#happy birthday to my specialest boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lestatlioncunt · 2 years

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31. a kiss on the palm in occasion of someone’s birthday, i’m offering a silly old prompt i still had to finish (rip) from this prompt list

featuring the birthday boy, fenix, miss vesper of course, brief mentions of the rest of the gang and with the incredible cameo of yours truly as...the fishmonger. words: 4.7k of silliness and emotionally constipated adults.

November 14th, a day like any other. Actually it was a Monday, which meant that the chances to turn it into a complete fiasco were at its highest possible stakes. Yet everyone was only thinking of celebrations, it was Fenix’s thirty-second birthday after all, exactly that time of the year he hated so passionately.

He loathed that day for as long as he could remember. When he was still a kid, Ephraim and his brother – before he turned into a crazy piece of shit, that is – did their best to make his birthday at least a touch special. Ephraim, who would gift him some old dusty trinket he loved so much, and Tancred, which tried to provide as much entertainment as possible for his little brother. Then both disappeared from his life and all of sudden Fenix found out that he didn’t truly celebrate a birthday in what? Six years or more? He never kept the count, at least he wouldn’t admit it. It felt too pathetic to voice out a specific number.

Fenix hated his birthday, but the same couldn’t be said about the attention such day would provide.

Now that, luckily enough, he was a tad less lonely, he wholeheartedly tried to welcome the celebration. That dreadful feeling would seep through despite his best tries, silently but it would still be there, and that year wasn’t any different from the others.

So he would wait for that day to come and a weight would settle over his heart for the whole week prior, like he had one of those swords from the old stories he and his brother loved to read, pending over his head. But then the moment came as planned and, against all odds, he realised he was loved.

It was an ordinary night of November but Vesper wouldn’t stop looking at the time, her eyes glued to the numbers on her phone, patiently waiting for the minutes, the seconds, to flow. The clock hit the midnight and so she wished him a happy birthday with that low voice of hers, leaved a kiss on his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. And then Nader and Daniel rushed to loudly scream into his face the same wish. Daniel’s hug was ten times tighter than the one from his sister, his energy ever so contagious made Fenix laugh while Nader landed a few playful hits to his back that Fenix pretended to hurt like hell.

That year Fenix realised he had found a family too. And that birthdays hold more than one type of surprise. When the morning came, Karima showed up to their apartment. She greeted him with her usual disappointed look that she inflicted on Fenix and Fenix only, certainly that wasn’t a great start but then something shifted, he wasn’t sure and at first he thought it was probably just an auditory hallucination but Karima told him ‘happy birthday’ that morning, her tone tame, maybe even friendly – Fenix dared to recognise. The sound felt like the recoil of a gun into his ears and before Nader’s mother could withdraw this special sign of peace, he quickly thanked her back. Thank you, ma’am. And thanked her once more when she prepared breakfast for everyone. Fried donuts, Fenix’s secret love that no one else beside Vesper knew about. So they plotted behind his back? It didn’t matter, not when his fingers and lips were sticky with sugar and he felt like an eight years old kid all over again.

Then the gifts came.

Gifts too? He was such a lucky man. Or so he believed before finding out that the gang pulled a prank on him. He got madly laughed at for now owning a pair of bookends shaped like horse butts – Daniel and Nader’s doing, of course – and a mug with a print of Lizzy Wizzy’s face and the words “National Treasure” on it from Vesper. That’s how Christ felt like when Judas betrayed him, Fenix thought, or something like that.

When they recovered from the discomposed laughs that saw Nader fall on the floor clutching his stomach at such sights, Fenix could receive his real gifts: a vinyl to add to his collection from the pair accompanied by a drawing of a chicken – undoubtedly Daniel’s, judging by the wobbly lines – that he later stuffed into his back pocket when no one looked; and the exact chocolate suede jacket he once pointed in a shop to Vesper, which she kindly judged with a sharp ‘it makes you look old’. Was that strategy or truth? Maybe Fenix would resolve the enigma later, or maybe not. Blissful ignorance.

Between one laugh and a jab at his increasing age, the day went on and Fenix, truth is, couldn’t wait for the evening to come, to spend it alone with his life companion. Somehow – not even Vesper knows – he convinced her that, for his birthday’s dinner, they would finally use that untouched kitchen in their apartment and cook something of Fenix’s choice. So he picked an old recipe back from his origins, something he didn’t had the pleasure to taste in ages: rice, potatoes and mussels. Vesper frowned at the idea of eating seafood, especially when paired with tubers. That was a marriage of ingredients she couldn’t exactly understand but at this point it was too late, she agreed and promised to accept whatever Fenix suggested.

