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[m_pinocchio]

Today doesn't feel any different than any other day. He gets up early, gets his coffee, and instead of drinking it in the kitchen he takes it outside to the Compound steps, sits down on them and listens to the Island come awake

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[little_moons]

Max wakes me up, the little fucker.

He's hungry, he wants a walk, he wants to play, he wants whatever. It's still kind of like having a hyperactive toddler.

Even the walk up to the Compound doesn't really wake me up. I'm still bleary-eyed, feet shuffling along, yawning every few minutes, in sweats and a t-shirt that's kinda big and might be mine or might not. Who knows. I'm running a hand through my hair, scrubbing at my face and biting back another yawn when I make it to the Compound steps, mouth curling into a tired smile at the sight of him there.

[m_pinocchio]

"Well, look who it is." He laughs quietly and raises his mug in salute. "The hell're you doing up? Usually a goddamn grenade can't shift you." Not that he's complaining. It's nice to be out here alone but alone can get old fast.

[little_moons]

Pointing at the dog sniffing around his feet, I plop down beside him on the steps with a grunt, leaning my weight against him a little bit and maybe it's only partially 'cause I'm trying to be obnoxious.

"Happy Birthday," I mumble, lips twitching at the corners.

[m_pinocchio]

"Fuck you," he says amiably, and he shifts his mug to his other hand and settles an arm around Neil's shoulders. He doesn't mind it being mentioned, honestly. Just doesn't want a fuss. No fucking party.

"You still got any of that green stuff left?"

[little_moons]

"Little bit. We got sorta busy 'fore we could drink too much of it," I remind him with a lazy grin, "Got two bottles of really expensive champagne too."

[m_pinocchio]

"Maybe later," he says, grinning back, though it's a little smaller. He's not sure what he feels like. Just sitting and thinking, maybe.

"I'm older than I was ever supposed to be." He takes a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes momentarily as the tip of his tongue goes pleasantly numb. "Haven't decided yet if that's something to celebrate or not."

[little_moons]

"Join the fuckin' club," I snort, and I know it's fuckin' stupid, but I feel like that, most days. Like I'm lucky to be alive. For months I thought I'd died out there on that sidewalk in Brighton Beach. Sometimes I still wonder if that might be true.

"Just think, if you weren't, you never would've met me."

[m_pinocchio]

"And wouldn't that be fucking awful." The words are fairly soaked in sarcasm, but he leans in, darts a kiss against Neil's temple.

"It's good, on balance. Just kinda fucks with me." He looks at Neil sidelong. "Why're you in the club too?"

[little_moons]

"Wendy used to always tell me I was gonna get myself killed one day," I say, smiling crookedly, "Guess she was right. I dunno, for a while, when I first got here, I figured I finally had."

I know it's not the same. It's not guns and grenades and nuclear fallout, but for a while I think maybe I did just about anything I could to just make everything stop for good.

[m_pinocchio]

He shakes his head slightly. Himself, it doesn't bother him to think about; his own death has been a simple fact in his head for as long as he's been thinking about it, nothing terribly frightening or horrible, just something that was going to happen sooner or later. But he doesn't want to think about Neil that way.

"Doesn't matter. We're here now."

[little_moons]

I know a subject changer when I hear one. My lips twitch into a smile, and I turn to graze a kiss across his cheek, words muffled by his skin, "Seems to me like it's worth at least a little celebration."

[m_pinocchio]

He smiles faintly when Neil kisses him, strangely close to a blush. It's bizarre sometimes, how they've slipped into being this physical with each other so easily, and a breath of fresh air at not having to hide it, collateral damage aside. He squeezes Neil's shoulder again and feels something warm spread through his chest.

"Was gonna go for a swim after I finish this," he says, raising the mug again. "Wanna come?"

[little_moons]

"Yeah, I wanna come," I murmur, lips smudging across his temple before I pull back and tap my fingers lightly against his mug. "Anything left in the pot?"

[m_pinocchio]

"Should be some," he says, nodding. "Made it, like, fifteen minutes ago." And it's too early yet for the bleary-eyed crowds to start shuffling in for breakfast.

[little_moons]

Swallowing down a yawn, I push to my feet with a mumbled, "Be right back," trudging the rest of the way up the steps and pushing through the door, Max trailing along at my heels.

A few minutes later I'm sitting down beside him with a mug of my own, a little more awake than before. The sun's lost some of it's harsh sting and I can actually open my eyes without my head screaming loudly in protest. Still too fucking early. "So, how old are you anyway?" Like I don't already know the answer to that question.

[m_pinocchio]

"Thirty six," he says, giving Neil a little bit of a look, because he's pretty sure he can do basic addition. "Old. You should build me a walker."

In truth, the concept of age doesn't bother him. It just surprises him. For so long, the idea of dealing with it hadn't been any kind of concern.