Pamcakes For Two, Please.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters in this fic, nor do I own Hellboy.
So nyaah, all you flamers! :p
*****
Crash!
Professor Broom winced at the sound of the smashing china. Looking over his shoulder and over the back of his chair, he could see a small shadow in the light coming from the kitchen. "Augh," he moaned to nobody and, setting his book and cocoa on the coffee table, pulled himself to his feet and off to
the kitchen.
Once there, he found just what he had expected: a scattering of broken dishes and silver utensils on the floor, along with the dozen or so boxes and cans of food. Out of the blue, a can flew from behind the other end of
the table, whacking the professor right on the head. "Ow!" he cried, looking about for his perpetrator for the heinous crime of attacking him
with Spam. "Hellboy! Hellboy, where are you?!"
The clamoring under the table stopped abruptly and Broom could hear a faint scuffling coming from where the can had exploded from. And then, slowly but surely, a red-skinned and horned little head peeped over the edge of the table, yellow eyes full of what an awful lot like the same expression of a child caught with the chocolate cake meant for dessert all over his face.
Now that Broom got a good look at the demon child, he could see a smudge of
brown on his cheek.
"Hellboy, what are you doing?"
The child waddled forward, barely able to keep from dragging his monster of a glove along the ground, and plopped down in front of the man, pointing
his smaller hand into his mouth. This gesture, together with a few demanding grunts and squeaks, cleared up the mystery of his noisy search:
the little bugger was hungry.
"Oh, it's food you want..." Broom looked about the ravaged kitchen nervously. Hellboy had been at the base for less than a week...how was he
supposed to feed a supposed bringer of the Apocalypse who was less than three feet tall? It wasn't like there were currently any "How To Feed Your
Demon" books out on the market.
Taking a guess and hoping that demons were particular to other things
beside souls of the damned, Broom grabbed a banana from the counter.
Peeling it to expose the more edible substance inside, he handed it to
Hellboy. "How's that?"
Hellboy didn't look so sure. He took a cautious sniff first, then a lick, followed by a bite. A look of utter horror and disgust flashed over his red
face and he spat it out...all over the professor's good shirt and tie. Scraping his tongue with his glove like a cat might, he tried to get the
taste out of his mouth.
Broom looked down at his shirt, his favorite one, now utterly ruined, and
sighed once more. This wasn't going to be a picnic.
An hour later, they had tried ham sandwiches ("Arugh!" said Hellboy),
pudding ("Uckie!"), more fruit and vegetables ("Eeeyuck!"), and several different cereals (Hellboy's opinion ranged somewhere between one of the three former exclamations). Exhausted, both mentally and physically, Broom
collapsed in a chair. He pulled out a hankie and patted his forehead
delicately. "Just my luck," he muttered under his breath so Hellboy
couldn't hear, "that I would be put in charge of the pickiest demon
alive...!"
He sat there for a moment, trying to recover his breath and wondering if this was only the beginning of a lifetime of difficulties for him. What was he going to do when Hellboy wanted to explore more of the world? Sure, he was content with the New Mexico base right now, but soon he would grow up and want something new. And this only brought up more questions; how big would Hellboy be? Not even a week old, and he was growing like a weed! How
were they to know what would be good for them and bad for them, or the
exact opposite?
And, worst of all, what would happen if the public got their hands on this rare little child? Kill him? Shut him in a cage and put him on display like
an animal? Or – and Broom shivered as the notion snuck into his mind –
would they put him through millions of tests and damn him to a life of study simply because of the way he had been born? The thoughts ensuing in
the young professor were terrifying even just to think about.
It was a tug on his pant leg that brought him out of his conscious
nightmare.
Looking down, Broom saw his charge once more. Because he had been so deeply involved with his somber speculations, he had never heard the little one still searching for food in the kitchen. As a result, every single cabinet and container in the room had been torn open with the ferocity of a...well,
a demon. Flour covered the room like a thin veil. Sticky jam and peanut
butter was on the floor, along with more shattered dishes and glasses.
Broom groaned and put a hand over his eyes to hide himself from the mess.
"Oh, Hellboy, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with you?"
Of course, the red child understood little or nothing of the professor's words. He cocked his head, a look of confusion and interest in his bright golden eyes. Broom let his hand fall to the armrest and the two stared at one another. Two beings who couldn't be anymore different and yet...when
Broom looked down on the utterly helpless – oh, he just had to say it – baby, he could feel an paternal love well up into a knot in his chest that
threatened to consume him.
He reached down and Hellboy immediately raised his arms to greet the man.
Pulling him up into his arms and trying to ignore the feel of the stone hand against his chest, Broom rose and said aloud, "Now, lets see if we can find anything, my boy. Let's see...we've got sugar, bananas – yes, yes, I
know, you don't like bananas – and we've got...oh, wait."
It was then he saw the box on the floor.
