Casper Darling had never been one to make a fuss about his birthday. Thirty-five, to him, was not a particularly significant milestone—nothing like twenty-five, when he had felt the reckless confidence of youth, or even thirty, when he had begrudgingly admitted he was solidly in adulthood. But thirty-five? It was just another number. Or so he thought.

He woke up to the distinct smell of coffee—good coffee, not the burnt sludge from the Oldest House's breakroom. The bed was warm, but the other side was empty. Trench was up.

With a yawn, Darling rolled out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he followed the scent into the kitchen. He was greeted by the sight of Zachariah Trench standing at the stove, flipping what appeared to be homemade pancakes. A neatly set table sat nearby, complete with a small wrapped box and a single, slightly wilted flower in a glass. Darling blinked.

"You made breakfast?"

Trench smirked. "Well, I had some help. Your mother kindly reminded me yesterday that pancakes are your favorite."

Darling snorted, settling into a chair. "She would. But really, Zach, this is nice, but you didn't have to—"

"I know." Trench set a plate in front of him, then sat down across from him. "But this is your first birthday since we moved in together. That makes it different."

Darling hesitated, fork hovering over the stack of pancakes. "That… really matters to you?"

Trench gave him a look—the kind that softened the sharp edges of his usual stern demeanor. "Yeah, Casper. It does."

Warmth bloomed in Darling's chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. He took a bite of the pancakes—undeniably made with effort. "You know," he said between bites, "it's nice seeing this side of you. The one that doesn't growl orders at people all day."

Trench rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

Darling grinned. "Too late. It's already been four years."

The day unfolded in small, thoughtful gestures—an unusual Monday away from the Oldest House, a walk in the park where Trench had secretly arranged for some of their friends to "coincidentally" run into them, a visit to the bookstore where Darling was encouraged (without argument) to buy as many books as he wanted, and dinner at their favorite restaurant, where Trench had made an actual reservation.

By the time they got home, Darling felt lighter than he had in weeks. He dropped onto the couch with a content sigh. "You really went all out."

Trench sat beside him, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. "You deserve it."

Darling turned to him, expression softer now. "Thank you."

Trench simply nodded, as if he didn't need any more words than that. And for once, Darling found that neither did he.