#dripdrops

“What exactly are these supposed to be?” Cael quirked an eyebrow, leaning to the side to look up at Hadrian from around the oversized offering with a small sense of bewilderment.

Hadrian huffed and looked away with a small crease in his brow.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He sounded almost accusatory when he spoke, as though Cael had managed to scorn him somehow.

Cael blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Hadrian to notice or care about his birthday of all things, let alone buy him a present. Cael looked back down to the roses, taking them in with mute astonishment not at all reflected by his icy exterior. He couldn’t deny that they were beautiful; they looked soft and smooth, without so much as a blemish or petal out of place on any of them. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic, staring down the barrel of what was surely a dangerous path he did not want to travel. He scoffed to hide his hesitation.

“Well… they’re nice or whatever, but I don’t like red roses,” he said quickly, feeling a little hot under the collar.

“Oh…” Hadrian’s face fell a little, and he lowered the bouquet. There was a painful moment of silence until he cleared his throat and pressed forward.

“What colour do you like?” he asked a little quietly.

“Rainbow ones,” Cael said haughtily, folding his arms. He had quickly wracked his brain for some impossible colour, wanting to send Hadrian on a wild goose chase trying to find an acceptable replacement for him and by that time he could either avoid him, or maybe act like he was so upset his gift was late he didn’t want it anymore. He couldn’t take flowers from Hadrian. He just couldn’t. That was just so… so… couple-like. Rainbow was just an impossible enough request that it would keep Hadrian at bay for a while, wasn’t it? Cael didn’t know how wrong he was.

He had been so intent on staring at a spot on Hadrian’s shoulder to avoid looking at him or the roses that he hadn’t noticed the flowers changing until he saw a glitter of blue out the corner of his eye. He glanced down and let out a gasp. Each and every one of the flowers was now a myriad of colour, each individual petal a different shade and hue until the entire spread was bursting with every colour of the rainbow. Cael’s mouth fell open in surprise and awe.

“How did-? What-? When did-?” Cael stammered, bringing his hands up as though to touch the petals, “how’d you do that? Demons don’t have that kind of magic…”

Hadrian pressed his lips into a thin line and shrugged, his eyes focussed on some spot on the ground way off to the side.

“You said you didn’t inherit anything from your dad,” Cael said suddenly, realisation hitting him with a jolt of clarity as he looked up to Hadrian for confirmation, both slightly suspicious and a little excitable.

Cael whirled around to face Hadrian, hands planted sternly on his hips as his lace edged apron fluttered lazily through the turn. He still had a spoon grasped firmly between his fingers as Hadrian picked at pieces of his birthday cake. He had smudges on his knuckles from each time Cael had caught him stealing small tastes and had been dealt the harshest of punishments – a sharp whack to the back of the hand with whatever confection covered kitchen utensil Cael happened to have in hand as he attempted to go about making his boyfriend's birthday cake.

“'Cause every time you make me coffee, it turns out salty.”

“It doesn't.”

“It does.”

“It doesn't.”

“I assure you, it does.”

“Maybe there's something wrong with your coffee,” Cael sniffed derisively.

“Or maybe you have a hidden ability for turning sugar into salt.”

Cael couldn't even legitimise such a ridiculous statement with a response and settled again for throwing him a dismayed look of utter disdain. Hadrian's face split into the toothy smile he reserved for when he was about to tease Cael or enter into some other kind of mischief.

“Is that a mer thing?”

“Turning sugar into salt, are you kidding me?”

“Ohh...” Hadrian's eyes went wide as though he had suddenly understood something important, and then he was whispering conspiratorially, “is it some kind of siren saboteur move?”