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Shadow Milk Cookie awakes, stretching high in the bed. He yawns, but is abruptly cut off by strong arms wrapping around his torso, tackling him to the side. He collides with the mattress, letting out a small “oof” as his eyes widen in surprise.
“Happy Birthday, Bluebird!!!” Pure Vanilla Cookie exclaims, smile audible in his voice.
“Nilly…” Shadow Milk Cookie grumbles, still groggy from sleep. “I just woke up, you gnat…”
“And it’s your birthday!!!” Pure Vanilla Cookie retorts, grip still firm.
“And I’ve had enough of the blasted things to know that it’s not a big deal anymore,” Shadow Milk groans, rolling his eyes. He sits upright, pushing the opposing man off him. “I stopped celebrating my birthday a long time ago, Nilly.”
Pure Vanilla Cookie’s affronted gasp amuses Shadow Milk slightly. “But- but it’s your birthday! Surely your companions never forgot?” Now Pure Vanilla’s gaze is tinged with slight concern.
Shadow Milk offers a slightly amused gaze. “Nilly, even I don’t know my age at this point. Millenia is a long time, you know, and the old birthday jag gets a bit boring after the first thousand,” Shadow Milk flops back down into bed. “And if you really want me to go along with this whole “birthday” thing, my birthday wish is for you to let me sleep.”
Pure Vanilla Cookie sighs, sliding down next to the other. “Okay,” he whines, pressing a kiss to Shadow Milk’s forehead. “As you wish, birthday boy.”
“Okay, do not call me that. I draw the line,” Shadow Milk narrows his eyes at the vanilla cookie, who merely chuckles in response.
“My apologies.” Pure Vanilla Cookie readjusts his arms to loop comfortably around the jester’s waist, resting his chin atop Shadow Milk’s head.
In kind, Shadow Milk snuggles closer, wrapping his arms tighter around the Ancient’s chest.
Shadow Milk Cookie lets out a contented hum. Echoing him, Pure Vanilla gently strokes the former’s hair back. “Rest well, darling. You are going to have a good time today, I shall assure it.”
Shadow Milk sighs. “I hate you.”
He can practically hear the fond expression in the healer’s voice as Pure Vanilla replies, “Why of course. Why else would you rest in my bed with me?”
“Shut up.”
☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyelids slowly flutter open, and he just about makes out the blurry figure of Pure Vanilla Cookie.
“Shadow Milk!” Pure Vanilla tries to speak in a hushed tone, excitement clearly tangible in his voice.
“Urgh?” Shadow Milk manages sleepily, dragging himself up into admittedly poor posture. He shoots the king a scowl, earning himself a breathy chuckle in return. “Yes, yes,” Pure Vanilla replies, tone still very much amused. “I made you pancakes! Blueberry,”
He smiles, that damn soft, sweet smile. “Just how you like them.”
Well. That explains the overlapping stench of blueberries and vanilla.
Shadow Milk can’t help the deep blue blush that creeps on to his cheeks. “Thank you.” He mutters groggily, averting his eyes.
Pure Vanilla Cookie’s disgusting little grin widens, and he leans down once again, pressing yet another gentle kiss to his jester’s forehead.
Shadow Milk swats at the former irritably. “Are you ever gonna get tired of doing that?” He remarks bitterly.
“Oh, undoubtedly not.” The accused affirms. Shadow Milk murmurs a range of insults under his breath, not caring if the half-baked fool hears him or takes offence. “However,” Pure Vanilla cuts in abruptly. “One thing that I can delightfully confirm, is that you are being incredibly spiteful—well, more so than usual—because you are tired. And hungry. So eat,” and with that, a tray residing a plate stacked high with pancakes is placed atop the Beast’s lap.
“Oh, before I forget, did you want herbal or breakfast tea?”
Shadow Milk looks at Pure Vanilla fully, finally taking into account of what the other is wearing: his long blonde hair is tied into a high ponytail; with a long sleeved, green sweater (the sleeves being half-rolled up, a white apron completing the look) accompanied by simple blue jeans replacing his usual robes. Witches…he’s pretty handsome. Beautiful, even. Or at least that’s what Shadow Milk thinks.
Perhaps Shadow Milk is staring for too long, because he hears a gentle voice call his name curiously.
“Hm?” Shadow Milk diverts his attention back to his other half’s lingering gaze.
“I asked which kind of tea you’d like, Bluebird.” Pure Vanilla’s expression is slightly amused, almost as if he could read Shadow Milk’s thoughts perfectly.
“Oh. Yeah, breakfast’ll do nicely. Thanks, Nilly.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s response comes a little too quick and flustered for his own liking.
“Hm.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, love.”
Shadow Milk groans exasperatedly.
“Don’t you have tea to make or something?”
Pure Vanilla blinks. “Oh, yes. The tea,” he straightens up, brushing the front of his clothes. “I shall return shortly.”
“Preferably never at all, but hey ho, can’t have everything you wish for.”
