Work Text:
8 years old
“David, what do you say when someone gets you a gift?”.
The words are stuck in his throat. He hates the object sitting in his hands. But he knows he’ll hate what comes next even more if he doesn’t do as he’s told.
“Thank you for your gift papa.”
“Speak up. You’re a man David, real men speak loud and clear. Straiten your back.”
David’s spine snaps like a ruler at his papa’s tone. Maybe it also knows what will happen to him if it doesn’t, the reminders of last night’s punishment still prickling his skin.
“Let us hope that your new toy will help you grow out of the pitiful state you’re in now. And when you become 15, I’ll get you a real one. And you’ll learn how to use it like a real man.”
A real man. With a real gun. Not just this fake toy one papa got him. A gun, that hurts people. That kills people, that causes so much pain in the movies papa forces him to watch instead of the ones he wants.
David would rather die than use it. But he doesn’t say that. He shallows the nauseous feeling he has, and the tug on his tummy and just nods his head.
“Yes papa.”
“Good. Now go to bed.”
“But papa. It’s my real birthday. You said I can have cake on my real birthday. That I can blow a candle and make a wish--”
“Men don’t make wishes David. That’s for girls and children. You’re neither. Now go to bed before you disappoint me further.”
David wants to yell. He wants to say that it’s February 29th. He wants to say that papa had said that David could have cake and candles once in four years.
Not every year. Normal people celebrate every year. But David was an anomaly. That’s what papa keeps calling him. Because he was born on 29th of February. And that date only exists once every four years. Something called a leap year. David doesn't know why that is so bad. But papa always makes it sound bad. Like it is something he has done wrong. Like it is something that makes him wrong.
So, he only lets David celebrate once every four years. On his real birthday as he calls it. He is supposed to have cake and gifts today. He has waited four years. And the other man had given his word.
A real man’s word is as good as a promise, papa always says. But he didn’t keep his.
Does that make you less of a man papa? he wants to ask.
But he doesn’t say anything. Because he can see the funny face papa makes before he decides David has been a bad boy, before he decides that David deserves a punishment. David doesn’t want that. Not today. Not ever.
“I’m sorry papa,” he says in a loud and clear voice, trying to hide the tears that want to leave his eyes. He shallows it all down, like he shallows the broccoli their cook serves him even though it tastes bad.
He walks back to his room, making sure his back is straight just like his tutor showed him. He waits until he reaches his room and closes the door. And then he throws himself in his bed. Stuffing his face in his pillow, so he can hide the sounds he makes when his tears finally escape.
He wishes that his tears didn’t make any noises. His papa hates it when he makes noises.
“David?” a soft knock sounds in the room and David pulls the pillow away from his face.
“Félicité?” David wonders as the woman walks in and quietly closes the door behind her. She is hiding her hands behind her back.
“I’m not supposed to be here, so please don’t tell your father.”
He can hear the worry and fear in her tone as comes closer.
“I’m sor--” but whatever he is about to say never makes it out. Because Félicité is a holding a cupcake in her hand with a little candle on top. A pink candle.
“I couldn’t let you go without a wish on your birthday,” the older woman smiles at him as she sits besides him in his bed.
He remembers the first time he met her about a month ago. He had walked into the kitchen with papa, and she had introduced herself. He remembers thinking she had a funny name.
“What does your name mean?” he had asked her after papa went back to his study.
“Well, it comes from Latin, and it means fortune,” she had replied, with a smile over her shoulder. He remembers thinking it suited her, right as she gave him a piece of candy before papa could see. He never let David eat anything sweet.
He remembers thinking it again next week when he found a copy of a book on his bed. The story of Arthur and Lancelot. He finished it that night, pretending to have a cold so papa wouldn’t interrupt him. He never goes near David when he was sick.
He thinks it now, as the light from the candle showers his face with warmth.
“Make a wish David,” the woman replies, and David closes his eyes.
All he can think is Lancelot and Arthur. How brave they were, how heroic. How he hopes they were real. They could fight his father. They could save him.
I wish I could find my Lancelot and Arthur.
Yes, that’s a wish worth having. He blows the candle and opens his eyes to find Félicité looking at him.
He wants to tell her what he wished for. He wants to tell her that she gave him the idea, that she’s why he feels a tug on his heart. But a good kind of tug. Like… hope.
