The problem with birthdays, Elliot feels, is how much attention he receives. Fawning adoration isn't something he's fond of at the best of times, and the dramatic upsurge in this on a day that is ostensibly supposed to be his to enjoy has never struck him as anything but ironic. Since meeting Leo the concentrated focus has become a burden even more than the inconvenience it was before; the only glimmer of relief in the hours of socializing with everyone except the one person he wants to talk to is how clearly Leo shows his frustration for the both of them, the way his movements grow sharper and his voices growls rougher with every passing event. By the time the last of the guests have been seen off, some hours after the late start they made of dinner, Leo is so tense with stress Elliot half-expects a fight before they even get back to his bedroom.
Luckily, he has the topic already in mind.
"Did you really not get me a present?" he snaps as Leo leads the way into the room, lets the door fall behind him so Elliot has to throw a hand out to save himself from the impact.
"I'm so sorry," Leo lashes back, pivoting on his heel so Elliot can catch the full-force glare off his glasses. The door swings shut but Elliot doesn't retreat, stays right where he is as Leo storms forward into his personal space. "A whole day of people falling all over you isn't enough for your ego anymore?"
"I hated that," Elliot fires right back. It feels good, to let the anger burn over his tongue, it's a relief to set free the irritation that has been trapped behind polite smiles all day. "I always hate that, you know me better than that."
"You seemed to be just fine with it today." Leo's mouth is tangled around the sharp edges of a frown, his eyebrows drawn dark and low over the top of his glasses. Elliot can't look away from his mouth. "You didn't look like you were missing me at all."
"Oh, sure," Elliot scoffs. "I should have trailed you like a lost little duckling and begged for you to deign to notice me, is that it? Did I bruise your pride by not doting on you every waking moment?"
"My pride?" Leo spits. "You ignore me all day and then you demand a present like it's your right and you talk about my pride?"
"It is my right!" Elliot insists, helpless to the logic of the argument and the petulant hurt aching under his skin. "All I've thought about all day is kissing you and now I can and we're just fighting instead."
"You're fighting with me," Leo shouts. "Just stop."
"Fine," Elliot growls, and reaches out for Leo's shoulder just as Leo reaches for his shirtfront. There's a tangle of limbs, fingers sliding across silk and their feet catching as they both take a step in at once, but Elliot ducks his head and Leo turns his chin up and when their mouths come together it's with all the elegance of a well-learned dance. Leo's fingers catch the back of Elliot's neck, pull to urge him down, but Elliot's already moving, leaning in closer and tugging against Leo's shirt to hold him steady as he licks the heat of the other's words off the part of his lips.
"Idiot," Leo says when they pull apart, the words significantly softer than they were moments before. "Of course I have a present for you."
"Oh," Elliot says, a little bit hazy from the taste of Leo's mouth sticking to his lips, and then he smiles. "Can I have it now?"
There's a weird dip at Leo's mouth, the kissed-soft line of his lips curving into a frown for a moment to match the crease across his forehead. Elliot starts to frown too, his face unconsciously forming itself into a reflection of the other's, but then Leo speaks, fast, before Elliot can ask what's wrong.
"Close your eyes," he says, the rushed spill of words that makes him sound a little desperate and a lot strained. Elliot hesitates for a moment - he's still trying to read meaning out of the lines across Leo's features - and Leo frowns harder at him, snaps "Close your eyes" again with so much force that Elliot obeys without thinking.
He's vaguely expecting a kiss, some kind of affectionate physical contact to counteract the distance required by the day. But Leo steps back, instead, says "Hold out your hands," in a slightly calmer tone, so Elliot does, feeling a little dizzy with the lack of vision and lack of expectation for what is about to land in his palms.
It's lighter than he expects. He closes his fingers on the shape, carefully feeling out curved edges and cool lines of metal; for a moment it's just pieces, disjoint shapes lying alongside each other. Then one of the straight lines shifts, gives away the presence of a hinge, and Elliot realizes what they must be.
"Wait," he says, "Are these your -" and then he's opening his eyes, and Leo's staring back at him.
Elliot never gets used to seeing Leo's eyes. There's something endless about them, the purple and the gold turning them into something as infinite as the night sky, as hopelessly alluring as the stars against the dark. Elliot just stares, now, as he always just stares at first, his mouth coming open and mind going blank for the first heartbeats.
Leo clears his throat, looks away and down so his long bangs cast his eyes into shadow. "You can keep those for the rest of the night," he says to the floor. Elliot can see the shift of his eyelashes when he blinks, when he glances up through the feathery dark of them as he starts to blush crimson with self-consciousness. "Happy birthday."
"Oh," Elliot says, mind blank of everything except the glow of those eyes staring at him, says the only thing he can say. "You're so beautiful."
Leo's cheeks flare scarlet. "Shut up," he says, reaching out to shove hard at Elliot's shoulder. Elliot stumbles back for a moment; then he's reaching out, closing one hand safely around Leo's glasses so he can fit the other under the weight of dark hair to curl against the back of the other's neck. Leo goes quiet under his touch, his eyes still wide and his mouth still tense, but Elliot sighs appreciation, and Leo's beautiful eyes slide down to catch and linger at his lips.
"Leo," Elliot says, slow so he can see the way Leo's eyelashes flutter at the sound, leans in close enough for his hair to catch against the other boy's. Leo's eyes are sliding shut, his head tipping sideways in expectation; Elliot can feel himself starting to smile, can feel his breathing catch into anticipation in his chest.
"Thank you," he says, warm and purring with sincerity, and closes the gap into another kiss.