#cursed!oliver

You arrived at Blanc’s house, shifting the packages in your arms to knock on the door. Balancing them between hands again, you waited patiently for the door to open. Blanc had let you know the day before when Oliver should be available for you to visit. The soft wink he had given you had made you blush at the time, but you were too excited to see him today to let the fact you would be alone with him rustle you.

A creak and his face appeared through the crack in the door. His eyes widened for a split second before he grimaced. “Alice?”

“Happy birthday!”

Opening the door wider, he took a better look at you. A handful of balloons floated from where you had tied them to your left wrist. You had a nicely packaged gift in one arm and a cake box in the other.

“‘Happy birthday,’ huh?” he sighed. “You’re so simple-minded. You’re probably thinking of me looking stupid while wearing a tiny party hat.” He hesitated, bracing his hand on the door as though preparing to close it. “You didn’t bring one in all those things, did you? I’m not going to wear it.”

“No, no,” you laughed. “I did make you a cake though.”

Oliver waited another moment before he stepped to the side. “Come in. I can’t have anybody seeing you looking like that in front of my door.”

You thanked him, carefully moving around him to keep from bumping any of your things into him. Beelining your way to the kitchen table, you dropped the boxes onto it, stretching your arms in front of you to work out the ache from holding them during your walk from Central. Untying the ribbons from your wrist, you retied them to the chairs around the table, taking a step back and nodding in satisfaction. You knew this was already pushing his boundaries in regards to decoration for his birthday, but you just had to do something. It was a special day, after all.

“I should have known you would go overboard like this. I can’t believe that stupid carrot-muncher told you about today.”

You turned to watch Oliver glare at the balloons, as though he was trying to pop them with his eyes alone. His arms were crossed and with his short stature, he looked even less friendly than his usual grumpy self. You couldn’t help but deflate at the reaction. You hadn’t exactly thought he would be welcoming of it, but this wasn’t what you had anticipated either.

“I’m sorry, Oliver. If you don’t like them, I can--”

“When I see you so excited like this it seems like it's not my birthday but your own. Well,” his eyes flicked over to you again, before looking away, sheepish. “I’ll let it slide since you’re cute,” he murmured.

Perking up, you grinned at him. “It’s your birthday, I wanted to dress up for you.” You were happy to have your new dress pointed out, even if it was under his breath.

Oliver cleared his throat and you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at the blush that tipped his ears. “You’re an idiot. I’ll go heat the kettle for tea. Go ahead and cut the cake. Make sure to divide it equally. Blanc can have some when he gets home.” He brushed past you brusquely, taking the empty teapot from the stovetop to the sink to fill it with water.

Carefully opening the cake box, you sighed in relief to find it looking as perfect as it had when you had placed it inside that morning. Easing your hands down into the box to lift the cake out, you placed it on the table in front of Oliver’s seat, turning it so the letters faced upright.

“Don’t you want to see it before I cut it?” you asked, moving up next to him to pull a knife from one of the kitchen drawers and a pair of plates from the cupboard.

He flicked a finger over the magic crystals in the stove, murmuring the words to get them to heat up. “I suppose so.” Following behind him, you nearly bumped into him when he stopped mid-step. Leaning over, you watched his reaction as he stared at the cake.

You had frosted it a pastel mint green, the color both in season and appealing. The hand-written icing on top was a dark green that matched his favorite hat. You were proud of the clean cursive, spelling out ‘Happy Birthday Oliver!’ along the top and ‘Here’s to another year together’ on the bottom.

“I…” Oliver started, but closed his mouth, his lips growing thin and pale with the way he held them tightly closed. “Alice--” The teapot whistled, interrupting him. He turned the other way, taking the long way around you to the stove. “Cut the cake, won’t you?”

With a weary nod, you did as he said, carefully pulling two slices from the cake, slipping them out onto the plates. You had wanted to sing a birthday song to him before cutting it, but you had gone far enough already today.

You settled into the seat next to his, waiting patiently while he finished making the tea. He was silent as he set the cup in front of you. Perching on his seat, he gazed at the cake again. You weren’t sure how to interpret the look on his face, a mix of anguish and something you couldn’t determine.

“Another year together, huh?”

“Of course,” you said, smiling down at him. “I’m probably a dummy, but I want to be here for you, for all of your birthdays in the future.”

A small smile rose to his lips, the one that was nearly indistinguishable to anybody who didn’t know him well. “How tiring. But...this is the first time I’ve looked forward to my next birthday.”

Relief spread through you and you picked up your fork. “That makes me happy to hear, Oliver.”

He picked up his own fork and nearly touched it to the cake in front of him before he stopped. “Huh? Alice.”

“Hm?”

“My piece of cake is bigger than the rest.”

“Oh. It’s special since it’s your birthday. You get the biggest slice.”

“‘It’s special since it’s your birthday,’ you say? You’re hopeless…”

You laughed, taking another bite of your slice. Leaning over before you could back out from nerves, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, my love.”

He glared at you, but it was too warm to really sting. “Just you wait until tonight.”