But he can’t. All the books he has read have warned him. He has read about so many people making wishes. They all say you’re not supposed to say your wish out loud because then it won’t come true.
So David vows that he will never reveal a wish. Because wishes are important to someone like him. They are like miracles.
And only a miracle can save him.
20 years old
“Well, aren’t you a lightweight?” Jacksons amused voice reaches him from somewhere on his left, but he is too busy looking at the screen to notice.
“Jackson be quiet! This is the scene where she chases him in the airport!”, for some reason this scene makes him way more emotional that it normally does.
“Remind me to never let you smoke weed again.”
“I don’t think it’s the weed, it could be the wine.”
“No, it’s definitely the weed.”
“Maybe it’s the combination.”
“That too”, Jackson concedes, and they stare at each other for a moment too long before they break in a fit of giggles. It takes them a while to calm down.
When they do, the woman on the screen has finally reached her lover and is wrapping her arms around him, the two of them sharing a heated kiss.
“I want a love like that”, David whispers the confession in the safety of their dorm.
“Well just wish for it” comes Jackson reply, and when he turns to look at his best friend, he is holding a little lemon tart with a candle on top.
Okay, exactly how high is he? He swears the tart wasn’t there a minute ago!
“I had hidden it behind the couch, I was waiting for midnight. It’s officially your birthday” Jackson replies. Wow, did he just read David’s mind?
“You’re thinking out loud you idiot”, Jackson snickers.
Oh! Thank God, Jackson reading his mind could turn out really awkward.
“Jackson this is very sweet.”
“Well, I had to make sure you had no excuses for this year.”
“What do you mean?”
A pointed stare.
“You didn’t make a wish last year.”
“It wasn’t my birthday last year.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn’t Jackson.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t the exact date. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t celebrate. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to celebrate.”
“I know, but I don’t want to make a wish except when it’s actually my birthday.”
“But why?”, Jackson persists.
“Because wishes are important to me Jackson. At some point they were all the hope I had; I need to believe that they will come true. I need that hope in my life. And for that belief to not die, I need to make it on my real birthday.”
He can't take a risk. Not with this.
Jackson is quite for a while.
“I want to punch your dad.”
David lets out an unexpected laugh.
“Thank you, Jackson.”
Another silent moment goes by.
“You deserve good things David. You deserve to have whatever you want all the time, not just once every four years.”
And for a moment, he lets himself believe it too.
“I know. It's just… easier like that.”
Jackson simply nodded his head. Like he understands what David means. David believes he does.
“Well go on then”, Jackson says while grabbing the lighter they used to light the join from the table and lights the candle. “Wish for your great romance.”
“I can’t wish for that!”, David exclaims scandalized.
“Why not?”, Jackson replies equally exasperated.
“Because you’ll know what I wished for and then it won’t come true!”
“David, I’ll probably have forgotten it by the morning, so it doesn’t matter! Just wish for something before the candle burns out.”
But David thinks it matters. He has made a vow after all. So, he doesn’t wish for his great romance. He wishes for something else instead.
He wishes for Jackson to always be by his side.
24 years old
“Or maybe here?”, David whispers in Max’s skin before kissing the spot between his back dimples.
It makes Max let out a small moan, like always.
“Really David? You’d want me to lay in front of another man like this?”, his moaning turns into a giggle at David’s answering groan.
“Maybe you shouldn’t get any tattoos. They’re dangerous you know. Infections and whatnot”, he informs the other man while turning him over so they’re face to face.
He can tell from Max’s grin he doesn’t buy the act of the concerned boyfriend for a second.
“But don’t you think I’d look so hot in tattoos? Think about it, you’d get to kiss them all, trace them with your tongue. I’d look real good inked all over”.
The words Max whispers in his ear send shivers down his spine. He would look phenomenal.
“Maybe I should become a tattoo artist, make the process faster”, David retaliates, and Max lets out a loud laugh.
David smiles at the sight and nuzzles his boyfriend’s neck.
“Let me figure out what I want permanently inked on my body first. Then your jealous ass can become a tattoo artist for me” Max suggests, and David kisses his neck in compromise.
