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“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”
“Why not?”
“I jus’ don’t.”
“Fine, but we’re at least going to acknowledge it. I know how much you like cake, and you’re getting one.”
“No presents, then. Deal?”
“. . .Okay, deal.”
This had been their conversation a few days prior; Grimmjow had sighed, but shown no other sign of protest to Toshiro’s sudden desire for celebration. It wasn’t like him, really, but bickering didn’t tend to get them anywhere -- and, frankly, he was curious as to why something as little as a birthday meant so much to the shorter when he could hardly remember to commemorate his own.
. . .Well, whatever. I’m sure he’s got his reasons.
That was two days ago, and thankfully, Toshiro hadn’t brought anything up since. Grimmjow had noticed the way the shorter had become somewhat secretive as the ‘deadline’ drew nearer, though. If he had to guess, he’d say the deal they’d made was being promptly ignored, and there was nothing he could do about it without admitting to Toshiro that he had behavioral giveaways. That was his own little secret. Each time he’d try to discreetly call the other out with a small reminder of their deal, he’d be met with a short, ‘I’m not looking at presents,’ and that was that.
But Toshiro was a terrible liar, and they both knew it. Even if he wasn’t buying anything, Grimmjow saw right through him. He had something planned.
His instinct wasn’t wrong; lo and behold, Toshiro wanted to do something nice for his boyfriend for once. He wasn’t always the most expressive partner, and, sometimes it made him feel bad, not being as much of a sap or finding it more difficult to be romantic. Between the two of them, Grimmjow tended to be more expressive about his feelings, and while the gestures were small, they meant a great deal to the other. Little sketches he’d done of the shorter while he was focused and unaware were frequent, as was making him dinner after a particularly long day, or simply him knowing just when to pull him away from his assignments to relax for a while -- he was an overachiever, after all, and that would likely never change. Grimmjow was painfully observant, Toshiro had noted, aware of things even he hadn’t realized about himself. It was. . . as endearing as it was a pain in the ass, and he felt like returning that favor somehow.
But how, exactly?
At first, he’d tried to make a list of things he knew and liked about Grimmjow, but after a few bullet points, it seemed much worse on paper than it had in his head. It was quickly discarded at the bottom of a trash bin and covered with ‘used’ tissues, so hopefully there wouldn’t be any sneaking around. . . but it was around this time that Toshiro realized he’d already been caught breaking their deal. But he wasn’t exactly lying. . . it wasn’t really a gift, right? A simple act of endearment to show appreciation didn’t cost a penny, and more closely resembled a series of compliments instead. Getting him another cat was apparently off the table this year (even if he had been hinting that he wanted another one. Something about Jackie seeming too lonely, even though it was clearly just an excuse to bring home another bundle of fur.)
Toshiro’s next idea is to write him a piece of prose, which goes. . . expectedly downhill. He’s terrible with words, and they both know it; he expresses his thoughts in brief tangents or spouts of anger before promptly being scooped up for ‘cuddle time,’ as Grimmjow had coined it, and he could be quite the snuggle bug when he so desired. He’d never really told the other how grateful he is to have someone around who knows him so well, though, maddening as it can be at times to be read as though he were an open book. Sometimes the reminder of Grimmjow’s own feelings for him was strong enough to knock the air from his lungs; the comforting gestures only present when Toshiro needed them. It’s a side only he has ever seen, one joined by soft praise and stress mitigating words on days that were bluer than others. It’s overwhelming, knowing you’re loved without it having to be said. It’s more intimate that way, Toshiro thinks, when emotions bleed through into one’s actions. Grimmjow’s always been devastatingly good at that.
At some point, Toshiro’s plans had become less of wanting to provide a present and more of giving a proper thank you to the other man, but after numerous ideas came and went and he still couldn’t settle upon one. He’d started to consider that perhaps it wasn’t the ideas that were bad. What if the problem was him, ridden with incompetence and unable to go through with any of them ? At the end of the day, was he even enough for Grimmjow? Was he even happy?
It was a question Toshiro almost didn’t want to know the answer to.
Grimmjow had come close to confronting him about the situation, too -- about his desire for a present-free birthday, for no celebration, for the whole day to just cease to exist in their minds -- but it still struck him as odd that Toshiro had insisted on doing something at all. Any other occasion might have been swept under the rug or immensely diluted, considering he was a workaholic who didn’t always know how or when to have fun, but the display of interest had his own appropriately piqued. What did Toshiro have planned, and why was it so important to him? It was a test of his own patience not to ask, or bug the other until a clue slipped out that was enough to shush him. For once, though, he chose to let himself be surprised (even if he typically detested them.)
It was the day before his big day, and Toshiro had only grown increasingly anxious since they’d last discussed it. It was painfully obvious, and even a little stressful for him as well; after one too many heavy sighs of undoubted frustration, Grimmjow finally decided to say something about it.
