a private celebration

happy birthday, rose!!! <3

They're scurrying around the house like mice, the two of them, setting last-minute items in corners and dusting shelves and sprucing up kitchen counters. What could have them in such a rush? Well, according to Addam's calculations, Minoth will be coming home sometime within the next five minutes, and it's his birthday, so everything has to be perfectly just so.

To be precise, the just so is more Flora's domain, while Addam reigns over the worrying and fretting and bustling. It's Flora who tends to the slim vase of late-season flowers, turning it this way and that, trying to decide which angle will best catch the orange glimmer of the lamplight. Addam, on the other hand, is walking around the room in pointless circles, creating a proper nuisance in an attempt to make himself useful.

"Why don't you just sit down for a minute, love?"

Ever gentle, ever warm, Flora's voice could calm a raging Armu. Addam stops his fevered pacing. "But he could walk in any minute now."

She withdraws her lilied hand from the mouth of the vase, turning towards him with a knowing smile. He's all dressed up, and as she takes a step towards him, she notices the woody scent of his nice cologne. The same one he'd worn on their wedding day, if she's not mistaken.

"Pacing around like that won't make him come any faster or slower, you know."

He grimaces. "I have been doing that, haven't I?"

Flora takes his calloused hand in hers, skimming her thumb comfortingly over his knuckles. "Oh, Addam, he'll be so pleased when he sees the card you made him."

The Prince turns a light shade of pink, as he's wont to do. "You really think so? He did say he didn't want us to make a fuss..."

"Silly. He always says that, but then he likes it just fine in the end."

"It's his first birthday out of that awful place, away from that awful man. We ought to honor it properly, in any case."

Flora pats his hand, and opens her mouth to respond, but there's the sudden sound of a key in the lock, so she won't have time for that.

Outside the great red door of the Origo Manor, Minoth is fumbling with his keys. There are altogether too many of them, and even after the better part of a year sharing Addam and Flora's home, he still gets them mixed up. Is it the silver one, with the triangle top? Or the big bronze one? The small burnished gold key is the one that works in the end, fitting right into the slot, allowing him to turn the handle with comfortable ease.

The door is a challenge in and of itself, heavy and made of sturdy wood. He braces himself against it, then heaves it open, driving his leather-clad shoulder in towards the entryway.

"I'm home," he says in his typical sing-song way, once he's opened it wide enough to step through. He doesn't, though.

Why?

Well, for starters, on the opposite side of the door are two shining faces, heart-achingly familiar.

There's Flora, first, face framed by those endearing chunky braids, holding a beautiful bouquet of red and white and green flowers. Then to her left is Addam, beaming brighter than the sun. Looking past them for just a moment, he can see into the living room, which is full of flickering tea lights and streamers draped this way and that. Happy Birthday, Minoth, says the homemade cake in green icing, perched atop the big oak dining table.

Back to those two precious faces. "What's all this about?"

"Well..." Addam's the first to speak, rubbing the back of his head, eyes crinkling in the corners like tissue paper. "Don't you know what day it is, Minoth?"

"Of course he does," says Flora. "Go on, tell us."

He's not sure whether to laugh or cry, standing there in the doorway, looking into those two pairs of twinkling eyes. Flora's right -- of course he knows what day it is. But he'll be damned if he's ever felt like any reminder of his existence was worth celebrating. Still... "It's October twenty-ninth," he replies, and just that simple phrase alone is hard as hell to say when you've got a big old lump in your throat. Who knew?

"Come in, then, dear," says Flora, holding out the flowers for him to take.

Addam, too, jumps into action. "Yes, it's far too cold to be dawdling out there. We've got tea and cake, and some other things like that..." He reaches around behind Minoth, helps him out of his coat, even.

The cake is delicious, Flora's handiwork, and there's a lovely heartfelt card written by Addam that really does bring him to silent tears, the kind that's sort of hard to stop once you've started. Naturally, all that could only end with the three of them curled up together in that big bed upstairs-- Flora insisted, and what kind of buffoons would they be to deny her that?

Minoth considers himself pretty damn lucky. After all, he's got one Prince nestled in the crook of his arm and one Lady resting her head on the flat plane of his chest.

"Hey, you two," he murmurs, and gets two sweet hums in response. "Thanks for today."

Addam scoots up until he's nearly upright. "You said you didn't want us to go to any trouble, but..."

"I've never had a proper birthday before," Minoth says quietly, hand absentmindedly stroking through impossibly soft strands of Flora's hair. She looks up at him, too, with those big blue eyes.

"Well, it's just any old day if you want it to be. We thought we'd make a fuss over it because we love you." Flora catches his wandering hand in hers, untangles it from her hair, brings it to her lips. "But really, Minoth, you're special all year round."

Now it's Addam's turn to press a gentle kiss to Minoth's temple. "She's right, you know. One of a kind." Tender gestures paired with tenderer words.

Having a hard time coming up with words of his own, he pulls Addam in for another kiss, longer and deeper this time, taking great comfort in feeling the firm outline of the Prince's jaw beneath his fingers. One is rarely enough where these things are concerned, especially now that Addam's hand is making its way up under the hem of his shirt. Down below, Flora shifts, lifts her head from his chest.

"What's this, then, a private celebration?" Both men turn to look at her sheepishly. "I'm only kidding, sillies. Carry on."

Kidding or not, Minoth gathers her up into his arms post-haste, because no celebration would be complete without all three of them.

And, he thinks to himself, may there be many, many more.