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Title: Kink Bingo #6
Fandom: Soul Eater
Prompt: Food
Pairing: Stein/Giriko
Rating: R
Warnings: Well, Giriko’s in it, so copious uses of the word ‘fuck’. Oh, and implications of sex.
Wordcount: 905
Summary: Pancakes may well be the only hangover cure that actually works.
Author's Notes: This is actually a morning-after-type continuation of this half-finished musebox thread. And the pancake thing? W-well. *points at icon*
It felt a little like someone had dropped a train on his head. Stein doubted it was a hangover – mostly because he didn’t remember drinking and he hoped that he hadn’t become a blackout drunk at some point – but evidence was starting to pile up. He knew he was in some cramped, sketchy hotel near that club Spirit always went to; he, unfortunately, knew the cheap décor all too well thanks to the scythe calling him when he was broke and needed help staggering back home.
No use thinking about it now; there were bigger things to worry about, like work, sleep, showers, and getting tested for god-only-knows-what. And escaping before whatever-her-name-was-hopefully-nothing-beginning-with-an-‘M’ came looking for him. Though because Stein could vaguely smell something coming from the no-doubt tiny kitchen, he figured it was best to not hold his breath on that last part.
He quickly re-dressed and slowly snuck towards the door. “‘Ey!” …The voice sounded far too masculine to be Medusa, at least, but that was barely worth mentioning. Especially when he let his brain catch up to his eyes. The spiky blond hair… The chains wrapping around his soul… Why of all people did it have to be that annoying chainsaw? Who had he honestly pissed off so much that he was waking up to this? He should have better self-restraint; he wasn’t Justin, goddamn it.
“…You even fucking listenin?!”
Why the shouting? Why so early?
…Why the hell was Giriko holding up a skillet?
“…Pancakes or not?! It’s not a hard fuckin question!”
Stein stared dumbly. He was being Punk’d, right? Dreaming? Hallucinating? Somehow, Giriko making pancakes for him just didn’t fit in with any sort of reality. The chainsaw meanwhile was getting more and more pissed off looking (insulted, maybe?) and there was probably a good chance he’d end up swinging either the frying pan he was holding or a foot if Stein kept up with the unwitting silent treatment. “Sure. Why not.” There were plenty of reasons ‘why not’ but there was no need to rain on Giriko’s pancake parade when he so obviously wanted to share.
Giriko pleasantly went about staking up a plate of the offending breakfast cakes, being extra generous with syrup and topping it all off with some butter. To Stein, it looked like a (admittedly delicious) heart-attack waiting to happen, but it would be rude of him to not even take one bite, wouldn’t it? And more often than not, people who acted rude about things like cooking didn’t get repeat invitations.
…There were a few things wrong with that. He pushed that thought which he most certainly didn’t think to the back of his mind and took a bite. They weren’t the best pancakes ever, but at least they were far from the worst. “So didja have fun last night?” The question could have almost been innocent if not for the shark-tooth grin on Giriko’s face.
If he said yes, there goes 30-odd years of explicitly loyal service to Shinigami-sama. If he said no, well… He was technically defenseless against a chainsaw and the room they were in seemed so much smaller now and Stein couldn’t help but notice Giriko was between him and the door. Check. “Did you?” The meister’s glasses glinted accusingly.
Giriko’s grin didn’t falter for a second. He’d seen that same look on Soul’s face when Maka and he were facing off against the rare easy enemy and he had a meal in his very near future. Stein couldn’t help but notice his mouth suddenly went dry. From fear, he told himself. That was somehow less embarrassing than admitting that look suited the chainsaw rather well. “Yeah, but that’s not what I asked.”
“How nice of you to care.”
“Just answer the fuckin question, scarface.”
“So we’re back to that now, are we?”
He was expecting a kick or the tell-tale rumbling of a chainsaw engine. Stein was certainly not expecting to hear a slightly annoyed sigh (he’d heard that sigh before once; Kid had passed out and Liz was shaking her head while Patti giggled). “I already know ya did. Ya ain’t the kinda guy who’d avoid sayin ‘no’.” Checkmate. “I just wanna hear you admit it.” Victory and gloating. Hardly the most graceful winner.
Backed into a corner or not, there was no way in hell Stein was answering that. And certainly not in the positive. “I’m not about to start stroking your ego; it’s big enough already, I think.” He stood, the mostly uneaten-pancake still oozing syrup down the sides of the stack. “Besides, I have a class to get to in the next twelve minutes.”
He crossed to the door without Giriko saying a word. Or moving. Or acting like he was affected by it at all. Must have been how his senpai got like that, he thought bitterly. It wasn’t until Stein was halfway out the door that the rouge weapon made any indication that he noticed Stein got up at all. “‘Ey. When’ll I see ya again?”
Stein was silent for a long moment, seriously pondering the question. Technically, he didn’t have an early class tomorrow so he could come back tonight and get to properly enjoy his pancakes without rushing out the door, which was certainly a nice ide- “Whenever Arachnophobia next decides to try and fuck us over,” Stein sneered, pulling the door shut behind him.
Or maybe tonight. Whichever came first.
