"Happy birthday, Jiruga-san!"
Nnoitra grunted. Third year in prison, and he had never, not once remembered his birthday.
Hanatarou remembered every year, just like everyone he had ever known hadn't.
He rolled over, scratching his thigh, and sat up in his cot abruptly, supporting himself on his elbows.
Hanatarou stood next to his bed, holding a single cupcake, with a single, mangled candle stuck in the top. His orange uniform hung off him, making him look like a giant fluorescent bat, and Nnoitra wondered, not for the first time, how in the hell he managed to be appointed medic in one of the world's biggest and nastiest prisons.
The first time Hanatarou brought him a cupcake, Nnoitra punched him on principal. The second time, he grudgingly stuffed the thing down his throat, and turned his back without saying thank you.
This time, he stared at it for a really long time.
Hanatarou beamed as he took the cupcake.
Then he blushed madly as Nnoitra's long tongue flickered over the cupcake, licking off white frosting. His eyes never left Hanatarou's, and remained half open and molten.
"Well," he purred, voice low and rough from sleep. "Thank you."
"W-well your- your welcome, Jiruga sa—Mmph!"
as he slowly lowered Hanatarou's lithe little form to the cot, setting the cupcake carefully on the floor and licking into his mouth like the little guy was candy, he thought; Happy birthday to me, indeed.