“You know, you barely put up a fight this time.”
You’re still putting away what feels like too much remaining of a huge sheet cake, piled high with strawberries and far too decadent mounds of cream, attempting to fit it into the apartment fridge in pieces. It’s a little after three a.m., and you’re surprised that your guests all declined staying over on your couch, but then again you’re all a little older now, and comfort and privacy - the opportunity for you and Ichigo to sleep in together in particular - are much more prized. Streamers still hang slightly from some parts of the walls, and you’re still surprised Ichigo didn’t bother to call them cheesy, nor is he removing them now. In fact, he seems partially transfixed by one in a high right corner of the living room, or perhaps the large picture of the two of you together hung next to it.
Ichigo turns to you, face still flushed pink, with that dreamy look you’ve come to find cute when he’s the right combination of drunk and sleepy. He’s partially slumped over the counter still, exhausted by having fun for once, and you make your way over to run your hand affectionately through his hair. His eyes close, and he replies,
“What’s there to fight about?”
You laugh, not expecting such a defeatist answer. Pulling yourself onto the stool next to him, you rest against his side, still practically petting him.
“You sound like I’m bullying you into submission or something.”
He snorts, his eyes opening to gaze at you, then a smile spreads across his face.
The straightforwardness of it all almost catches you off guard, and you’re warm in the face too.
“Of course I do, Ichigo.”
“Every year, you make me celebrate my birthday whether i like it or not because you love me,” he repeats. His eyes close again, and he sighs, then reaches over lazily to cup your face. “I’m lucky.”
You lean in closer, pressing your own face against the coolness of the counter. You’re eye to eye now, and you can see despite the haze of a little alcohol in his features, there’s a warm affection that keeps his gaze as sweet as melted chocolate.
“Obviously, I’m the lucky one because you were born.”
“I came after you,” he replies, softly. “I’m lucky you were already here.”
“It’s not about me, Ichigo. Let today be about you too.”
“Tell me about it," is your amused reply.
There’s another pause, and he rises, taking your face gently with him, before pressing his lips against yours. You kiss, not the first of the night, but the first unguarded one, one that lasts longer, more heartfelt, and serves as a nightcap to a wonderful night of celebrating the man you love.
“Thank you,” he says once you've pulled apart. “For taking care of me.”
“I’m only returning what you give everyone else,” you insist, but you smile into his chest. “Bedtime?”
He nods, and the hug you share lingers a little longer as he rubs your back, still filled with gratitude, satisfaction and love.
“Happy birthday again, Ichigo.”
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