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[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has been sticking his head into the bar every three days to maintain a certain fiction, even though it's the last thing he wants to be doing at the moment. Today though, the bar gets the whole of him...for about six seconds, before he disappears up the stairs to his suite.

Thing is, being on honeymoon is wonderful, and living on a yacht is surprisingly brilliant when it's just him and Sherlock (and some crew to do the actual work). But Jim tends towards being an indoors kind of guy, and truth is...sun, and sea, and salt air, and sex, and swimming, and Sherlock = sleeping is now the wrong kind of issue. Whereas before he was rubbish at it, now it's all he wants to do. Seriously. Staying awake is awful, and virtually impossible.

He emerges back downstairs an hour later, still in shorts and nothing else, and not looking much more awake than before his nap. Ugh. Maybe a walk around the grounds in the snow would do the trick...but for now, he's just going to commandeer a sofa and drink allllll the coffee. He is also presented with two small boxes (after a shake, he declares, 'cufflinks'), which prompts a brief, neatly-written note of thanks addressed to the Sandhu family. He purposefully spells Coral's name wrong. 

Then coffee. Sofa. Trying to stay awake. Yes. He can do this.

(He totally cannot do this.)

Comments

[wayward_sun]

The Devil is amused.

(But don't take it personally. He almost always is.)

"Why not just admit defeat and get a pillow?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Shut up.'

Jim doesn't bother opening his eyes. He recognises the voice just fine.

'I'm awake.'

Juuuuuust barely.

[wayward_sun]

"Well, I suppose you could call it that," Lucifer says and makes himself at home on the armrest.

[just_cant_lose]

'Don't you hear me talking?'

See. Awake. Absolutely.

....nope, not awake.







NO WAIT. AWAKE. He jerks his hand towards coffee, because that doze totally didn't happen, mmkay?

[wayward_sun]

Of course it didn't.

Lucifer smiles at him and takes a sip of his drink.

"Vacationing?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim cracks one eye open, and peers up at him.

Then coffee, which he drinks without emerging from his near-lying-down sprawl.

'Honeymoon.'

So, yes.

'How do you like my tan?'

It's a very good tan. He is very brown. He smells of sun cream, and salt, and all in all looks great and knows it. But is also too sleepy to really make the most of it.

[wayward_sun]

"Ooooh, congratulations. And it's very nice. Any lines?"

Because you can't tell when people are all - dressed.

[mogget_cat]

Here, Jim, have a pillow.

It's soft! It purrs!

[just_cant_lose]

OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT NOISE A CHAINSA...oh, it's a cat purring by his ear. Jim blinks rapidly a few times, and then slumps again. He is almost as boneless as a cat himself.

''lo, Yrael.'

He needs coffee. There is no energy to raise an arm. This is sad.

[mogget_cat]

It is, in fact, a well-tuned boat motor, and this is all a dream.

"Hello, Jim," he replies, comfortably. Yrael is a very warm, soft pillow.

[just_cant_lose]

IT MIGHT BE SO.

'You're loud.'

But also soothing, and therefore not helping the mission to Stay Awake.

[mogget_cat]

The purring gentles into a very faint, lulling hum.


He waits juuuuuuuuuust long enough for the quieter noise to possibly make a difference in the battle to fall asleep stay awake before asking:

"Better?"

[just_cant_lose]

'B'sta...'

Nope, he's out.



...NO HE'S NOT, HE WILL NOT GIVE IN. There is some rapid blinking, and a groan.

'Why do you hate me? I'm awake. I am.'

[cottoncandypink]

Oh, hey! It's Jim! Good. Wilford needs someone to bother after the day he's had.

Jim may be pleased to see that Wilford's cleaned himself up a bit - got rid of the scruffy, unshaven mess he calls a beard, and even had all the pink stripped out of his hair and re-dyed black. Of course, without the beard, the split lip and blossoming bruise around it is all the more obvious, but when has Wilford ever cared about something like that?

He hops over the back of the sofa, crashing down hard enough to rock the whole thing for a second or two. It also gives Jim a good view of his brand new shoes he's working on breaking in.

"I was starting to think you'd fucked yourself off into oblivion," he says by way of a greeting.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh for God's sake, why.'

He's referring to the crashing down on the sofa, because that is awful when you're stuck halfway between asleep and awake. But a second later, it could also be referring to the shoes. Jim shifts grumpily, scratching a well-tanned shoulder.

'And I'm working on that.'

[cottoncandypink]

"Work harder. We can still see you."

Wilford flags down a rat out of habit, only to realise that the last thing he is is hungry, so he waves the rat back off again. It squeaks at him angrily as he scurries off, but it's not like Wilford cares.

He pulls out his cigarettes, because he can smoke here, and offers one over to Jim.

[just_cant_lose]

He shakes his head at the offer - not rudely, but definitely sleepily - and manages half a shrug.

'You'd miss me if I were gone.'

It'd be a great way to go, though.

'Why are you attempting to blind me with the latest round of poor taste?'

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford probably would, even if he won't admit it. Who else would he kick around while he's here?

"What do you mean?" he asks as he lights up.

Excuse you, Jim. His new shoes are great.

[just_cant_lose]

He doesn't need to admit it. He's easy to read. And the place would be more boring if Wilford weren't here, not that Jim would admit that either.

'You look like you're going to a rave. It's not 1992, sweetie.'

[herr_bookman]

Autor waits until Jim is sleeping soundly to approach with a blanket. After laying the cloth across Jim's shoulders, Autor steps back to survey his handiwork. Then the boy starts to walk away.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim mutters something, and appears to slip into a deeper snooze as he automatically pulls the blanket around him...and then he clicks back awake, sitting straight up and blinking rapidly as his brain reminds him where he is. The look he sends at Autor's back is, for a moment, pure, unfiltered malevolence (nothing personal; it's just his unguarded state) - and then a grin breaks out, and he appears sunny as a summer's day as he says,

'Auuuuutor. Am I included in your job description now?'

[herr_bookman]

Autor stops, his shoulders straight and unhitched. He turns, slowly, and eyes Jim. "No. Wilford doesn't pay me enough to deal with you."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim pushes the blanket off and stretches, showing off a lot of lean, tanned skin.

'No one would pay you that much, my dear.'

So he's being nice for free. How utterly delicious.

'But look at you, being all sweet. Does that mean you're going to talk to me now?'

[herr_bookman]

Autor keeps his eyes directly on Jim's face. The skin has no appeal to the boy, because of who's under it. "I'm talking to you right now, even though I don't care either way whether we talk to each other."

[just_cant_lose]

'But you just can't help it, can you? Such a nice boy.'

Oh look, Jim can go from asleep to 'bitch' in 0.001 seconds flat. He pulls a Very Sad Face though. D:

'You always ignore me when I come to visit. My feelings are hurt. It'll take more than a blanket to make up for that.'