He knows a tattoo is not a decision that one makes lightly of course. Especially Max, who treats his body like a temple. He loves it, he takes care of it. For him to make the decision to put a permanent scar on it, it will have to be for something important. Something he loves more than anything. Probably someone from his family. There’s nothing Max loves more than his family. But for which one of them?
His dad? Or maybe his brother?
Max doesn’t flaunt it, but David knows how much his brother means to him. How vital he is to him. Yes, Rafael is a strong candidate.
And no, David’s not going to be jealous of that. He refuses to be. So, he shall shallow the feeling down.
After all, he can give something else to Max. Something that will link him to David forever. Something that will make him family too. Officially.
He thinks of his mother’s ring, sitting on his drawer next his copy of King’s Arthur story. The only things he has kept from his life in France.
He thinks of the wish he made not even an hour ago.
“So, are you going to tell me what you wished for before?”, Max’s voice, echoing David’s thoughts, brings him back to the present.
Just this morning, Max woke him up by singing happy birthday in an obnoxiously loud voice, a huge vanilla cake in his hands.
David would’ve pushed him of the bed for waking him up so early in his birthday, if his heart hadn’t melted at the sight.
“Make a wish baby girl”, Max had told him while holding his hand after setting the cake between them.
And David had thought there’s nothing he could ever want more in his life than this man. His Max. His, forever.
It was the easiest wish he’d ever made.
“Daaaviid? Wish? Tell me?”, Max repeats his request, breaking him out of his flashback.
David pretends to think for a while.
“No, no I don’t think I will”.
“But whyyyy?”, Max whines in his ear. God, he’s adorable when he whines.
“Mon ange, if I tell you then it won’t come true!”, he smiles as he brings his face in front of Max. His vow is very important to him, okay?
“But if you don’t tell me, how am I gonna make it come true?”, Max whines some more and David’s smile widens.
“You don’t have to know it to make it come true mon ange”, David replies before he brings his boyfriend in for a kiss.
Just say yes when I ask you. Say yes and never take it back.
32 years old
“Papa, your gift is ready!” Lance exclaims from his seat on the floor and quickly gets up while trying to shove a piece of paper in David’s nose. Which is kind of hard considering the toddler David is bouncing in his lap, trying to get him to burp.
“Lance be careful, you could hurt Arthur.”
Lance immediately stops his attempts to show his drawing to David, his excited expression changing to one of remorse.
“I’m sorry AJ. I didn’t want to hurt you,” his son whispers while he caresses the baby’s arm carefully. David can feel his heart melt at the sight.
“It’s okay mon coeur you didn’t hurt him. You just need to be a little more mindful around him, alright? He is still very small,” David explains in soft voice and Lance nods immediately.
“Okay, I will be.”
“I know you will, now why don’t you sit in the chair next to me and showed me what you drew hm?”
The boy smiles shyly while climbing in the chair and places the piece of paper in front of him.
“It’s us papa. That’s you and that’s daddy and that’s me and the one next to me is AJ” Lance explains to him. The pleased look in his son’s face makes David’s smile grow.
“That’s a wonderful gift mon coeur. I’m so proud of you. What inspired you to make it?”
Lance blooms under the praise and the interest David shows him.
“Last night when we were all sitting together and watching cartoons and daddy made all these funny noises and it was really funny. And I wanted you to remember it.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you Lance. It’s so important to be inspired by the people you love.”
And in that moment, it was impossible for David to not think about the empty document on his computer. Writing a book is his dream. Writing has always been an out for him. A way to express himself, to make sense of the world around him. Even to fix his reality. To make everything hurt a little less.
Writing has always been a part of him. So why is it so hard for him to write now?
Maybe it's because he doesn’t have a muse anymore. His writing always used to be a source of comfort, even an escape from his pain. A pain that never seemed to leave him. But he isn't in pain anymore. Or at least, it isn't that bad anymore. It's not so constant.
Nowadays, he feels grateful, happy. If he is honest with himself, he has been feeling happy for quite a long time, years before Lance and Arthur came in his life. His boys make him feel complete, like any part of him that was missing has finally appeared.
But happiness?
Happiness is an emotion he became familiar with way before he became a dad. And he knows the reason.
As if summoned by the sheer intensity of David’s thoughts, a juggle of keys sounds from the entrance door and a voice fills the apartment. A familiar voice. His reason’s voice.
