#seeemmmmppppeeerrrr i love it so much

[zjofierose]

*INCOHERENT SCREAMING*

Omg, I wrote Pinto! For @zjofierose's birthday <333 and for my own agonies. Thanks for an excuse to go back in time and to distract myself, bb. Hope you had a great day!

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I'll be in town in a couple weeks, Zach had texts him. Let me take you out for an early birthday.

He didn't mention he was coming for a Spock thing and other various business obligations, but Chris is long past caring about things like that. They've been on opposite coasts for over a decade now, so he's used to them being ships passing in the night, stealing moments together where they can. They'd been apart for Zach's birthday, but Chris sent a card. Last year, he doesn't even remember. Before that, there was a whole-ass pandemic. Yeah, Chris is happy to take what he can get.

It feels like old times when the doorbell rings and Chris opens the door to see Zach standing there, one ankle crossed over the other, hands shoved deep in his pockets, sporting yet another bad haircut. Chris smiles so wide his face hurts as he goes in for a hug. "Hey, man," he says in Zach's ear. Such an inadequate greeting, but he squeezes tighter to make up for it. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Pine," Zach says as he pulls away, their jaws scratching against each other. "Where do you want to go?"

Chris had grand plans. New restaurants he hasn't been able to take Zach to yet. A great bar he knows Zach would love. But suddenly...

"Actually, how do you feel about staying in?" Chris says on impulse. Suddenly, the thought of sitting in a crowded Hollywood bistro, having to crane forward to hear Zach over the noise, doesn't sound so appealing. "I know a place that delivers."

Zach raises an eyebrow, but, to Chris's surprise and relief, he doesn't argue. As he steps across the threshold, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and waves it at Chris. "Fine, but I'm buying. I said I would."

They end up out back by the pool, cross-legged on the deck chairs plastic containers full of pasta on their laps. Zach kicked his shoes off, and Chris can't stop looking at his bare feet, the hair on his wrists, the way his mouth moves when he talks--little details he didn't realize he knew so well and missed so much. Being with Zach is like wrapping himself up in an old blanket, comforting and cozy and familiar. He can feel something inside himself settling. He has to keep swallowing against the unnamed emotions that threaten to block his throat.

"I know you said you didn't need dessert," Zach says when they're done picking at their food, "but it's not a birthday without something sweet."

He unfolds himself from the chair, and walks inside, then emerges a moment later with another take-out container, this one filled with tiramisu. Chris laughs, delighted. "You know the way to my heart, I see."

"Always," Zach says, his smile going soft. He sets the container down on the little table between their chairs, and then digs into his pocket and comes out with--incredibly--two birthday candles and a lighter.

"Asshole," Chris says, and Zach chuckles as he carefully places the candles, then lights them one by one.

"I'm not going to sing, for both of our sakes," Zach says, "but you have to make a wish."

Instead of sitting down on his own chair, Zach sits down next to Chris and reaches across him to pick up the tiramisu, hold it steady for him. Chris closes his eyes, still grinning, and silently makes his wish: More nights like this. More time with Zach. Zach's hand settles on his back, and Chris lets the moment linger for a while, commits it all to memory, then purses his lips and blows.

Zach doesn't move, even when the candles are discarded. They lean shoulder to shoulder and pass one spoon back and forth, taking one sweet bite at a time until they get down to the end.

"Last bite is for the birthday boy," Zach says, scooping it onto the spoon and holding it out.

Chris can feel his face burn. "It's not my birthday yet," he says, but he leans in anyway and closes his lips around the spoon, lets himself savor it. When he looks up, Zach is watching him, his eyes dark, and it seems simple enough to push Zach's hand away, palm the back of his neck, and kiss him.

This is far from the first time he's kissed Zach, but it's been a while, and the last time didn't taste quite so sweet. Last time was a goodbye, Chris thinks. More bitter than sweet. And maybe in an hour or a day or a few days, this kiss will turn into a goodbye too, but for now, he wants to pretend wishes come true.

"Stay here tonight," he says. The empty plastic container goes clattering to the deck as they turn into each other, Chris tugging Zach's belt loop.

"Yeah," Zach breathes, "yes," and licks into Chris's mouth. He tastes like coffee and whipped cream and home.