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Jim’s eyes flutter open as he is roused from sleep by the sunlight in their bedroom, and the most melodious sound in this heavenly world.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
Jim sees his husband kneeling at the foot of their bed with a cake in his hands. Beside him, their feline babies are quietly sitting, their tails swishing from one side to the other.
He chuckles and moves to sit up as Freddie sings the rest of the lines.
“Happy birthday my dear Jim, happy birthday to…,” Freddie glances at the cats and raises his chin, as if giving them a cue.
A collective meow, sounding very similar to you, resonates in the room, and Freddie’s face blossoms into the most beautiful smile.
“Bravo, my darlings! Papa will give you a kiss in just a second. The first kiss of the day, especially today, is reserved for Daddy,” he says, crawling towards Jim with the cake still in his hands.
“Careful, or you’ll drop it!” Jim laughs.
“I won’t! See,” Freddie comes up beside Jim, “it’s still in one piece.” Leaning forward, he kisses Jim on the lips. “Happy birthday, darling.”
Jim cups his cheek, and pulls him in for another kiss. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says when they break apart.
“Look at you, Mr. Hutton,” Freddie says as he sits against the headboard beside Jim. “Seventy-three years old but you don’t look a day over thirty-three.”
“And you don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Mercury, for someone aged seventy-five,” Jim chuckles.
For some reason, both of them look like they’re in their thirties—their ages when they met each other, to be exact.
One of the many mysteries of heaven, Jim reckons.
“Thank you, dear. Now, tell me. Did you like our little demonstration?” Freddie says, as he carefully places the cake on his lap.
“Oh yes, I loved it. You have truly become the cat whisperer now,” Jim says, pressing a kiss to Freddie’s shoulder.
“Yes, well, it took a while for them to get it, but they are intelligent babies,” Freddie says, blowing a kiss to Delilah and Miko who are still sitting on the bed, eyeing the cake hungrily.
“It looks like they are also very hungry babies,” Jim says and points towards the cake. “Did you bake that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Freddie says with a proud smile. “Well, with Joe’s help, of course, but I decorated it all by myself. Look, can you see something familiar?”
Jim looks at the top flat surface of the cake and laughs. Freddie is not only phenomenal at drawing on paper, but also on cakes, it turns out. Jim can clearly make himself out in the garden, with what looks like Miko rubbing her head against his leg. But it’s what he’s wearing that makes Jim laugh out loud.
“You drew me in my red booty shorts! Freddie, you dog!” Jim knows how much Freddie loves the sight of him in those shorts, but it’s surprising, yet extremely amusing, to see it on a cake, especially the almost exaggerated curve of his arse.
“Well, I always say that you look good enough to eat in them, and now, that’s true—quite literally!”
“I know which part you will be eating, then.”
Freddie places a fleeting yet passionate kiss on Jim’s lips. “Oh yes, darling. You can trust me on that.”
Leaning back, he winks at Jim and places the cake on Jim’s lap. “Shall we cut the cake?”
“Now? But it’s morning! I haven’t even had breakfast.”
“Oh, you can have the cake as breakfast, Jim!”
“Cake for breakfast?” Jim laughs. “We can’t do that!”
“Oh, fuck the stupid rules set by humans. We’re no longer in their land, so we shall not follow them. We can eat whatever the fuck we want, whenever we want.”
Jim shakes his head with a smile. Freddie’s words do make sense, and it’s not like there will be any consequences if he has a sweet start to the morning, in more ways than one.
“All right, you win. But there’s nothing to cut this with. Unless you’re hiding a knife in the pocket of your pyjamas.”
“Oh bollocks! I forgot the knife in the kitchen. Wait,” Freddie takes a deep breath and shouts. “Liza, can you bring a knife up to our room?”
A second later, Joe’s voice—faint, but still clear—rings in their room.
“You forgot to take the fucking knife?”
Freddie rolls his eyes and shouts again. “Yes, I did. Now stop being an arse about it and bring it up!”
A few moments later, they hear Joe’s footsteps on the stairs before the man himself appears in his workout clothes.
“You’re lucky that I was on my way to the kitchen to get some water,” he says as he walks towards the bed. “Wow, the kitties had first class seats to your make out session? That’s new.”
“We did not make out,” Freddie says, snatching the knife from Joe. “That’ll be later,” he says, looking suggestively at Jim.
“Damn, let me know when to turn on the music. I am still scarred from the last session I interrupted.”
“Okay, you two,” Jim says, stopping the men from squabbling any further. “Can I cut my cake now? Freddie, move over a little so that Joe can sit on my other side.”
“I can stand-”
“Joe, sit,” Jim says, shifting towards Freddie, and tilting his head to the empty spot beside him. Shaking his head, Joe lowers himself on the bed, and Delilah immediately jumps into his lap.
“Shall we sing?” Freddie says. Jim holds the knife over the cake, as Freddie takes a deep breath.
“Hap-”
“I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU
BUT I’M FEELING 22
EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT IF
YOU KEEP ME NEXT TO YOU”
“Joe, what the fuck!” Freddie shouts, but his voice is no match for the music blaring through the speakers in their room.
“It’s Taylor, baby!” Joe says, a wide smile etched on his face. “I instructed Alexa to play it before I came up.”
“Alexa, lower the volume,” Jim says, and Taylor, whoever she is, is reduced to a faint sound in the background.
“It’s all the rage right now at 22nd birthday parties,” Joe says while stroking Delilah who had hid herself under his arm on being startled by the loud noise.
“In case you didn’t notice, Joe, I am not turning twenty-two.”
“Ahh, what does it matter? Seventy-two, twenty-two—it’s all the same.”
“Seventy-three,” Jim says under his breath, shaking his head.
“Whatever. Now, where were we? Alexa, play 22 by Taylor Swift.”
Joe looks at the cat in his arms and sighs. “And lower the volume a bit.”
The song starts playing again, thankfully at a lower volume, and Jim can’t help but nod his head to the beats. It’s not the kind of song he’d usually include in his playlist, but the voice of the girl—Taylor—is a refreshing change from all the opera he has listened to in the last couple of days, when they had the lovely Montsy over for a while.
“Oh my my, Mr. Hutton. You, grooving to modern music? I never thought that day would ever come,” Freddie says, while scratching Miko’s fur.
“Well, you only turn seventy-three once, darling,” Jim smiles and finally turns to the cake, miraculously still intact in his lap, and not consumed by their furry monsters.
Jim cuts the cake to Taylor’s voice and Freddie’s claps. Freddie takes the piece of cake that Jim had cut, and brings it to his husband’s lips.
“Happy birthday, my Jim.”
“Thank you, my love. For the surprise, and for everything,” Jim leans forward and presses their lips together.
“My pleasure. And now, let me – JOE GET HER AWAY FROM THE CAKE! Delilah no! Paws off Daddy’s butt! That’s mine to eat!”