Since he chose the menu, Fenix in return agreed that he would take care of the needed groceries. That’s how he found the most peculiar fishmonger in Night City, by pure chance. Orazio, or Angelo, or even Nicola – he gave three names and never settled for one – was a short old man with a striking thick blonde moustache that covered his upper lip and looked absolutely fake if compared to the short black hair, so slick with hair pomade that Fenix felt his hands getting sticky only by watching. He nearly kidnapped him for hours when he caught on that they shared the same birthplace, and with a raucous cry of joy he grabbed Fenix by the shoulders and teared him down to his height level. He kissed him twice on the cheeks and trapped Fenix’s body into a suffocating hug, then he began smacking him just between his shoulder blades with so much strength to almost make Fenix scared that one of his lungs would fall out of his ribcage.

Words couldn’t begin to explain how relieved Fenix felt when he finally managed to escape from the shop after forty minutes of chatter that he didn’t fully understand and come back home safely. He once read somewhere that the chances to die on your birthday are a little higher than any other day. Well, that had to be for sure his close call.

That or cooking. Fenix found his other half already in the kitchen at his return: sitting on one of the stools, she was carefully reading through the notes they both wrote down together, an easy and short summary of the various steps they had to go through to turn a wish into reality. The zipper of Vesper’s sweater was pulled all the way up and hid her mouth behind the soft material, her eyes funnily widened as she kept going over and over the same phrase hoping that the text would change on its own. She had no idea of how they could pull off a feat like that aware that neither of them was born to be a chef, but the things that love makes you do sometimes are incredibly foolish.

They began working immediately on what – hopefully – would be their dinner. Vesper already selected the place they could retreat to if their preparations went incredibly bad and they risked to conclude the day on an empty stomach. Just in case.

“Let’s pick roles.” Fenix suggested as he tied an apron around his waist. He would never risk ruining one of his favourite dusty pink shirts.

Vesper didn’t need to think about it for too long. “I’m not touching any of those slimy beasts.” Her nose wrinkled upwards as she casted a disgusted look on the plastic bag that held the mussels in a brackish water.

“Fine, I’ll take care of the ‘beasts’.” He mocked. “You…hm. You’ll cut everything else then. No slacking in my kitchen.” And with that he clapped his hands together a few times, a kind of motivational ritual.

“Your kitchen? I’m clearly better than you at this.” On a scale of terrible to mediocre, of course, but one is better than the other, right?

“Prove it. Start with tomatoes and try to not cut a finger with them too.” He raised his right hand and wiggled the two mechanical fingers in the air. “Trust me, it’s not a pretty show.” Vesper simply rolled her eyes back at him and pulled up the sleeves of her sweater, ready to get to work. A few blades and vegetables would never scare her. Only seafood could, probably.

The lights in the apartment were dimmed to an intimate glow that made the air sparkle with what felt a prohibited dream, as if they were part of the soft shadows around the room. Fenix decided to put on music too, hopeful that it would help them perform better. Soon a melody filled the kitchen: one of Fenix’s vintage pieces of course; the double bass gave start to the private concert, then the guitar and piano made their entrance as well, all mixing together in a soft tune. The deep and harmonious voice of the singer took part to the song and soon melted perfectly into it. She was intoning a mockery, but what a sweet one.

The impossible feat commenced and not free of Fenix’s hindering stunts. When Vesper tried to wash her hands by the sink, Fenix joined as well, and with the back of his hand he pushed hers away, knuckles against knuckles, just to piss her off as usual. He didn’t expect the shove he got back though. Never let it be said that Vesper Moxley leaves a challenge without a win. Then he began to work on the mussels, and how could he resist the temptation of splashing a few drops of that liquid that smelled so intensely of sea and fish right to her face?

A disgusted shiver ran down her spine and her lips creased with revulsion. “If you don’t leave me to my work in fuckin’ peace you will lose the rest of your fingers.” With that threat she pointed the tip of the knife at Fenix.

Immediately he rose his hands up in defeat. “No please good sir,” he began, faking the desperation in his tone “I don’t have the eddies to buy a whole cyberhand. I can barely pay taxes.”

It was undeniable, he was a little too good with his impressions, the voice and the exaggerated expressions were too comical for Vesper to not break down into a chuckle. Distracted, as if the previous warning attracted misfortune on her, she nearly let the blade cut through not only half tomato but her finger too if Fenix didn’t get a hold on her wrist before it was too late.

“You’re clearly better than me, ah?” He gave a few taunting clicks of his tongue but that wasn’t enough for Fenix, he had to further pour salt over the wound so he proudly showed her how he slipped the tip of his knife in the shell and opened the mussel he was holding in one smooth move. No finger missing, except for the usuals. “You’re half-french on your mom’s side, you should know at least something about cooking.”

