Happy birthday to youuuuuuu! Lalalalaaa...
It’s bookworm0503’s birthday today. Happy birthday, bookworm0503! :D And thus I wrote fic. Haha. It’s not long but it’s straight from the heart and it’s all for you, buddy. Hope you enjoy. :)
Michelle Dessler eyed her husband carefully while she loaded the dishwasher. For someone who had spent the last hours talking and laughing in a way she had once feared he might never again, he was now awfully sullen and silent.
He was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, his eyes absentmindedly following the commotion outside on the streets. He was oblivious to her activity in the kitchen, which was highly unlike him. He always insisted on helping her, even when she protested that he was the one who had cooked so it was only fair she should be the one to have to clean up. And today he hadn’t even had to do the cooking; she’d had everything catered for the low-key family gathering she’d organized for his birthday.
His fortieth birthday.
Her eyes wandered over to him again, and she smiled softly to herself. The look on his face when he’d entered the house with his brother had been priceless. She’d done all of it behind his back, with help from his family, and any anxiety that he might suspect something was up had vanished the instant she saw is eyes widen at the sight of their living room filled with their families and a few of his friends.
It had warmed her heart to see him interact with them, laugh with them and just be that carefree version of himself she had missed so much during those horrible months after he was released from prison. His relationship with his family had been nearly as strained as his relationship with her had been, and seeing him hug his mother and horse around with his brother and gently tease his nieces and nephews instantly made all the trouble she’d gone through to organize the event well worth it. Hell… one smile from him would have made it well worth it.
When their guests had left he’d gathered her close, kissed her with a tenderness she was starting to believe would never fail to astound her and murmured that he didn’t deserve her. She was quick to assure him otherwise, and at this he’d smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Which was why his sudden stillness unnerved her a little, and she wondered what in the world could be wrong.
She finished up in the kitchen and headed over to him, quietly coming to stand behind him and slowly sliding her arms around his waist. He started a little before she felt him relax, and her chin came to rest on his shoulder as her hand affectionately ran over his stomach.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured against him, “Is something wrong?”
She felt rather than saw him smile, and he linked his fingers through hers. “Nah.”
She waited patiently, knowing it was just a matter of time before he came clean. She tapped her fingers lightly against his belly in mock impatience, making him laugh softly and then sigh.
“I’m just bummed the fun’s over and now I gotta get used to being a year older again.” His face contorted into something painful. “Or more like a decade older.”
Understanding dawned on her, and she pulled away slightly so she could turn him around to face her. “C’mere,” she said softly, making a point to insert a sprinkle of mischief into her voice, “I’ll make you feel like you’re fifteen again.”
Before he could answer she pressed herself against him with a warm, slow, wet kiss. She pushed her tongue through his lips and curled it around his own as her hands moved south to playfully squeeze his ass.
He groaned before laughing softly against her mouth. He was smiling when they broke apart and she could tell he already felt better. His hand moved to brush a single curl away from her eyes.
“You sure?” he teased. “I’m an old man now, Michelle. I dunno what a hot young thing like you is still doing with me.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. “I’ll be thirty-five soon, sweetheart. Everyone knows that’s just on your way to forty.”
He snorted. “Yeah and you have the body of a twenty-year-old,” he pointed out dryly, his hands now freely following the curves of her form.
She laughed again and he smiled at the sound, pulling her closer by her hips.
“Welllll…” She inched closer still and kissed his neck seductively, “Then I suggest you take advantage of it while it’s still here.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He swept her off the floor in an easy movement, easing her long legs around his waist before heading towards the stairs. Her fingers sifted through his hair for a moment before she murmured softly against his skin, “Y’know, I’ll still love you when you’re old and wrinkly and need help going to the bathroom.”
He simultaneously laughed and groaned, tugging at her ponytail and pressing his lips against hers. “Good to know. And I’ll still love you when your hair turns grey and you have a bad hip and you need a cane to be able to walk.”
Their mouths met again, and he could easily feel the smirk she was wearing.
“You’d better,” she warned breathlessly, “I might have to hit you with my cane if you didn’t.”
He chuckled, moving into the bedroom with her and letting them both tumble onto the bed. He slowed down for a moment, taking his time to kiss her eyes and her cheeks and her nose and her mouth. Proving his undying affection for her time and time again without ever having to use words.
Her hands shimmied their way under his shirt and chased it over his head. “Strip, Tony,” she ordered playfully, “Let’s at least make this fortieth birthday of yours memorable.”
