[BACKDATED to September 13th]atrumcanisSeptember 20 2011, 16:36:27 UTC
[It's early in the morning--really early, actually, especially considering who it is that's already awake. If Jack could see, he would note that the firehouse has decorated itself overnight--though it almost wasn't decorated, as Jack can't see it. But it had seemed wrong not to, so... slightly lopsided crepe paper is hanging from the walls and ceiling, et cetera.
Sirius is in the kitchen, listening intently for the sound of Jack waking up. Breakfast is nearly done--he's stretched himself to his limits with waffles and eggs and all manner of things--and the cake is made, and he's currently steeling himself, fighting down everything that isn't base happiness. It's Jack's sodding birthday, and it's going to be a good one, no matter what's happened, no matter what he's done.]
The usual noises are missing: Yorick's snores and whimpers and Sirius' deep breathing, along with occasional contented growls from Richard. And there are strange ones, ones that oughtn't be there-- pans sizzling and timers going off, things that spell out breakfast.
[In the kitchen, Sirius starts, half-standing. He sits again, and then stands fully, moving toward their room.]
Hey. Jack.
[Yorick beats him to it. One minute, asleep by the back door--the next awake, careening across the room to throw himself full-force at Jack. His tail could hardly wag harder, and he starts licking at Jack's hands, as if he's aware of the occasion.]
[He moves closer--he doesn't take Jack's arm, certainly, but he definitely sticks with him as they cross into the kitchen. Just in case.]
Everything. Waffles and bacon and tomatoes potatoes and sausages and two sorts of eggs, fried and scrambled-up, and toast, and even coffee. And cake, of course.
[He shoots Jack an anxious look, trying to gauge any reaction.]
[Well, all right. If Jack's going to be so pleased, then Sirius has no choice but to grin as well, his spirits immediately lifting. He goes straight to his chair and starts dishing out, giving Jack a glance every now and again, as if his mood is suddenly going to change.]
I'm not giving you a hand, git, I'm serving you. It's your birthday, isn't it, if you can't have your best mate waiting on you bloody hand and foot on your birthday, when can you have it.
WHAT A TERRIBLE STUDENT, COLLEGE IS REALLY GOING TO THE DOGSatrumcanisSeptember 21 2011, 22:00:46 UTC
[He looks down at the table, momentarily interrupted by that jarring question--but he recovers as quickly as he can, without hardly a waver in his voice.]
Crepe paper, and-- well, I did the ceiling. Finally. Pictures won't do very much on that, but I'll have a go at it for you.
...Chicago = Mars???atrumcanisSeptember 22 2011, 04:01:07 UTC
[He grins, shoving back--a little more carefully than usual. It's not as if Jack's blidness has left him fragile, or anything,but it seems the right thing to do.]
Sirius is in the kitchen, listening intently for the sound of Jack waking up. Breakfast is nearly done--he's stretched himself to his limits with waffles and eggs and all manner of things--and the cake is made, and he's currently steeling himself, fighting down everything that isn't base happiness. It's Jack's sodding birthday, and it's going to be a good one, no matter what's happened, no matter what he's done.]
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The usual noises are missing: Yorick's snores and whimpers and Sirius' deep breathing, along with occasional contented growls from Richard. And there are strange ones, ones that oughtn't be there-- pans sizzling and timers going off, things that spell out breakfast.
He gropes next to him and finds the empty bed.]
Mate?
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Hey. Jack.
[Yorick beats him to it. One minute, asleep by the back door--the next awake, careening across the room to throw himself full-force at Jack. His tail could hardly wag harder, and he starts licking at Jack's hands, as if he's aware of the occasion.]
Oi, Yorick, get offa him--
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[He grins, though, and moves his hand to scratch at Yorick's sides.]
Did you make breakfast?
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'Course. As if I'd have forgotten the day, you nonce. It's everything--I made everything.
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[He stands, making his way over to the table. Yorick follows, leaping around, dashing from Jack to Sirius and back again.]
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Everything. Waffles and bacon and tomatoes potatoes and sausages and two sorts of eggs, fried and scrambled-up, and toast, and even coffee. And cake, of course.
[He shoots Jack an anxious look, trying to gauge any reaction.]
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Jesus, mate, you really-- oh, Jesus, thank you. Christ, this is brilliant! Oye, come sit down, gimme a hand with servin' meself.
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I'm not giving you a hand, git, I'm serving you. It's your birthday, isn't it, if you can't have your best mate waiting on you bloody hand and foot on your birthday, when can you have it.
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[And if Jack minds having to ask these questions, he's certainly careful to keep it from showing.]
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Crepe paper, and-- well, I did the ceiling. Finally. Pictures won't do very much on that, but I'll have a go at it for you.
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[He reaches out, seeking Sirius-- and when he finally finds him, shoves him gently.]
What kind o' cake?
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What kind d'you think. [A beat.] Strawberry.
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It's like you don't know me.
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[The puppy whines once more, butting against Sirius' legs, before beginning to bite his pants and yank.]
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