Warnings: Slash (Jordan Devlin/Jimmy Havoc), Good boyfriending, Fluff, Terrible Nicknames.

It'd been Finn who suggested Jordan apply for the job up in the café. It wasn't at all what he wanted to be doing, but he'd worked in cafes back home and he needed the money. So, he'd applied. Becky had asked him only one thing in the interview can you work Sundays. He'd said yes, because he's gotten used to not drinking on a Saturday night, because his not-not-sister is a mess of a woman, and needs someone to babysit her. He'd learned very quickly his equally a mess other-half was not a man to be trusted to babysit. He's the sort of man who'll convince Martina that it's an excellent idea to have shots, and then try to break into a fire station so she can pole dance. Thankfully, that only happened once, and the Fire Chief was very understanding. Small town fire stations are so much more understanding than the large ones. He'd managed to distract them when they'd gone out on the drink in Dublin thankfully once more. It'd been close though, but they'd decided to see if they could drink every whiskey in the bar they'd settled in, and they'd not left until the bartender told them he'd ordered himself a taxi home so they needed to get out now. So, he can work Sundays, he can work Sundays happily, because it means he gets to avoid the worst of Jimmy's and Martina's hangovers.

The café is usually pretty quiet over the weekend, but this close to Christmas it seems like everyone and their mum is there to spend money. Even the salon next door is open, at least he assumes they're open seeing as Double-o Eggsy was in for two of peppermint lattes, and some of the fancy pastries, but he takes off in the wrong direction for the salon, and seems to be heading for the comic book shop for some reason. There is currently a lull in business though, one that Jordan is using to stir his soup, and rearrange the cakes from the fancy bakery up in the food court in the display. The little bell above the door chimes, and a groan issues from the customer that staggers in.

"I was wondering if you'd show your face before noon." He grins at the miserable looking man who's slumped on the table nearest the bathroom, and because Jordan is a good boyfriend, he pours a cup of tea for Jimmy, and takes it over.

"Fuck off." That's the only acknowledgement he gets, at least until he sets the cup of tea down near enough to be reached, but not knocked off the table. "Thank you. Now fuck off."

"What would your mother say?" He chuckles, and heads to get himself a cup of tea, so he can have a little sit down, and offer some sympathy to his hungover lover.

"What did you expect, James? If you will drink so much, you will be hungover. Here, Lucozade, and Monster Munch. Don't say your mother does nothing for you." Jimmy's straightened up somewhat, but appears to be trying to suffocate himself in his own hands. "Oh god…why did I get into a shots contest with Martina?"

"Because she bet you the last packet of nice crisps in the pub that she could beat you." Jordan sips his tea, and tries to keep the smug out of his voice, but he doesn't try very hard, because Jimmy isn't really listening in the first place.

"I feel like I'm made of sausage skins and broken glasses." He groans, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. Jordan laughs at him, and Jimmy looks at him between his fingers. "When I am a person once more, I'm not going anywhere near your dick for a week, you unsympathetic cock-womble."

"Cock-womble? Well, I can only hope I'm not Uncle Bulgaria." Jordan laughs, and Jimmy kicks him under the table. "You're particularly cranky this morning." He gets no response beyond a groan. "Poor Jimmy. That cuppa's gonna get cold if you don't drink it." Still nothing, but he can't blame him. Jimmy put a lot away last night, and had been singing on the way home. Not just any old singing either, he'd been singing We like to Party with Martina, at the top of his lungs, with impressive knowledge of the lyrics. Once Jimmy's feeling better he'll share, but for now the video evidence of the night will remain a secret. "We've some bacon, and I made the nice rolls this morning." Jimmy's hand shield is removed from his eyes, and rests over his mouth instead.

"Do you have brown sauce too? If you have brown sauce I will love you forever, and blow you after dinner." Jimmy looks and sounds deathly serious with this statement.

"There's a bottle of HP no less." Jordan gets up, and moves Jimmy's cup of tea closer. The scent of bacon frying seems to revive Jimmy somewhat, and it also seems to increase traffic a bit. He can see a few customers queueing, but before he has to make the decision on letting Jimmy's bacon burn or deal with the customers, Jimmy's dragged himself behind the counter. He very much does not work in the café, the man is a dispensing chemist in the pharmacy beside the comic book shop, but he knows his way around a coffee machine. When pushed, he even knows how to make mild small talk. He's currently making a gentle joke about his hangover with the equally hungover looking Trent from the ice-rink not the deli. He's not sure deli Trent, Hipster Zombie as Becky calls him, is capable of being affected by anything that isn't his terrifying girlfriend, who Becky really likes and hasn't given a silly nickname to, Asuka is Asuka. It seems that Jimmy has the few customers in hand, so Jordan finishes off the bacon safe in the knowledge that not even a hangover is enough to rid Jimmy of his Costa training. When they're all served, Jimmy comes to the little kitchen, and plasters himself to Jordan's back.

"That's the best smell in the world." Jimmy sounds like his throat is all sandpaper, and clings like a limpet.

"I'd ask me or the bacon, but I already know the answer." Jordan serves the bacon up onto the two rolls he's got cut open, and shrugs his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge Jimmy. "You can't eat sleeping on my back."

"You underestimate me." Jimmy does let go, and leans against the nearest wall. "Where is my brown sauce?"

"Here." Jordan holds the sauce out towards Jimmy. He can't but help snort a laugh as the bottle snatched from his hand, and clutched like a child to Jimmy's chest. "Here, you have this one." He moves one roll closer, and starts loading his own with tomato and lettuce. Jimmy's bacon gets nothing more than a healthy dose of HP sauce, and the lid squeezed down hard enough to squirt a little of the sauce out the sides. The eating process is slow, and it takes Jimmy another round of customers to finish. Once he's done, Jordan hands him another cup of tea, and one of the cute gingerbread men from the display. The gingerbread man's head is viciously bitten off, and the first smile of the day spreads over Jimmy's lips.

"When are you finished today?" He seems more alive for having eaten his bacon roll. He's positively grinning at decapitating a gingerbread man, as he sips at the cup of tea in his hand.

"Four today. Why?" Jordan slides the cake display door closed, and turns to face Jimmy. "You got something planned?"

"Yeah. I've got the top ten Christmas movies loaded up on the TV, and a secret tin of Roses ready to be cracked open." Jimmy comes out from the kitchen to stand behind the counter, puts an apron on, and presses a quick kiss to the side of Jordan's mouth. "So, once this shift's done, the plan is I'm getting all the caramel barrels, and we're watching Elf."

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