to ground himself. That was...]

Wow.

[Something else, alright. He can't even fully explain it. Perhaps it really is that connection between them, the foundation already there, that elevates something simple into something so enjoyable.]

[His free hand moves to embrace the man, splaying against his back to keep him close.]

Haha, did you? I did too. [He laughs a little.] I think you tasted sweeter, though.

[Oh, the embrace feels nice too. Lovecraft takes the opportunity to sink into it.]

I did have more hot chocolate than you, so I suppose that makes sense...

[This intimate moment is clearly the time and place to make factual observations. At least the next one to come after he lets out a contented sigh has more significance.]

That felt nice. I like your touch...a lot.

[It's a surprise to him, but a welcome one. It might become a problem down the line when he is no longer able to receive Steinbeck's touch, but he'll have to make a conscious effort to slow down and get the most out of their time together.]

Maybe it's that. Or maybe you're naturally sweet.

[He flushes a little at the compliment, feeling warm all over - a steady heat beats through his chest, and he gazes at Lovecraft with a little lovesickness, fond as fond can be.]

I'll have to give you a lot more of it. [And now he presses a little dot of a kiss against his neck. It's nice. It's so nice to have Lovecraft here, willing, and more than happy to receive what he shares. He wants to share.] I've decided it. I'm going to spoil you so bad.

[Steinbeck would be the first to say something like that about Lovecraft. But at this point, Steinbeck has done so many firsts toward Lovecraft that he's stopped keeping count. All he knows is that this something new that he actually enjoys and he's going to savor it.

His hearing isn't what it used to be, not after the Goddess took away much of his power, but he can still faintly hear Steinbeck's heartbeat. It's louder now, to match the look Steinbeck's giving him. This, coupled with the sweet kiss against his neck, is enough to bring about another pleased shiver.

He finds himself staring back with an unintended intensity as he blurts:]

H-How are you going to spoil me?

[It's not unusual for Lovecraft to stumble over his words, but this time it's not out of nerves. It's as though he couldn't ask that question quickly enough.]

[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.

[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.]

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.

[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.

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.

[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.]

🍇 the winter of our discontent 🍇

Closed for Lovecraft

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