[This conversation is going places, apparently... though he stares uncomprehending at Baren standing in front of him, until it occurs he can just... walk around him...
[He makes a gesture at the fridge, nearly collides his hand into the counter, how does this man function on a daily basis. Well regardless, he's gonna start gathering ingredients he thinks go into a cake?
Like flour, right? Sugar too, that makes sense. Uh... vanilla abstract, perhaps? Oh water! Gotta have water to make everything wet and stick together.
Turning to Baren with literally a mess of ingredients held in his arms because he hasn't thought to put them down yet]
[ . . . . he sure is moving less confidently than usual? Baren watches, blinking curiously before going to sit on the counter as he normally does. This is his space now.]
... You crave cake when you're drunk?
That's new.
[how deep in denial is he going to be that sanji is making a damn cake for him]
[IGNORING THE FUCK OUT OF BAREN'S STUPID, Sanij's got his own hideous mistakes to focus on. His brows furrow with some confusion before he turns to glance over at Baren again]
I don't need my counter smelling like your ass, y'know.
[He doesn't even care; Sanji just thought his slurred statement was clever...]
[Hello Baren and welcome to the embarrassment known as Your Ex.
Also he hears that note of judging. Sanji sends him a snappy side-eye before finally throwing his burdens on the counter, half of them flopping over in their containers.]
[So no, no black out. His eyes are dilated to hell and back, but he's sorta cognitively aware? No drunker than Baren has ever seen him.
But anyway, back to the mess of ingredients that stare accusingly from the counter. Arms folded, Sanji studies them with uncertainty, like an American trying to read Sanskrit for the first time.]
.. Oh, right. [Snapping his fingers in triumph] Oven. Gotta... gotta set that shit at something.
[it's his birthday and sanji's making him a cake so he'll be nice.
in the sense that instead he's just going to completely reverse the order of sanji's closet so that it's a mirror image of how it was before baren got there.
anyway.
he returns back with a bottle of wine, triumphant. he hums a happy tune as he settles himself on the couch and waits for the fire alarm]
[The moment Baren's birthday passes, Sanji is going to blow up his phone with curse words in twenty different languages.
But for now, uh--]
Shit, wait wait-- Oi, don't spill on me!!
[It's not a fire alarm, but there's clearly a problem in paradise, quickly followed by a smack of something falling and the subsequent hollers of failure]
Baren considers waiting it out - but then he realizes that he kind of wants a cake? He might not want Sanji's cake though. So he'll wander back over to the kitchen and peer his head in to see what's up.]
Or whatever Sanji's made of it at this point. Turns out he spilled the flour, so there's a disaster zone of snow on both the counter and the floor, with Sanji standing back to survey the damage with a flat stare.
Can you glare a cake into existence? He's about to fuckin try.]
... Shitty wine.
[THE OBVIOUS PROBLEM.]
Mah, well... I still got enough left for a small cake.
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[This conversation is going places, apparently... though he stares uncomprehending at Baren standing in front of him, until it occurs he can just... walk around him...
... Toward the kitchen...]
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[this is the dumbest they've ever sounded around each other and only one of them is drunk
but baren will?? follow into the kitchen?]
You just - casually had a cake?
[assuming it already exists... because sanji wouldn't just. make him a cake right.]
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[He makes a gesture at the fridge, nearly collides his hand into the counter, how does this man function on a daily basis. Well regardless, he's gonna start gathering ingredients he thinks go into a cake?
Like flour, right? Sugar too, that makes sense. Uh... vanilla abstract, perhaps? Oh water! Gotta have water to make everything wet and stick together.
Turning to Baren with literally a mess of ingredients held in his arms because he hasn't thought to put them down yet]
Gotta gimme time to make it first.
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... You crave cake when you're drunk?
That's new.
[how deep in denial is he going to be that sanji is making a damn cake for him]
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[IGNORING THE FUCK OUT OF BAREN'S STUPID, Sanij's got his own hideous mistakes to focus on. His brows furrow with some confusion before he turns to glance over at Baren again]
I don't need my counter smelling like your ass, y'know.
