Chapter Text
The Art:
https://www.instagram.com/p/DQ9yNHbj9q5/?igsh=ZmtnYjNyZng1Z2Zw
The Creature paused outside of the ice cream shop and peered through the window adorned with a kitschy neon light fashioned in the shape of an ice cream cone.
His face was nearly pressed to the glass as he looked at the brightly lit interior. The ice cream shop had been open for a few years now, replacing a dentist’s office, which Elizabeth found amusing.
“Nothing sounds better than ice cream on a cold night,” Elizabeth said.
“What about cocoa?” Creach asked.
“That also sounds good, but I could go for ice cream any time of year.”
There was a tinsel border for the holidays and twinkling lights in an array of dazzling colors adding a festive frame to the window. As Elizabeth looked him over, it almost looked like he was in the middle of a holiday card.
“Do you want to go inside this time?” Elizabeth asked as she came up beside him and peered inside the ice cream shop. She placed her hand on the crook of his arm and watched a couple of teenagers placing their order.
Despite his enormous build, Creach seemed to shrink at the very thought of stepping outside of his comfort zone. Elizabeth peered up at his face partially hidden beneath a red scarf that matched his hat. Other than his height, winter proved to be an excellent time of the year to almost blend in with others.
Almost.
“No,” he said at last, frowning as if he knew that he was still too different to interact with others. “Not today.”
Elizabeth shrugged and turned to face him, standing on the tips of her toes to adjust the hat she’d knit for him. It was a bit lop-sided, but of course he didn’t complain. The scarf, which she had also made, came out better at least, and was so long and thick it looked like a crimson python had wrapped itself around his neck and head, hugging him.
Because yes, even a python wouldn’t have wanted to strangle him; it wouldn’t be able to get close enough for snuggles.
“Are you sure? I could go for some boozy ice cream,” she tempted.
The creature took one last look inside. “Next time,” he glumly said.
It wasn’t exactly an unexpected reply. He was her polar opposite in that respect: painfully shy and introverted while she would talk to anyone, anywhere, about anything.
Elizabeth gave his arm a squeeze of reassurance. “I am holding you to that, Creach. Let’s go home.”
oOo
Two weeks later…
“You said next time,” Elizabeth playfully said through her teeth as she tugged on The Creature’s arm. “It’s next time and I want my boozy ice cream. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
He was taller, stronger, and perfectly capable of slinging Elizabeth over his shoulder and carrying her down the street, far from the view of others, but he put up very little resistance. Elizabeth saw the twinkle in his dark eyes and knew that he wanted to step inside, but it was a big step for someone who was most comfortable on the couch under a blanket with snacks all around him.
Yes, the sparkle in his dark eyes could have been from the lights in the window, but she chose to believe that it was some inner glow that beckoned him toward an ice cream sundae.
“You’re going to love it,” Elizabeth assured him. “Ice cream is ah-mazing. Unless you’re lactose intolerant. You’re not lactose intolerant, are you?”
The glimmer in his eyes was replaced by a moment of terror. “Lactose intolerant? How would I know if I have an intolerance to lactose?”
“Well, do you ever drink milk with Victor?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you get sick afterwards? Gassy?”
The Creature shook his head.
“Wonderful, you should enjoy ice cream then.”
The Creature paused. “Do you get gassy?” he asked.
Elizabeth blew a raspberry. “Of course not, Creach. I’m a lady. Ladies do not toot. Remember?”
He blinked back at her. “But last night–”
“That was the dog. Not me.”
“But Sasha was next to me, not you.”
“Sasha defies the laws of physics, okay?”
“Oh.” He looked away, brow furrowed. “But Sasha is also a girl. How can she be gassy and not you?”
“I’m not sure how it all works, but just trust me on this one, okay?”
“Okay.” His eyes lit up and he smiled. “You want me to blame the dog. I understand.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Well, good, I’m glad we have that all straightened out. Now, are we ready?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure.”
“We can walk inside and then if you’re not ready, we can leave,” Elizabeth promised, reaching for his hand. “Ready?”
Somehow, the mittens, which she had also knitted for him, managed to fit his elongated fingers perfectly.
“Ready,” he said.
With that, Elizabeth led him into the ice cream shop and toward the two display cases filled with giant containers of ice cream, all labeled on the glass exterior.
“Okay, so the ones on the far left are booze-infused, which you can’t have because you’re only thirteen months old.”
Elizabeth could tell by his expression that The Creature wasn’t amused by her teasing.
“Then we have the vegan choices,” she said, pointing at the containers in the middle. “And then the rest are milk-derieved.”
The Creature looked from the ice cream cases to Elizabeth before he took a step back.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked with wide-eyed alarm.
“There are too many choices,” he said before he turned to walk out.
“Creach!”
The bourbon-infused ice cream would have to wait.
oOo
A week after New Year’s…
“Alright,” Elizabeth said. “You know the layout of the shop and the number of choices.”
“Yes,” The Creature agreed.
“Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Creatch!”
He looked so listless beneath his knit hat. “You said you wouldn’t be angry if I changed my mind.”
“Yes, yes you’re right and I did say that and I’m not disappointed, I promise.”
The Creature gaped at her. “I said angry. You said disappointed. Are you disappointed?”
Elizabeth made a face. “No, I’m not angry or disappointed, but they have bourbon ice cream that I really want to try and we walked six blocks after we missed the bus and–.”
“I will wait outside for you,” he offered.
Elizabeth sighed. She couldn’t leave him outside and not because she didn’t trust him to stay put, but because she knew that every dog in the neighborhood walking past would beg for his attention and he’d probably have a squirrel on his shoulder and a mouse in his pocket when she walked back out and, well, he was the reason why they had two kittens at home, plus a dog, and almost a pet skunk that thankfully Victor had vetoed–but not before being sprayed.
