"A Taurus Birthday"

By: Dark Cyradis

Edited 05.16.11

Disclaimer: Saint Seiya and all its lovely characters do not belong to me. This is just a fanwork for fun.

Notes: I've actually never written Aldebaran before, but this ended up being one of my favorite of my own fics to date—who knew he could be such a great muse? :D Dedicated to Strausser for inspiring this story (especially DM and Aphro's relationship and DM's tradition of cooking birthday dinners for the Goldies). Post-Hades/AU, no spoilers. Shounen-ai abounds.

"A Taurus Birthday"

Chapter 1: A Lonesome Birthday?

#

May 8th. It was his birthday today, but Aldebaran felt little desire to celebrate.

With a small sigh, he gathered the thin, bunched up sheets covering his massive chest and pulled them aside, swinging his legs over the edge of the low, wide mattress. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet; Sanctuary in spring was balmy enough at night to sleep bare-chested, but the ancient stones never surrendered their lingering, early-morning chill, whatever the season.

Aldebaran made his way slowly to the modest niche that housed his washing basin and toiletries. Though the original architects or someone in the intervening centuries had equipped the bedchambers of every Gold Saint's temple with similarly rudimentary indoor plumbing, Aldebaran was one of the few who still made use of the creaky, old rigs and chamber pots. Most had let the weathered pipes rust in favor of using the fully-equipped modern bathrooms that the Graude Foundation had recently installed; Aphrodite, in fact, had gone so far as to turn the old piping and spigot in his lavish bedroom into a sort of rose-covered trellis and flower pot.

As the last of the lukewarm water made its gurgling way down the drainage pipes, Aldebaran examined his sopping face in the shard of mirror that hung over the basin. The constant weight of the Taurus Cloth's helmet left his hair looking perpetually limp, unhealthy and plastered to his head: singularly uninspiring, he thought. It was of a fairly heroic length, but it never fanned out lushly to frame him like Saga's or Shaka's did, nor did it fall in beautiful curls like Aphrodite's or Milo's. It wasn't even a very interesting color: dull brown, barely a shade darker than his face. Added to the heavy jaw, crooked nose and flat cheeks of said face, his reflection returned one harsh and unequivocal verdict: he was ugly.

There are many in and out of Sanctuary who would have been appalled that such a thought should ever enter the noble warrior's mind. His physique, some would even argue, was the very pinnacle of what a Saint strove to achieve: massive and well-proportioned, with height and girth to stand proudly above any crowd of men, and covered to the last inch with bulging, rock-hard muscle. In a society of warriors whose only true guarantee to prosperity, fame and respectability lay in his battle prowess, many a struggling young man would have given every golden curl on his head for strength such as Aldebaran's.

But such arguments were lost on the Taurus Saint of late; as the chills of winter gave way to the blossoming warmth and renewing life of spring, Aldebaran had noted— at first with amusement, then increasingly with envy— that several of his comrades had come out of the long, cold season with more than just bones and muscle stiff from enforced inactivity. While he had spent the majority of the frosty winter entertaining himself with books, indoor exercises and an indulgent amount of napping, others had been keeping active enjoying and exploring new romantic relationships with his fellows.

Camus and Milo. Aiolos and Saga. Deathmask and Aphrodite. That was half the Zodiac married off to one another, and Aldebaran almost expected to see Aiolia emerging triumphantly from the Virgo Temple in the early morning any day now.

What is causing this rush of romance suddenly? Aldebaran had found himself wondering fairly often these days. But really, he couldn't blame his friends; with the Holy War over at long last and peace come for good (to this generation, in any case), it was as though a dam had burst open. Years and years of wartime discipline and self-restraint had finally and summarily ended, leaving people charging forward to do all the things they had not been able to do before.

It wasn't that Saints had taken to bungee jumping or earning doctorates or any such thing—they were still sworn warriors of Athena, after all, and would live out their lives in her service. But the smaller things, little personal affects and desires that they had denied themselves in the past as being too petty for wartime, were perfectly permissible now. Surprisingly (or perhaps, not so surprisingly given the mortal terrors they had lived through), the first thing on many people's list was love.

And what about me? Aldebaran wondered as he dressed himself. Am I wishing for love as well?