He growled and she laughed. He wouldn’t need words for that either.
Michelle Dessler eyed her husband carefully while she loaded the dishwasher. For someone who had spent the last hours talking and laughing in a way she had once feared he might never again, he was now awfully sullen and silent.
He was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, his eyes absentmindedly following the commotion outside on the streets. He was oblivious to her activity in the kitchen, which was highly unlike him. He always insisted on helping her, even when she protested that he was the one who had cooked so it was only fair she should be the one to have to clean up. And today he hadn’t even had to do the cooking; she’d had everything catered for the low-key family gathering she’d organized for his birthday.
His fortieth birthday.
Her eyes wandered over to him again, and she smiled softly to herself. The look on his face when he’d entered the house with his brother had been priceless. She’d done all of it behind his back, with help from his family, and any anxiety that he might suspect something was up had vanished the instant she saw is eyes widen at the sight of their living room filled with their families and a few of his friends.
It had warmed her heart to see him interact with them, laugh with them and just be that carefree version of himself she had missed so much during those horrible months after he was released from prison. His relationship with his family had been nearly as strained as his relationship with her had been, and seeing him hug his mother and horse around with his brother and gently tease his nieces and nephews instantly made all the trouble she’d gone through to organize the event well worth it. Hell… one smile from him would have made it well worth it.
When their guests had left he’d gathered her close, kissed her with a tenderness she was starting to believe would never fail to astound her and murmured that he didn’t deserve her. She was quick to assure him otherwise, and at this he’d smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Which was why his sudden stillness unnerved her a little, and she wondered what in the world could be wrong.
She finished up in the kitchen and headed over to him, quietly coming to stand behind him and slowly sliding her arms around his waist. He started a little before she felt him relax, and her chin came to rest on his shoulder as her hand affectionately ran over his stomach.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured against him, “Is something wrong?”
She felt rather than saw him smile, and he linked his fingers through hers. “Nah.”
She waited patiently, knowing it was just a matter of time before he came clean. She tapped her fingers lightly against his belly in mock impatience, making him laugh softly and then sigh.
“I’m just bummed the fun’s over and now I gotta get used to being a year older again.” His face contorted into something painful. “Or more like a decade older.”
Understanding dawned on her, and she pulled away slightly so she could turn him around to face her. “C’mere,” she said softly, making a point to insert a sprinkle of mischief into her voice, “I’ll make you feel like you’re fifteen again.”
Before he could answer she pressed herself against him with a warm, slow, wet kiss. She pushed her tongue through his lips and curled it around his own as her hands moved south to playfully squeeze his ass.
He groaned before laughing softly against her mouth. He was smiling when they broke apart and she could tell he already felt better. His hand moved to brush a single curl away from her eyes.
“You sure?” he teased. “I’m an old man now, Michelle. I dunno what a hot young thing like you is still doing with me.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. “I’ll be thirty-five soon, sweetheart. Everyone knows that’s just on your way to forty.”
He snorted. “Yeah and you have the body of a twenty-year-old,” he pointed out dryly, his hands now freely following the curves of her form.
She laughed again and he smiled at the sound, pulling her closer by her hips.
“Welllll…” She inched closer still and kissed his neck seductively, “Then I suggest you take advantage of it while it’s still here.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He swept her off the floor in an easy movement, easing her long legs around his waist before heading towards the stairs. Her fingers sifted through his hair for a moment before she murmured softly against his skin, “Y’know, I’ll still love you when you’re old and wrinkly and need help going to the bathroom.”
He simultaneously laughed and groaned, tugging at her ponytail and pressing his lips against hers. “Good to know. And I’ll still love you when your hair turns grey and you have a bad hip and you need a cane to be able to walk.”
Their mouths met again, and he could easily feel the smirk she was wearing.
“You’d better,” she warned breathlessly, “I might have to hit you with my cane if you didn’t.”
He chuckled, moving into the bedroom with her and letting them both tumble onto the bed. He slowed down for a moment, taking his time to kiss her eyes and her cheeks and her nose and her mouth. Proving his undying affection for her time and time again without ever having to use words.
Her hands shimmied their way under his shirt and chased it over his head. “Strip, Tony,” she ordered playfully, “Let’s at least make this fortieth birthday of yours memorable.”
He growled and she laughed. He wouldn’t need words for that either.