The huffed laugh and brief farewell that comment brings him as Pure Vanilla swiftly exists the room grates on Shadow Milk’s dough.
Heaving a sigh, Shadow Milk eyes the annoyingly perfect pancakes in front of him. Why was that little gnat so irritatingly perfect at everything? Even these pancakes appear perfectly round and perfectly fluffy and perfectly filled with blueberries on every perfect layer. Shadow Milk Cookie picks up the utensils lying on the side and irritatedly jabs at the pancake stack with his fork.
They taste…decent, he supposes. Oh alright, they taste incredible. Shadow Milk will give Pure Vanilla the credit, just this once. The fool lacks in many skills, but for all his faults, baking is not one of them. Shadow Milk has no idea how Pure Vanilla remembers everything the former tells him. Dates, preferences, teas, places…pancake flavours…
Several minutes pass, filled with Shadow Milk’s pleased chewing and occasional delighted hums, before Pure Vanilla Cookie returns; two mugs of tea in his hands.
“Took you long enough,” Shadow Milk comments through a mouthful of his breakfast.
“Sorry for the wait,” the fool king replies, tone anything but apologetic as he sets both mugs to the side.
“Enjoying your breakfast?” Pure Vanilla smiles.
“Hm,” Shadow Milk Cookie gulps before responding, “More to the point, what have you eaten today?”
Pure Vanilla Cookie raises an eyebrow. “Well, I assumed you’d ask, so I had a couple pancakes while I was preparing yours.” His smile widens. “Suitable enough?”
“It’ll suffice, I suppose.”
“Wonderful.”
Shadow Milk eyes Pure Vanilla.
“Well?”
Pure Vanilla Cookie blinks, tilting his head. “Well what?”
“Are you gonna come sit with me or are you just gonna stand and watch me eat like a creep?”
“Preferably the former, if you’ll have me.”
“Why else would I ask, fool?”
“Very fair point.” Pure Vanilla walks to his side of the bed, taking his tea with him, and slips in beside Shadow Milk. The king delicately tucks a stray strand of hair behind his jester’s ear before gently caressing his cheek.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to eat here,” Shadow Milk says, leaning into the touch slightly.
“My apologies.” Pure Vanilla returns, yet does not pull away.
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By the time Shadow Milk finally gets out of bed and fully ready, Pure Vanilla Cookie is perched on the edge of the two’s shared bed in his usual robes, wearing a nervous—yet somewhat excited—expression on his face.
“I have a gift for you, should you wish to accept it.” The shepherd pulls out a neatly wrapped box from his robes, hesitantly reaching it out to Shadow Milk Cookie. The blue Cookie snatches the gift up within an instant, staring at it with curiosity and admiration.
After a few beats of silence, Pure Vanilla Cookie clears his throat. “Are you going to…open it…or simply continue to admire my wrapping skills?” He chuckles.
“I…may I open it?” Shadow Milk asks politely.
“Please do. I wish to see your reaction.”
“Okay then.” Shadow Milk gently tears a small corner of paper off the box—before completely shredding the wrapping to pieces. Met with a white box, Shadow Milk carefully lifts the lid off to reveal the contents waiting to greet him.
Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes widen.
“It- I’m sorry if it’s…awful, I understand if you may want—“
“Shush.” Shadow Milk lifts the plushie in front of him, allowing the empty box to crash to the ground. He inspects the small plushie bearing his Pure Vanilla Cookie’s likeness—same long golden hair, same white-and-gold robes, paired with the fool’s signature cone hat to match. All features poorly stitched, messily put together, but clearly not effortless. Its mouth is sloppily stitched, but undoubtedly meant to share the image of a fond smile; a smile Shadow Milk knows all too well.
Perhaps Shadow Milk is quiet for a little too long, because he can practically taste the anticipation weighing on Pure Vanilla’s shoulders.
“I thought I’d take a little inspiration from your fondness of sewing, though it’s painfully obvious I don’t share your experienced hand in the cra-“ Those are the last words Pure Vanilla Cookie gets in before Shadow Milk’s lips shut him up.
The kiss is slow—delicate; meaningful, speaking every word Shadow Milk dare not say out loud. Pure Vanilla’s mini look alike threatens to fall before being caught mid-air by Shadow Milk’s magic.
He tastes like vanilla.
Several moments pass, and when both Cookies pull away at last, Pure Vanilla smiles down at his bluebird, gaze fond as ever.
“So, you do like it?” Pure Vanilla asks, hand tenderly cupping Shadow Milk’s cheek.
“It’s alright, I guess.” Shadow Milk leans into Pure Vanilla’s warm touch. Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckles. “I’m glad it is somewhat to your liking, Bluebird. Would you like to take a walk through the gardens?”
Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we can go see those pesky flowers you love more than me, don’t worry about it.”
Pure Vanilla laughs again. “Never more than you, my love.” He gently presses a kiss to Shadow Milk’s nose.
“Sap.”
“Only for you.”