Vesper growled her reply. “And you’re half-asshole on your dad’s side and half-shithead on your mom’s.” Fair. Mean, but fundamentally fair.

Escaped the threat of a late night trip to Viktor’s clinic for an urgent case of missing finger, the pair managed to prepare a fairly decent looking dish. Now they had to wait for forty long cooking minutes in the oven.

Vesper glanced at her partner crunched down, a hand under his chin as he focused on admiring his creation in the yellow light of the appliance. “Want your other gift now?” She suggested as she rubbed her hands with vigour under the streaming water, hopefully the terrible scent of fish would soon disappear from her memory and nostrils. “We have to wait.” And shrugged.

Fenix’s eyes darted in her direction, brow knitted in confusion. “Now? Before dinner?” How clear it was that he might have misunderstood Vesper’s words when, before leaving to shop for dinner, she nonchalantly muttered that she had yet another surprise for him that night. Judging by the admonishing glint in her green eyes, Fenix knew it was in his best interest to change his answer. “Huh. Sure, yeah. Show me.”

“Go sit somewhere, I’ll pick it up.” She hummed and then disappeared with the stairs to find the hiding spot she chose for her present while Fenix decided it was his time to slouch on the black velvety sofa of their living room.

It wasn’t long before he heard lively footsteps return followed by the usual one single stomp colliding with the floor – this one softer than usual as she was wearing just a plain pair of socks. An old habit: Vesper never set foot on the last stair thread, but simply did a little leap to avoid it completely. It was a rather comforting sound by now.

Hands behind her back, she appeared by Fenix’s side and he instantly straightened up expectantly. Short of additional words, she uncovered the secret gift from behind her frame and simply offered it; a playful short chuckle vibrated in the man’s throat as soon as he saw the package: a sheeny wrapping of intense dark blue covered the item in a lopsided fashion, not one edge was symmetrical to the other, only the tiny plastic ribbon tying everything together was fairly acceptable. It wasn’t anything new, Vesper didn’t possess a good hand with threads and papers, she knew it, they both knew. Yet a smile turned Fenix’s lips upwards every time he had the chance to witness those silly attempts. Nothing screamed ‘I tried for you’ better than an ugly effort. Not that he would ever admit and openly use the word ugly, maybe cutely ugly?

He retrieved the gift from her hands and Vesper sat by his side, one leg tucked under the other and her gaze fixed on what could be the cause of a complete embarrassing fail or a tender gesture.

“What should I expect?” Fenix hunched forward, elbows resting on each thigh, and gently patted the content on his open palm. Rectangular shape – despite the packaging; fairly light, modest dimensions. A book, for sure.

Breaking her anxious silence, Vesper hurriedly spluttered her words. “It’s–It’s not exactly a proper gift. I’m…returning it? Kinda?” She could’ve and whished to stop blurting out any more useless comments but her tongue worked faster than her brain way too often. “I’m sure you’ll like it, I mean you…you chose it but–that’s not the point, really.”

The grin grew. “Fine, fine. I’ll just open it.” He concluded with a hum. First a gentle tug on the ribbon, but it was too tightly tied so he had to resolve to nearly tear it apart with his teeth – too dramatic, Vesper commented. The plastic tape gave up with a drastic tug, that night Nibbles found a new fine thread to play around with. Then it was time to get rid of the wrapping which didn’t have the chance to put up a fight, the crooked edges offered an easy way to crack holes and strip away the cover concealing the surprise. And what a surprise, Fenix was right, the batch of pages came out with a victorious sound from his throat but while he could easily guess the gift by shape, he couldn’t imagine what Vesper could ever pick on her own. She wasn’t a book lover to start with, even less if it was about his old-fashioned taste.

Fenix curiously inspected the cover: most of the words were faded, the red spine was falling apart, the illustration conserved only a few touches of light blue, yellow and black; the title, irremediably lost, only had a limited number of letters – ‘One H’ and ‘e, r, li, d’ – and many blank spaces.

An odd emotion swelled from within his body, it began from his stomach, suddenly turned upside-down, and rose to his throat, stifling his breath. “It’s mine.” The words came out strangled, as if able to scrape his pharynx, and the statement almost felt like an incredulous question. Last time he saw that book was the long gone 2074, a memory of the end of the spring, maybe it was June or maybe not since he could remember a pungent cold.

“Yeah, Daniel found it one day and…well, honestly I’ve just let him take it and do whatever with it,” Vesper quickly added, impatient to finally speak again and receive any type of feedback “so there’s probably, I don’t know, weird doodles and maybe a few comments. Caught him scribble on that a few times.” She informed as Fenix began turning a few yellowed pages.

