[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.
[sanji........ baren just surveys over the mess before he laughs again, leaning against the flour even if he's careful to pick the... least floury spot.]
Yeah, okay.
You know it doesn't have to, right? I never expected a cake in the first place. Let's just drink and watch shitty TV.
[Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the fact it's gonna be Baren's birthday. But Sanji's expression seizes briefly, not in pain but a vulnerable sort of discomfort that's quickly covered by a scowl. Two seconds later and he shoves his hands into his pockets with an overdone sigh.]
Whatever. It's your birthday.
[Apparently, Baren gets to make the rules tonight.]
[Baren laughs at that easily, waving a hand. He goes to turn off the oven before a disaster strikes and also generally cleans up what can be salvaged in a quick minute - and then he shrugs.]
You don't have to. The show was good enough.
[He had a laugh? So he's happy. The fact that Sanji even wanted to make him a cake for his birthday makes him puff up like a dumb tsun, full of fluster and confusion.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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
Stop being an easy target! C'mon, where's the cake!
/WINS THE WAR
[Gesturing to the mess on the counter in earnest as he wipes his face of flour.]
It's just --- gimme a sec, I'm sure it'll come to me.
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Yeah, okay.
You know it doesn't have to, right? I never expected a cake in the first place. Let's just drink and watch shitty TV.
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[Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the fact it's gonna be Baren's birthday. But Sanji's expression seizes briefly, not in pain but a vulnerable sort of discomfort that's quickly covered by a scowl. Two seconds later and he shoves his hands into his pockets with an overdone sigh.]
Whatever. It's your birthday.
[Apparently, Baren gets to make the rules tonight.]
I'll make it for ya later.
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You don't have to. The show was good enough.
[He had a laugh? So he's happy. The fact that Sanji even wanted to make him a cake for his birthday makes him puff up like a dumb tsun, full of fluster and confusion.
So he'd rather not revisit it.]
Don't sweat it, Sanj. I'm good.