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Birthdays were usually a rather solitary affair for Asa Fell— a doctor who marathon, interrupted by a brunch with Aunt Tracy and perhaps a dinner and walk with Derek, who’d already served as a near father figure after finding him at his darkest, thirty-three years ago now, and became a staple in his life with their work together at the bookshop.
It appeared this year, though he was in a delightfully committed relationship, would be much the same. Anthony had apologized profusely that he wasn’t able to reschedule this conference, had insisted upon booking an alarmingly posh restaurant for the day after so they could celebrate properly.
This was fine, Asa decided. They’d only been dating for six months, and he’d celebrated his birthday this way for over three decades. Asa was a creature of habit, and habit dictaded he settle down, wrap himself tight in his mum’s old tartan blanket, and watch the Doctor tour the universe. His comfortable routine was interrupted, though, by a knocking at the door and one Professor Anthony Crowley on the other side, looking charmingly bashful with a cake balanced in one hand and a gift bag in thecrook of his elbow.
Anthony was welcomed inside with a delighted kiss, explaining that he’d called off his own planned lecture. They came together under that tartan blanket, cake cut into thick wedges. The gift bag opened to reveal a first-edition Wilde and silver snuffbox— Asa nearly wept from joy. Anthony had never seen any Doctor Who, and really, tradition must be maintained.
Asa’s cheeks hurt from grinning as he brought Anthony deeper into his world, from laughing as Anthony, with that gorgeous cheeky smile, asked, “Don’t you think that Tennant bloke looks a bit like me? Angel, is that why you like him so much?”