Work Text:
“Event planning is an art - “
“I would actually call it a science-”
“Of course you would, nerd. Which of us actually runs events?”
“Just because you have no respect for aesthetics - “
“No offense,” Ainosuke cuts in - still in his Matador gear, minus the mask which he abandoned minutes earlier to rub, frustrated, at his temples - “but will your routine be going on much longer?” He’s not sure why he’s been dragged to this quiet enclave at Crazy Rock - without Tadashi, since he’s currently monitoring some dispute amongst the other Capmen - where Carla’s set up to project on a screen Shadow had spent ten whole minutes trying and failing to set up.
“Listen, you - “ Cherry almost threatens, before Reki coughs, purposefully and loudly, behind him.
“What we’re trying to do,” Reki explains, gesturing to Langa to click through to the next slide on the Powerpoint being projected; the first had simply been a picture of a snake wearing a colorful hat, for some reason. “Is throw Snake a surprise party.”
The next slide emerges just as Reki finishes speaking.
Ainosuke groans.
Operation Birthday Snake
Phase 1: Failing to Plan
“It’s not going to work,” is the first thing he says once he’s stopped pretending to faint. Ainosuke had hoped that lying on the ground and feigning it might have gotten them to abandon him entirely, but to no avail. After months of being friends again, Cherry’s learned his tells and Langa “trained in first aid in Canada” so they all knew he was faking it.
Smart boy, he thinks, about Langa, before remembering the matter at hand. “No one’s ever been able to surprise him for his birthday. He’s got a sixth sense for it.”
A sixth sense, an uncanny knack for befriending loose-lipped loudmouths who can only barely keep a secret, and a preference for quiet, personal celebrations that allow him to protect his peace.
Age 12: Ainosuke wanted to surprise him with a song he’d composed on the piano, but Tadashi kept walking in on him while he practiced and he’d had to keep scrapping it, desperate to make it something he’d never heard before. By the time his birthday had rolled around, he’d had half a sonata and gave Tadashi a package of fancy Pocky instead; he seemed pleased enough, and his soft, indulgent smile fed Ainosuke for weeks.
Age 15: Aiichiro had somehow gotten it into his head to throw Tadashi a party - in hindsight, it was part of a long plan to groom him into being his secretary later, but at the time it seemed frivolous and fun. Tadashi found out immediately because Aiichiro’s then-valet hadn’t gotten the memo, and invited the boy along to help plan.
He ate the cake - but tailored it to Ainosuke’s tastes. Dark, rich chocolate.
For his sixteenth birthday, his mother had flown in to surprise him. Tadashi greeted her with a wan smile and a box full of her favorite cookies. He had a DVD of her favorite K-Dramas, and by all accounts had a lovely time. (Ainosuke had found a smaller box of cookies on his own desk that night, just to his taste as well. The bakery was an hour outside of their city.)
For his 20th - well, the less said about that birthday and those beyond, the better.
“All this to say,” Ainosuke says, finishing his monologue on the birthday habits of a particularly unfriendly Okinawan snake, as Miya rolled his eyes and muttered “five whole minutes, really?” - “It’s impossible to trick Tadashi. About his birthday,” he adds, abruptly, noticing both Langa and Cherry about to interrupt.
Joe rubs his chin. “Well, ain’t that a conundrum.”
“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Shadow protests.
“Well,” Miya says. “Maybe there is something we can do.” By his side, Reki’s eyes flash bright with inspiration. “We hire a professional,” Miya says, at the exact same instant that Reki says. “Don’t celebrate on his birthday!”
He hisses. “Not only are you a slime, but you’re an idiot too.”
“Reki’s so smart.” Langa mutters, fiddling with Carla’s settings while Cherry looks down at him through his glasses.
“Think about it!” Reki says, and he looks so confident that, by grace of God, Ainosuke does. “All those things sound like they’re pretty obviously geared toward his birthday, right?” Ainosuke nods. “And people always start acting a little strange when they’re planning surprises, right? So it’s really easy for Ta- Snake to assume that anyone acting weird in the run-up to his birthday is planning something. And he’s probably grown to anticipate something happening, too.”
