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In the midst of many emergencies and catastrophes, there was often not much time for celebrations. For many of the operators, important events and milestones were often ignored or spent doing life-threatening work.
That’s why such a rare opportunity was a treat, and you planned to use it wisely to celebrate your fiancé, Anthony. Despite his codename, Mountain, and his hulking figure, the man was a gentle giant. He looked the part of a violent thug, ready to bash heads at any given moment. Imagine to many operators’ shock when he would instead offer a hand to help and ask for a simple discussion.
He was a man of few words when he was hired, and he often spent his free time getting quietly drunk and reading. It was only after you asked him about what he thought of a book you wrote that you two divulged more about yourselves. He played the violin when he was younger. The thought almost made you laugh, and you couldn’t even begin to think of what a smaller Anthony would look like.
You told him you had no memories. That even though you penned that book, it felt like it was written by someone else. You both were used to being judged and praised for the wrong things- acts that didn’t happen, or violent acts you were forced to do in the midst of battle. That began your wondrous and quiet relationship. Days spent discussing your philosophy, drinking and telling stories of each other, and moments spent comforting each other at your lowest. Where he would explain how he could not rest until justice was given. Where you explained that you did not know who you were before and that you could not recognize who was an enemy.
He found your strength genuine, and your kindness did not falter when you knew his history or what he had done. You did not even seem to fear him, and the thought made him smile.
What truly made him fall for you and know you were the person he could devote himself to, was when his parents died. You stayed by his side. You stopped him from drinking the pain away. You offered comfort. He wanted to leave, pillage all of Rhine Lab with his own bare hands in revenge. He wanted to cut everything in his path and let it all rot. And he wanted you to avoid seeing that monstrous side of him that everyone feared he had.
He was about to resign. He was expecting a fight. An argument- anything, really. Instead, you told him quite clearly you would not stop him. That he was a free man, and that he should be the one to define if this was the right course of action. You told him you’d support him in any way you could. That you would make an enemy of the entire world if he so asked. But if he wanted to do it alone, that was fine, too. Rhodes Island would always be a home for him, and you would happily welcome him back no matter what.
And in that moment, he knew exactly why he had loved you. Why the guilt and that little voice in the back of his mind kept screaming for him to stay. You had accepted him, emboldened him, and loved him to his core. Not for a man who could kill on the field. Not a man who was the son of a CEO. He was just Anthony Simon, and you loved Anthony Simon for himself. And he knew that your warnings rang true- that it would be tough. You were always analytical, yet empathetic. It never failed to impress him how you could balance being a master tactician and still have the energy to make sure he and the others were comfortable. You never would yell or raise your voice. You always seemed to have a million plans running through your head, and each one was designed to help them all.
You were accepting. And that conversation made him quietly ponder on what he should really do. He meandered by the door of your office for an hour, before he walked back in and renounced his resignation. And, in your mind, the funniest thing he did was become bashful and apologize for trying to resign. Instead of lecturing him, you took him to your usual hangout, the library, and discussed his feelings. He discussed memories. He remembered things his parents did. And he recognized the true intentions of what they were doing. It was so easy to talk with you, and he loved that.
And one day, months later, he decided to take you on a date. A nice restaurant he had once frequented at in Columbia, and there he had put his whole heart on the table to explain that he had desired a more intimate relationship with you. One where you could support each other, and one where you could be partners in more than just the battlefield. And, really, how could you resist such an honest ask from a man as gentle and kind as Anthony?
You couldn’t, and you two haphazardly ran to a nearby jewelry store to buy rings. He would have planned it better, after you had agreed, of course, but you were more sporadic and said there was no better time than now. You two didn’t break the news publicly, as there was no reason to put yourselves out there. It was only when Kafka noticed the rings that she immediately went and screamed it out to everyone.
Neither of you had the heart to be mad, and you saw a cute smile adorn Anthony’s lips.
You both agreed that despite your rushed “engagement”, you two wanted to wait a bit longer before officially being married. You wanted to go as fast as he wanted to go, and he was thankful once again that you really made this relationship feel like a team effort.
This was the second time celebrating his birthday, but the first where you two were officially together. Admittedly, the thought had made your cheeks warm. Since there was no immediate action required, you wanted to make it special for him.
He was a simple man, and you absolutely did not want to have him publicly celebrated, something he admitted he hated. But that would not stop you from spoiling him rotten in private. You had dusted off some of his favorite records and poured two glasses of his favorite wine, and all that was left to do was to wait for his arrival.
As a gentleman, he did not keep you waiting long, and you immediately stood up and embraced him tightly.
“Happy birthday, Anthony,” You spoke softly into his chest. He patted your head and wrapped an arm around your waist, and he again was reminded of just how small you were compared to him.
And yet, he felt as if you fit so perfectly there.
“Darling, I told you before, you didn’t need to do anything for me.”
“I know, but I want to, that’s the difference.” He chuckled at your response. You were stubborn, and he knew there was no point arguing. He did not resist as you dragged him to the couch, and you played a jazz record he loved relaxing to. It had reminded you of when you first were starting to know each other. You couldn’t help but hum some of the instrumentals while you sipped your drink.