“Hey,” he hummed, and the complete lack of response from the other has his brows furrowing. “Shiroooo.”
“What? I’m busy.”
“Let’s make another deal, yeah?”
This time, he had Toshiro’s attention long enough to receive a silent, like what? For once his busy bee had perched himself comfortably on their shared bed, and he was quick to notice that Jackie was with him, curled up neatly at his side. The sight made Grimmjow’s features soften, if only a little; she’d come from hating him to. . . well, tolerating him, he supposed. She stirred as the art major lowered himself onto the mattress, but didn’t do much to remove herself from his way as he, ignoring Toshiro’s splutter of confusion, invited himself right in the gap between the shorter’s legs. His own were bent at the knee, trapping the smaller between them as they’re quickly used as makeshift armrests. The silent questioning is still evident against the other’s visage, more distinguishable now that his space had been invaded.
“Yer stressin’ too much over tomorrow,” Grimmjow starts, and is originally met with a look of disagreement -- but Toshiro is quickly shushed as he lifts a finger, signaling he’s not finished. “And ya can’t deny it. I can tell.”
Really, Toshiro wants to object -- but he’d be lying if he said Grimmjow wasn’t right. It was less about his birthday, now, and more of him wanting to leave a lasting reminder of how grateful he was to have a certain stubborn someone in his life. No matter what he came up with, though, it didn’t feel like it was appropriate. Sex didn’t strike him as a decent present, considering his lingering awkwardness every time the deed is done, but what was left other than spending the whole day in bed or going on some corny date that neither of them really wanted?
Clearly, Toshiro needed a better variety of ideas. His own simply weren’t cutting it anymore.
“Well, it’s not really that. I just,” he began, but the thought eventually trails off with a defeated sigh. “At first, I wanted to get something nice for you, but you don’t want anything. . . and you’ve always been really good at being there for me, so I was going to. . . return the favor.”
It sounds stupid in his own voice, floating out in the open for Grimmjow to process. He receives no immediate response, nothing given away in the other’s expression, and Toshiro wishes he could melt into the mattress below them. Grimmjow must notice the embarrassment beginning to flare hot at his cheeks, because he’s pulled closer with an ease that only deepens the shade -- he’s strong , and it’s a breathtaking intensity -- but he’s perfectly content with being settled into what he considers to be a rather comfortable lap. (He completely understands Jackie’s obsession with frequenting this particular location.)
“Toshiro,” Grimmjow finally breaks the silence, pulling him back in, and cyan pools seek his own in a way that grounds him and quells whatever panic he might’ve been launching himself further into. It’s a gaze he finds himself unable to break; it's comfort straight from the source, and he realizes that, once again, Grimmjow’s succeeded in making him feel safe and loved with nothing more than the utterance of his name.
It’s frustrating, how good he is at that, and how bad he is at reciprocating.
“You don’t have anything to prove to me.”
“But I do,” he objects, a frustrated frown pulling at his features as he struggles to find a foothold on what he wants to say. “You’re so -- so good to me, and I. . . wanted to. . .”
When he trails off again, a warm hand finds his chin to gently guide his head back up, and he’s met with a quiet, “You wanted to what?”
“. . .Thank you. And, um, show you what you mean to me?”
The fingers at Toshiro’s chin slide to instead cup his cheek, and Grimmjow can’t help the hint of a smile that forms at his lips as it’s leaned into. As much as he wants to reassure the other that he’s enough, he suspects that actions alone will only make him feel worse about the ‘lack of reciprocation.’ That’s hardly the case, and Grimmjow won’t deny being mildly astonished that his boyfriend, of all people, doesn’t realize how capable he is of being exactly what he needs.
“I already know.”
“But-”
“No,” Grimmjow cuts him off by pinching his lips together -- it isn’t the most ideal solution, but he’s well aware Toshiro would try to argue otherwise. It works, despite the disapproving look he receives, so he continues for now. “I don’t need some big display of affection, an’ I never have. I asked ya not to get me anything ‘cause I’m happy with things as they are.”
Getting Toshiro to open up was rare, and the last thing he wanted to do was make the other feel as though he were incapable of doing so. . . but he was mistaken, believing he had anything to prove to Grimmjow, that he was somehow an insufficient partner. He hadn’t directly said it, but the taller had a way of understanding whatever insecurities Toshiro tried to disguise. And to think they all surfaced because he requested no material presents. . . he was starting to feel bad, really; this was something he needed to change before it got any worse.
“Yer all I need, ya hear?”