"How about pancakes, Hellboy?"
"Gugh."
*****
For once, the child had been quite patient, sitting quietly in fascination as he watched Broom first mix the batter and, once it was on the pan, flip it high into the air. Every time one of the fat slabs of bread would fly in the air, he'd clap as best he could with a glove nearly as big as he was
and squeal with laughter. It was music to Broom's ears. Mister Mom, he
thought in the back of his mind as he slid a lovely tan pancake onto Hellboy's plate (only one had survived the youngster's pantry raid). Not even bothering with forks and knives, Hellboy grasped it with both hands
and bit it, too hungry to test it first. Broom waited for "Uckie!" or "Aurgh!" to escape from his mouth, but no such sounds came forth. All he
heard was the wonderful sounds of a very, very happy child.
A very, very, very happy child; Hellboy's mouth smacked at an alarming rate
and he barely seemed to be stopping for breath. In what just might have been record time, Hellboy had consumed a pancake the size of his head. Now he stared up at Broom, tail wagging like a puppy's, hope in his big eyes.
Broom laughed out loud, the first time in quite a while. "Pancakes, huh?
That's healthy for a growing demon."
"Pamcakes!" Hellboy shouted enthusiastically.
Broom's mouth unhinged. Hellboy's first word...he'd been expecting
something more like "Daddy" or "Broom"...not "Pamcakes!" It was a tad
disappointing.
"No, no, Hellboy. Pancakes. Not pamcakes."
"Pamcakes!"
"Hellboy—"
"Pamcakes, pamcakes, pamcakes!"
The professor threw up his hands in defense. "Fine, have it your way! Stubborn little..." He shook his head and handed over the rest. They never even touched the plate, gobbled up into Hellboy's mouth at lightning speed.
And, still, he wasn't full.
Actually, it took four more "pamcakes" to fill his belly. Thankfully, it stopped there; Broom had run out of mix. With a small burp of satisfaction, Hellboy slumped in his chair. His eyes fluttered sleepily. Spying the signs of a fully tummy and, therefore, a drowsy child, Broom scooped up Hellboy and cradled him in the nook of his arm. Letting loose a great yawn, Hellboy nestled into Broom's chest and soon the sounds of snoring came to Broom's
ears.
Broom walked to the door and stood there, looking back at the mess he was leaving behind. He suddenly saw another box of baking mix peeping out of
the cupboard.
"Looks like we're having pamcakes for breakfast."
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters in this fic, nor do I own Hellboy.
So nyaah, all you flamers! :p
*****
Crash!
Professor Broom winced at the sound of the smashing china. Looking over his shoulder and over the back of his chair, he could see a small shadow in the light coming from the kitchen. "Augh," he moaned to nobody and, setting his book and cocoa on the coffee table, pulled himself to his feet and off to
the kitchen.
Once there, he found just what he had expected: a scattering of broken dishes and silver utensils on the floor, along with the dozen or so boxes and cans of food. Out of the blue, a can flew from behind the other end of
the table, whacking the professor right on the head. "Ow!" he cried, looking about for his perpetrator for the heinous crime of attacking him
with Spam. "Hellboy! Hellboy, where are you?!"
The clamoring under the table stopped abruptly and Broom could hear a faint scuffling coming from where the can had exploded from. And then, slowly but surely, a red-skinned and horned little head peeped over the edge of the table, yellow eyes full of what an awful lot like the same expression of a child caught with the chocolate cake meant for dessert all over his face.
Now that Broom got a good look at the demon child, he could see a smudge of
brown on his cheek.
"Hellboy, what are you doing?"
The child waddled forward, barely able to keep from dragging his monster of a glove along the ground, and plopped down in front of the man, pointing
his smaller hand into his mouth. This gesture, together with a few demanding grunts and squeaks, cleared up the mystery of his noisy search:
the little bugger was hungry.
"Oh, it's food you want..." Broom looked about the ravaged kitchen nervously. Hellboy had been at the base for less than a week...how was he
supposed to feed a supposed bringer of the Apocalypse who was less than three feet tall? It wasn't like there were currently any "How To Feed Your
Demon" books out on the market.
Taking a guess and hoping that demons were particular to other things
beside souls of the damned, Broom grabbed a banana from the counter.
Peeling it to expose the more edible substance inside, he handed it to
Hellboy. "How's that?"
Hellboy didn't look so sure. He took a cautious sniff first, then a lick, followed by a bite. A look of utter horror and disgust flashed over his red
face and he spat it out...all over the professor's good shirt and tie. Scraping his tongue with his glove like a cat might, he tried to get the
taste out of his mouth.
Broom looked down at his shirt, his favorite one, now utterly ruined, and
sighed once more. This wasn't going to be a picnic.