[He doesn't even care; Sanji just thought his slurred statement was clever...]
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Yes?
[WHY DOESN'T SANJI KNOWS THIS.... WHERE IS HIS MAGIC PERFECT COOKING]
Also shut the fuck up, until recently I spent more time in this kitchen than you.
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Also he hears that note of judging. Sanji sends him a snappy side-eye before finally throwing his burdens on the counter, half of them flopping over in their containers.]
Fuck off, it's the-- the wine!
[... muttering darkly]
Wine can do that, right...
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No.
[NO MERCY]
Are you in the middle of blacking out? Is that what's happening?
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[So no, no black out. His eyes are dilated to hell and back, but he's sorta cognitively aware? No drunker than Baren has ever seen him.
But anyway, back to the mess of ingredients that stare accusingly from the counter. Arms folded, Sanji studies them with uncertainty, like an American trying to read Sanskrit for the first time.]
.. Oh, right. [Snapping his fingers in triumph] Oven. Gotta... gotta set that shit at something.
[... 500F is a fine temperature for a cake.]
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A long, long, long silence.]
Are you trying to bait me into making you a cake.
[wAS THIS ALL AN ELABORATE RUSE, SANJI]
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[Head swiveling a near 180 degrees like some demonic bobble head]
Why would I make you make your own cake? Of course I'm making it!
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Why the fuck would I expect you to make a cake for my birthday?!
I came here for Snoop Dogg and Animal Planet!!
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[WE ARE HUMANS, BAREN.
WE ADAPT TO THE SITUATION.]
It doesn't even take that long to make, so shut up and sit down somewhere while I make you a goddamn cake!
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If you burn your apartment down, I'm gonna kick your ass!!
[but that's like
totally an opportunity for an exit so he's gonna head out and then go to find their fucking animal planet show before he dies of flustered discomfort]
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-- Also from over the kitchen counter, long after Baren has taken a seat:]
And don't go drinking any of my wine!
[Sanji you drank all of the wine--]
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[but
yeah
he was looking]
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What, really?
[Huh. He didn't think he hid the last bottle that well.]
You didn't check my room, yet?
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it's the sound of sanji's bedroom door closing and being locked until baren finds the fucking missing wine bottle]
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ICON, I AM IN THE PROCESS OF ACTUALLY DYING
-- Oi, Baren?!
[A man's room is sacred, GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE???]
Shithead, you better not touch anything!
[Like that time Baren shifted everything two inches to the right and Sanji has twenty simultaneous heart attacks, he knows that was you, bastard.]
BAREN'S TRUE GREMLIN FORM
in the sense that instead he's just going to completely reverse the order of sanji's closet so that it's a mirror image of how it was before baren got there.
anyway.
he returns back with a bottle of wine, triumphant. he hums a happy tune as he settles himself on the couch and waits for the fire alarm]
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But for now, uh--]
Shit, wait wait-- Oi, don't spill on me!!
[It's not a fire alarm, but there's clearly a problem in paradise, quickly followed by a smack of something falling and the subsequent hollers of failure]
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Baren considers waiting it out - but then he realizes that he kind of wants a cake? He might not want Sanji's cake though. So he'll wander back over to the kitchen and peer his head in to see what's up.]
Man Versus Cake.... Round One.
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Or whatever Sanji's made of it at this point. Turns out he spilled the flour, so there's a disaster zone of snow on both the counter and the floor, with Sanji standing back to survey the damage with a flat stare.
Can you glare a cake into existence? He's about to fuckin try.]
... Shitty wine.
[THE OBVIOUS PROBLEM.]
Mah, well... I still got enough left for a small cake.
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Baren, meanwhile, is trying so hard not to laugh as he just silently goes to pick up some of the spilled flour on the floor into his hands and just.
Lays his hands flat like an airport runway and then suddenly blows off all the excess flour to assault Sanji's face.]
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[So roars the chef like he doesn't have a mask of flour caked around his eyes like a dollar-store raccoon toy.]
Stop distracting me already!
STOP NOW YOU HAVE THE WORST ICON
/WINS THE WAR
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