Work Text:
one
roderich sleeps in at every opportunity that he can - the long stretches of homework aren’t good for him or antonio, who works nights and comes home to an equally worn out boyfriend. it’s the eve of his birthday and francis went through the trouble of making chocolate macarons with air-light filling (the real ones, not the knockoffs) for him, so the quiet celebrations have already started.
he’s changed since meeting antonio that fateful semester; they’re both finished with undergrad but roderich chose to pursue grad school while antonio went right to work. they have a cat now, a scottish fold that hisses at gilbert and francis on good days but loves antonio more than anyone.
gilbert puts a shiny gift bag on the kitchen counter, his childlike handwriting filling up a card that says “you’re over the hill” and roderich laughs at it, the corners of his eyes crinkling from how the unrelated card fits gilbert so well. inside the bag is a pair of winter gloves, the convertible kind where even the thumbs detach. “antonio always mentioned your hands getting cold, so i found these on amazon.”
roderich is touched at the amount of effort gilbert went through, biting back the comment to ask about if he overpaid or not. he manages a “thank you” while feeling the soft microfiber material, how they insulate his hands but give them mobility at the same time.
francis is washing the last of the dishes that went into making the macarons, nibbling on the shells that weren’t perfect enough while gilbert stuffs one into his mouth whole.
roderich pets their cat and watches him run off into their room, to curl up on antonio’s sweater for the rest of the night.
two
the sun wakes him up at an ungodly hour and roderich pulls the blankets higher to shield himself from the light. “jesus, go away, it’s early” he mumbles that into the pillow, terribly aware antonio will do something cheesy like flowers or breakfast in bed if given the opportunity.
except, he’s still asleep with one arm loosely thrown around his boyfriend’s waist and a mess of brown curls spanning a pillow. it’s his day off by pure luck.
“good, you’re getting to rest.” he’s noticed the bags under his boyfriend’s eyes, happy to have a job at one of the nicer hilton hotels in the area but visibly drained by consistent emotional labor. “i know it’s my birthday, but it’d be nice to give you something too.”
he doesn’t have any real classes on wednesday and it’s chilly already, close to the first snowfall of the year. he’d like to take antonio to europe with his parents next time they go, show him vienna, maybe. he’s already seen barcelona, and vienna in winter compares to nothing else.
so they sleep in, until their cat paws at antonio’s face and meows in his ear for food.
they kiss languidly in the kitchen (after brushing their teeth, of course, morning breath kisses aren't sexy no matter how long they've been together) between coffee and breakfast they have no intentions of actually cooking. antonio sucks a pretty hickey onto roderich’s throat while standing barefoot on cold tile, warm from touching the skin under his boyfriend’s shirt with his palms splayed across his lower back. his feet tingle where they make contact with the ceramic and he ignores it for the burning feeling in his abdomen. it's a mix of nerves for their plans today, roderich's birthday always precedes a snow storm like clockwork, and excitement to get out today.
“anything you want for your birthday?” antonio’s playing with the elastic hem on roderich’s pajamas. “maybe pajamas that aren’t falling apart at the seams?”
“these are just fine,” roderich scoffs but knows he doesn’t mean it in a bad way, not when antonio is pushing said ratty pajamas down and giving that look of asking permission without asking. “i won’t say no to that.”
“you act like i’m trying to poison you or something.”
“we’d be like two lovers in a wagner opera.”
“alas, poor yorick.” antonio makes a pained noise and mimics stabbing his heart.
“that’s so wrong i don’t even know where to begin.”
“you could start with kissing me again, then we’ll see what happens.”
after a messy (well, roderich would call it messy) blowjob in the kitchen, he wipes antonio’s face clean with a tissue and makes a wrinkled, displeased expression before throwing it away. “thank you.”
“you don’t have to thank me every time, but i do appreciate it.” antonio’s head lolls back when his boyfriend finger combs and lightly tugs on the curly strands of hair, mostly dressed again.
it’s mid afternoon when they get dressed, and antonio has deja-vu when the same cream knit scarf makes a reappearance, loosely knotted just to be used as a wind guard. “hey, handsome.”
“yes?” one semi-manicured eyebrow arches upwards.
“alles Gute zum Geburtstag.” his German is bad, for living with a semi-native this long anyway (and all of the deutschlish phone calls), but he tries anyway. it doesn't go unnoticed, if the small tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth has anything to say. “how was that? did i pass?”
“i’ll give you a B, that was good for a beginner.” antonio’s puppydog eyes don’t work on him anymore.
roderich throws more food in the cat’s bowl and refills the water, promising they’ll be back later. "a beginner? i'm better than that!"
"darling, i was being generous."
three
they drive a ways away out of the college town, antonio’s guitar in the backseat and a late afternoon picnic basket on the floor.
“you’d get upset if i took you to dinner, even if i wanted to.”
“we can’t groupon everything.”
“one day you won’t have to be so frugal, we’ll be able to afford it.”
they arrive at the park when the leaves scatter and flutter around, falling into antonio’s beanie and crunching under roderich’s loafers. “it’s your birthday, you pick the spot.”
the blanket covers enough space for the two of them and the basket, one corner weighed down by the basket in case of any surprise breezes. “i love you.”
antonio rarely expects him to say it back, not when he shows it through other ways like clipping coupons and making a weekly budget for them with money to spare for a movie. shows it through warm mugs of spiced tea, kisses that taste liked mulled wine and dark chocolate. shows it through folding their laundry and making their room look like home for antonio to return to every night when his feet ache from work.
“me too,” antonio manages between feeling like his heart is going to burst from his chest, imagining an autumn wedding years later when they’re older. “i picked up riesling just for today.”
it’s wrapped in a cold pack to keep it chilled, plastic stemless glasses nestled beside it.
when roderich is distracted with finding the bottle, antonio steals a few silent pictures of his boyfriend caught off-guard, the late fall sky lighting the photo perfectly. it’s good, one photo he’ll never let roderich see.
one empty glass later and the wine blush takes over his boyfriend’s face, warm and loosened up. “this is what you get for not eating anything today.”
lunch is really more of a snack than anything else, finger foods that don’t require utensils for less waste. sandwiches disappear in bites that follow with wine until they stop so one of them is alright to drive later on.
antonio’s guitar makes an appearance and he’s made an active effort to learn a new song just for today. the way to roderich’s heart really is through song, is what he’s learned, not through pseudo-intellectual conversation and theory.
they’ve got fall-appropriate jackets on, thick enough to be warm but not too thick so they can lay side by side. roderich can’t help but smile ever so slightly, rarely letting people see it. “you had that same scarf on the first time i kissed you.”
“and?”
“nothing, i just remembered.” roderich makes a content noise and scoots the pillow he threw in the backseat on an angle so they both get a piece of it, cloud-watching until evening sets in and the sky gets too dark.
“we should start heading back.” the wine-giggles have faded and antonio’s comfortable enough to drive again. “i don’t like driving in the dark.”
they make quick work of the little mess they brought; roderich uses his cell phone’s flashlight to light the way, blanket thrown over his arm while antonio carries the much lighter basket and pillow, guitar slung on his back.
they don’t let go of each other’s hands until they get in the car and antonio needs both to drive. on the trip back roderich almost dozes off, his phone lit up with a mess of ‘happy birthday!’ messages and missed calls.
“happy birthday, corazon. i can’t wait to spend more with you.” antonio sends that text quickly during a red light so it gets lost under the pile of messages roderich will sift through when they get home.