He had never thought of himself as the romantic type; given the choice, he would have said "fighter" over "lover" ten times out of ten. But then, he would have said the same of Saga, Camus—certainly Deathmask. And yet there he was, the Fiend of the Twelve Houses, strolling the flowering sculpture garden hand-in-hand with his beloved, or perhaps sitting in mellow ease under the shade of a dogwood tree, watching the bumbling, new trainees serenely rather than strutting around and terrorizing them per usual. If such a man as Deathmask could enjoy being in love to that degree, Aldebaran wondered if it wasn't for him as well.

But who would I ask, anyway? he thought with a sigh as he laced up his sandals. There isn't a lady around for miles who would have a brute like me.

As for the gentlemen, Aldebaran couldn't imagine propositioning a lower-ranking Saint; with his size and status, he imagined even the most hesitant of youths would feel obligated to accept, or would perhaps do so with misguided hopes of currying favor. It was for just such a reason that mingling between the ranks was generally frowned upon at Sanctuary; the one exception was taking the official role of mentor or teacher for a lower-ranking Saint, but Aldebaran was very strict in his condemnation of teacher-student relationships.

Meaning, he would have only his fellow Gold Saints to look to, and he couldn't imagine his dearest friends and respected colleagues in such a way.

And again, who would have me? he thought. Most of them had already reserved one another anyhow, and it seemed that they were all quite serious about their relationships. In fact, Aldebaran had hardly seen any of the coupled Saints in the last several weeks since they had announced their various commitments. He had happened to make this observation to Roshi one day, and the older Saint had laughed his hearty laugh in response.

"Don't you worry about that!" he'd said, smacking the big Saint cheeringly on the shoulder. "It's just the honeymoon period, that's all. They'll come off it in no time and remember their old friends again—you just have to give them a few months!"

It had hardly been consoling to Aldebaran; not only was he finding himself excluded from the ranks of lovers—he could hardly find a friend to talk to anymore!

Thus, feeling a bit dejected and rather left out, Aldebaran forced the whole idea away into the back of his mind and put on the kettle to make his morning coffee. It was as he was settling down with a steaming mug of the instant variety that a small flare of cosmo coming from the back gates of the temple announced a visitor.

So early in the morning? Aldebaran thought. Surely it wasn't a birthday well-wisher come to see him? He decided it must just be Aiolia or Shura passing through on a morning jog and didn't bother getting up from the kitchen table to go greet them.

"Aldebaran! Aldebaraaaan! Geez, so inhospitable!" came a familiar grumpy voice from the threshold.

Aldebaran looked up in surprise from his coffee to find none other than the newly restyled "lover" of the House of Cancer making his way toward him. He was dressed in comfortable-looking civies and had a large, empty knapsack slung over one shoulder.

"Deathmask!" the Taurus Saint cried, standing quickly and going over to shake his friend's hand as though he hadn't seen him in years. "How good to see you!"

"Geez, do you do this to everyone who visits you?" Deathmask said as him arm was wrenched about in a vigorous shake.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Aldebaran asked eagerly. "Have you eaten? Would you like some coffee? Toast?"

"Bleh," Deathmask said, taking a whiff of the instant coffee his large friend proffered and waving it away. "You actually drink that stuff? There is such a thing as a coffee maker, you know!"

Aldebaran laughed, placing the offending mug back down. "Oh, I don't mind it. And the kettle is handy if I want to make tea instead of coffee as well."

"You and Mu, I just don't get it with the tea stuff!" Deathmask snorted. "A fine, full-bodied, French-roasted blend with a pinch of sugar and a drop of cream—that's the stuff! How can you call yourself South American, anyway? Don't your people make some of the world's best coffee?"

"That's Colombia—I'm from Brazil, I'm afraid."

"That's as lame an excuse as I've heard!" Deathmask declared. "But anyway, I'm here on business."

"So early in the morning?" asked Aldebaran, taking a sip of his unfashionable coffee. "What is it?"

"Today," said Deathmask. "It's your birthday, remember? So what do you want on the menu for tonight?"

"Tonight…?" Aldebaran echoed.

"Yeah, tonight," Deathmask said. "Or didn't you think your birthday feast ought to be on the same day your birthday is?"

"Birthday feast?"