Ainosuke nods. He’s loath to admit it, but the redhead has a point.
Miya looks on, aghast. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles. “You can’t possibly be buying this.”
“If we only started planning after his birthday,” Ainosuke considers, “he wouldn’t notice a thing.”
Shadow snaps his fingers - and accidentally sets off a minor bomb, which he ignores. “This way he can do his quiet whatever on his birthday, like a total loser - I mean… the way he likes,” he corrects, when Ainosuke cracks his knuckles in warning. “And then we can go all out later on!”
“Excellent!” Joe claps, standing up. “Then we reconvene after Snake’s birthday.”
As they desert the enclave, Langa frowns down at Carla. “I worked so hard on this powerpoint, too,” he says.
“Don’t worry!” Reki throws an arm around him, jostling him until he smiles. “We can make a new one for later!”
Operation Birthday Snake
Interlude: Distract the Puppy
When Tadashi’s birthday rolls around with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, he’s very suspicious. He’s good at sorting the signal from the noise - phone calls he’s not privy to, mysterious packages, strange questions about his favorite things even when they haven’t changed in years.
Lately, his favorite thing has been time with Ainosuke. Making up for the peace they’ve lost.
He’s reviewing emails and calendar invitations when he finally, maybe, gets a clue. “Ainosuke-sama,” he says. “Your calendar is clear this evening.”
“Au contraire, Tadashi,” Ainosuke replies in his familiar rumble. “You’ll find that it is very booked. We’re celebrating you, so let me know which wine you’d prefer with dinner tonight.” He goes back to reviewing the notes on his tablet, and Tadashi nods. Inwardly, he’s beaming.
Dinner is oysters and the driest red imaginable - Ainosuke, for all appearances, prefers sweeter wines - and Tadashi’s favorite movie. Just the two of them, quietly, on the couch, Tadashi’s head tucked into Ainosuke’s chest where he curls up as the other man idly feeds him truffles.
“So they’re just... eating dinner?” Ainosuke asks, through a mouthful of chocolate.
“Mmm…” Tadashi hums in response. “It’s his dinner with Andre.”
It’s his best birthday in years.
Operation Birthday Snake
Phase 2 (or is it three? None of us know how interludes work): Plan the damn thing.
"Don't we need to gather intel first?" Cherry asks, while Langa fiddles with Carla. He looks stricken.
"I worked really hard on this powerpoint," he admits. With his head downcast, he looks like an angel.
"And besides," Reki adds, with a bite to his words. "Adam is our snake expert." An avenging angel, this one; maybe he needs a sword.
A flaming one.
"I'm sure I can fill in the blanks," Ainosuke says, magnanimously. It somehow calms the simmering fires in Reki’s belly and makes Cherry tuck his fan away.
"Where is Snake now, anyway?" Shadow asks. He arrived early to set up the screen, this time.
Ainosuke shrugs. "He has other hobbies," he admits, and ignores Joe's shocked gasp. It's not a usual S night, so they're all decked out in casual wear - except for the teens, who dress normally. He's in joggers and sweats, and Cherry used his fan to close Reki’s shocked and gaping mouth upon his arrival.
Ainosuke can barely believe he’s entertaining this notion, but it’s always nice to get one over on Tadashi. He once joked that their love language is scheming, and even though Tadashi laughed there’s some truth to it. Given his position, it’s impossible to be public with their love; sure, they can sometimes manage quiet moments alone, but those chances are far and few between. When they scheme like this - keep secrets that unravel over the course of days or weeks or months - it’s an ongoing reminder of their love, etched into their everyday life without being visible or obvious. Something just for them.
Tadashi once lied to him for a month straight in order to commision a painting of him; it hangs in his bedroom now, and whenever he looks at it his spine tingles with joy.
“Can we get started now?” Miya says - he won’t ever admit it’s a whine.
“Don’t you have homework?” Shadow wonders, and Miya kicks him.
Reki claps his hands together. “Alright! Langa, click through!”
