Work Text:
“No.”
“But …”
“How did you find out, anyway? I know I sure as hell didn’t tell you. You went to Dawn, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, but don’t be mad at her, I scared her into it, you know, the whole vamp thing … “
“More like you turned those hurt-puppy-dog eyes on her and she spilled everything but her bra size. I’ll deal with her later. But still … no. Seriously, I mean it.”
Anders shrugged into his suit jacket, then made the mistake of looking into Mitchell’s eyes, chocolate brown and sad. “Look, I know you mean well, but … birthdays just aren’t my thing, you know? They just mean I’m a year older, and who the fuck wants to be reminded of that? Especially when it means I’m a year closer to shuffling off this mortal coil and still BEING mortal.”
Trust me, there are worse things you could be, Mitchell thought. “That’s not all there is to it, is it?” Anders looked away, and the vampire reached out, touching his shoulder gently. “C’mon, love, what is it?”
Anders was quiet for a long moment, and Mitchell thought he really wasn’t going to say anything. When the words came, they were quiet, the blue eyes haunted. “You had parents that gave a shit about you, brothers and sisters too, I bet. Some of us … weren’t that lucky.”
“Mike didn’t do anything when you were a kid?”
Anders sighed. “As much as it pains me to say it, yeah, he did his best.” The blue eyes went soft in memory. “One time, Mike had saved up his money and got me this car model kit I really liked. It was the kind of car I was going to have when I grew up; all silver and sleek and just about the hottest thing a seven year old kid ever saw. He helped me put it together and paint it, and I was so damn proud of it.” The light faded. “And then I pissed off the old man by breathing one day, and he picked the thing up and broke in into pieces in front of me. Mike tried to stop him and got backhanded for his trouble. That was about when birthdays really lost all their charm for me.”
Mitchell tightened his grip on the blond’s shoulder, heart aching. Anders was right – his parents had cared very much for him and his siblings, and birthdays were special. With not much money and several mouths to feed, there was little to spare, but somehow there was always a cake and a small gift. It might have been a new scarf knitted from yarn pulled from Mum’s shawl, or a second hand book, but care and thought and love had always gone into it. He couldn’t imagine the pain of that little boy’s tears as his dream car was demolished.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Yeah, so am I,” Anders said, trying to smile and failing miserably. “But at least now you know why it’s not a big deal for me. So don’t worry about it. Let’s just leave it be, okay?” He gave Mitchell a kiss and headed for the door. “See you tonight, and stay out of trouble.”
“All right,” the Irishman agreed, but in the back of his mind a plan was forming. It was either going to be great, or it was going to get him staked, there was no in between. But he had to try …
-----
The first thing that greeted Anders upon arriving home that evening was the smell of homemade lasagna. A big grin broke over his face at this, a grin that faded into slack jawed astonishment when he saw the huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner stretched across the living room. It clashed horribly with his artfully planned out décor, and with itself, all neon and glitter and kitschy as hell. Bunches of balloons were tied to anything that would support them, even the dining chairs. His ultra-modern table was draped with a plastic cloth decorated with racing cars, and paper party hats and party whistles sat next to waiting plates and utensils. At the end of the table was a large, somewhat messily wrapped box. The whole effect was that of a party store exploding in his flat and dying a particularly gruesome death.
I’m gonna kill him, for real this time, there is no fuckin’ way he’s coming back from this one …
“Happy birthday, Anders.” Mitchell stood in the entrance to the kitchen area, a nervous smile playing on his lips. If he’d actually needed to breathe, he’d probably have been holding his breath at that moment, but instead he stood very still and waited for the eruption.
Anders finally found his voice, and when he did the raw intensity in it almost made the vampire flinch. “Why?” he asked. “When I told you not to … why?”
“Because it’s time,” Mitchell said simply. He put down the kitchen towel he’d been holding almost as a shield and came forward to within touching distance of the god. “I know how you feel about birthdays. I went through a lot of years when I went out of my way to forget, too. It wasn’t till I met George and Annie, people who cared, that I started caring again. I want to give that to you, if you’ll let me. Will you?”
Blue eyes looked into brown, and the love Anders saw there melted the ball of ice in his chest, leaving behind the beating heart beneath it. He stretched out his hand and the brunet took it and pulled him in for a hug, his smile wide and radiant. “You egg, what am I gonna do with you?” Anders murmured, planting a soft kiss against his lover’s neck.
“We’ll discuss that after dinner. Go get changed and sit down before the lasagna gets cold.”
“All right.” Anders pulled back and waved a hand at the decorations. “This is … really revolting, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, Martha Stewart’s pockets are a lot deeper than mine. Besides, it can only go up from here, right?”
“It would have to.” Anders pulled the dark head down for a kiss, soft and sweet. “It’s perfect.”
Dinner was wonderful, with garlic bread, a salad and a bottle of wine that Anders knew was pricier than Mitchell could really afford. He savored it all, appreciating the time and effort put forth on his behalf. They sat close to each other, feeding bites back and forth, and Anders laughed at the incongruous sight of the brightly colored party hat perched on the Irishman’s dark curls. Mitchell retaliated by blowing the party whistle so that the feathered tip hit the end of the god’s aristocratic nose. It was silly, and juvenile, and undignified, and completely wonderful.
“Now you have to open your present,” Mitchell said when the plates had been cleared away. He slid the box down in front of Anders, and the blond wondered what was up with the decidedly devilish twinkle in the vampire’s eyes. Anders took off the ribbon and wrapping and opened the top … to find another box inside. “What the … “ This one revealed yet another box, and one inside that. The last box, small and very carefully wrapped, contained a delicate and beautifully made castle. “Every king deserves a castle, or at least his fish do.”
“King, huh? So does that make you my knight in shining … skinny jeans?
“Yeah, I guess it does. Do you mind?”
Anders’ heart felt full to bursting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this, so completely loved and protected. Probably because he never actually had felt loved and protected before this amazing being had entered his life. Two broken souls had somehow forged a complete whole, and together they could slay any dragons that came at them. “I don’t mind at all.”
When Mitchell brought out the cake, Anders exclaimed, “Whoa, that thing’s a fucking fire hazard! You’re gonna set off the sprinklers in here.”
“Well, make a wish and start blowing, then.” Anders complied, counting the candles afterward and smiling slighting – Mitchell had come close, but he was off by a couple years. “Sorry it’s a store-bought cake – I’m a good cook, but I can’t bake for shite. I thought about asking Ty to help out, but I wanted this just between you and me this time. Maybe next year.”
“Or I can get one from him for your birthday.”
“Yeah, good luck with that – I am NEVER telling you when mine is,” the vampire vowed.
Anders grinned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, waggling it between his fingers. “You forget – I have George and Annie on speed dial.”
“Oh holy jaysus …”