sad space dad had a bad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiro2hero) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-12-08 09:15 pm
shiro2hero) wrote in deercountry2022-12-08 09:15 pm
If I had died
Who: SHIRO & OPEN
What: Catchall for December Shenanigans, House Meeting, Event, Silent Hill Player Plot
When: All through the month.
Where: Mouse House, Around Trench
Content Warnings: Silent Hill type imagery/body horror, violence against snowmen, will update as needed
See the headers below for specifics!
What: Catchall for December Shenanigans, House Meeting, Event, Silent Hill Player Plot
When: All through the month.
Where: Mouse House, Around Trench
Content Warnings: Silent Hill type imagery/body horror, violence against snowmen, will update as needed
See the headers below for specifics!
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And then the toast is gone. Except for the little bit he managed to get into his mouth. Which he crunches. Pointedly.
"Please don't feed my Omen meat toast."
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A stupid question. He'd spent the first several years in places like this forgetting to do things like eat and sleep. He supposed he had to admit, begrudgingly, that at least this meant he was eating.
Even if it was basically poison.
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Sort of. Kind of. He thinks anyways. No one ever gets on your case about burning the marshmallows for s'mores.
Once again, Shiro misses the point. The obvious point of his own lack of self-care. He's been doing better. It doesn't click into place.
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He shakes his head.
"Please tell me this isn't what you eat when I don't make dinner."
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It really doesn’t but there’s pride on the line here, apparently. Pride that does not extend to everything. Maybe if he just puts jam on plain bread…
“What, no. People leave leftovers. And I can still make a decent sandwich.”
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He sags a bit with relief. He was doing better than Adam thought, then. Not a lot better, leftovers and sandwiches weren't the best, but it was certainly better than "I had coffee this morning," which had been about where he was originally.
"We are so going to toast marshmallows."
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Yes, clearly using coal for a barbecque instead of charcoal is a great idea. But meanwhile, he's already got the bread back out. Already reaching for a jar of jam. See? This he can do.
This and whatever he can pick up on the way to his shift at Koz's.
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He waves a hand at Takashi, rummaging around in the cabinet.
"We can just use the stove. Works just as well, less likely to create a fire hazard."
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Mostly. Keith had dragged the thing home, hunted it down, all of that. But it also wouldn't have happened without the weird dream world spurring them all on.
Bread and jam accomplished! Breakfast time.
"Unless you let me touch it, right?"
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Adam has successfully procured two marshmallows and is heading for the stove.
"Not unless you want me to use your hand for a heat source."
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Yet. That's the key word. Bread and jam accomplished, maybe they have some jerky or trail mix. That'd be good. This is how he looks after himself, apparently. Mix and match premade kitchen items. And coffee.
"Well - you could. I don't see why you couldn't work my hand."
... Shiro.
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No, closing his eyes isn't enough. He brings a hand up to his forehead too. And now the glasses are coming off. What have you done.
" Takashi. "
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No, he genuinely did not realize what the heck he just said. He's standing there in the kitchen, a string of mushroom jerky half in his mouth. Just typical morning Shiro right here.
"What did I say?"
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"For one, the heat distribution would be uneven between your palm and your fingers. Nothing would cook correctly. For another we haven't done any tests at all on your ability to control temperature differentials. You don't exactly have a control switch or a temperature gauge."
His lips and eyebrows twitch in shared frustration.
"Not to mention you're the most clumsy athlete I've ever met and you would absolutely set something on fire."
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"So just put it on my palm." He suggests, shrugging. Although, at this point, he might just be messing with his partner. It's probably that. Shiro's smarter than that. "We could test it, sometime. I know I can start fires with it, though."
Yeah, he's messing with him.
"Intentional fires."
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He's already rubbing his chin, Shiro.
"I suppose we could introduce a few variables and test your temperature control. The trench has thermometers, right? Not the most exacting tool, but better than nothing. Liquid might be best, perhaps water to start. After we do a control for the mug first, of course."
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Shiro just grins. That lopsided sort of challenge grin that makes his face look a decade younger. Even with the scar and eye bags that are a constant anymore.
He meets Adam's eye. And then slowly reaches out with his right hand - the metal hand in question.
Slowly.
Carefully.
To set it down on a bagel.
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"Wait! I don't have my-- do we even have a thermometer? A pen and paper, of course I cleaned off the counters the other day--"
Flustered he pulls out the only method of recording for proper notation later that he happens to have available to him -- the camera on his device. He sets it to record.
"Alright. Try to just-- lightly toast it. What would that be, 145 degrees celsius?"
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But there's plenty of bread on the counter. They can do actual science or something later.
He maintains eye contact. Not with the Omni. With Adam.
And slowly.
Carefully.
Takes a bite out of the plain, untoasted bagel.
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His science... was being taken away from him?
Indignation came in full force. Nothing was readily available to fling at him, so Adam swatted at his arm instead.
"Takashi Shirogane, how dare you! Divorce! Divorce in the name of science!"
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He's laughing way too hard. It's muffled by bagel, and his hand, but the sound is unmistakable.
Adam swatting him definitely didn't help him stop laughing.
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"I hope you choke on that bagel! You owe me a science!"
That's right, a science. You know the kind. The kind he can study, preferably while bapping (fiercely!) at your arm.
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Why is this so funny? It's probably the fact Adam is swatting him while ranting.
"-Sorry!"
He is not sorry.
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He stops his assault to put his hands on his hips. "It's a good thing the kids didn't witness this."
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He holds a hand up in surrender. Managing to horf down that bite of bagel - finally. Curse you, bread. Once that's actually managed, he looks back up, his expression soft.
"The kids. That's... I don't know, it's different, hearing you say it."
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