“We go in together,” Elizabeth said. “You don’t have to talk to anyone, either. I’ll order for you.”
He stared back at her with owlish eyes. “I can tell you what I want and you’ll order it for me?” he asked in a gravely voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Elizabeth brightly responded. “The only person you need to speak to is me.”
The Creature nodded. “I would like that.”
“I knew you would.” Elizabeth offered her hand. “Ready?”
He smiled back at her. “Ready.”
This time, Elizabeth was certain he meant it.
oOo
Seventeen minutes later…
The girl behind the counter with her space buns and pink and white pinstripe uniform crossed her arms and stared at The Creature while he surveyed the different choices.
“Any decisions yet?” she asked.
Creach bent and whispered in Elizabeth’s ear.
“A sample of Summer Peach,” Elizabeth requested.
“You can’t ask for a sample of the same flavor twice,” the girl said.
Elizabeth felt almost certain that Creach would turn around and walk out, but she kept her hand on his arm.
“Brookie butter,” Elizabeth said. “He will take a sample of brookie butter instead.”
“That’s your six-sample limit,” the girl reminded the two of them as she held out a tiny plastic spoon the same color as her pink hat.
“Well, he can have all six of my samples if he wants,” Elizabeth said.
And if he wanted a thirteenth sample? Elizabeth wasn’t above pulling the ‘Do you know who we are?’ card. Not that claiming to know Victor had proven to have any benefits at all. In fact, she was fairly certain that one place had charged her an extra twenty percent when she name dropped Dr. Frankenstein. In hindsight, she probably should have expected that.
“I am done sampling,” The creature said solemnly as he licked the spoon clean and deposited it into the tiny trash can shaped like an ice cream cone that sat on the counter.
For someone who had just consumed six samples of ice cream, Creach looked far too morose.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked. “You can have more.”
“I’m sure.”
“Is it because you reached your sample limit?” Elizabeth arched her brow. “Like I said, you can have mine. She can’t stop us.”
“That sounds like it’s against the rules,” he whispered.
“Ice cream shouldn’t have rules,” Elizabeth said loud enough for the girl at the counter to hear.
“Be nice to her, Elizabeth,” Creach said. “She is the only one allowed to scoop the ice cream.”
“This is very true. Thank you for reminding me.”
“I am good at reminding you,” Creach said.
Sometimes a little too good, but Elizabeth wasn’t going to tell him that, not when they were so close to eating ice cream at last.
“Do you know what you want?” she asked him.
Elizabeth could already tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to return home, snuggle beneath a half-dozen fresh from the dryer blankets, and watch the rest of a nature documentary about penguins.
“Creach?” Elizabeth said when he hesitated far longer than seemed necessary.
He worked his jaw in silence, scarred forehead wrinkling as his gaze darted back and forth. “A scoop of vanilla,” he said.
“Creach.” Elizabeth gave him a sideways look. “There are forty different flavor choices and two dozen toppings. Are you sure all you want is vanilla?”
“I–I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you sit by the window and think about it for a moment while I order my bourbon ice cream?”
“But then you will finish your ice cream before me,” he pointed out.
“And then I’ll help you eat yours. It’s fine, Creach. We aren’t in a rush.”
Judging by his expression, Elizabeth could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he still nodded and wandered toward the window where he took a seat in a chair with a heart-shaped backrest and gazed out the window, hands clasped in his lap.
Elizabeth ordered her two scoop bourbon infused ice cream with a caramel drizzle and glazed pecans and walked to the table.
“Still vanilla?” she asked.
Creach silently presented her a handwritten note on a piece of paper clearly meant for playing tic-tak-toe.
His handwriting was exactly what she expected for someone who had only been alive for a little over a year: barely legible, but in an endearing way.
Elizabeth squinted at the paper. “Limoncello?” she asked, gazing at The Creature for confirmation. He nodded. “Cookies and cream?” Another nod. “And the blue one?”
“Birthday cake,” he whispered as if all three choices were secret. “I think the blue one is birthday cake. It’s blue because of the frosting.”
“Oh, yes, probably.”
“If they don’t have cookies and cream, I will take mint chocolate chip or pistachio.”
Elizabeth slowly nodded. “You want those flavors?”
“Yes.”
“Together?” she asked.
Creatch looked uncertain. “Yes…”
“You want all three of these flavors together in one container?”
“....No…”
“You can have them together if you want.”
“But…should they be separated?” he asked.
Quite frankly, yes, Elizabeth thought to herself. Limoncello and birthday cake should have never joined forces while adding mint chocolate chip or pistachio to a three-scoop sundae? Madness.
But…Creach had made a list and gosh darn it did he look at her with those baleful puppy dog eyes. How could she possibly tell him he was about to single-handedly ruin a sundae?
“There’s more,” Creach said in his gravely rumble of a voice, his tone very much like he was a witness to a homicide. “On the back.”
Elizabeth flipped the page over. “It just says ‘everything’. What does that mean?”
Creach sat forward and whispered, “Toppings.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth studied the paper in her hand for a moment before meeting his hopeful eyes. “You mean you want every topping they have?”
He nodded. “All of them,” he quietly replied. “Unless that is impossible.”
“Don’t you worry, Creach. It’s absolutely possible.” Elizabeth didn’t know that for sure, but if her beloved friend wanted every single topping the store had, then he was going to get it.
However, she did have a sneaking suspicion that the girl at the counter was not going to be pleased.
“I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth promised. “Watch my ice cream, okay?”