“Lance, come to the door buddy! I have a special mission for you!” Max’s voice booms all the way to the kitchen and Lance practically flies of his seats and runs to the hall, making David chuckle and AJ finally burp. His own sound must have amused Artur who lets out a giggle and David can’t help but giggle too. Babies are so cute.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear papa, happy birthday to you!” he hears the song coming from behind him and turns to find his 3-year-old holing a cake that has way too many candles on it, his husband following in suit.
He grins that brilliant way of his, the way that makes David insides burn, rendering him unable to do anything but return it with a fond smile of his own.
Max helps Lance place the cake on the table and attempts to lift him up.
“Daddy stop I’m not a baby!” Lance protests, making both his parents smile at him.
“You’ll always be my baby kiddo,” Max replies with a ruffle of Lance’s hair, at which Lance scoffs.
Max grins again and turns his attention back to him.
“Well, what are you waiting for sweetheart? Make a wish.”
And David smiles at him, mothing ‘I love you’ to his husband. Max mouthing the words back to him is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes.
He tries to think about what he wants. What he’s missing. It’s a hard task for him, when he’s surrounded by his family. The family he has created, against all odds.
His thoughts selfishly return to his previous internal turmoil. What he’s missing is… an inspiration. A muse. Something that will motivate him to write a book about. To win his passion back.
He brings his face closer to the candles in front of him and blows hard.
He wishes for his muse.
40 years old
The echo of his phone ringing is what finally manages to break his concentration from his laptop.
He’s so preoccupied, he doesn’t even check the ID caller before he responds. Big mistake.
“Hello?”
“David?”
His breath comes out short. That voice. He’s not sure he can handle that voice right now. He wants it so badly. But he can’t handle it.
“Hey. I was just calling to wish you happy birthday.”.
“Oh, umm thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
And thoughtful. Extremely thoughtful. Did the kids remind him? Did he happen to hear it from somewhere? Did he happen to open social media and stumble on one of the many wishing posts and comments he received?
No, he’s not bragging. Despite common belief, he’s not particularly happy about so many strangers wishing him happy birthday through a black screen. Birthdays are not an achievement. They are a personal moment. Private. The only people that matter in those moments are the people that know you. People that love you. They’re the ones you one should share that day with.
David doesn’t have that many people in his life anymore. He used to. But now he doesn’t anymore. Just a whole lot of strangers.
“Sure, no problem. I mean, I came to visit Bapak and he um. He mentioned it. So, I thought I should call and… wish you.”, Max voice brings him back.
Of course, that’s how he remembered. It’s not like he has a reminder on his phone like David does for his. It’s not like he’s anxiously waiting by the phone just to have a chance to talk to David about something other than their kids. Stupid David.
“Oh, well thank you. And thank Magnus too. I can’t believe he remembers.”
“Like Bapak would ever forget anything”, Max snickers and even David can’t help but let out a breathy laugh at that. Magnus’ memory and etiquette is a wonder to behold. No one can deny that. He used to be the first person except Jackson, Max and the kids to send him a wishing text or give him the occasional phone call. Jackson had mentioned once that there was a working theory between Max and David that Magnus was the one to remind David’s birthday to every member of the Lightwood-Banes extended family. Because they all texted him. Every year since they had met him. Until they didn’t anymore. David doesn't blame them.
“Hey, remember when--” but whatever he was about to say gets interrupted by a loud voice.
“Darling come downstairs! The kids and I have a surprise for you!”, Jaden voice reaches him loud enough for Max to hear as well.
Suddenly both ends of the line fall silent.
David struggles for something to say but Max beats him to it.
“Well, it sounds like you are needed. Ill leave you to it”. David tries to decipher Max’s tone. But the other man doesn’t give him a lot to go with and his growing headache doesn’t help.
“Again, happy birthday David. I hope you have fun today.”
“Thank you Max”.
He doesn’t know if he has something else to say. Something more to add. He doesn’t get a chance to contemplate, the line going dead from the other side. Max hung up.
“Darling hurry up!”.
“Coming!”, David yells back. He sits there for a minute longer, face buried in his hands, taking deep breaths. Trying to control his breathing.
After he manages to ground himself, he makes his way downstairs.