"Yeah, birthday feast—would ya stop repeating everything I say?" Deathmask ran a hand through his shock of blue hair and sighed exaggeratedly. "I know I used to make all those stupid cow jokes about you, but let me tell ya—you make it kinda easy sometimes!"

"I hadn't realized we were having a birthday feast for me," Aldebaran said, ignoring the remark. "Where will we get the food?"

"From me, of course!" Deathmask said proudly, and then patted a bulging money pouch at his waist. "With a charitable donation from the Pope. Geez, Aldebaran, hadn't you noticed that all us goldies have been having little birthday get-togethers this past year?"

"Well… yes, but…" Aldebaran trailed off, thinking he hadn't considered himself popular enough to merit one too.

"So stop acting like a scandalized virgin and just tell me what ya want me to cook tonight, already!" Deathmask was saying, when the presence of another cosmo suddenly made itself apparent from the temple entrance.

"Deathyyy! Deathyyy~~! Ahh, there you are, darling!" came a familiar voice.

They turned to find Aphrodite standing in the back entrance of the temple, looking radiant as usual with the golden rays of the rising sun framing him from behind.

"Dite!" Deathmask cried, his face spreading in a huge and unabashedly sappy grin. As Aldebaran looked on enviously, the lovely Pisces Saint threw himself into his lover's waiting arms and smothered him in a passionate greeting kiss.

"Good morning, darling," he said after pulling back from Deathmask's still-grinning lips.

"Good morning back at you," Deathmask said, gently lowering his lover to his feet again. "You're up early today."

"I wanted to go into town with you today so I got up extra early. But then, you left your temple even earlier than usual and I had to run to catch up!" He pouted quite winsomely.

"Sorry, Dite, I wanted to get an early start since I'm cooking Aldebaran's entire birthday dinner today."

"What?" Aphrodite cried, dropping his lover's hand and turning abruptly to face Aldebaran for the first time since he'd entered his temple. "Oh! Alde, I completely forgot! What a horrible friend I am!" He rushed over to the Taurus Saint and clasped one of his big, square hands in his own, gazing adorably up into his eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Oh, it's no problem at all, Aphrodite," Aldebaran said kindly, enjoying the sudden sweet, rosy scent filling the air around him. "I had nearly forgotten myself that today was my birthday."

"Oh, you poor dear," Aphrodite said, his eyes filling with dewy tears. "You're so humble and sweet and self-sacrificing—why, you probably weren't even expecting a party, were you?"

"Well…" Aldebaran said evasively. "I'm not much of the partying sort—"

"No, no, no," Aphrodite interrupted. "You can't have an attitude like that on your birthday! It's your very own special day once a year when you can be as selfish and demanding as you please and no one can say a thing about it!"

"Isn't that every day for you then?" Deathmask asked with a teasing grin.

"Well of course I bully you every day!" Aphrodite said with a huff. "You're my boyfriend, aren't you?"

"It must be nice to have someone," Aldebaran said, smiling a bit wistfully at them. "I can see how you would want to celebrate at every opportunity when you have someone you love to share it with you."

"Oh, that's so adorable of you, Alde!" cried Aphrodite.

Deathmask rubbed his nose, flushing a bit. "Aah, stop it. Yer making me blush."

"But wait," Aphrodite said, "is that why you think you don't deserve a birthday party? Because you don't have a special someone to share it with?"

Aldebaran made a vague gesture. "Well, I wouldn't feel right imposing on anyone else."

"But we're your friends!"

"It's still too much to ask."

Deathmask stared at him incredulously. "Who turns down a free meal? And on his birthday? Who cares if you're making me cook it, Aldebaran? I don't mind!"

"It's something else," Aphrodite interrupted, eyeing Aldebaran shrewdly. "It's really bothering you that you're single, isn't it?"

Aldebaran gave a slight shrug of his massive shoulders. "Well… I suppose I've gotten so used to my solitude here that a party seems—"

"I've got it!" Aphrodite cried, snapping his fingers. "If that's the problem, all we have to do is go and find you a date for your birthday!"

"What?" both Aldebaran and Deathmask cried.

"You said yourself there's no point in celebrating when you're alone, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Well," Aphrodite interrupted, crossing his arms imperiously, "I, for one, will never pass up a chance to eat one of Deathmask's fabulous birthday feasts—"

"Oh, Dite~~"

"Not, now, darling," Aphrodite said, pressing a finely manicured finger to his lover's lips and continuing without missing a beat. "—so what we need to do is get you in the mood to celebrate! When was the last time you got laid?"