The slide show is remarkably well organized - he says as much to Langa, who beams. They’ve got a date - “I stole Snake’s phone when he wasn’t looking,” Miya admits. “Face ID works on me.” - and a venue - courtesy Shadow, who has a friend who owes him a favor.
Shadow demurs. “His concerts are a little too indie-pop for me,” he says, as Miya coughs something that sounds suspiciously like the word liar, “but it’s nice, and clean, and unbooked for the evening.” The pictures of the place are pretty - cabaret sized, small. Ainosuke might even call it intimate - with framed concert photos lining the deep crimson walls, painted with baroque curlicues of shining black paint. It does raise a question.
“How many people are you inviting?” asks Ainosuke.
“Well,” Reki starts, counting on his fingers. “We’ve got space for fifty, but we figured everyone here, and any of you or Snake’s friends!” He’s careful to not say family - it’s a subtle grace he didn’t think the boy would offer, and he respects the move, despite himself.
“Just the eight of us then,” Ainosuke says.
“And Snake’s friends!” he says, brightly, leading him on. It’s kind, but unnecessary.
“They’re all here.”
Joe’s looking at Ainosuke with a soft expression on his face, the kind that looks like he’s melting. They’ve all dialed back on pity, these last months - frustration and anger they’d gotten out in the first season of rekindled gatherings, late night races and a few good, invigorating fights - so this one reeks of something like comfort, something like pride, in Ainosuke’s unwitting honesty.
“Just so you’re not expecting more people,” Ainosuke says. “Wouldn’t want you to overdo it on the catering.” He grins, the curve of a cat’s tail.
“Joe’s in charge of food and wine,” Reki blurts out. “So he’ll make a note of it. Can you email him Snake’s favorites?” When Ainosuke nods, he continues. “Langa, Cherry, and I are in charge of decorations!”
“I’ve been informed that I’m their wallet,” Cherry cuts in dryly.
“And your 3D-printer,” Langa says.
“We’ve got a design story,” Reki says. “And Cherry’s there to reign us back in, too.”
Translation: there’s no risk of anything going too cutesy for Tadashi’s tastes.
“I’ll allow it,” Ainosuke says. “So what should I do?”
Langa clicks to the next slide. “You get him to the venue,” he says. “And… we can add you to the group chat? In case we have questions?”
“About gifts, mostly,” Cherry says. “And so Joe doesn’t poison the guest of honor.”
“That was one time, precious,” Joe grits out. “And they didn’t tell me strawberries were an allergen, even when I asked.”
“Well, it looks like you’ve got everything taken care of,” Ainosuke says, rising. He’s looking at his watch. “Text me your questions, and the exact address. I can get him there. But now, I must go; he thinks I’m on a run, so I should start heading back.”
As he departs, he hears Miya hiss. “I’m certain this whole meeting could have been an email.”
Ainosuke smiles. There’s a good future ahead for that boy.
Operation Birthday Snake
Phase 4: Communication
From: The Third Wheel
To: Adam
Subject: Questions
Message: Hey Adam!! Cherry gave me your number. Is that seriously my name in your phone? Rude! Anyway, Joe wanted to know if Snake preferred fruit, chocolate, or coffee? And does he have a favorite animal?
From: Adam
To: The Third Wheel
Subject: Re: Questions
Message: Did he give you my number or did you steal it? Coffee, isn’t it obvious? And Peacock, for unclear reasons.
From: Ainosuke
To: Kaoru
Subject: you’re dead to me
Message: the red one? Really?
From: The Third Wheel
To: Adam
Subject: Weird!
Message: Peacocks? Really? Are those real animals? Langa told me yeti were native to Canada but I think he was kidding. Joe wants to double check. Snake isn’t allergic to anything, right? Also what kind of pens does he use? Cherry’s asking.
From: Kaoru
To: Ainosuke
Subject: again? you would be so kind.
Message: The pens are a red herring. You know what I’m asking.
From : Adam
To: The Third Wheel
Subject: Stop messing around with the subject
Message: He’s allergic to bananas. Large ones. Cherry knows what I mean.