He enters the living room to find a huge cake with a single candle sitting on the coffee table, surrounded by a lot of ballons and confetti, Jaden sitting on one side, Lance on the other. Arthur at the couch between them.
“Surprise!”, Arthur and Jaden yell, making Lance flinch.
David forces a smile to make its way on his face.
“Well, well, well, what is this all about?”
“Papa do you like it? I decorated! And got the cake and everything!” Arthur says before he jumps up to hug David, and he feels his smile turning more genuine at his son’s antics.
“C’est magnifique mon rayon de soleil. Merci beaucoup”, he whispers in the boy’s ear and kisses the top of his head before releasing him.
Arthur beams up at him.
“I actually wanted to throw you a party, but Jaden said you wouldn’t like that as much”, Arthur explains and Jaden comes into view, wrapping his arms around David and giving him a chaste kiss before letting go.
“Well, I know you don’t like parties, so this year I thought we celebrate just the three of us,” Jaden grins at him and David does his best to respond with a smile.
But it’s not as easy as he hoped it would be, the conversation he had with Max still weighting down on him.
“How original,” Lance mutters while rolling his eyes, but David feels himself being pulled into another thought.
You see, David always thought he simply didn’t enjoy big celebrations. He always thought they weren’t for him. It wasn’t until his first birthday as Max’s husband that he realized he was wrong. He doesn’t remember it very well, but he has made Jackson repeat the story to him countless times during the years. He has read Max’s journal over and over. He watched the scene from the show until he could recite it, word to word.
Max had surprised him by calling all his family in their home. The Herondales and the Lightwoods and of course the Lightwood-Banes and Jackson. He thought he would’ve felt overwhelmed. And at first, he probably had.
But as the night went on, he would remember that party as one of the happiest days of his life, even if he couldn’t quite recall the specifics. They didn’t matter all that much. Not when he remembers feeling so happy. And cared for. And loved.
Like all those scenes from his favorite movies, when the character gets showered with love. He always thought he would be on the outside of them. Watching but never a part of them. It wasn’t for him.
But that night. That night he was a part of it. He was the center of it. And it was all thanks to one man. A man that knew him better than anyone. A man who knew what David needed before David had a chance to tell him. Before he even knew it himself. A man he had lost.
He clears his throat, partly to hide the lump threatening to escape him and partly to put an end to Lance’s behavior before the endless bickering between him and Jaden continues.
“Lance be nice please. And thank you, all of you, this is wonderful” David smiles at them warmly and Jaden smiles back, his expression hiding something David is not in a mood to decipher.
So he focuses on his Arthur’s face that shines so bright.
On Lance's face that softens slightly.
“Okay papa, time to make a wish!”, Arthur pushes him into the table and David sits cross-legged in front of it, closing his eyes. But all he can see is that day. All he can see is being surrounded by Max’s extended family. He himself finally having the big family he always desired but never dared dream.
He honestly doesn’t even know where he summons the courage from today.
But before he blows on the candle, he wishes for it. To find his way back in that center. To find his place back in that family that accepted him and made him feel like he belonged.
He wishes to have the Lightwood-Banes back in his life.
52 years old
If someone had told David a few years back how his 52nd birthday would have been celebrated, he would have called them crazy. Or check the room for secret cameras, to make sure he wasn’t being pranked.
But sometimes life is crazier than anyone’s imagination can reach.
Because David wakes up on the morning of his 52nd birthday to the sounds of bickering and laughter coming from the kitchen.
Lance and Arthur had flown together yesterday morning, so they can be sure they won’t miss today.
With Theia having to stay in New York because she could not take so many days off, David was sure that Lance wouldn’t be able to come. He hates being away from his girlfriend.
Max was planning to fly to New York and drag Lance to Paris when David shared his concerns, but Lance had assured them that he wouldn’t miss David birthday no matter what. The fact that Max’s plans where unnecessary spread David with a warmth that was rare for him even nowadays.
And he was also glad he didn’t have to part with Max. He doesn’t like to be away from his husband either, sue him.
He stretches in bed and rolls to Max’s side. It’s cold, which tells him that Max had a very early morning, the secret plans he has been making with the kids apparently demanding his attention.
