(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim bounces in through the front door with a grin on his face, looking tanned and chilled, California style. The smile dims a bit when he sees the bar but eh, why not stay for a drink? He pulls his shades up and rests them on his head, jumping up on to a stool and getting comfy.

'C'mon then, lets have it.'

Bar obliges with presenting a birthday cake. Jim pretends to be surprised, hand over his heart and everything.

'For me? You shouldn't have. Especially as you're an entire week late, darling.'

The cake disappears, only for another one to turn up in its place. This one is far more elegant than the previous chocolate one. It's got smooth white icing, with silver rings as decoration. Jim laughs and rolls his eyes.

'Not as pretty as my own-' he shows Bar the brand-new ring on his left hand, '-but something I'm far more happy to celebrate. Can I get a daiquiri to go with that?'

Bar also obliges with a strawberry one. What a great day - week - this is. Jim is about ready to skid off into space with glee. :D! 

Comments

[have_no_mercy]

Tess leans on the bar next to him.

"Did I miss the festivities?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Would I even have festivities if you weren't around to enjoy them, my dear?'

Jim sips his drink, looking both happy and smug.

'The stag party isn't for a month or so, don't worry. I'll make sure you're told when and where.'

He should probably also tell Sherlock he's invited her. That might be a pertinent detail.

[have_no_mercy]

"Yes, you would."

She asks bar for a glass of red wine and is presented with one.

"Good. I could use a party."

[just_cant_lose]

Of course he would.

'Still suffering the after effects of-' a vague hand gesture, '-whatever? Have some cake in the meantime, it'll cheer you up.'

It does look scrumptious, and Jim is certainly not going to eat all of it.

[have_no_mercy]

"Whatever. Sure."

She eyes the cake.

"Sugar couldn't hurt."

[just_cant_lose]

'Not unless you eat the whole thing, and then about another ten cakes, certainly.'

Bar provides a knife, and he lops her off a large chunk. Not the bit with the rings decoration, though - he cuts that whole bit off, and sets it aside to give to Sherlock later.

'What've you been up to, then?'

[have_no_mercy]

"I don't think I'll be doing that."

Of course he will.

"I went back to work. Half time so I don't get too stressed out. I missed it."

[cottoncandypink]

“Oh, I haven’t missed it, have I?”

Wilford takes a seat next to Jim, beer in-hand, but ready for a replacement. His jump since the last time he saw Jim was relatively small - two years - but it’s been a big two years. The sort of two years that prompts Wilford to put a couple hundred dollars into designer frames for his glasses and some new jeans that might have come from a rung slightly higher than Walmart, and gives him a slight tan of his own.

He’s still eating dinner here though, because he’s the kind of person who’s entirely unprepared for proper adult responsibilites, like calling the gas company so his damn oven works.

[just_cant_lose]

'Yes, and no.'

Wilford gets scanned, and for once Jim doesn't give a full body wince at what he's wearing. It must be a good mood indeed.

'There'll still be a ceremony, and your party.'

The ring on Jim's hand is an engagement one, not a wedding band, but that's only details at this stage. He waves his other hand vaguely up and down to encompass this improved look Wil's got going on.

'Tell me you're back up to normal time.'

[cottoncandypink]

Despite his new look, Wilford still doesn't know the difference between an engagement ring and a wedding ring. He's the sort of man who doesn't even wear a watch, because it gets in the way.

"Good, I was worried I'd missed it." With his new beer in hand, he settles in and gets comfortable. "I don't know. What's normal time?"

His hair is still black, so 'normal time' probably doesn't apply yet.

[just_cant_lose]

'You want to give me a party that badly? I'm touched.'

He is not. A bit surprised, but whatever. It'll be a good time.

'Normal time, obviously, is the point where you started all this. And if not, how much longer?'

He and Sherlock are in Los Santos at the moment, but he's not about to volunteer that information. He also doesn't want the door to the bar to disappear. It could be extremely awkward, seeing as he's supposed to come back here every three days to avoid fading away.

[cottoncandypink]

The day Wilford turns down an excuse for a good party is the day he's no longer breathing.

"End of summer?" That sounds about right. "The fuck are you planning now that can't wait another six months?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Well, I still have a bus company to deal with.'

Seriously. The tour buses are still coming, and he's too busy sorting the house out after another massive time jump to take care of them.

'Mainly, I don't want to go out for a visit and get stuck there for years.'

[cook_the_rude]

"The better decorated cake isn't always the tastier one," Hannibal informs him. "There are exceptions, of course. I remember one especially wonderful gateau chocolat in ones café in Paris..."

[just_cant_lose]

'And of course, there are ones that are decorated perfectly and manage to be delicious. Like the one Sherlock made me last week.'

Read: he is sick of the sight of birthday cake. Engagement cake though, that's a totally different thing.

'Hello, Hannibal.'

[cook_the_rude]

"Hello Jim," Hannibal says. "Sherlock made a cake?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Yes. He always does on my birthday.'

It's become a Thing.

'And discovered a love of cooking in the process. You'll be able to exchange recipes with him eventually.'

[cook_the_rude]

"How many of your birthdays have you had together now?" Hannibal asks. "What's the cake like?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Two, here. And I don't know what the official name is. It was black, with white icing. and delicious eaten off his body.'

As they always are.

'There's none left, it was a week ago.'

The one in front of them is clearly not a birthday cake, and far more worth celebrating.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock, similarly tanned and chilled (especially for a man who's recovering from a gunshot wound), follows soon after, and hangs his arm over Jim's shoulder.

"Oh, my," he says at the sight of the cake. "Word's gotten around."

He kisses Jim's temple. Hello.

[just_cant_lose]

'Bar knows everything.'

Jim grins, and kisses the nearest bit of arm to his mouth, then grins up at him. Hello.

'I wasn't going to come in, but seeing as the door opened-' three-day rule, and all that. 'You looked like you were going to swim all day.'

[mightbeagoodone]

“I was, but the I missed you.”

Sappy, or sappiest? Sherlock doesn’t care.

[just_cant_lose]

Nor does Jim. He just grins wider, and leans against him. Because yes. Being apart is stupid.

'Come and sit down with me. Bar stools are useless.'

Can't touch him easily on stools. A sofa is better.

'Shall we order food? Saves me making you cook later.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"I am for food and couches," Sherlock says, smiling at the thought of Jim "making" him do anything he enjoys. "What would compliment this cake best?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Champagne. And...I don't know. You're the foodie, these days. I don't know what cake it is, yet.'

He pokes his finger into the icing, just enough to make a divot.

'Looks like Victoria sponge. Let's be British and have a proper afternoon tea.'

Finger sandwiches are about the normal size of stuff he eats, and they can always take the rest of the mini-cakes home. Afternoon teas usually feed about four.