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]

It doesn't take Undertaker long to notice that there's something horribly, horribly wrong in his kitchen. And it takes even less time for him to ascent the rickety basement stairs without a single sound despite the groaning wood and his heels. Passing through the threshold of the kitchen and all but manifests behind the small form of his dear housemate. While the young man had come to be something of a strangely halfway if-you-squint-a-little-bit son to him, there were still things left unknown to him. Still parts of Veser's past that he could nearly smell, the violence and trauma wafting from his soul in such a way reminiscent of his Earl, were left unexplored. It is part of what makes Undertaker enjoy such company-

other than the fact that he brings home the most delightful of friends

[sealbait]

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Veser gives a loud squawk. He's used to his landlord being up and around at odd hours but dammit, he does not like being sneaked up on. "Shit, Undertaker, don't do that!"

[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

[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."

[gotsomebadnoose]

Lee glanced up from his book, blue eyes trailing after the receding form of the undertaker. Furrowing his brows, he drifts after, phasing through the furniture and up the stairwell.

The place was homely. Large. It gave Lee breathing room...allowed him to drift from his corpse, to not have to look at that empty husk. Here he could pass himself off as another person. Not physically of course, but in conversation in the least. Undertaker and Veser served as fine company (Veser did keep him company and thankfully not in the way he had intended prior to his arrival here).

The meek spirit pauses on the stairway, takes a long look at the opposite wall, and presses through it, appearing in the kitchen. He drinks in the sight and his brows shoot up in worry.

"...Ves?"

He looks past the both of them at the grey smoldering lump.

[sealbait]

Veser glances over his shoulder at Lee, his expression a mixture of sheepish and a put-on grin to hide said sheepishness. "Hey, Lee, don't mind me. I'm just wrecking the kitchen." A statement not far from the truth if the flour on the cabinets, counter and Veser himself are any indication.