David hides his grin into Max’s pillow and then inhales slowly, his husband’s scent filling his brain. Oh, how he loves that smell. All Max. He revels in it.
Because there was a time in his life when that smell would send him spiraling. Now it only brings him comfort. Like the man himself.
Of course, he still has bad days. But they don’t make him as miserable and desperate as they used to. They just make him grateful for the good things.
He takes a minute more to himself, before he decides that he should join his family.
He grabs his phone to look at the time. 9:30. Not bad for a birthday boy.
He unlocks the phone to be faced with a plethora of notifications of every social media account he owns- he still regrets making those accounts, but Max and Lance kept making him fun for it and he wanted to see what the fuss was about- but he ignores all of them in favor of the text messages he has grown familiar with once again.
Text messages from Magnus and Mister Lightwood, from Rafael and Anjali and their kids, Cami even promising him to take him book shopping with Theia when he visits New York.
Mr Herondale and his wife, Selena, Lexi, even Iris and Joan.
They all wish him in their own special, unique way. With a different banter. Because these are people that know him. Not faceless strangers.
They wish him because he is family. Again. Maybe he never stopped.
The thought makes him emotional, so he spends the next 20 minutes replying to every single one of their texts, before he drops his phone to make his way to his own family.
He enters the living room expecting to find Max watching their kids make a mess in the kitchen. But there is someone else there.
Oh.
“Jackson?”.
His best friend raises his face off the book he was reading and turns to look at him.
“Look who’s up. Took you long enough sleeping beaty”, the other man opens his arms and David practically jumps on the couch to wrap his own arms around him.
He had seen the other man only two months ago, Max and David had decided to fly to London to spend Christmas with him, and even the kids had joined them, but he has missed him terribly.
“I thought you couldn’t come today?”, he asks when they separate. He remembers Jackson telling him that he couldn’t find a plane ticket in time, profusely apologizing to David for missing his birthday and David assuring him it wasn’t a big deal.
“Well, I wasn’t, but your husband doesn’t take no for an answer and apparently no one gets to miss your birthday this year, so he flew me in with an Interpol jet.”.
And really, Jackson’ exasperated expression is understandable.
But David's face must be telling a different tale because Jackson rolls his eyes at him.
“Oh, for Crist’s shake, of course you would think that’s romantic and not absolutely crazy. You’re swooning David, snap out of it”.
David would scoff at Jackson, but the lovesick smile he apparently has on his face is very difficult to dispose. And really, who can blame him?
Whatever answer he tries to form for Jackson gets interrupted, by Arthur and Max, who come in the living room singing him happy birthday, covered in... flour?
Lance trails after them holding what appears to be a cake with candles on top, singing in a significantly lower voice with an exasperated smile.
Oh, how he loves those three.
“Did you bake me a cake?”, he must ask because the thought of those three trying to cook is very hard to imagine. But terribly endearing.
“You’re lucky it’s your birthday sweetheart, it’s the only reason I’m willing to excuse your lack of confidence in our baking abilities”, Max scoffs at him. Like that’s fooling anyone.
“Oh yeah, I wonder why he would ever question our abilities. We’re all so devoted to the kitchen”, Lance’s snide remark comes almost immediately.
David is inclined to agree.
“Stop bickering! Papa, blow your candles please. And don’t forget to make a wish!”, Arthur reminds him before he has a chance to blow the candles.
He almost forgot. How did he almost forget to make a wish? He has always looked forward to this moment. His chance to wish for something he doesn’t even have the courage to want most of the time. For something he desperately needs.
He struggles to think for a second. He struggles to think of something he wants but doesn’t have. The feeling is very new. And that gives him the answer he is looking for.
He doesn’t need anything else.
So he doesn’t wish for anything new. He wishes for what he already has. Everything. He wishes for everything he has. He wishes to never lose it again.
He opens his eyes and sees the smiley faces staring back at him. God, never again. Please.
“Time for gifts! Mine first!” Arthur yells all of a sudden and sprints to the guest room Max and David made sure the house had before they bought it. A room for their kids, even if they both lived in a different continent.
“AJ slowdown you’ll break an arm!” Max yells after him while Lance rolls his eyes.
David used to worry they’ll get stuck at the back of his head with how often Lance did that. He still hasn’t managed to quite shake that worry off, although that particular habit is not directed at him nearly as often as it used to be. David never thought that such a small thing could make him so happy.
