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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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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?"

Cal is going to start thinking about investing a helmet soon.

"I did," he says promptly.

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

"Pillock."

"You already said that," Cal points out loftily. And he still doesn't know what it is.

"Yeah, but you still are one, so that's okay."

"What, it didn't change?"

Oh, what the hell. "What is a pillock, anyway? And if you say 'you,'" he adds, "I will smack you."

Amused, "Cal, I didn't know you liked that sort of thing."

Aaaaanyway. "A prat. An idiot. A dork. Something like that."

Cal looks confused for a second or three, then snorts. "Hardly. And I am not."

Some retorts you never outgrow.

"Are too!"

And no-one ever said that living forever made you mature. It just made you old.

"Am not!"

Yeah, he's laughing at himself even as he says it.

He still says it, though.

"Are too!" Nudging him.

Oh, the ~~humanity~~ maturity.

This time, Cal just laughs, leaning against Sam a little.

He really did need the laugh.

Sam laughs too, sliding an arm around Cal companionably.

"I win."

:D?

"What do you win?"

He can kinda guess the answer to that. Or at least, he can guess Sam's answer to that. But he's comfortable and, despite everything, feeling a thousand percent better than he was before, and he doesn't really mind so much.

"I don't know." Eyes dancing. "What do you think I win?"

Cal's expression is suddenly quite serious as he looks at Sam.

"What do you want?"

He quirks an eyebrow, and this time he's more serious, though not quite as serious as Cal.

"What do you want?"

Once more caught off-guard. Cal looks away, awkward, unable to hold eye contact.

"I, uh. I don't know."

So Sam's gathered.

He threads a hand through Cal's hair again. "Okay, rephrase. What don't you want?"

"To not be having this conversation?" Cal offers weakly. Well. It's true. He sighs, though, and says,

"Don't know that, either. I'm a lot of help today, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam admits, offering a slight smile. "But I'll cope."

Cal makes a slight face. "Sorry. Uh, I'm probably more confused than you are, if that helps at all."

Sam, and the things that come with him, are very confusing for Cal after a certain point. Not least because he refuses to just sit down and try to deal with it. He hasn't really got the tools for that. Dealing with the sudden question of sexuality at Cal's age is overwhelming enough without all the extra baggage he's got to go with it.

"So I've gathered." Sam laughs, a little, and strokes Cal's hair.

"Well, it's not like there's any rush."

"I know." Cal leans into it a little without really thinking about it. It may be inevitable (as far as Cal can judge, anyway), but Sam is patient, and not in that fake-polite way, either. If anyone ends up rushing things, it will be Cal. Probably out of sheer nerves.

"I thought I got all this adolescent crap out of the way already," he grumbles.