#contina

He’d hoped this birthday might be different to the past ones – all the ones he’d been forced to spend alone – but the hope fades quickly.

He receives a text at midday, one he opens eagerly, only to be disappointed again when it’s a curt statement of: "I’ll need to stay late, they need my help re-filing evidence.” 

Nothing more than that. None of the terms of endearments he saves for when they’re alone or even a reassurance that he’ll hurry home.

So maybe he mopes around for a while and maybe his eyes prickle a bit when Fowler calls him in on his first day off in close to two weeks but only because he’s frustrated… honest. 

The radio crackles on when he’s stopped at a red light, a 415 where he’s the closest officer. The operator sounds the slightest bit apologetic when he answers with a 10-4 as he sets off towards the listed address.

He thinks nothing about how it corresponds with his favourite Italian place, it’s work after all.

The waitress who greets him asks him to follow her, past the guests dining to ambient music and the quiet chatter of nearby tables instead of the shouting of vulgarities he’d expected to hear.

She steers him towards the second dining room and the moment he steps foot inside a cheer rises into the air. Gavin blinks at the sight of his small group of friends and chosen family all in one place. It must take him a moment too long to catch up because Nines moves from his spot at the table to slide an arm around the small of his back murmuring a low, “happy birthday, love,” into his ear.

A kiss follows the words, feather-light on his temple, and that’s what startles him out of his stupor. 

He turns his face into Nines’ neck, hiding a blossoming smile against his skin. “Thanks, babe,” he says, voice rougher than the situation calls for. The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter before nudging him towards the rest of the crowd, who no doubt also notices the faint shine to his eyes as he blinks away the fluid building in them. Tina throws herself around his neck and chatters excitedly in his ear, Connor and Hank offering a their own, slightly more subdued congratulations. Sixty, Allen, Chris and his wife. The only ones missing are Fowler and his spouse but Gavin understands that someone needs to keep the precinct in check in their absence.

The afternoon bleeds into early evening with him opening presents between courses, with laughter and small talk that doesn’t grate on his nerves for once, and Nines like a blazing line of heat drawn up his side from where they’re sitting pressed together. Connor and Tina skirts around the line of too much PDA without crossing it, at times becoming so engrossed in one another that they forget about the rest of the room.

Gavin can’t begrudge them their happiness, especially not Tina when she looks happier than she has in years.

Nines nudges him with his foot, drawing him away from protesting against Sixty and Hank’s not-so-quiet scheme of getting the waitstaff to sing for him. There’s an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, adoration so vast it’s nearly frightening, and Gavin surges up to claim Nines’ lips for his own again.

“Hey,” he whispers, a bit breathless as they part.

“Hey,” Nines says, mirroring him with a teasing lilt in his tone. “Was this… okay? You seemed a little overwhelmed before. I hope I didn’t go overboard.”

Gavin takes in the scene again, the warm light shrouding their party in gold, and then back to the hopelessly earnest expression on Nines’ face. Love, warm and content and all-encompassing, laps over every crevice in his body and the smile he’d been wearing all evening widens a fraction more.