From: The Third Wheel
To: Adam
Subject: You’re doing it too so what does that make you?
Message: ….I don’t want to know, do I? And one last question from me - favorite color?
From: Adam
To: The Third Wheel
Subject: ...Touché
Message: Mine or his?
From: The Third Wheel
To: Adam
Subject: :)
Message: Both!
To: Reki
From: Adam
Subject: never use an emoji at me again
Message: ….red and grey
From: Snow~
To: Adam
Subject: :D
Message: Thank you! Reki’s working hard and your answers were helpful. He said you liked emoji, too.
From: Adam
To: Snow~
Subject: Re: :D
Message: :)
Operation Birthday Puppy
Phase 5: B-Day
The days after Tadashi’s birthday are busy - shockingly busy, since every single environmental scientist in northern Japan reported elevated lead levels all at once. It had taken all his time to organize the meetings and calls and finally track the core issue down to a faulty shipment of testing materials.
Watching Ainosuke rip the original facility to shreds via phone call is like watching a master at work - the burning depths of his rage, bubbling up through his elegant words, the kind that starts as faint, damned praise and finally ends up with an entire management team quietened, and chastened.
“After all,” Ainosuke says, just before ending the call. “Our loving care will save Japan.”
Tadashi exhales when Ainosuke finally winks at him, stretching out his long arms. It’s been a tiring week, and he can’t wait to go home and -
“Come, puppy,” Ainosuke interrupts. “We’ve got places to be.”
Dammit.
Ainosuke drags him to a quiet part of the city center; it’s mostly residential, with a few businesses scattered around. Still walkable. Lots of renewal. Shockingly hipster. “Trust the process, Tadashi,” he says, adjusting the rumpled lines of Tadashi’s collar and tie. “This’ll be fun.”
He’s so tired. He just wants to sleep. He’ll trust Ainosuke, but…
Ainosuke presses a can of iced coffee into his hand. “I know you need this,” he says. Tadashi blinks.
“Thank you, Ainosuke-sama,” he says, before chugging the whole thing in one quick gulp.
“Is that why you call yourself Snake?” he asks, staring unabashedly as they come up to the door of a quiet bar, dark inside and a few cars parked nearby. “Because you can unhinge your jaw?”
“No,” Tadashi sighs, while Ainosuke opens the door. “It’s a biblical refere-” but his explanation is cut off with an explosion of sound and lights.
“Surprise!” calls out the group of strange littermates and friends they’ve found through skating, and S, and a whole lot of chaos. Shadow has a confetti gun aimed at a precise 60 degree angle that Tadashi appreciates, even as colorful streamers rain down on his shoulders. They’ve all got party hats on, with the little shapes of different snakes curled around the cones.
Kaoru’s face - blank, framed with rainbow streamers and a coral snake painted on his hat - actually makes him laugh. Reki looks stricken, like he’s seen a portent omen of doom.
Langa and Miya are both holding out a long banner with a series of pictures of him skating on it, Happy Birthday Snake! written across the top, and he definitely needs to have a long conversation with the OpSec team at S because some of that footage was never released to the public.
He feels a quick weight around his shoulders, and turns to find Joe, wrapping a sash on him and plopping a hat on his head. “Different kinda cap for the day, hmm Snake?” he says.
It’s just them - a perfect number. There’s a frankly massive tiramisu on a table to the side, surrounded by an array of food ranging from a gorgeous charcuterie spread to baked empanadas and beautiful, glistening oysters. The room - dark, lit with vintage chandeliers and wall sconces - is decorated with coiled, plastic snakes, pennant garlands in grey and red, and a lot of crepe paper. There’s an intimate semicircle of furniture - squashy velvet armchairs and elegant loveseats - with a small stack of elegantly wrapped gifts in front of them.
It’s a lot - it’s a lot.
“It’s not my birthday,” Tadashi says, and Ainosuke grins, shark-like.
“We’re celebrating a little late,” he admits. “All the better to keep it a secret.”
