cunning.

Lovecraft: What does claustrophobic mean?

Twain: It means he's afraid of Santa Claus.

Steinbeck: No, it doesn't.

Lovecraft: Ho ho ho!

                    “ i said give it back!! “ his shrill voice makes a quick jump to a higher octave as he makes another move for the doll, small hands outstretched in a desperate attempt to take back what was his. after all, without that doll he was useless to the mafia. without that doll, he was afraid that he would be sent back to the basement and locked up forever, terrified even of returning to that horrible cell. “ give it back! give it back! give it back!! “

                    Palm presses gently to the boy`s forehead -- an attempt to ward him off. The doll in question is held as high as John can without using his ability ( he`s prepared to, if need be ) . Seldom is the farmer so cruel, however, he`s aware the probability of the encounter ending his favor if he did give the tattered figure back, is low.           ❛   I said NO. Give up kid, I`ll mail it to you but you`re not getting it back here and now.   ❜ 

John can deny all he likes, but he still can’t cover up his face well enough to hide the red. Lovecraft will play along nonetheless, with the hint of a smile.              “Sure, you’re not.” He pats John’s head. Lovecraft’s fond, how unfortunate.

John’s next sentence gives way to brief pause. Not something Lovecraft generally thinks about around others, so John’s prying will only get so far. He can have an answer, though.              “Yes.” Which is probably unexpected, Lovecraft acknowledges this. (He usually tries to keep with that expectation.) But it does also explain why he’s not particularly bothered by John giving him a kiss. Not entirely a novelty. (Only a little bit of one.) Lovecraft hums.              “It’s been a while.”

                                              ❛   Wait -- REALLY ?!  ❜               His response holds more surprise than originally intended ( but can one really blame him ? ) . John had assumed the lack of much reaction was just Lovecraft being Lovecraft, but perhaps he was wrong ? The response John’s given doesn’t satisfy his intrusive curiosity, only heightens it if anything. An assault of questions dances along the tip of his tongue -- how long ago was his last kiss ? Does he actually ENJOY the physical affection ? However, John refrains, arm elevating and digits card through blond tresses. 

                   ❛   Well I’ll be damned, I was not expecting that.   ❜               A thoughtful hum as he sizes Lovecraft up. Who knew ? Good job, you disgruntled jellyfish, John is actually proud. However, Lovecraft did make the mistake of telling him and now he’s going to ask.         ❛   How long is a WHILE ?   ❜

                   ❛   Move or be moved.   ❜               Gone are the days of a merry farmer boy, amicable & working his way through life, supporting his family. Irate & left bitter, weighed down with guilt after what’d taken place with the guild, with Fitzgerald, John’s not in the greatest mood, let alone up for dealing with someone like HIM. 

He could return the favour of showing affection just to see, but Lovecraft keeps to himself. He has not clearly established boundaries and is too worried of crossing them and losing himself an accomplice. But, if the question’s being posed to him over whether or not he cares, it’s an easy answer.

          “I don’t. Feel free.” John can do what he wants, Lovecraft’s hardly going to mind. (But perhaps he is bit too biased towards receiving John’s attention; might have answered that question a bit quickly.)

His head cants to the side, dark eyes still fixated on John before him. Now that Lovecraft has gotten motive out of the way, he is free to make idle comment on effect.           “You’re turning red.” Because who doesn’t appreciate embarrassment being pointed out (no one, but it’s so markedly unusual to see John red from embarrassment over anything else).

          ❛ No I’m not. ❜              His response is hasty, and that, coupled with the hand that has risen to obscure reddening features, makes it all the move obvious that John’s attempting ( and failing ) to hide his reaction. In his defence, it’s not like he kisses people daily -- it’s just something he did in a poor effort to make LOVECRAFT uncomfortable. Clearly it has backfired on the farmer, who is now suffering through the consequences. 

                                         ❛ Hey Lovecraft -- have you ever actually been kissed before ? ❜  

          An inquiry spoken only of growing curiosity. John has his doubts, but he is also aware of the fact that even though out of all of the other guild members, he probably knows Lovecraft the best, he also knows next to nothing about the older male. Investigating his partner is something that John has ( mostly ) given up on, though he’ll still try to pry every so often. 

Lovecraft huffs. There is not much he can give in counterargument to that, aside from vague protest.           “Slander.”

He doesn’t have the energy to give Steinbeck a proper amount of trouble, but he can mutter in mock offense against his shoulder. The motion of arm around him does prompt Lovecraft to look up, albeit briefly. Ensure that things still are as he expects.

He accepts the tug to move closer as an overt reason to more or less fall against Steinbeck. Kid’s got to deal with Lovecraft leaning on him properly now, rather than merely bony chin digging against his shoulder. It is, in fact, far more comfortable (Lovecraft somewhat attempts to lessen how ungainly a person he is to have leaning on someone, he can try being halfway polite).           “Yes. I’m sleeping here, then?” Just enough of an uptick to indicate a question. He’ll probably be falling asleep regardless, it’s simply a matter of if he’s going to wake up having fallen on the floor after John wanders off or not.

                     He wants to sleep like this ? Is that even comfortable ? Well --- John doesn’t see much of a problem with allowing Lovecraft to perform his favorite pass time ( at least for the moment being ).           ❛ You can if you want, I guess. I’ll just leave when I get bored. ❜            Not before watching Lovecraft drop like a hot potato. Real nice John. 

                     Allowing silence to fall once more, a hand lifts as John resumes prior actions of playing with Lovecraft’s hair. He’s gentle, carding slender digits through dark tresses, careful not to tug too roughly although John knows that it probably won’t be that big of a deal if he does. 

          ❛ You kind of remind me of a cat, you know that ? The way you covet sleep and demand a lot of attention at times. ❜              Not often, but there are moments.

          “I wasn’t planning on it.” Lovecraft tends to go by a system of taking what he can get. (Though he probably will try and use this as a precedent sometime in the future– or whatever ‘future’ can be when the statement is relying on such an incredibly short-lived thing like he and John being in the shared space.)

He is pleased for now and that is all that occupies his immediate concern. He has won the battle and come out of it with more chocolate than Lovecraft thought was purchasable at one time. It’s a good night.

          “Yes.” He’s very happy. He even looks attentive for once as he munches on his hard-won chocolates. It’s a very silly thing to be happy over and Lovecraft knows it, but here he is nonetheless.          “Thanks.”

                     Still a grump over what’s transpired this evening, hands slip into the warm confines of his jacket pockets, a narrowed gaze pinned to his tall companion. It was a moment of weakness, a temporary lapse in judgement as the temptation of having some of the chocolate Lovecraft tried so desperately to procure, won him over. Now that he’s gotten what he wants, John’s going to determine some ground rules for Lovecraft and his 3am prize. 

                                   ❛  Don’t eat it all in one night, you’ll make yourself sick. Also don’t eat them in bed, if I find one wrapper when I come to wake you up so help me. I’m not doing your laundry because we both know you won’t. Also, if I find you in a chocolate coma tomorrow, I’m kicking you and this is never happening again. Do you understand ? ❜