Fandom: Soul Eater
Prompt: Food
Pairing: Stein/Giriko
Rating: R
Warnings: Well, Giriko’s in it, so copious uses of the word ‘fuck’. Oh, and implications of sex.
Wordcount: 905
Summary: Pancakes may well be the only hangover cure that actually works.
Author's Notes: This is actually a morning-after-type continuation of this half-finished musebox thread. And the pancake thing? W-well. *points at icon*
It felt a little like someone had dropped a train on his head. Stein doubted it was a hangover – mostly because he didn’t remember drinking and he hoped that he hadn’t become a blackout drunk at some point – but evidence was starting to pile up. He knew he was in some cramped, sketchy hotel near that club Spirit always went to; he, unfortunately, knew the cheap décor all too well thanks to the scythe calling him when he was broke and needed help staggering back home.
No use thinking about it now; there were bigger things to worry about, like work, sleep, showers, and getting tested for god-only-knows-what. And escaping before whatever-her-name-was-hopefully-nothing-beginning-with-an-‘M’ came looking for him. Though because Stein could vaguely smell something coming from the no-doubt tiny kitchen, he figured it was best to not hold his breath on that last part.
He quickly re-dressed and slowly snuck towards the door. “‘Ey!” …The voice sounded far too masculine to be Medusa, at least, but that was barely worth mentioning. Especially when he let his brain catch up to his eyes. The spiky blond hair… The chains wrapping around his soul… Why of all people did it have to be that annoying chainsaw? Who had he honestly pissed off so much that he was waking up to this? He should have better self-restraint; he wasn’t Justin, goddamn it.
“…You even fucking listenin?!”
Why the shouting? Why so early?
…Why the hell was Giriko holding up a skillet?
“…Pancakes or not?! It’s not a hard fuckin question!”
Stein stared dumbly. He was being Punk’d, right? Dreaming? Hallucinating? Somehow, Giriko making pancakes for him just didn’t fit in with any sort of reality. The chainsaw meanwhile was getting more and more pissed off looking (insulted, maybe?) and there was probably a good chance he’d end up swinging either the frying pan he was holding or a foot if Stein kept up with the unwitting silent treatment. “Sure. Why not.” There were plenty of reasons ‘why not’ but there was no need to rain on Giriko’s pancake parade when he so obviously wanted to share.
Giriko pleasantly went about staking up a plate of the offending breakfast cakes, being extra generous with syrup and topping it all off with some butter. To Stein, it looked like a (admittedly delicious) heart-attack waiting to happen, but it would be rude of him to not even take one bite, wouldn’t it? And more often than not, people who acted rude about things like cooking didn’t get repeat invitations.
…There were a few things wrong with that. He pushed that thought which he most certainly didn’t think to the back of his mind and took a bite. They weren’t the best pancakes ever, but at least they were far from the worst. “So didja have fun last night?” The question could have almost been innocent if not for the shark-tooth grin on Giriko’s face.
If he said yes, there goes 30-odd years of explicitly loyal service to Shinigami-sama. If he said no, well… He was technically defenseless against a chainsaw and the room they were in seemed so much smaller now and Stein couldn’t help but notice Giriko was between him and the door. Check. “Did you?” The meister’s glasses glinted accusingly.
Giriko’s grin didn’t falter for a second. He’d seen that same look on Soul’s face when Maka and he were facing off against the rare easy enemy and he had a meal in his very near future. Stein couldn’t help but notice his mouth suddenly went dry. From fear, he told himself. That was somehow less embarrassing than admitting that look suited the chainsaw rather well. “Yeah, but that’s not what I asked.”
“How nice of you to care.”
“Just answer the fuckin question, scarface.”
“So we’re back to that now, are we?”
He was expecting a kick or the tell-tale rumbling of a chainsaw engine. Stein was certainly not expecting to hear a slightly annoyed sigh (he’d heard that sigh before once; Kid had passed out and Liz was shaking her head while Patti giggled). “I already know ya did. Ya ain’t the kinda guy who’d avoid sayin ‘no’.” Checkmate. “I just wanna hear you admit it.” Victory and gloating. Hardly the most graceful winner.
Backed into a corner or not, there was no way in hell Stein was answering that. And certainly not in the positive. “I’m not about to start stroking your ego; it’s big enough already, I think.” He stood, the mostly uneaten-pancake still oozing syrup down the sides of the stack. “Besides, I have a class to get to in the next twelve minutes.”
He crossed to the door without Giriko saying a word. Or moving. Or acting like he was affected by it at all. Must have been how his senpai got like that, he thought bitterly. It wasn’t until Stein was halfway out the door that the rouge weapon made any indication that he noticed Stein got up at all. “‘Ey. When’ll I see ya again?”
Stein was silent for a long moment, seriously pondering the question. Technically, he didn’t have an early class tomorrow so he could come back tonight and get to properly enjoy his pancakes without rushing out the door, which was certainly a nice ide- “Whenever Arachnophobia next decides to try and fuck us over,” Stein sneered, pulling the door shut behind him.
Or maybe tonight. Whichever came first.
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That was totally adorable andtoobadweneverfinishedthatthread.
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I'm glad you liked it! Poor Giriko made me wibble a bit too. Anditistoobad. We should totally just go back to it one of these days. /brb, making a new Stein account
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