Small Birthday Thing

“Happy birthday.” It’s a simple statement, Orrin offered it with a small smile as Duelek entered the kitchen for the first time that morning.

The Weaver paused in the doorway, one paw half-raised in the air, his ear twitched forward, whisker curling in a confused line. “No?” He returned, hesitant and drawn out, gaze flicking away from Orrin as he raised a brow at them.

“Did you lose track of the dates again?” A simple question, kind and gentle in the way that questions dulled by years of familiarity could be.

Still, it had Duelek’s shoulder raising in a hunch, a scoff just bordering rough acting as a poor mask of defensiveness. “Don’t be saying it like that, didn’t lose track a no thing.”

“Of course not.” The agreement has him pouting, tension falling from their limbs in an instant, he rolled his eyes at Orrin’s antics.

“Shut yaself.” Duelek huffed, flicking at ear at the Dasher dismissively he walked further into the kitchen, driven more by fledgling routine than actual hunger. “Stop being mean at me on my birthday.”

“No, you sit,” Orrin waves Duelek away from the counter, towards the kitchen table, ignoring the narrowed eyes he got from the other. “I can make you something.”

“But-”

“No, let me.” Orrin insisted, firm and unwavering in his intent. “I want to do this for you.”

“... you don’t have ta though,” Duelek offered, hesitating momentarily before letting himself sit where Orrin had directed him, gingerly placing himself in one of the old wooden seats, claws drumming on the surface of the table. “Ain’t necessary.”

“It is your birthday,” Orrin returned, like it was the only answer he needed. “And I want to.”

“Right,” the word was huffed, eyes moving away from the Dasher’s back to focus unseeing at a point on the wall. He really wished Orrin wouldn’t make a deal out of the day, it wasn’t something he really wanted to acknowledge, let alone celebrate.

He’d much rather the day just… pass. Come and go without any indication that it was anything other than another day.

Mihal wanders in not too long after, hands busy with some piece of fabric, darker blue and embroidered with silver clouds.

They settled themselves next to him, wrapping the fabric around their claws and holding it out to him so he could look at it, a content curl to their whiskers.

The younger of the two had always been a bit more accepting of gifts, enjoying the act of receiving just as much as giving where Duelek only enjoyed giving things, never as comfortable with receiving things.

“That’s looking nice,” their twin perked up more at that, their whiskers bobbing in a contented sway, a pleased hum blooming in his skull from the other. “Brother certainly knows what you like, don’t he?”

He hears Orrin huff behind them, but chooses to ignore the Dasher’s flusterment; he could deal with it being pointed out.

“You gonna wear it for the day?” He continued, all too aware that Orrin was only fidgeting more and more out of his view. “I think it’ll go real nice with-”

“How about cake!” Clearly not a question, more a panicked exclamation that drew both Mihal’s and Duelek’s attention to Orrin, Mihal’s brows a concerned furrow whilst Duelek’s raised in question.

“Don’t think it’d go well with cake,” he’s teasing the Dasher, Mihal rolling their eyes fondly at the corner of their eyes. “Don’t wanna ruin such a nice gift, yeah?”

‘Be nice at him.’ Mihal signed at them, pushing at his shoulder and drawing a chuckle from him as Orrin cleared his throat. They settled the length of fabric around them, the ends draped over their upper arms, ears flicking dismissively at their twin. ‘I’m liking it.’

“Course ya do.” Duelek rubbed his arm, urging away the sting left behind by boney fingers digging into his limb. “But what was that about cake?”

“It is a tradition for birthdays, is it not?” Orrin’s voice was softer, slower, words thought out before he said them to avoid stumbling over them. His hands fidgeted, swallowing heavily as his eyes moved between the twin Weavers and the room around them. “We should get you one.”

“I can make one easy,” Duelek shrugged; he enjoyed baking, he’d be more than happy to make a cake for, well the two of them. Though they were sure Mihal would enjoy the sentiment regardless. “What kind ya want.”

Orrin paused, turned to focus on him fully, brow raised in a genuine confusion. “I… no. It is your birthday, you choose what kind you want.”

Duelek blinked. Blinked again. Nose scrunching as he furrowed his brow. “But I ain’t real caring too much ‘bout that. You just choose something.”

“Duelek,” Orrin’s tone firms and the Weaver curls into himself, shoulders rising to his ears. “It is your day, make something you like for yourself.”

Mihal set their elbows on the surface of the table, peering at Duelek with an intent gaze, waiting for his response.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, neither of the others would drop the insistence that he decide what he wanted to make for himself. Not exactly a space he wanted to exist in but one he couldn’t escape.

Fuck.

“... ok.” He grumbled, sinking into himself in his seat, whiskers twisting together in a nervous curl. “I’ll make something I like then. If that’s what you want.”

He gets a heavy sigh from Orrin and a roll of eyes from their twin, it was the bare minimum of an agreement but it would have to do.