Oh, he sure noticed the comments. Almost every one of his notes was accompanied by a different messy handwriting that read ‘you’re a gonk..whoever you are’ or similar phrases and others merely had lots of question marks. His favourite was on the very first page: an unflattering sketch of a cowboy sporting a smirk and a title, ‘prev owner’, followed by a smaller ‘V says he’s a bastard’. Fenix let out a scoff, one of the barely audible ones, and replicated the same smirk that was drawn. Somehow, Daniel got the shit-eating energy right, he must’ve heard a lot about him.

“I thought you threw it away,” he began, refusing to lift his gaze from the pages “after…” and trailed off, unable to finish. Not that either of them needed words to recall, to explain, their breaking point. 2074, five years now; it felt like a well healed wound that reopened any time he thought of it and, as soon as it revived, Fenix felt the need to apologize one more time.

“Tempting.” Vesper grinned. “I wanted but Daniel nearly adopted that damn book and–” A part of me hoped you would come back to retrieve it. “And now I guess it’s time to give it back.” And to never think of it again, and to never ask for an already granted forgiveness, and to only look forward.

The air was now still, only a few of Fenix’s deep breaths generated a sense of movement, the time all of sudden felt frozen and in between two timelines – the past and the present. He kept turning and turning the pages, looking for words that at this point he wasn’t even reading; and Vesper did the same with his profile, anticipating the moment she could steal one glance at his gaze, his reaction, to better understand what his mind was dwelling on in that exact moment. Intolerable, she broke the silence. “There’s still a bookmark, just where you left it.” Leaning into his body, she rested her chin over his shoulder so that she could take a peek at the pages.

The contact made Fenix snap out of whatever trance he fell into and with choked emotion, he muttered a oh, really? and cleared his throat. The pages went flipping until he found the tiny swelling rose by an item or mark left between the two sides of paper. Page 357, two polaroid were squeezed together. And who the photo could ever depict if not the pair themselves?

Vesper broke into an instant smile as Fenix picked them up, the once clear white frame turned into a pearl shade but the state of the photo wasn’t altered at all.

There they were, with a bunch of years off their shoulders during a spring night of 2073, taken just a few moments apart from the other: the first framed the both of them looking straight into the camera, Fenix had his arms wrapped around her waist as he was propped up on the hood of a car – Quadra Type-66, one of his old glories of course – while Vesper leaned back into the embrace, one of her hands above his and the other resting on the cold metal of the auto; they both smiled, smugly. The other saw them in the same pose but this time they were looking at each other, laughing, bickering or probably both.

It was his idea to snap the photos, ever so eager to experience a taste of vintage, and what’s better than a little picture, just as big as the palm of the hand, with its nostalgic feeling and the capture of a spontaneous joy? Vesper was twenty-four then; her blue-purple hair were way shorter and somehow managed to make her look more mature than her age, a few tattoos were missing and so her Kiroshi opticals, the implant that managed to make her stop squinting at almost anything to be able to see clearly.

Fenix loved photographs. Forgetting was way too easy but not in this case, not if it were them, but a photo could make his heart beat and his smile rise just as if he was living again that same long gone moment.

Then he spared his twenty-six years old self a touch of attention. To his eyes there wasn’t any big change, maybe his hair were a bit longer and messier, beard too, and he had a general…rougher look. He was more mature too now. Yes, that was clearly it.

Handsome bastard though, he noted.

Vesper nuzzled her face closer, the tip of her nose gingerly brushing along Fenix’s cheek. She could hear his breathing in the silence of the night, faster and heavier than usual, it felt like looking or rather feeling greying clouds about to unleash a downpour.

The silence between them wasn’t a problem, it was rather comfortable, but Vesper was anxious to hear something. A reaction, a joke, a comment, anything. She captured her lower lip between her teeth and gave a tense bite; she just wished to speak: do you like the book? Are you happy to have it back? Or maybe just say something funny about their younger selves. And just when she was about to give voice to her thoughts she heard a sniffle, loud enough to immediately capture her attention. Her gaze turned to what she could see of his visage: a strand of his usually perfectly styled hair fell out of place and hid his eyes like a curtain, Fenix didn’t even bother to place them back. He turned his head slightly to the side, just enough to not raise suspiciousness nor risking to alert Vesper of how plainly emotions surfaced on his features. That wasn’t enough to fool her, as if the tightly set jaw didn’t already give him away.

