Work Text:
"Pappa—when's Isä's cake gonna be done?"
Berwald turned to his young son, Peter, as he leaned over the oven, watching his husband's birthday cake cook. "Soon," he told Peter.
"Can I help you ice it when you're done?"
"Maybe," Berwald answered, eyes still glued on the cake.
Berwald's other son, Gustav, turned over to look at the two as he hung streamers, and he scowled. "Peter, stop pestering Pappa and come help me with the decorations!"
Peter let out a small whine as he glanced over at his redheaded brother. "But I'm not pestering! I'm just asking."
"Peter, listen to your brother," Berwald ordered, as he opened the oven up, mitt in his hand.
Peter grumbled and got up from his stool, doing what his father told him.
Today was the birthday of Timo, Berwald's husband and Peter and Gustav's other father, and the trio was preparing a small surprise bash for him, complete with decorations, presents (which they'd all bought earlier that day), a cake, as well as a big dinner ordered from one of Timo's favorite restaurants. At that point, he was due to be back home from his job as a veterinarian in about an hour, so the three were just trying to get everything done as quickly as possible—that included finishing up the cake and decorations, as well as waiting for the food to arrive.
Peter and Gustav were now setting up the table with the festive plastic silverware and plates they'd bought at the party store earlier. Neither of the boys particularly liked this task—the cake, presents, and food was far more intriguing to them at that moment—but they trudged along anyway. It was all for their beloved Isä, anyway—and, just like most loving sons, they wanted to give him a happy birthday.
"Who wants to help me ice the cake?" Berwald called from the kitchen after the cake had cooled off.
Peter set down a plastic fork and shouted, "Me!" He began to dash to the kitchen.
"No, me!" Gustav insisted, rushing behind his brother.
"No running in the house," Berwald calmly reprimanded. "And you two can both help me. No need to argue."
Gustav and Peter stopped running, just as told, and they waited until Berwald lifted them both up onto the counter so they could help out easier.
The two boys helped their father paint the cake with light blue icing—Isä's favorite color, with them getting a decent amount both on their hands and in their mouths during the process. Next, they poured rainbow sprinkles on top as well as two candles—a three and a zero. Thirty years old.
As Gustav was putting the three on top, and Peter the zero, the trio heard a knock at the door. "That must be the food," Berwald said. He glanced at his two small sons, feet dangling over the counter, blue icing covering their faces and hands. "Um...wait here," he said a little hesitantly. "I'll be right back."
"Okay, Pappa!" Gustav said.
Slowly, Berwald walked over toward the door, periodically glancing back to make sure his sons were still okay. He answered, got the food, and came back as quickly as possible. He came back into the kitchen and, lo and behold, his children were alright.
Berwald felt a small wave of relief before sitting the bags of food on the counter to the right of the oven. "Okay, that's enough," he called to Gustav and Peter, who were now trying to dig out some of the remaining icing from the container. "You two still want to have room in your stomachs for dinner, hm?" he tried to joke, cracking a sort of awkward smile.
"Mm," Peter whined, grinning, "the icing tastes soooo good though!"
"I know it does," Berwald replied as he went over to lift the boy down. Gustav had already leaped down from the counter.
The man checked the clock above the oven—about fifteen minutes until Timo was due home. "M'kay, who wants to help me get the food and presents prepared?"
Me!" Gustav and Peter called out simultaneously, cheerily.
Berwald chuckled a little, and he and his sons went to do just that.
»»————- ➴ ————-««
Timo huffed to himself as he swung his work bag over his shoulder, digging in his pocket for his keys. He was finally home after a tedious (though normal) day at work and was so ready to be home—especially since today was his thirtieth birthday, and his body already seemed to be feeling the age.
He inserted the key, twisted it, and opened the door. He lifted his head and gasped at the display. Blue and white streamers and balloons scattered the living room, dining room, and kitchen; in the distance, Timo could see presents and even food and what looked to be a cake. He honestly hadn't expected anything special for his birthday—especially not this much—so he just stood there in awe.
He couldn't do this for long, however, as he soon heard the yipping of his small white dog, Hanatamago, as well as his sons, Peter and Gustav, running up to hug him. Timo laughed and wrapped his arms around his two boys, as well as giving Hanatamago pats on her head. "Hello, boys!" he exclaimed.
"Hi, Isä!" Gustav and Peter chirped happily. "Happy birthday!"
"Oh, thank you!" Timo replied as he stood back up, fully observing the sights around him. "Wow, look at all these decorations! Do you two do it all?"
"Yup!" Peter replied.
Gustav let out a small cough. "Well, not all by ourselves," he corrected a bit snootily. "It was Pappa's idea, and we helped."
Though Peter glared at his brother, Timo didn't seem phased by this at all and continued to marvel. "Oh, wow! Well, you two helped wonderfully."
"Thank you," the kids responded.
Then, Berwald entered, wiping sweat off his brow. "Hello, Timo," he greeted.
Timo immediately ran to hug his husband. "Oh, Berwald, thank you so much for this! It looks wonderful!" he gushed.
Berwald, though a small grin crossed his face, hugged the much tinier Timo back a bit awkwardly. Even after all these years of marriage, receiving affection from Timo still gave Berwald the fuzzies, and he still never knew quite how to respond to that. "Oh," he said, "you're welcome."
After a few moments, Timo pulled away from Berwald, his gaze slowly landing on the dining room table, and therefore the food. Timo gasped once more when he saw the food displayed. "Oh, it's my favorite food! And cake with blue icing too? Is it vanilla?"
Berwald nodded. "'Course it is."
Timo smiled, barely being able to contain his happiness and gratitude. "Well, what are we waiting for? The boys are probably starving, it's nearly seven o'clock—let's eat!"
Peter and Gustav both cheered while Berwald answered, "'Kay."
The children sat at their seats and were already beginning to get their food; Timo was about to join them before he gazed back at his husband, who had a small pink tint in his cheeks. The Finnish man smiled warmly, leaning back to hold Berwald's hand. "Thank you for this, honey. It looks wonderful."
"You're welcome," Berwald replied, sharing a grin too.
Timo's eyes sparkled and he stood on tippy-toes to kiss Berwald on the cheek. "I love you, Swede-heart."
Berwald had to chuckle at that. Timo had been calling him Swede-heart since they first started dating, and he had called the man "sweetheart" for the first time. Then, Timo had chuckled and corrected himself: "Well, more like Swede-heart, I guess." Timo had laughed so loudly at his own cheesy pun that he fell over, clutching his stomach, while Berwald began to laugh too—louder and longer than he'd had in a very, very long time.
"Love you too," Berwald responded.
Timo kissed Berwald once again and the two walked to the table together, hand-in-hand.