“Where are you off to?” David asks the aforementioned son when he moves to follow his brother.
“To bring your gift papa, Jesus you’ll live without me for a fucking minute,” Lance rolls his eyes again.
Not nearly as often didn’t mean never of course. But this time it is not so uncalled for. Both him and Max tend to turn very clingy when their sons visit them. And honestly, who can blame them?
“Do not roll your eyes at your papa” Max yells at Lance, who sticks his tongue out in retaliation before going upstairs to bring his gift too apparently.
“Babe why did we ever say we missed those little shits?” Max makes a grand gesture of rolling his eyes in a perfect imitation of Lance, loud enough to be heard.
Lance’s reply is not very nice.
“And on that note, I will be going downstairs to fetch my gift from the car,” Jackson says and makes a move to leave as well.
“Did no one bring their gifts with them? Seriously people!” Max exclaims and Jackson replies with a gesture just as rude as Lance had.
David lets out an involuntary laugh at the scene. They’re all quite the drama queens.
But everyone forgetting their gifts grands them some alone time, so he turns to look at his husband.
Max seems to realize they have some time as well.
He abandons his seat across from David and curls to his side instead.
Like an instinct, David moves and lets his hand curl Max’s fingers with his own, caressing the ring on his finger. His own ring. The ring Max kept safe for all those years they were apart. The ring David himself had placed there. Again. Thank God.
His attention, who had momentarily been placed to the Monroe ring, turns back to Max’s face who is already retuning the lopsided smile David is sure he has plastered on his face with one of his own.
“And where is your gift?” David asks cheekily and Max’s expression turns a little wicked. Oh. Oh, this has potential.
“Not gift babe. Gifts. And I thought I should give them to you later tonight, when we’re alone.”
He slowly leans closer, just enough for his lips to trace the spot behind David’s ear. The spot Max knows drives him crazy.
“Most of them demand that we’re alone. Preferably with a bed you can throw me into nearby,” his whispered voice caressing his earlobe, before he leaves a kiss to his neck and pulls back to look at him with suggestive grin.
David can feel his mouth drying up and his insides turning into something warm, something that burns. He has missed that burn so much.
“Well Happy birthday to me,” David grins back and Max head falls back as he lets out a loud laugh.
Oh, how he loves that laugh. How he loves him. He places a sweet kiss on the exposed neck, wishing he could find a way to kiss that laugh.
Max lets out a little sigh at the contact and locks their gazes together. And then they’re both leaning in, their lips meeting in soft kiss. It doesn’t turn into something deeper. It doesn’t have to. It’s more of a reassurance.
I’m here. I got you. We made it.
When they pull away their foreheads connect and they’re silent for a while, just breathing each other in. But not for long.
“See, normally, this is the part where I ask you what you wished for.”
“But you won’t?”
“But I won’t.”
“Well, what if I suddenly want to share it with you?”
“Aren’t you afraid that it won’t come true anymore?”
David thinks back to the vow he made when he was a little kid. He remembers how he had felt that day, a terrified kid that didn’t know what love was, deprived from it for so long yet so desperate to feel it.
A kid that didn’t know what safety was.
He remembers needing something to hold on to, something that would help him survive all the pain. A light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn’t see it back then, so he just closed his eyes every four years and imagined it was there. Convinced himself it was there.
He thinks back to all the wishes he has made throughout his life. Only on a leap year. So, the chances of them coming true would be higher.
Because they were important. They were essential. For his survival. For his happiness
And they all came true. Not because he made them on a leap year. Or because of the universe. But because of the man sitting in front of him. His Max.
He made them all come true, without even knowing what they were.
The man that flew his best friend all the way from London, just because he knew it would make him feel more complete, more grounded to have Jackson there. Jackson, his rock.
The man that gave him the big family he longed for.
His husband. His muse. The father of his children. His miracle.
It didn’t matter if he knew them or not. He would make sure they would come true. So why not make it easier for him? At least this time.
“No. Not anymore. Besides, I didn’t wish for anything I don’t have already have. Nothing you haven’t already given me.”
And Max smiled. A soft smile. Because he knew. He always knew.
“Happy birthday sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Mon Ange.”
For everything.