Seeds We've Sown
Colors of the rainbow
AN: Very "M"ish chatter latter half in, We haven't hit Lemon land yet, but still I think the chatter warrants the rank and warning at least.
Puddle of a rainbow. The chromatic gloop spread slowly from the doomed, domed, mounds that were slowly melting. After all, no one sane kept a place below freezing.
And they, those two, were amongst the tentatively sane.
Daring silver against pigment inclined sweet, he took a scoop and swallowed it down with a jerky pre-brain freeze birdish bob. Benefits of… genetics… made certain that the snack would melt before full descent. Despite surety there was contradiction about. It burned despite being burned. Chill, it scalded.
But such was life.
Besides him, similarly armed, she set spoon to edges. Gathering droplets and turning them into pseudo topping. Once her spoon was full she dribbled them atop before scarfing down an unlady like bite. Chewing, despite the ludicrousness of the motion, she swallowed after a whimsical span and pleasant numbing. He snarked at her for that, his stab seemed dull and as listless as his black eyes. To that watered down bit of vitriol she stuck out a rainbow colored tongue, and to that he laughed.
The sound was as weary as his earlier spat of sarcasm, but it caught and set the dark of his eyes to twinkling wickedly.
It might be a bad thing, that he was making a comeback, that she was helping him make that comeback. Maybe, possibly, she twiddled the idea and morals but was blessedly numb so little wonder she fumbled the idea as surely as she fumbled the spoon. Mini rush, dizzy span, but she bent to fetch, ignoring the bright green splat on the frizzy grey rug. Head tingling and blessedly numb (they hadn't started with ice cream see, were only consulting it as an ending when he'd confessed that liquor wasn't doing anything for him) Belmont could hardly care less about splat.
Actually, her lips quirked at the irony, as inane as it made her sound that splat was sorta funny.
Suspecting stupidity and mischief, the man who wasn't snaked one hand around the ice cream box scooting it a little closer.
Clearly Death's right hand man… lizard… ('cept he didn't look like a lizard and screw him and his dry "Tail and scales are on vacation sweets." jib she wanted to know why, to that little spat of whining he'd taken the last bottle of beer from her and said enough)had a sweet tooth.
Now that was funny.
She sniggered accordingly.
Speaking of sweet…. The ice cream lingered, a buffer between them. Face gaping wide and dripping a rainbow about its flaps and oozing it from the base, it'd be macabre if it weren't… well… a box. Discount ice cream, flavor sherbet, the picture that peeked out from the sagging flank wasn't anything special.
Buzz induced brilliance struck again. He was definitely hugging the sweet closer than necessary to his scaly side. Except Mr. Scales didn't well… have any, scales that is. Her giggles caused him to raise an eyebrow that she was sure his "real" picture didn't have. She wanted to ask, how he moved something he didn't have, was feeling brave enough to open her mouth and unleash the hounds of hell bent stupidiuty, stoopidille.. whatever…
"Don't ask again."
Warning done he pulled out another half melted lump –one lump had an edge, affirming and confirming that it was the last of her stash- and plopped the remnants on his plate. Long fingers curled on the plates edges, his half stoop screaming "mine all mine" without a word being said.
Wisdom had to work hard, but a bit of it pushed through, warning Claudia not to ask him for half of his grotesquely large portion.
For a while there was only the sound of spoons scraping against plates. Both were more than content to say "screw it" they nursed brain freeze and bitterness turn by turn.
Finally, done quicker than she, he grumbled. "You could have warned me your roomie was a bitch."
"All she ever said was, "I don' ge' on with guys"." Playing with the last bite, she scraped it over the plate, spreading liquid glucose rainbow with each nudge. Pretty colors, that non sequetor was alarming for some reason. "For all I knew she was… you know…" Scrape scrape. "Anyways, you pulled the, "I wanna get in your pants" act. That's not exactly constrect.. constree… to… well. Hell! You can't complain! You asked for a one night stand."
"Hey, one nighters are fine! Tension relief ya know! But what I didn't ask was to have her fucking boyfriend make an appearance during, kick me out after, and take over before I'd even left the room!"
"…That wasn't her boyfriend."
Stony silence met that statement, finally he sought solace in his plate and got to licking never mind the mess he was making of his chin and rumpled shirt front.
She tried not to grimace.
All accidental he'd just explained the yelling, and thuds that had preceded his appearance and his whole hearted enthusiasm for crashing her attempt at escapism. He also pulled a TMI, but oh well. There were even odds with this all being a fuzzy little blurb tomorrow that she wouldn't care about. She could live with that.
Eyes closing, thoughts of drifting off inspiring her, all plans were canceled and her eyes bugged open at his next words.
"Can I kill them, both?"
"No." Surprise on the decline, she giggled, realizing he was joking. Death's servant and all that… Really him and his delusions… Eyes sliding closed, she was content to drift awhile, thus she never noticed the dead serious glimmer in his eyes. "It'd be mess… smuss…."
"I could make sure it wasn't." He offered eagerly.
"I'll pay a month."
"N… Yer n…. not… lease…" There, that was somewhat coherent, he'd figure it out.
And clearly he did, because he chuckled. Finding a punch line when there wasn't one, besides. She should have been irritated but the world was sorta pulling back a bit.
And that was fine, more than fine.
It was such a crazy world after all. And she didn't want to catch crazy, because crazy was catching and they were all out of cold medicine...
Leaning against fluff, which was nothing to lean on at all, she fell back and almost over the arm of the couch. Half on, half off, and snoring besides, she definitely wasn't one of those fainting flowers that the Belmont's pushed out for varieties sake when broad shouldered oxen got boring. Lips quirking, he set aside his plate, on the floor quietly and wandered all of three steps before considering her. Tallish, hardly a waif, she wasn't beautifully blonde and willowy like the succubus spawn upstairs. She had something of the shoulders, but it wasn't so much so since she was bookish. Taking a flaccid hand he saw she had callouses in all the right places to confirm that hunch. Loosing her hand when a tug and squeeze, and some cajoling besides, didn't wake her, he considered his options. Decision reached he trailed his spindly digits up her arms, one lift and he held her up, her feet dangling limply a good few inches off the floor. Remembering last second not to bend her elbows backwards, he wrapped her arms the right way around his neck and took a quick look about the room.
While the couch was an option, (soft, near, and did he mention close too?) it was right under a window, a window with only flimsy cloth to keep out the sun.
Considering tomorrow morning and all the fun things it would engender… well it wasn't an option. So he'd look about, ground level mind, and see what was what.
A groan and scream of pleasure from above made him grit his aching teeth. Damn Belmont and her "no". Even piss faced drunk she'd the balls to say no.
And that wasn't good, not good at all.
After all, a Slogra had to eat, really eat, and not just sweets and "normal stuff" like the humans did.
A whimper in his ear and half whine as well made him grit said aching teeth, and let out a hiss of exasperation.
"I'm looking, I'm looking, bleeding ingrate! Keep up your whining and you'll get the couch, windows open wide, just like you deserve."
Like the dead the unconscious weren't inclined to say much of anything. Shame that, but perhaps it was better.
He'd of slit her throat himself if she'd gone on caterwauling like some other drunk people he'd known.