A call of his name like a ringing bell, an unspoken are you alright? in her tone. Fenix jolted, blinking a few times and seeking the ability to use his voice again. “Yeah, yeah, yes. Thanks, what my life would’ve been without this ol’ dusty brick of paper, right?” He joked but kept avoiding turning to his right, just where a pair of scrutinizing eyes would’ve immediately caught him. Vesper gave a push to his shoulder so to have his body slouch back on the couch, and of course Fenix resisted, as if his behaviour wasn’t already suspicious enough. The polaroid were placed back between the pages, the book closed and laid on the coffee table. “…Should take a look at our dinner, y’know?” He suggested and moved to get up.

Vesper caught him before he could escape, her hands immediately went to each side of his face and, finally in control, she guided his gaze towards hers. Of all the reasons she could think of to explain Fenix’s elusive demeanour, a pair of glossy eyes wasn’t at the top of her list – actually, it wasn’t a possibility at all. She leaned over and searched for a reason, an explanation maybe, hopefully written in his irises. A thin line furrowed along his right cheek, gathering right above the edge of the cyberware running along his cheekbones and then continuing its descent; the skin was lightly damp there and Vesper dried the valley of his cheek with her thumb before asking the burning question with a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

Fenix scoffed and rolled his eyes, pissed at the idea of displaying such show. The times they saw each other cry could be counted on one single hand: two. Counting this one too. Neither Vesper nor Fenix were the crying type, and to make the combination more explosive, they avoided letting tears run free even when they needed to. Let an emotion so dictated by time, one that could break a human being like glass, take over him now? Happiness, wasn't it? The most dangerous weapon.

“Nothing,” he countered, lowering his gaze “I was…caught by surprise that’s all.”

“Was that out of line?” Vesper asked back and gave a quick glance to the book on the table.

A shake of the head. That wasn’t it. “Simply thought of time. The lost kind of time mostly.” He looked up now, the ring light around those familiar green eyes staring at him felt so incredibly luminous in the dim light of the apartment. “Don’t worry, I loved the gesture. Love to get back what I so hardly worked for.” He sealed the playful comment with one of his signature smirks. “Didn’t imagine I’d see those photos again.”

Fingers kept tenderly brushing along the skin of his cheeks, feeling the scratchy patches of a shadow of beard under the digits. The gesture instilled such peace into Fenix’s heart that he was sure such feeling could make him heal from every injury in the world.

“Surprise I guess.” Crinkles of joy appeared to the sides of her eyes as she pronounced the words, then she leaned further and brushed the tip of her nose against his freckled one. Fenix’s response didn’t tarry for too long. His hand hovered over Vesper’s right one, still clasping his face; first he brushed his fingers over her usually reddened knuckles and then he caught it. He turned his head towards her palm and left a long kiss there, eyes tightly shut close to hopefully push back any more tears.

“It was so long since–” he murmured against her skin “since…well, I didn’t have such a happy birthday in so long.” That was enough for Vesper to pull him into her arms, an embrace he so desperately needed for he instantly hugged her back, pushing his body closer to hers and his face into the crook of her neck. The soft material of the sweater was a greatly welcomed sensation on his skin.

His lips disclosed and a heavy, shaky breath he wasn’t aware of holding and holding back went crushing against Vesper’s chest as she, in return, dipped her head down, against his. It felt so freeing, so natural, to let go that emotional silent lament that was beginning to cut away his breath. He heard so often during his life how flying, how a bird soaring the skies was the perfect physical translation of the word freedom and all the meanings that it carried. But he tasted what could be considered liberty so often during his life, and yet nothing ever felt as freeing as being held that tenderly by someone he loves and equally loves him back.

“I’m turning quite sentimental with age, don’t you think?” Fenix sarcastically teased and then moved his head to the side so to be able to look up at Vesper.

Her expression was as serious as possible but the smile playing over her lips betrayed that severity. “I think you’re just turning cleverer.” The comment made both snort, enough to make Vesper’s dimples appear and Fenix’s eyes close with joy. Then with a soft caress Vesper combed back into place the messy strands of dirty blonde hair; she placed one more kiss over his cheekbone and with a breath of voice tenderly whispered her next words over his skin. “Happy birthday once more, you gonk.”

#many thanks and kisses to dee that sent this sooo long ago and i managed to finish both only now. i think it's been a few months kfjfdskjf #oc: fenix #oc: vesper #i won't talk just know i love my ocs so much that i imagine myself like a middle aged italian selling fish just to wish my specialest boy #happy birthday inside my fic. i love him a normal amount. i love both a VERY normal amount #i dare everyone to ask me about the moustache #this one is written a bit differently and it's both silly and soft and sad (affectionate) peace and love on planet earth now i suck at words

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