[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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[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.