An hour later, they had tried ham sandwiches ("Arugh!" said Hellboy),
pudding ("Uckie!"), more fruit and vegetables ("Eeeyuck!"), and several different cereals (Hellboy's opinion ranged somewhere between one of the three former exclamations). Exhausted, both mentally and physically, Broom
collapsed in a chair. He pulled out a hankie and patted his forehead
delicately. "Just my luck," he muttered under his breath so Hellboy
couldn't hear, "that I would be put in charge of the pickiest demon
alive...!"
He sat there for a moment, trying to recover his breath and wondering if this was only the beginning of a lifetime of difficulties for him. What was he going to do when Hellboy wanted to explore more of the world? Sure, he was content with the New Mexico base right now, but soon he would grow up and want something new. And this only brought up more questions; how big would Hellboy be? Not even a week old, and he was growing like a weed! How
were they to know what would be good for them and bad for them, or the
exact opposite?
And, worst of all, what would happen if the public got their hands on this rare little child? Kill him? Shut him in a cage and put him on display like
an animal? Or – and Broom shivered as the notion snuck into his mind –
would they put him through millions of tests and damn him to a life of study simply because of the way he had been born? The thoughts ensuing in
the young professor were terrifying even just to think about.
It was a tug on his pant leg that brought him out of his conscious
nightmare.
Looking down, Broom saw his charge once more. Because he had been so deeply involved with his somber speculations, he had never heard the little one still searching for food in the kitchen. As a result, every single cabinet and container in the room had been torn open with the ferocity of a...well,
a demon. Flour covered the room like a thin veil. Sticky jam and peanut
butter was on the floor, along with more shattered dishes and glasses.
Broom groaned and put a hand over his eyes to hide himself from the mess.
"Oh, Hellboy, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with you?"
Of course, the red child understood little or nothing of the professor's words. He cocked his head, a look of confusion and interest in his bright golden eyes. Broom let his hand fall to the armrest and the two stared at one another. Two beings who couldn't be anymore different and yet...when
Broom looked down on the utterly helpless – oh, he just had to say it – baby, he could feel an paternal love well up into a knot in his chest that
threatened to consume him.
He reached down and Hellboy immediately raised his arms to greet the man.
Pulling him up into his arms and trying to ignore the feel of the stone hand against his chest, Broom rose and said aloud, "Now, lets see if we can find anything, my boy. Let's see...we've got sugar, bananas – yes, yes, I
know, you don't like bananas – and we've got...oh, wait."
It was then he saw the box on the floor.
"How about pancakes, Hellboy?"
"Gugh."
*****
For once, the child had been quite patient, sitting quietly in fascination as he watched Broom first mix the batter and, once it was on the pan, flip it high into the air. Every time one of the fat slabs of bread would fly in the air, he'd clap as best he could with a glove nearly as big as he was
and squeal with laughter. It was music to Broom's ears. Mister Mom, he
thought in the back of his mind as he slid a lovely tan pancake onto Hellboy's plate (only one had survived the youngster's pantry raid). Not even bothering with forks and knives, Hellboy grasped it with both hands
and bit it, too hungry to test it first. Broom waited for "Uckie!" or "Aurgh!" to escape from his mouth, but no such sounds came forth. All he
heard was the wonderful sounds of a very, very happy child.
A very, very, very happy child; Hellboy's mouth smacked at an alarming rate
and he barely seemed to be stopping for breath. In what just might have been record time, Hellboy had consumed a pancake the size of his head. Now he stared up at Broom, tail wagging like a puppy's, hope in his big eyes.
Broom laughed out loud, the first time in quite a while. "Pancakes, huh?
That's healthy for a growing demon."
"Pamcakes!" Hellboy shouted enthusiastically.
Broom's mouth unhinged. Hellboy's first word...he'd been expecting
something more like "Daddy" or "Broom"...not "Pamcakes!" It was a tad
disappointing.
"No, no, Hellboy. Pancakes. Not pamcakes."
"Pamcakes!"
"Hellboy—"
"Pamcakes, pamcakes, pamcakes!"
The professor threw up his hands in defense. "Fine, have it your way! Stubborn little..." He shook his head and handed over the rest. They never even touched the plate, gobbled up into Hellboy's mouth at lightning speed.
And, still, he wasn't full.
Actually, it took four more "pamcakes" to fill his belly. Thankfully, it stopped there; Broom had run out of mix. With a small burp of satisfaction, Hellboy slumped in his chair. His eyes fluttered sleepily. Spying the signs of a fully tummy and, therefore, a drowsy child, Broom scooped up Hellboy and cradled him in the nook of his arm. Letting loose a great yawn, Hellboy nestled into Broom's chest and soon the sounds of snoring came to Broom's
ears.
Broom walked to the door and stood there, looking back at the mess he was leaving behind. He suddenly saw another box of baking mix peeping out of
the cupboard.
"Looks like we're having pamcakes for breakfast."
