- Cravings -


(Hanna is Not a Boy's Name/HiNaBN (c) Miss Tessa Stone - Fanfiction Text (c) L.Q. Coverdale. Content includes some minor language.)


It was soft, squishy and sweet, not too cool but not too hot as to be mushy. It was doughy, it was fluffy, and it melted in his mouth faster than butter. It was speckled with tangy, bittersweet goodness, leaving such a sensation upon his lips that could only be described as heavenly.

Hanna pealed down the sidewalk after an infuriatingly long night at work. His mouth oozed with the pang of hunger, saliva pooling on his tongue as he thought about the steamy goodness that awaited him. Sticky, syrupy, more seductive than the most womanly of sirens ... and the smell. Oh god, the smell. Women would be all over his skinny little frame if they could bottle that delicious, delicious scent.

The apartment was not coming up fast enough. He wanted it, dammit! He wanted it more than a fishing trip with Conrad, or learning new runes, or even flying a giant paper airplane. It called to him, singing his name - Hanna, Hanna, oh come and see us, Hanna ... we fluffy pillows of golden brown sing to you ... take us into your mouth, Hanna ... let us be devoured, Hanna ... we lust for you, Hanna, as you do for us -

Okay, now it sounded a liiiiiittle creepy, but hey, he'd only had three hours of sleep from a pre-work nap. That was on top of having roughly the same amount of sleep each night for the past week. But with a shiny new paycheque to buy the good things in life with, the thought of what awaited Hanna at home gave him a strength he could not explain. It was like the feeling one had after going to the bathroom after waiting a horrendously long time, or the feeling one had after someone turned down anything that was not the classics, therefore easing a vicious headache. Yes, Hanna's feet could have sprout wings, he was feeling that refreshed.

The door banged open. His feet pounded the steps. Circles of life, sustenance of all, the most delicious thing since dessert and soaked in (literally) the nectar of life - oh, Hanna could swear it was in his hands now. More beautiful than flowers, more addicting than a cigarette to Worth on a stressful day -

Bam!

"Morning Pedro!"

"Good morning, Hanna. How was work?"

Pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be exact, fresh off the stove and held by an apron-clad zombie Hanna had a name for every day. The thunder that Hanna's stomach produced for his long-awaited breakfast was as loud and abrupt as television static after a VHS movie's credits.