A seal, a mortician and a dead guy celebrate Father's Day-

[sealbait]

Who: sealbait and his thecorpsedaddy gotsomebadnoose
When: Father's Day morning, around 8:30 am.
Where: Undertaker's mortuary
Summary: Veser tries to do something nice for his two not!dads on Father's Day before the beach party- all does not go a planned.
Warnings: Undertaker being an affectionate creeper, Veser's lack of a brain to mouth filter, a corpse at the kitchen table?

Comments

[cadaverdaddy]

A moment of debilitating laughter left Undertaker utterly prone on the floor, curling in on himself to try and calm the pain in his chest. The mere force of his laughter rang in the air loud enough to wake the neighbors, if there were any (that weren't dead). Rolling onto his back, his shoulders seized like some sort of medical fit as one hand cupped the side of his face. Veser was always the most entertaining, and he did adore him so. Drool trailed its way from one corner of his mouth down to his chin before his sleeve was rubbed there to get rid of it.

Another long, content giggle as he was able to get himself back onto his feet- a miracle with how off balance he seemed to be on most occasions. "You mustn't make it so fun, Veser, if you wish for me to stop~" And his arms wrapped around the boy's body, smothering him in black robes and sleeves and skeletal hands. Undertaker's chin settled on one of the bony shoulders. "So what might you be doing here? Necromancy requires a little more preparation than this."

'This' being the attempt at a cake.

[sealbait]

Veser scowled and waited impatiently for the laughing fit to end- his temper was shorter than usual today. He needed to be at the beach in a few hours and he was going to need a shit ton of caffeine to be even be able to function, let alone sing.

He made a small irritated noise as the older man draped himself over his shoulders but didn't shrug him off. "Yeah, ha ha ha. I can't cook. Fucking hysterical."

[cadaverdaddy]

The laughter died away after another moment and Undertaker dragged himself with the help of the counter up onto his feet again. The moment his legs were under him for support, his hands flew to trace the frame of Veser's face again. Nails over forehead and cheek, palm on chin as he rested his head sideways on the crest of the boy's. His thumb brushed just over that scare he found so endearing (so like his own).

"If you wish, I can teach you how, Veser~" A coo, something eerie and still strangely gentle. The same whisper he used often when trying to coax his preservation fluid through particularly difficult capillaries.