"Aphrodite!" Aldebaran cried, his face flushing so fast he could almost feel steam shooting out of his ears.

"No, really, darling, this is a serious question."

"Well… Not… not in a while…" Aldebaran admitted, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"I thought so," the Pisces Saint murmured thoughtfully. "Types like you and Mu and Dohko seem to get on all right for ages without having sex, but every man, even a Saint, has his limit."

"Saints are given to Athena and shall avoid entanglements of flesh and matrimony with mortal women," Aldebaran recited stiffly.

Deathmask snorted and even Aphrodite had to smother a giggle.

"Of course we will, Alde," he said soothingly. "But there's no rule against getting just a little 'tangled up' with a fellow Saint or two! In fact—" His eyes flickered appraisingly up Aldebaran and then onto Deathmask.

"Dite!" Deathmask cried, looking alarmed. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"Now, shame on you!" Aphrodite admonished. "Wipe that look off your face—is that how you react to an offer of love from one of your dearest friends?"

"Wh-what?" Aldebaran gasped, finally catching on. "N-no, I couldn't—"

"Not you, too!" Aphrodite sighed, then turned back to Aldebaran, tossing his luxuriant hair over a shoulder. With his long, dark lashes lowered sultrily over his blue eyes, he leaned in close and murmured, "You know, we wouldn't mind helping you out, Alde. We've always kept an open door policy."

"But I thought that was just so we could make Aiolia feel uncomfortable listening to us all night," a confused Deathmask interjected.

"Now, Alde," Aphrodite said, ignoring his lover and batting his eyelashes at Aldebaran, "what do you say? Two for the price of one, and no courting necessary! Would that make your birthday all better?"

"I-I—" Aldebaran stuttered. "N-no, I think—"

"What?" Deathmask asked, a hint of his old, malicious grin creeping onto his face. "Afraid we'll be too much for you to handle? Or maybe—" his grin widened, "—you're afraid because you've never been with a guy before? Is that it?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Aldebaran cried.

"Oh, no! You're a virgin?" Aphrodite exclaimed, looking genuinely stricken.

"No, that's not what I meant!" Aldebaran cried, waving his arms. "I'm not a virgin—and I'm not afraid—" he added in Deathmask's direction. "And while I thank you for your generous offer, I simply couldn't intrude!"

"I still say you're chicken," Deathmask said with a chuckle.

"No, he's right," Aphrodite said thoughtfully. "What we need for Alde is something a little more sweet and pretty… Hmm…"

"It's a shame Mu's not here, huh?" Deathmask said to himself, also pondering.

Aldebaran suddenly felt a wave of sadness wash over him. It truly would have been nice to have his old friend here now to help him celebrate his birthday. As much as he appreciated these new efforts at friendship from the zodiac's former black sheep, he had to admit spending a birthday quietly with Mu and a cup of tea would have been perfectly satisfying—and likely much more comfortable.

But the Aries Saint had been absent from Sanctuary for a few months now, opting to continue his pupil's training in Jamir now that immediate danger had passed from Athena's stronghold.

"Yes, a real shame," Aphrodite had been murmuring. "That would have been a perfect match."

"What—Mu?" Aldebaran cried, finally recalling what his fellows were contemplating.

"You don't like him?" Aphrodite asked, looking genuinely surprised. "I always thought you two got along so well."

"Of course I like him, Aphrodite, he's my dearest friend!" Aldebaran said. "But he's a friend. A friend."

"Wah ha ha, that's what Milo always used to say about Camus!" Deathmask said, smiling wickedly.

"But—"

"Oh, never mind, you two," Aphrodite said. "The point is, Mu's not here and we need to find someone who can be with Alde today, on his special day." He snapped his fingers suddenly, eyes brightening. "I've got it! It's perfect—Shaka!"

"Shaka? Hey, yeah!" said Deathmask, his eyes lighting up as well. "Now that'll be fun!"

But Aldebaran was not having fun. He was turning several odd shades of purple.

"Sh-Shaka?" he managed to choke out.

"What? You don't think he's hot?" Deathmask snorted disbelievingly. "Don't even try to lie! Forbidden fruit as pretty as him-he's every Saint's secret wet dream."

