I still couldn't believe he hadn't told me.

"I would've done something."

"You don't need to." Fraser was oiling his boots’—no shit: Canadians actually do that, or at least Mounties do, or, well, at least Fraser does’—which gave him an excuse not to look at me. I hadn't found out it was his birthday until ten, too late for good takeout, and we'd wasted the day doing work crap, and I was mad.

"But I would've wanted to, Fraser, that's the’—"

"I didn't want you to feel obligated."

"Oh, for..." Deep breath. I was pissed, but not at him. Okay, at him, but I didn't want to make him feel bad, I just had to make him understand. "Look: you gave me a, whaddayacall, dream-thingie when you didn't even know me."

"Well--yes," he said, sounding uncomfortable.

"I know, that wasn't for me, it was for Vecchio, but..."

"I'm glad it pleased you, Ray." His voice was quiet. "But my birthday really doesn't matter to me."

"It should."

"It's never been important." If it had been anybody else, I would've figured he was paying so much attention to the polish because he didn't want to let on he was sad, but with Fraser it was hard to tell.

"Well, it ought to be!" I wanted to slam my hand into the coffee table. Pissed me off, that nobody ever paid attention to Fraser's birthday. "You shoulda had a party in first grade, chocolate cupcakes with sprinkles and those candles that won't blow out’—"

"Trick candles?"

"Yeah’—"

"I don't believe they were avilable in the Territories when I was a boy, though I appreciate the sentiment."

"Not the point. What I mean is, you shoulda had’—" I fumbled for words.

I meant he should've gotten presents when he was a kid, he should've gotten a birthday blowjob from his girlfriend when he turned sixteen, he should get the day off now with a party and a fucking parade, because he deserves it. I just didn't know how to say it.

"Ray, your concern for my childhood birthday celebrations, or lack thereof, is quite...touching." His voice was earnest. He even put the boots down and looked right at me, which made my heart do somersaults. "But it honestly doesn't matter. Well, it might have, once," quiet, like he didn't want to admit it, "but it certainly doesn't now."

Next thing I knew I was standing right in front of him. "It does matter now." So much I wanted to say and couldn't. Disgusted, I shoved my hands in my pockets and stalked away.

"Why does it bother you?"

I turned back around. "My life sucks less with you in it." Honesty was terrifying, but it was the only gift I had. "You ought to know that, is all."

He smiled, and the butterflies in my chest doubled. "Thank you, Ray." We just looked at each other, and it was hard to breathe but I didn't want to be the first to look away. "I do."

(510 words)

The End