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He knew it didn’t matter in reality but he had wanted to do this for a while. And plus, Roberto had never fucking appreciated any gift he had given him over the years so he had long since given up with Father’s Day. The year he had left the man had thrown a fit because he had given him a ‘look’ and it wasn’t fucking good enough for His Lordship. Michael had had enough time to get Anh and Teddy up to their room before he had started hitting him. After that he had no idea what had happened.
This year was going to be different. While Axel hadn’t said anything or acted like he expected a gift Michael wanted to get him something. It was stupid and he cringed internally at the thought but Arthur had spurred him on – the man was good at that – and he had finished making in his opinion a rather shitty card the night before and had bought him a poetry book by a guy named Máirtín Ó Direáin a couple weeks ago. He had mentioned him before to Michael and he had no idea who he was but had hoped Axel would like it. It had been expensive as well. So now he was in his room with the card, book and a bar of Cadburys wrapped in old birthday themed paper because he refused to buy more wrapping paper for no reason.
Fuck he was nervous, what if he didn’t like it? What if he laughed at him, this was a stupid fucking idea. “Michael my boy, if you keep going on like a nervous wreck then the man will never get the damn gifts.” Fucking Arthur. Michael thought he had left after last night. Clearly not; well, it didn’t matter to him as long as he kept his fucking mouth shut. “I am not a nervous wreck. You just want to piss me off again.” He cracked his knuckles anxiously, deliberating going into the kitchen where he knew Axel was. “Good Lord Michael, will you get on with it.” Arthur never knew when to shut the fuck up did he. “You’re proving my point Michael, you are a nervous fucking wreck.” Ignoring the wave of dizziness he stands, grabbing the nearest thing he could hold onto and hisses angrily at Arthur “Shut up you fucking prick, I am not a fucking nervous wreck. Fuck off if you’re not going to help then.” Looking around for his cane – on the floor again – he could go five minutes without it, grabs the wrapped presents angrily and storms out of his room just as Arthur leaves front smirking to himself self-assuredly. “Have fun Nervous Wreck” Michael chooses to ignore him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Axel – as he knew he would be – was in the kitchen, on his laptop watching something and drinking tea. Like clockwork. He looks up and nods at Michael. “No cane today?” Michael shrugs, he should have used it but he wasn’t going back to get it now. Jesus Christ he was so fucking nervous and for what reason, logically he knew Arthur was right and that Axel would appreciate the gift but what if he didn’t and what if he hated it. What if- “D’you want some tea?” the question startles him out of his thoughts “Uh- yeah sure. What’re you watching?” He moves out of Axels way cursing himself for not getting his cane, fuckass Arthur. “What am I watching?” he paused speaking as he started making the tea putting his concentration on the action. “I am… watching a show called Crá. You might like it actually.” Pausing, he looks at Michael, confused. “What? You’re staring at me like I have two heads.” He finishes the tea and goes to hand it to Michael who is indeed staring at Axel like he has two heads. “I uh- I have something for you. As a gift.” He hurriedly takes the tea, shoves the gift into his hands and promptly burns his tongue on the tea.
He backs away, banging into the table and pulling the chair beside Axel’s to sit down as he stares at the gift in his hands. “Michael what? You didn’t have to do that for me.” Looking down at his lap he mumbles an answer. “I wanted to. It’s not a lot of things, just a card, a book and chocolate.” He sips the tea, still too hot to drink properly scowling embarrassedly at the other man. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry, Michael,” He sits down beside him, carefully taking off the paper. “Why’d you do that for me now. Oh, this is ridiculous.” The book and bar of chocolate are placed on the table as Axel reads through the card, sets it beside his laptop and pulls Michael who had been anxiously cracking his knuckles the entire time into a hug “Michael you fucking fool, thank you so much for that.”
~~~~~~~~~~
It hadn’t gone horribly horribly wrong, Michael hadn’t ended up beaten and Axel had liked – no, loved – the book he had gotten. He had done something right. He had done something right. “Didn’t I tell you it’d be fine Michael.” Arthur. The cunt was back, of course he was back, it was “his duty to keep you safe Michael.” It was plain stupid was what it was. “Fuck off.” He was sprawled on his bed, fruitlessly ignoring the pain he was in – shoulders were worse today – and trying to talk to Sadie.
Not that he was answering readily; she was online which pissed him off more, he actually wanted to talk to her to see if he wanted to meet up. And Arthur existing didn’t help. “Unless you’re gonna magically get Sadie to talk to me then fuck off.” No answer, but he did go. Great. He was so fucking bored now, what with Sadie not replying and Arthur gone there was nobody to bug and God forbid he do something fun anymore without landing in a flareup. Still, the itch to do something lingered and he didn’t feel like smoking today for some reason. He could get Axel to watch something with him. But he was busy. God he was bored. Sitting up and stretching his shoulders trying – keyword trying – to lessen the ache to no avail he gives up, ignoring the now distant voice of Arthur and kicks the pile of clothes on the floor for his pack of cigs. Fuck he could practically taste Arthurs disdain, the man hated smoking yet fronted to smoke nonetheless. “Axel might have some” some fragment he hadn’t realised was there. “Why would Axel have my fags.” At this point he didn’t care if they were creased or not he wanted a smoke, and the pack weren’t turning up under the clothes. Fuck. “They’re in the kitchen freak.” Ignoring the small voice, he leaves his room for the second time, steadier than before.
~~~~~~~~~~
“You looking for something?” he sounded happier than earlier. “Yeah, my fags. You seen them? I don’t know where they are and they’re not in my fucking room.” Half-heartedly searching the mess on the kitchen counter for the pack he leans against it and looks imploringly at Axel. “Sitting room, coffee table. You left them out last night and… ó foc, bhí sé chun cur báistí. So I brought them in for you.”
“Thanks, I think? Unless you like… cursed me. D’you want a fag?”
“No problem. I didn’t, it was… oh you know when the clouds do that thing.”
“No.”
“Fuck. The… thing… lloviendo.”
“Raining.”
“Yes that. Thank you.”
“Never speak Spanish again please.”
“Not going to do that, and I’ll take you up on your offer of a cigarette.”
“Right… happy Father’s Day.”
“You too Michael.”