"Yours, too?" his lover asked archly.

"Oh, er, of course not- I have you-"

"Not that I'd care, as long as you shared," Aphrodite said, cutting him off with a sudden grin and a little wink.

"Oh, Dite~~ You're the best~~—oof!" Deathmask crumpled to the floor gripping his midsection where Aphrodite had casually punched him to discourage the coming bear hug.

"Not now, darling," he said, patting the groaning Cancer Saint on the head consolingly. "We've got to focus."

"It... it's not that," Aldebaran said slowly, flushing red both from imagining his virtuous, golden-haired friend in such a capacity, and at the thought of Aphrodite's suggested threesome. "I... I think Aiolia might already be interested in him... I've seen him lingering around Shaka's temple quite a lot lately, so I think he's just trying to work up the courage to confess-"

"All the more reason to act now!" the Pisces Saint declared.

"But-"

"Oh, come on- all's fair in love and war and all that," Aphrodite said, waving off Aldebaran's protests. "Anyway, you said it yourself-he's still trying to figure out how to confess to Shaka, which means he hasn't actually done anything to stake his claim yet. In other words, Shaka's still on the market."

"But he has a point, Dite," Deathmask said, climbing painfully back to his feet. "How's Aldebaran going to confess to Shaka without getting shut down, crispy-fried or turned into a deaf-blind vegetable?"

"Don't worry about that," Aphrodite said, flashing them a mischievous grin. "I have just the perfect plan—Operation Virgin Blitz!"

"What?"

"Operation Virgin Blitz!" Aphrodite repeated, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Aphrodite…" Aldebaran began, wondering whether he should laugh or be worried. "Err… I can't even imagine what that could mean."

"Yeah," Deathmask chimed in, looking as though he wanted to ridicule such a silly-sounding phrase but was unsure of how to go about it—resulting in a rather sour expression. "Please define."

"A 'blitz,' my dears," Aphrodite said matter-of-factly, " as in blitzkrieg—a "lightning war," in German. As the name implies, it involves defeating a well-fortified enemy by using the element of surprise to hit him fast and hard like lightning striking. It's a fairly famous military term—I'm surprised you don't know it."

Aldebaran was nodding. "I've heard the term, but I've, er, never heard it applied to, well—love confessions."

"It's simple," his long-haired friend said. "We know that any straightforward proposition would immediately be refused by chaste-as-a-monk Shaka, right? So, we'll skip speaking to his mind and go straight to speaking to his body by jumping him!"

"What?"

"Think about it," Aphrodite pressed. "His mind and soul may be that of a Buddha or an ascetic or something, but his body is that of a virile, 20-year-old man! So, the only way to succeed is to speak directly to his body, if you know what I mean."

Aldebaran could almost feel his face burning to ashes. Deathmask, however, was smacking his lover appreciatively on the shoulder.

"Man, Dite, you really know how this stuff works! That's such a good idea!"

But Aldebaran was not convinced. "You…you don't mean literally jump him?"

"Yep! In fact, jumping on him would probably be best—there's nothing like the sensation of being flat on your back to make you feel disarmed and exposed."

Deathmask giggled perversely and Aldebaran geared up for the protest of his life as all the blood in his body rushed up to his face. But Aphrodite was ready for this and, catching the big saint unawares, shoved him hard enough to send him toppling back onto his chair. Quick as a wink, he was leaning in close over his prey, his aquamarine eyes ramped up to their most smoldering, hypnotic intensity, and Aldebaran suddenly understood that the almost outrageous tallies of sexual conquests popularly attributed to Aphrodite were in all likelihood quite accurate.

As though reading his thoughts, Aphrodite leaned closer and said huskily, "I'm not named for the Goddess of Love for nothing, you know? Just give it a try, Alde. I promise, it will be perfect."

Aldebaran sighed in defeat. "All right, Aphrodite," he conceded. "Operation Virgin Blitz it is."

That's it for Chapter 1! I actually started this fic over 2 years ago and finally got the first chapter up just in time for Aldebaran's birthday! (okay, so I'm actually a few days early) Let's see if I can get my lazy butt in gear and have the next chapter up by Alde's actual birthday of May 8th. (Hint: reviews = more motivation :D)

Please drop me a review if you enjoyed this chapter!