"I hate birthday parties." Don was tying the laces of his least scuffed pair of brogues.
"I know, honey," Timmy tried to soothe. He selected a navy blue tie from the tie rack in the wardrobe and stepped in front of the mirror that was hanging over the dresser. Don stomped his left foot into the other shoe.
"And I hate birthdays, generally." He frowned at Timothy's back. Timmy smiled at him in the mirror.
"No, you don't," he said, that annoying smile even wider.
Don's frown deepened. "I hate my birthdays," he amended. "I like yours." Which was true. He loved buying gifts for his husband, and watching the delight with which Timmy unwrapped each one. But he hated receiving gifts. Especially ties. And socks. Oh god, hopefully Timmy hadn't bought him socks again. He'd even prefer a new scratchy sweater over socks.
"But honey," Timmy said in his most maddeningly reasonable voice. "Birthdays are for your friends as much as for you. They want to show you that they care."
Don harrumphed. Now it was Timmy's turn to frown. He finished his Windsor knot and turned around. "I know for a fact that Kenny and Detective Bailey already got you a gift. I promise you, you'll like it. Kelly is also coming. And Dorothy said she would, too, as long as the roads stay clear." Don snorted. There was only one thing worse than having to celebrate his birthday, and that was having a birthday one week before Christmas.
"They aren't my friends," he growled. "I work with them. Or for them." Sometimes both. And he knew he was being unfair. He didn't work for or with Kelly at all. Kenny had found Timothy's long-lost sister on his behest the previous year. And if for no other reason than Timmy getting back a part of his family, Don knew he should make more of an effort with these kinds of celebrations.
Timmy looked upset, and Don nearly apologized. But then Timmy sighed. "If you won't do it for them, won't you pretend to enjoy your birthday party for my sake?"
So very Timothy, that kind of emotional blackmail. Don wanted to be annoyed, but one glance into those clever, brown eyes that looked at Don with such gentleness from behind his narrow accountants' glasses, and all his grumpiness dissolved.
He gave a deep sigh, got off the bed and tugged Timmy close by the waistband of his black slacks. "All right," he said and, standing on tiptoes, kissed his husband on the tip of his nose. "But no singing."
Timmy grinned. He looped an arm around Don and pulled him flush against himself. Don could feel him getting hard through the fabric, and his own body responded in kind.
"Deal," Timmy said. "No singing."
"And lots of martinis."
"As many as you can drink and still make it up to bed." Timmy pressed against Don's hip with more force, leaned down and kissed him deeply. His hand travelled south and squeezed Don's butt. But after a moment, Don pulled back.
Placing both hands on Timmy's chest he said, "You're making me late."
"You work for yourself," Timmy said, frowning. "You won't be in trouble with the boss if you're ten minutes late."
It was tempting, and on any other day Don would've given in. He could still feel Timmy's dick press against his pelvis, even though the hard-on was rapidly waning. Today, he was too annoyed about the birthday thing to feel very amorous. "Kenny and I have lots on." He wriggled out of Timmy's embrace. "And since you want me back in time for that party…" He snatched his warmest winter coat up off the bed and headed for the door.
"Don't be late," Timmy called after him. Don waved at him without looking around. Timmy added, "Love you!"
"Love you, too," Don echoed, grudgingly.