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Most people were not exactly pleased to find themselves plucked from home and dropped into a new, strange, and dangerous world. Those who were pretty pleased had one thing in common: in one manner or another, they were getting laid.

Needless to say, Angelo is quite pleased with Kansas at the moment.

It doesn't mean he likes the country, though. He's a city boy through and through and Snow Valley had been bad enough, with the nearest Metropolis a few hours drive. Kansas? Post-apocalyptic Kansas? Not so much with the good or fun or interesting.

But there is a boat. And a giant rock bunker. And also a big hole in the ground. None of which are quite as good as, say, a mall or a movie theater or a club, but still something to wander around outside the Cooper house and look at.

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Angelo notices the sniffling first, the kraken second, the hole third, and the nappies fourth. All of these things result in the following:

"...what the fuck?"

Angelo's talking to him! That must mean he loves him.

Spots stretches out a hopeful tentacle towards him, and looks up at him with big, damp, soulful eyes.

"....daddy?"

That eyebrow is trying to merge with Angelo's hairline as he takes a step back away from the thing. Like Leech and Artie weren't bad enough... at least Everett isn't around to guilt him into building a treehouse for the... squidy thing.

"Nope, lo siento, uh... squid thing. Not your daddy."

Look, Spots! Daddy's here!

Gabriel has taken the precaution, lately, of visiting the kraken pool every hour or two with snackables and a fresh kraken nappy, just in case. It's been ninety minutes give or take since the last one, so it's about time.

A slight nod to Angelo as he makes a beeline past the shorter man (because seriously, everyone's shorter than Gabriel Gray) on his way to his squidbaby.

He's heard enough of the above conversation to grin fondly at the kraken and murmur, "Looking for me?" in a terrifyingly accurate approximation of that voice parents use on their small, adorable children.

Spots sinks down to the ground, melting into a puddle of tentacles and big sploshy tears.

"No! Daddy!"

-- OOOH THERE'S DADDY! He brightens impossibly.

"Daddy!!!!"

Angelo watches the taller (it's okay because Angelo's kind of used to being short - hello, Jono) man go past him, down to the kraken, and then... baby-talk to it.

"...do I even wanna know what his mama looked like?"

This is mostly a rhetorical question.

"I'm not his biological father," Gabriel answers with a trace of irritability, giving Spots a one-armed hug hello. "Hungry, Spots? I brought snacks! --Stephen and I found him on the coast of California and have been caring for him ever since. He's charming once you get to know him, really."

Spots is very hungry! He hasn't had any delicious flesh of drowned sailors since that loud flash put him here.

He eats his snacks happily, and tries to eat Gabe's hand with it.

Aw. Too firm. :(

Poor Spots. Trying to eat his Daddy.

Angelo still isn't too sure about all this.

"Charming enough t'eat the hand that feeds him?"

"No, Spots," he tells his krakenbaby firmly, disengaging his hand and looking up at Angelo apologetically. "He just doesn't know any better yet, that's all."

"No!" Spots repeats, and slithers tentaculaciously up Gabe's chest to cuddle around his neck, affectionately.

"Mummy?"

Angelo is not smirking.

No. Really. He's not.

That would be rude.

Just like giving Gabe a very curious, very amused smirk would be very rude.

...but not out of character.

Spots gets cuddles and head-patting.

Angelo gets a sharp look.

Yeah, Angelo. Take that.

Spots strokes Gabe's cheek fondly and extends a tentacle hopefully towards Angelo. Come, embrace, be eaten, Angie!

No, no. That's cool. Spots may be cute but the only way Angelo's going to pet him is from a distance and Gabe is a new person, so suddenly extending a finger a couple of feet over may or may not sit well.

He can wave, though. Hello, creepy thing!

The narration is not honestly certain Gabriel would notice. It might be noted at this point that, in the rare moments when he's not directly occupied with Spots and allows his mind to wander, Gabriel's face showcases a milder, more subdued version of Angelo's own just-got-laid grin. If one were forced to put a name to this grin, one might term it the just-made-out-with-a-boy-repeatedly-and-still-slightly-terrified-one-is-going-to-go-to-hell-for-the-indiscretion grin. (It's good that one is not so forced, really, or one would have to be ashamed of one's lengthy nomenclature.)

Spots would be jealous if he knew. ONLY HE IS ALLOWED TO CUDDLE DADDIES.

His little baculitic face lights up with joy when Angelo waves, though, big eyes positively glowing with delight, and lets out a happy burble into Gabriel's neck.

"No no no mamamamama."

This means "YOU ARE MY NEW BFF, ANGELO," only Spots has a kind of limited vocabulary.

As it is, Angelo quite likes his current definition of Spots' vocabulary which translates to something like 'Angelo, you are very nice and totally awesome and far too manly to ever be mistaken for my mother as the guy cuddling me is often mistaken.'

And since all three narrations are discussing the unspoken, it should be mentioned that, were he aware of it, Angelo would be appreciative of Gabe's discretion concerning his boy-makeouts. It has nothing to do with Angelo's own personal religion (kinda) and more to do with the boy being straighter than a ruler.

But back to what has actually been said:

"Uh... yeah, okay, hi, little guy."

"See? I told you he's friendly."

Smug Gabriel! PROVEN RIGHT AGAIN. TAKE THAT, SKEPTICAL ANGELO.

--the characteristic smug superiority is heavily tempered by the fact that Gabe's rather busy snuggling his bacubaby. D'aww.

His hungry bacubaby. These mussels and things are all right, but when is he getting some dead flesh?

Cautiously, he tries to nibble Gabe's shoulder again, with a very hopeful expression.

"An' I'm sure he's trying to consume you outta the love and compassion of his heart," Angelo replies, vry vry srs while he nods.

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