Toshiro nodded, but once again, he found himself looking away from his partner’s gaze; it was too much, and he was unused to feeling so emotionally overwhelmed. He found comfort in Grimmjow’s palm, warm and rough from wear, and chose to focus on it -- he knew his thoughts were safe and welcome with the other, and that judgment between them simply didn’t exist. This much was confirmed by the expression Grimmjow wore: he was more patient than one might expect, and his features were soft as he watched the shorter male. He’s happy, Toshiro had to remind himself, and he believed it. There was a growing itch in the back of his mind telling him that the entire situation might simply be a little silly. Why was he so insecure about trying to go above and beyond when they both knew how much of a simpleton Grimmjow was? A late start to the morning with extra cheesy eggs and a mound of bacon could’ve made the brute’s entire day. . . and here he was, acting like a fool trying to come up with a big idea to show a sign of gratitude he likely already knew about.
Toshiro couldn’t help but smile at himself; it was silly, now that he thought about it, and soon enough a soft fit of laughter could be heard from him.
“What’s so funny all of a sudden, hmm?” Grimmjow poses the question, but the fit of giggles was starting to become contagious.
“Me,” he sighs, but there’s a small twinge of relief in his tone. “I feel like such an idiot. I had to laugh at myself.”
“Yer not an idiot, though,” the taller male tugs at an unsuspecting cheek, a discrete effort to dispel the remaining negativity. “It’s okay to need reassurance, y’know? Even I do sometimes.”
“Really?” This was news to Toshiro; Grimmjow radiated confidence so often that it was difficult to imagine it ever faltering. “About what?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “My art skills, I guess. . . and my in-bed skills used to be a big one, but I think I’m over that.” Toshiro’s snort of amusement earned another tug to his cheek, and a pout in response before he went on. “I guess I’m sorta the same as you? Wonderin’ if I’m doin’ what’s best for ya, and all. Guess I am, if yer worryin’ so much about how to compete.”
“I wasn’t trying to compete, asshole,” Toshiro scoffed, and the smirk it earns makes him want to smack the other over the head. He doesn’t, though; one of them needed to know how to act in a serious moment. “You’re just the first person who’s really given me a chance, and I don’t want to screw anything up.”
“D’aww, how sweet of ya. I can’t see ya really messin’ up. . .” Grimmjow’s tone softens a little before he adds, “yer really good for me.”
“Oh.”
“Mhmm.”
It’s all they say; silence was common between the two of them, and voicing anything else would feel like too much. The sentiment brought a returning rouge to Toshiro’s cheeks, partially covered by the hand still supporting some of his weight. Grimmjow was watching him again, and this time his gaze doesn’t feel quite so paralyzing. It’s different; rather than inquiry, it’s warm and filled with something akin to adoration, a silent declaration of love. They’ve never needed it spoken for it to be known. . . that much can be said for multiple situations, too; they both have tells, much like the one that hinted towards Toshiro’s stress. It’s important that they understand one another -- it’s precisely the reason they work so well.
“For the record,” Toshiro cleared his throat, adding volume to a moment that was growing too intimate for his current liking. “I do have one small thing for you. Before you say anything, no , it wasn’t expensive, and it isn’t that fancy.”
“Ooh? So. . . what was all that stress for, then, if you had a backup plan?” Grimmjow doesn’t quite pull the playfulness from his expression, and the comment earned him a jab to the chest that has him grinning all over again.
“Shut up, or I’ll make you wait until tomorrow and throw you an entire party. Your favorite, right?”
“Hmmmmm.” (That means no .)
“That’s what I thought. Hold on, then.” Toshiro awkwardly lifted himself from the other’s lap, careful to avoid Jackie (she’d moved closer than he remembered her being previously) and disappeared just long enough to retrieve said gift. It’s held behind his back once he enters the room again, and some of the sheepishness from before had returned, this time stiffening his posture. “I wasn’t even going to give this to you at first,” he began quietly, but Grimmjow was slouched at the edge of the bed now, expectant despite his original insistence that he didn’t want anything for his birthday. “I. . . made it a while ago.”
“You made me somethin’?”
“Yeah. I kinda borrowed some of your stock paper. . . it’s not wrapped or anything, though, so um. . . close your eyes.”
“Sure thing.”
Giving gifts was always an awkward task. Picking them out was difficult enough, but then having to hand it to the person and watch them react. . . Toshiro didn’t like being there while it happened, but some instances, such as this one, were inevitable. It came as a shock even to himself that he insisted on providing one this year, and while Grimmjow probably wouldn’t hate anything he’s given, he was still nervous. His crafting skills weren’t always the best.
Against his better judgment, Toshiro swallows the lump in his throat and places the mystery object into Grimmjow’s awaiting hands. His eyes don’t open right away, much to his surprise. . . maybe the awkwardness about gifts was shared. Maybe that’s why he asked to not have any?
Oh, well, it’s too late to go back now.
“You can look now.”
