neutral_omens | (no subject)

Current Mood: awake

Entry tags:

brian,
wensleydale

(no subject)

Date: December 23, 2000
Status: Private (Brian, Wensleydale) [Complete]
Setting: Kitchens
Summary: Brian has the munchies.

Stupid brain, Brian thought crossly. Stupid insommything. Stupid temptin' refrigerator.

He poked his head around the kitchen door. Somebody'd left the light by the stove on again. He would find out who it was and drill the concept of energy conservation into their brains . . . after he got his pudding.

He slunk around the door, which, contrary to his expectations, did not squeak, and padded over to a shelf in the corner. At two in the morning, wretched, prepackaged pudding was the only option. Where did people keep icky pudding in this place?

"Pudding, pudding, pudding," he muttered. "Puuuuudding. Where are you?"

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"Huh?" He looked up, then relaxed. "Oh. Yes, I'm fine. I'm just not used to talking much these days." He'd never been the biggest talker in the world, but after the Them had split up and joined the Adult World, he hadn't had much occasion to talk.

"Yeah. Me neither," Brian said. He poked his tongue into his cheek thoughtfully. "I suppose none of us are," he added after a moment. "It's been a while since we've been, you know . . . just the four of us."

"Yeah," he muttered, fidgiting a bit. Then, awkwardly, he stepped forward and hugged Brian, feeling a blush creep over his cheekbones. "I've missed you."

For a moment Brian was confused and stood in Wensleydale's embrace with his arms sort of hanging to the side. But then he grinned and hugged him back, tightly.

"I've missed you too, mate," he said into Wensley's shoulder. "I really have."

They stayed there for a moment, Wensley breathing in the Brian-scent of dirt and trees before extracting himself, collected on the outside but happier than he'd been for years inside. He had missed him, more than anyone else.

Wensley was warm and comfortable and neat, and Brian was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Something twitched in his abdomen, which he chose to ignore in favour of giving his friend one final squeeze as they stepped apart. He felt really, really good.

A Wensleydale was a good thing to have around, he decided. No matter how mad things got, Wens made things a bit more sensible. He made a bloody good pudding, too, although the relevance of that thought was questionable.

Backing up a bit, he looked at the almost-empty bowl in Brian's hands and took a fingerful of pudding, tasting it.

"I make bloody good pudding," he mused aloud.

Brian laughed. "You," he said, "make godly pudding. Your pudding is the pudding of the gods. It is Olympian pudding. Kings and czars would give up their kingdoms and, er, czardoms for this pudding."

"And when you start babbling about kings and their land, that's my cue to send you up to bed before you start zombie-walking," he laughed, shaking his head. "Would you like an escort?"

Brian hesitated. That might not be a very good idea.

"No thanks," he said. "I can probably make it upstairs with only minor bruising," he added, trying to lighten his own mood a bit.

He turned and trotted out of the kitchen, pausing at the doorway only for a moment to wave and say a quiet "'Night".

He would be able to sleep now. He felt much better. He always did, after seeing Wensley.

"Goodnight," he replied to Brian's retreating form, waving foolishly. He'd enjoyed that. No one came to visit him in the kitchen, besides Adam. And Brian was different than Adam, Wensley thought, though he did not let his thoughts go any further than that.

Looking around his kitchen, he smiled for a moment, then placed the pudding bowl into the sink and walked out the door, turning off the lights on his way out. He thought he might be able to sleep tonight, after all.

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