“Well,” Tadashi says. “Thank you.” It’s laconic, but there’s a little starburst of joy in his heart. It’s nice to be loved, he thinks, and the message must come across because there are giant smiles painted across all of his friend’s faces. Like they’re seeing the happiness and contentment raging in his chest, warring to be set free.
It feels a lot like love - a warm hug on a cold day, a surprise birthday after years of being on his toes, the uncanny sensation of being known, intimately, by people he’s come to grudgingly care for over time. “Thank you so much,” he repeats, and Ainosuke’s the one who pats a handkerchief to his eyes to dab away the tears threatening to spill out. “This is so nice.”
Tadashi’s had a long week - by all accounts, he’s had a long life. It’s nice to be loved.
They start with presents - much to the consternation of Langa and his stomach, which growls menacingly in the room. “It’ll all keep,” Joe says, waving off everyone’s concerns. “The oysters are on ice.”
Joe’s gift is a mostly blank card with the word birthday written in English on the front. To the point. Tadashi appreciates it. Inside, there’s a promise to reserve Sia La Luce for just him and Ainosuke one night in the near future; an incredibly generous gift for a frighteningly popular restaurateur.
“Mine is mostly an IOU,” Cherry apologizes, as a message pings onto Tadashi’s phone that makes him blush.
Shadow and Miya join forces to give him an elegant, personalized letter set. “For fun, not work,” Miya says. His name is embossed in fine, light grey ink at the top, and the weight of the paper is perfect. There’s a pen that sits beautifully in his hand, with a coil of a snake etched along the barrel.
Langa and Reki also teamed up. They’re responsible for the huge box at the bottom, the one that shakes and rattles when he moves it to his lap. He tenses. “Please don’t be a real snake,” he says, and Ainosuke shudders as well.
“Is that really a concern?” Langa asks.
“It’s happened before,” Ainosuke says darkly, and no one says another word about snakes, real or imaginary.
When Tadashi opens the box, Ainosuke gasps - but Tadashi is struck silent. There are two boards inside. Elegant, matching longboards, one a vibrant cherry-red and the other a multi-toned pale grey with patterns swirling through it like smoke. A careful outline of a peacock - gorgeous, with his massive, striking tail - is drawn in shiny, red paint on his board and there’s an aching array of chrysanthemums in silver on what must be Ainosuke’s.
It’s beautiful. It’s simple. It’s careful and loving. It’s - “Did you make these?” Tadashi asks, and he can hear the tightness in his voice, like he’s on the verge of tears again.
“Langa and I both did. We hope you like them.” Reki says, in a soft tone that he must use when he talks to his siblings. It should feel patronizing, but instead it makes Tadashi feel warm.
It’s been years since someone talked to Tadashi in a voice that soft; it makes him feel like he’s part of something. A friendship like a family, maybe; a network of care. People who look out for each other when they’re at risk of falling.
A safety net, in this secret history of skaters.
“Thank you,” he says, earnestly and honestly. Langa’s beaming, and Ainosuke rubs his shoulders.
“Best birthday ever?” Langa asks, and Tadashi sees his impatient gaze turn towards the food.
“It’s still not my birthday,” he says. “But yes. Let’s eat now.”
They forgot candles.
“I could use fireworks?” Shadow offers, while Cherry tries to cue up a projection of them on Carla. Reki’s wondering how they forgot, Miya’s insistent that they can just use Ainosuke’s lighter, Joe’s smiling, and Langa’s stomach growls loud enough to rattle Tadashi’s skull.
“It’s okay,” Tadashi says, pulling a small bag of candles out of his suit pocket. “I’ve got some.”
They all stop, staring at him.
“You knew!” Ainosuke accuses, but the smile on his face belies the weight of it.
“Cherry sent an invitation to your email address, Ainosuke-sama. I run your calendar.”
While they light the candles, Cherry and Joe bicker, Reki’s batting Langa’s hand away from the food, Miya stares at the flames expectantly and Shadow has a party horn in his mouth, ready for anything.
Ainosuke is by his side, a blazing presence.
When Tadashi blows out his candles, there’s nothing he could possibly wish for.
He’s got everything he needs, right here.