He looked at you, his eyes softening as he watched you sway back and forth while humming.
He was about to join when you hummed a wrong note.
“Shit.” Was all you had to say, and you laughed loudly at your mistake. “Only one glass and I’m messing up already!”
“No, it was cute. Perhaps you should listen to them more and practice.” He teased.
“Why don’t you do it, big guy?” You shot back, a wide smirk on your face.
“As you wish, dear.” He smiled before humming along, his deep voice seemingly enhancing the music playing. You were entranced. You put your glass down and leaned closer to him, and he recognized it as a sign you wanted to be closer. He wrapped an arm around you and you rested your head against his chest. His voice reverberated, and you could hear the thumping of his heart beat. You let out a content sound as he happily kept singing. Your eyelids felt heavier as his hands stroked you soothingly. You could smell his cologne and your every sense was surrounded and engulfed by him.
“Darling, you’ll fall asleep that way.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and you jumped at how close he was. You turned red and apologized for almost falling asleep, but the smile on his face showed he did not mind. “You keep letting your guard down around me. If you fall asleep so defenselessly, I might end up holding you in my arms forever.”
“I would like that. It would be a great way to die, being next to my favorite guy. But you’d be stuck with my snoring, and I wouldn’t be able to hear you sing. That would make me sad.”
“Don’t be like that, your snoring is one of my favorite things about you,” he said as he took a sip and avoided your gaze.
“Liar.” You laughed back.
“Alright, fine, I think you snore far too loudly for my liking.”
“See, was that so hard?”
“A bit, if I am being honest.” He grimaced. You gave him a quick peck on his cheek and shook your head.
“You don’t have to be hard on yourself. I appreciate honesty. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
He seemed to pause and ponder on your words before he continued to stroke your back. There was something so incredible about him that you had to stare at him. He was so strong, yet his touch was always gentle. Claws, canines, and large muscles that could break you in half, yet were only used in case of serious threats. His white fur contrasted heavily with his black outfit and stripes. When alone, he prefered to shed his white overcoat and sit in his black tanktop. His blue eyes were electric and seemed to glow compared to the monochrome outfits and skin. You wanted to be lost in those eyes- eyes that reminded you of the sky and the sea.
Both of your masks, whether metaphorical or literal, were cast aside with each other, and it was this quiet enjoyment of each other’s presence that made all the sacrifice and pain worth it.
“Is something the matter, (Y/n)?” He asked, worriedly. He was always so thoughtful- maybe too thoughtful at times- and you knew he was probably blaming himself for what he assumed was a mistake on his part.
“Nothing at all. I just love looking at you. I think you’re perfect.” You bluntly responded. He covered his mouth and looked away, flustered by your words.
“You’re being very forward tonight.” He managed to say.
“When am I ever not forward with you? Don’t take my compliment as empty flattery. I don’t like chatting people up for fun, you know.”
“No, no, I am aware. I’m just not used to it, is all…” He trailed. He took another sip and seemed disappointed there was nothing left to drink.
“Want another glass?” You asked, sitting up straight and reaching to get the bottle.
“Not necessary. I have something better in mind.” He said, getting off the couch and walking to the record player.
“What are you doing?” You asked. He carefully took the record off the player and shuffled through the selection of songs you knew he liked. When he found one he was satisfied with, he placed it in and another round of jazz filled the room. This one was slower, and reminded you of old, vintage films you had watched before with him.
Anthony knelt before you and reached a hand to you.
“I would like to dance. Are you up for it, (Y/n)?” God, you loved the way he said your name. You nodded and placed your hand flat atop his, and the difference in size was visible again. He pulled you up to your feet and held you tight, keeping an arm around you. Your hands entwined with his and you rested your head on his chest while you two swayed with the music.
The singer’s words cut through the music, and what surprised you most was Anthony joining in.
“It only happens when I dance with you, that trip to heaven ‘till the dance is through.”
You didn’t want to interrupt him. You didn’t want him to stop, because his voice was just so melodic and charming. It was husky and masculine, yet full of love and emotion, just like him. You wanted to melt in his embrace and stay like this forever.
He lifted and twirled you in the air as if you weighed nothing, and the way his eyes lit up made you flush red.
“Two cheeks together can be so divine, but only when those cheeks are yours and mine.”
It felt like falling in love all over again. The way he sang. The way he stepped. The way he held you. It felt like a movie. It felt like everything all at once, and you thanked fate for allowing this moment to happen- for making Anthony cross paths with you.
“But the thrill that comes with spring when anything could happen, that only happens with you.” He sang the last line, before gently pressing his lips against yours. It was not like fireworks or shooting stars.
It was like home, like a warm fire during a cold winter. It was like being comforted and loved after a harsh storm.
You loved him. You loved him so much. And you wanted nothing more than to have your home be anywhere by his side, hand in hand.
“Happy birthday, Anthony,” You whispered. “I love you.”
“Thank you,” he said, peppering kisses on your face before resting his forehead against yours. “I love you too. Please don’t forget that.”
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
“I never will. Are you up for another song?” You smiled, and he nodded back.
“Of course. The next song is one of my favorites.”