Arthur's birthday wasn't really a big deal. He was a Christmas baby, having been born just a few weeks ahead of the holiday, and when you were born that close to a massive gift giving holiday you generally just learned to live with your birthday being overlooked. It had been decades since he'd really put an awful lot of thought into the day. He and Milah would go away for a few days in lieu of actually trying to schedule a party, and aside from the fact Bae was conceived over one such trip he hadn't had much reason to think about that since she'd left.
So when he arrived at Belle's house for dinner on December seventh and realized it was a family birthday party, he was just a little on the surprised side. He'd known she wanted to do something, but since he'd never gotten back to her on any of it (he'd been a little too blindsided by her kissing him, frankly) he had just assumed she'd changed her mind or forgotten. He definitely hadn't expected to show up at her house for dinner only to find they'd hung some balloons and a happy birthday banner in the dining room. He froze where he stood in the hall, trying to make the silly decorations make some sort of sense and mean something besides Belle and Bae going out of their way to make him feel special.
"Happy birthday, Dad!" Bae said, nudging his father affectionately. "We're having chicken."
"It's a roast chicken!" Belle yelled, sounding scandalized at her son's dismissal of her cooking skills. "There are also potatoes and carrots and I made a cake."
She came over and stood on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. It wasn't a long kiss, and they'd certainly moved beyond this casual affection for each other. He just...he couldn't quite believe they'd gone to all this trouble for him.
"You really didn't have to do anything special," he mumbled awkwardly, unsure how to reassure her that the gesture was appreciated but that he hadn't expected anything – that he wouldn't expect anything. "Thank you, though."
"It wasn't any trouble at all," she said, sounding almost confused by his confusion. "Did you think we were just going to forget?"
He actually had kind of thought that, he just didn't want to admit it to her. She gave him a little smile, though, and everything evaporated. He wanted to kiss her again, but Bae was there and they still hadn't quite had a chance to discuss where their relationship stood. He just loved them both so damn much.
They looked at each other for a moment before she was suddenly moving back to the kitchen and Bae was eagerly wanting to show off what a good wrapping job he'd done on the presents.
"Bae," Belle scolded him teasingly. "Presents are for after we eat."
"I'm just showing him!" Bae whined. "We're not even eating yet."
"Dinner will be ready in half an hour," Belle said. "What should we do in the meantime?"
Arthur was still too stunned to really figure out a good reply to her, because for all he cared he would spend the rest of the night in awed silence. The affection that had gone into this plan was just too much for him to bear. Luckily, Bae was more than willing to jump in with the suggestion that they could play games and Arthur was thrilled to comply. Belle went along good naturedly, watching them fake bowl and beating both at a boxing game two or three times. Her streak would probably have remained unopposed, except that the fire alarm went off.
"Oh God," she exclaimed, tossing her controller onto the sofa and running into the kitchen. "I completely forgot about dinner!"
Arthur had too, truth be told. He'd been enjoying their company too much to really care one way or the other about what was going on, but he still followed her dutifully into the kitchen where black smoke was billowing out of the oven. Belle was kneeling in front of it, looking crestfallen at her planned dinner.
"Bae, open the windows," she called out and the boy ran to comply faster than Arthur had ever seen him do anything.
Everyone was coughing and the beeping was still going off as Belle began fanning the smoke away from the alarm, not quite tall enough to do much good. Arthur limped over and took her place, freeing her to run around and help Bae continue venting the kitchen while he was able to get a much better angle than her on keeping the smoke away from the alarm.
Eventually, the beeping ceased and everyone took a collective sigh of relief.
"I'm so sorry," Belle said to him. "I got distracted and I ruined dinner."
"No," Arthur hurried to reassure her. "I'm sure it would have been very good, and we all knew there was only a half hour left."
She seemed very close to crying, and that was just making it worse.
"Honestly," he continued. "This is the best birthday I've had in decades. Thank you."
"I just wanted to make everything special," she said with a little sniffle that had Arthur going to hug her regardless of the fact that Bae was currently standing in the room with them. Luckily, Bae took his father's cue, going to join in with the family hug.
"Everything is special," Arthur promised. "I don't remember ever having a better birthday."
Belle took a few more minutes to collect herself, but he couldn't bring himself to care how long she needed to stay in his arms before she calmed down. The important thing was that she was in his arms.
"So what are we gonna do for dinner?" Bae finally asked.
Belle looked back and forth between them before a cheerful smile bloomed on her face.
"It's your dad's birthday," she said finally, going to a drawer and pulling out some takeout menus. "Which would you prefer, Arthur? Chinese or pizza?"
"Always pizza," he said with a smile on his face.
