milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Lazy Lucifer, sitting on a barstool with supper and a piratical purring kitten curled cutely on his shoulder.

Okay, quitting the awesomely awful alliteration now, alas.

Anyway. The eyepatch is flipped up, and the pirate's hat is set at a jaunty angle, not least because Shreddie keeps batting at it fascinatedly. Sam is tolerating this for now, even smiling - well, it tickles. And besides, it's kind of fun.

You live here long enough, you get used to Milliways' quirks. Most of them, anyway. Come bother the nautical Lucifer.

[Tiny tag: Pomona, Cal Chandler]

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That's okay. Sam is well aware that Jack Harkness has no virtue at all.

"Who said I was talking about Ianto?"

Confused pause as Cal is distracted from impending serious business by - well. Confusion.

"Weren't we - just - ?"

"Well." Laughing, "Not just Ianto, anyway."

"Oh." More coffee. Cal is used to discovering that the conversation he was having doesn't seem to be the one that the other person was having, but it's always discomfiting. Though it doesn't generally draw the kind of scorn here that it used to draw at home, which is nice.

All the same, he'll let Sam take over conversationally for a moment, till Cal catches up again.

Sam smiles at him, eyes dancing. "Dork."

Blink. "What?" Slightly defensive. He didn't do anything!

Right?

"Calm down." He leans over to thread his fingers through Cal's hair.

"I'm only teasing."

"I'm calm!" As clearly demonstrated by the exclamation point!

But the punctuation is Sam's fault. Has anyone in the history of the multiverse ever calmed down when told to do so?

Notably, however, Cal is not nearly worked up enough to offer any sort of objection to being touched.

Eyebrow.

This time, though, Sam doesn't say anything, just keeps moving his fingers through Cal's hair.

Cal colors a little and glances away.

"Sorry," he mutters.

Wryly, "It's all right, Cal."

Cal nods in acknowledgment. He's not sure what he did anyway, except get confused, but sometimes that's enough to owe someone an apology. Or at least act like you think you do.

He sips his coffee and tries to look normal.

"Not that I'm sure what you're apologising for, but anyway. I was just teasing."

He reaches for his own drink, taking a sip of rum.

What, Sam reads minds, too?

. . . actually, that is not out of the realm of possibility in this place. Surely it would have come up before now with Sam, though.

So Cal just glances up and says,

"It's usually a safe bet. Nobody ever complains about being apologized to."

Only when he's really trying. He's pretty damn good at reading Cal, though.

Lightly, "Want to bet?"

Cal rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure you could find something to bitch about," he says, smirking a little.

"I'm very imaginative," Sam agrees, laughing slightly.

"I've always got ideas."

This time Cal's voice is very dry.

"Yes, I know."

"Think you'll find a way to soldier on?"

Sam's own voice is light, but there's a faint, more serious undertone there.

. . . which Cal totally misses.

"Oh, I think I'll manage. Somehow," he says. The smirk is back. If it ever left entirely.

Mental facepalm. But he's smirking, so that's a good sign.

"Well, that's very comforting. I'd hate to think you weren't enjoy - I mean, finding some way to deal with my ideas."

"I get by," Cal says. "I suppose I could hide or something if I had to."

For someone so damn sensitive to some things, he can be really thickheaded at times.

This is true. Cal is lucky he's pretty, really.

"Aw. That'd be boring, though."

Whether he means for him or for Cal, Sam doesn't say.

It's what's gotten him through much of his life.

"Yeah, but I'd manage."

Of course it's about Cal. What isn't?

Sam thwaps at his head again, lightly.

"Who said anything about you?"