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Entry tags:
dinosaurs out of clay and popsicle sticks
Title: dinosaurs out of clay and popsicle sticks
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Steinbeck, Lovecraft, minor characters
Pairing(s): Steinbeck/Lovecraft
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 510
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Lovecraft attends a Steinbeck family dinner.
Notes: Dedicated to the person I dorked over Steincraft with, who also believes Lovebeck sounds like an indie band name.
The Steinbeck family table is already packed enough that one more person seated at it won’t make much of a difference. It’s more important to them that they greet John’s guest with warmth and hospitality than that they have a little bit more elbow room.
Besides, Lovecraft doesn’t eat much. He’s certainly a weird guest, often staring into space or directly at someone in silence, but John has asked them to be nice and accommodating of his work partner’s quirks, so they don’t mind too much. Anyway, someone who won’t eat an entire pie on their own if given the chance (Ruthie, that means you) is always welcome.
John is the only one with an Ability in the family, so no one is terribly surprised when the little ones start clamoring to see Lovecraft’s after dinner. “John told us you’ve got a cool Ability! Let us see, let us see!”
Lovecraft looks to John. “You know I don’t have an Ability,” he says, mildly confused.
“Well… It was the easiest way of explaining what you do have,” John replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you shouldn’t-”
But Lovecraft is already warping his hands into something like tentacles, bent and folded over themselves. “Balloon dog,” he announces, though none of the adults can see how that mess of appendages resembles a dog in any way.
There’s a moment of silence before the children break into huge grins. “That’s so cool! Do another one, do another one!”
John laughs. “Where are your manners?”
“Oh… please do another one?” asks the littlest of the bunch.
“I don’t mind,” says Lovecraft, already shifting what used to be his hands into a different shape. “Cat.”
While the kids cheer and continue to badger Lovecraft, John heads to where most of the adults are sitting, including his parents. “I know he’s… unconventional,” he says, clearly not sure where to begin with explaining his guest. “But he’s not a bad guy.”
“I believe you,” his father says. “He’s impressed the children, so he can’t be too bad.”
“You’ve always been a good judge of character,” his mother says, “and you seem quite taken with him.”
Winfield, who has the best hearing of his siblings and the least amount of shame, gives him a sly smile that John immediately distrusts. “So you’ve brought him to see the family. When’s the wedding?”
“Winfield-!”
Lovecraft, of course, has better hearing than any human being John’s met, and he tilts his head. “Are we getting married? You should have told me sooner.”
John thinks he might die from embarrassment rather than the Armed Detective Agency or the Port Mafia. At least getting kicked in the head knocked him out first. “We aren’t getting married.”
“Oh. That’s fine.” Lovecraft returns his attention to the children who’ve surrounded him, continuing to concoct shapes with his tentacles that only somewhat resemble what he says they do.
John loves his family more than anything in the world, but there’s no such thing as a family that doesn’t drive you up the wall sometimes.
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Steinbeck, Lovecraft, minor characters
Pairing(s): Steinbeck/Lovecraft
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 510
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Lovecraft attends a Steinbeck family dinner.
Notes: Dedicated to the person I dorked over Steincraft with, who also believes Lovebeck sounds like an indie band name.
The Steinbeck family table is already packed enough that one more person seated at it won’t make much of a difference. It’s more important to them that they greet John’s guest with warmth and hospitality than that they have a little bit more elbow room.
Besides, Lovecraft doesn’t eat much. He’s certainly a weird guest, often staring into space or directly at someone in silence, but John has asked them to be nice and accommodating of his work partner’s quirks, so they don’t mind too much. Anyway, someone who won’t eat an entire pie on their own if given the chance (Ruthie, that means you) is always welcome.
John is the only one with an Ability in the family, so no one is terribly surprised when the little ones start clamoring to see Lovecraft’s after dinner. “John told us you’ve got a cool Ability! Let us see, let us see!”
Lovecraft looks to John. “You know I don’t have an Ability,” he says, mildly confused.
“Well… It was the easiest way of explaining what you do have,” John replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you shouldn’t-”
But Lovecraft is already warping his hands into something like tentacles, bent and folded over themselves. “Balloon dog,” he announces, though none of the adults can see how that mess of appendages resembles a dog in any way.
There’s a moment of silence before the children break into huge grins. “That’s so cool! Do another one, do another one!”
John laughs. “Where are your manners?”
“Oh… please do another one?” asks the littlest of the bunch.
“I don’t mind,” says Lovecraft, already shifting what used to be his hands into a different shape. “Cat.”
While the kids cheer and continue to badger Lovecraft, John heads to where most of the adults are sitting, including his parents. “I know he’s… unconventional,” he says, clearly not sure where to begin with explaining his guest. “But he’s not a bad guy.”
“I believe you,” his father says. “He’s impressed the children, so he can’t be too bad.”
“You’ve always been a good judge of character,” his mother says, “and you seem quite taken with him.”
Winfield, who has the best hearing of his siblings and the least amount of shame, gives him a sly smile that John immediately distrusts. “So you’ve brought him to see the family. When’s the wedding?”
“Winfield-!”
Lovecraft, of course, has better hearing than any human being John’s met, and he tilts his head. “Are we getting married? You should have told me sooner.”
John thinks he might die from embarrassment rather than the Armed Detective Agency or the Port Mafia. At least getting kicked in the head knocked him out first. “We aren’t getting married.”
“Oh. That’s fine.” Lovecraft returns his attention to the children who’ve surrounded him, continuing to concoct shapes with his tentacles that only somewhat resemble what he says they do.
John loves his family more than anything in the world, but there’s no such thing as a family that doesn’t drive you up the wall sometimes.