He stayed late that night. Not for any reason in particular, he just couldn't bring himself to leave them before he absolutely had to. To Bae's relief, the cake had already been finished earlier that day and had been perfectly delicious and the pizza had only taken a half hour to arrive. The rest of the day had been dedicated to games, aside from the welcome novelty of having gifts to open. He didn't remember the last time someone had an actual present for him (well, Father's Day not withstanding) and he almost didn't want to open them at all because the idea that they existed was so much more than he'd even expected. They had to be opened, though, and Bae had selected a couple movies for his father and Belle had bought him a bottle of scotch and some slippers. There was also a novelty tie that both swore the other one was responsible for, and the teasing giggles between them made him suspect they had chosen it together.
He stayed so late that Bae's bedtime eventually came.
"Why can't I stay up with you guys?" Bae protested.
"Because your father and I are adults," Belle replied. "And our parents already failed to raise us right. I still have a chance with you, so don't ruin it."
Bae had grumbled, but in a good natured way before marching upstairs to his room leaving his parents to their comfortable silence.
"Did you have a good birthday?" Belle asked him, and it occurred to him for the first time that it really mattered to her that he did. It was important to her that he enjoy himself, and that more than anything else she could have done solidified his answer.
"I did," he replied. "Thank you again, I hadn't expected it."
"That was half the fun," she said with a little shrug. "I'm still sorry I burned the chicken though. It's one of my favorite recipes."
"I'll try it another time."
And he would, he knew. There would be other dinners and other celebrations and other days she wanted to cook something special for them to share.
He wanted to kiss her again, he decided. She was smiling at him and they were sitting together on the sofa and he could. She'd kissed him, she'd said she wanted to kiss him before. He could kiss her, she wouldn't push him away.
The realization that Belle was right here and probably wanted him to kiss her was enough to set his brain nearly on fire. He wanted to brush the idea off, to pretend like he'd never even thought of it and continue with their simple conversation – but another part of him, a braver part, wanted more.
He didn't let himself second guess the choice. Waiting would mean losing whatever nerve he'd managed to accumulate. He had always said Belle deserved more and that she deserved his best effort, and here now was an opportunity to give her that.
Arthur slid closer to her, bridging the cushion that sat between them and put his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. He would give her plenty of warning, plenty of time to signal if she didn't want him there. She didn't flinch though, didn't get up and proclaim she needed another drink or that she had to be up early in the morning. Belle turned to face him, her eyes met his, and she smiled.
Oh, he was lost.
He leaned forward and captured her lips softly. She wasn't tentative or nervous this time. She was bold, leaning into him and sliding her hands underneath his jacket to trace little swirls across his chest over his shirt. He slid his hand up her cheek to run through her hair. It was softer than he'd dreamed, and it curled so nicely around his fingers.
Belle made a little purring noise as he did it and slid one hand around to the back of his neck where her nails found purchase, a delicious hint of pain making the rest of her so much sweeter. He began trailing little kisses down the side of her neck, feeling braver than he'd ever dreamed when she sighed his name into his ear and swung her legs up over his lap so she could scoot even closer. He wasn't sure what possessed him to put a hand on her thigh, but her dress had slid up and he was touching bare skin.
There was something amazingly erotic about making out with a woman on a sofa like a pair of teenagers, but they weren't teenagers anymore and he knew so much more now than he ever did then.
She seemed determined to be as close to him as physically possible, and even the scant few inches between them afforded by the angles of their bodies were filled with her hands as she touched him everywhere. He returned the favor, stroking the skin revealed by the rise of her skirt and enjoying the soft intimacy of it. That, he decided, had always been his favorite thing about Belle. There was an intimacy to their relationship he'd never really experienced with another woman before. There was no pretense with her, simply an affection that she seemed to have had for him nearly from the beginning.
Eventually, he had to stop kissing her just so he could look at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing heavy, a mirror of his own thrilled arousal. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to flip her back onto the sofa and not stop kissing her until they were both completely satisfied, but their son was asleep upstairs and they still hadn't discussed where this was going.
Surprisingly, those revelations did so little to cool his ardor. She was the mother of his child, and now there was a potential that there had never been before to make that title no longer require explanations. He kissed her again, just because he could, and she eagerly returned to her earlier exploration of his chest by working his shirt out of his trousers and sliding her fingertips along the bare skin of his sides and back.
"Have dinner with me," he whispered into her ear as he kissed along her jawline. "This week."
"We just had dinner," she replied with an innocence that had him pulling back to look at her cheeky smile. She was an absolute wonder.
"Have a proper dinner with me," he amended. "No Bae, just us. We can go someplace nice – anywhere you want."
"You have always known how to show a girl a good time," she replied, kissing him again quickly. "You know I'm going to say yes."
"Doesn't mean I can't ask," he said. "Or that I shouldn't."
She smiled coyly, running her fingers through his hair with a fascinated look on her face.
"Ask me again," she said at last.
"Have dinner with me," he repeated his request, punctuating it by pressing his lips to her neck again.
"Yes," she sighed after a few seconds. "I'll go out with you."
Even knowing she was going to accept (and as little difference as it made when she was in his lap and moaning with pleasure) hearing her say the words was impossibly beautiful. How had he ever found his way into this life?
It took all the willpower he possessed to leave that evening with all his clothes mostly intact.