And Grimmjow does; what’s laid in his palms is an intricate origami figure of a solid black panther, his favorite animal, but it nearly resembles a statue . The folds are neat and precise, no doubt a result of Toshiro’s astounding patience -- he must’ve spent a lot of time perfecting it to look so much like a carving . . .
“You really made this?”
“Well, yeah,” Toshiro has long since looked away -- sometimes the other could be quiet for too long, and it was uncomfortable. “I mean, I used a guide because of all the creases and stuff, and maybe I wasted a lot of paper trying to figure it out. . .” Did he not like it. . ? Maybe it was a bad idea, after all.
The cloud of doubt beginning to shroud him is promptly done away with as Grimmjow reaches for one of his hands, his gift placed carefully onto the mattress beside him as Toshiro is promptly pulled down for a kiss. It catches him off guard, but he’s quick to return it; he doesn’t expect the other to keep him there with warm fingertips cradling either side of his face, holding him in place, loving him so tenderly. Before he knows it, a soft hum of contentment escapes Toshiro’s lips, only to be swallowed by those of his lover. They’ve yet to pull away, and he finally concludes that it’s time to return to Grimmjow’s lap -- it was clumsy, the way he blindly feels for the bed beneath his knees before allowing his weight to sink down, hands resting atop broad shoulders as his figure is straddled, but the other hardly seemed to mind; if anything, the arm sliding down to wrap around his waist provided encouragement to close the gap between them. He certainly won’t protest; Grimmjow’s touch is sturdy and relaxing, and it makes him feel happy.
When they part, Toshiro is breathless. The kiss itself hadn’t progressed very far aside from bringing them together, but Grimmjow alone was stunning. His expression contained a certain vulnerability that hadn’t been there mere moments ago, cyan depths burning with emotions that otherwise would’ve been left unsaid. It almost mimicked the sincerity he’d felt against his partner’s lips, beneath the tender sensation of Grimmjow’s fingertips.
It was an endless pool of love, and Toshiro was ready to drown in it.
“So,” he spoke after a brief moment, his voice still somewhat airy. “I suppose that means it was okay. . ?”
“Yeah,” Grimmjow sighed against his neck, and the sensation tickled enough for the shorter male to briefly scrunch his shoulder. It was soon replaced by a series of kisses, soft and chaste -- a sign of appreciation, if anything. “Thanks. It’s. . . . really nice.”
It was thoughtful, and Grimmjow wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to such a display of care. While panthers are his favorite of the felines, he rarely discussed them; Toshiro only would’ve known if he had paid attention to the specifics while he sketched, or. . . perhaps calling Jackie his little panther one too many times gave it away. Regardless, it was a simple gift that spoke volumes, and Grimmjow was touched.
His response had Toshiro emitting a breath of his own, one he likely hadn’t realized he was holding, as though the kiss of gratitude and confirmation hadn’t been enough. “Good. I was worried you’d find it stupid, or something.”
“Nah, babe, it’s fuckin’ amazing.” For emphasis, the figure is carefully returned to the other’s palm, where it sits nicely on display between their faces, held up for the both of them to view. “I’m gonna put it on my desk as soon as ya get off me. It’ll look real nice beside my sketchbooks, yeah?”
“Well, I guess,” Toshiro hummed a little sheepishly, shy beneath the consistent praise. “Seems like it wouldn’t be in the way there or anything. . .”
“See, you get me. Now, are ya gonna get up so I can put it there, are you too comfy?”
“I’m too comfy.”
“Tsk, figures. Well, guess that only means one thing. . .”
Toshiro doesn’t expect his lover to slide a hand beneath him -- uncomfortably, he might add, because it was a tight squeeze and felt violating to his poor backside -- and pick him up, ignoring his declaration of protest to instead carry him to the previously mentioned desk. Grimmjow bends down just long enough to place the statue in its designated place, somewhat adjacent to the corner of his pile of notebooks (which were undoubtedly all full, and he simply had no other place for them without discarding them in his closet) in a stance that seemed to be guarding them. While displeased with the fact that he’d been manhandled, his complaints fizzled down into a final huff of agitation by the time the artist’s attention had returned to him.
“Looks good there, huh?”
“Yes. Can you put me down now?”
“Fine, fine,” Grimmjow did as he was asked, literally, plopping Toshiro right onto the mattress. Iif his smirk was any indication, he certainly didn’t regret it.
“You’re an asshole, Jaegerjaques.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The comment earned him a weak kick to the back of the knee, but it was enough to have him putting his hands out to catch himself as he fell to his impending doom. He’d conveniently landed atop his lover, and the opportunity was taken to pull his growingly cranky boyfriend into another kiss. This time, they had any desire to pull away as it started to progress, and Jackie took it upon herself to slip out of the room in favor of finding her much needed tranquility elsewhere.
Maybe birthday presents weren’t so bad after all.