[Now, that laugh is worth more than a thousand coins, he knows.]
[Steinbeck may not be a man of the water (not like Lovecraft, who practically melted into it, lived in it, thrived in its depths) but he finds he takes to the flow of it all well enough. He doesn't flinch or resist as Kaspar pulls into him, simply extending his arms to give the other room as the flow pulls them together. The man is warm against him, and he doesn't even hesitate to embrace him in turn, leaning his chin against the top of the other's head, buried in curls.]
[If there's anything that Steinbeck would say he's good at, perhaps, its things like this. He was the big brother in his family, after all, ready to provide a hug or two when needed. Kaspar isn't a sibling, of course, but the warmth he has for the man is more sincere than anything, and he's more than happy to keep him here in his arms for as long as he wants. His heart (as much as he wants to ignore he has one, too wrapped up in his own self-hatred) beats steady. His hand moves to tangle within the other's hair before he slides it down in a soothing pet, over and over.]
If you want to talk, you can. If you don't, that's fine, too. [A pause, closing his eyes.] Whatever you want.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninetydegrees
no subject
2023-01-30 23:20 (UTC)[Steinbeck may not be a man of the water (not like Lovecraft, who practically melted into it, lived in it, thrived in its depths) but he finds he takes to the flow of it all well enough. He doesn't flinch or resist as Kaspar pulls into him, simply extending his arms to give the other room as the flow pulls them together. The man is warm against him, and he doesn't even hesitate to embrace him in turn, leaning his chin against the top of the other's head, buried in curls.]
[If there's anything that Steinbeck would say he's good at, perhaps, its things like this. He was the big brother in his family, after all, ready to provide a hug or two when needed. Kaspar isn't a sibling, of course, but the warmth he has for the man is more sincere than anything, and he's more than happy to keep him here in his arms for as long as he wants. His heart (as much as he wants to ignore he has one, too wrapped up in his own self-hatred) beats steady. His hand moves to tangle within the other's hair before he slides it down in a soothing pet, over and over.]
If you want to talk, you can. If you don't, that's fine, too. [A pause, closing his eyes.] Whatever you want.