Fluffy Oneshots

Happy Birthday

Today is my birthday.

"Happy Birthday, Sir."

His voice is calm, even too composed for my liking. Too distant.

I lean back in my chair, studying him. The usual stiff posture, the same unreadable expression. It irritates me.

"Is that it?"

He blinks, as if thrown off by the question. Then, as if remembering something, he pulls out a neatly wrapped box from his coat pocket and places it on my desk.

"No, sir. This is the present."

I take it, my fingers brushing against his as I do. He doesn't react, but I notice the slight hitch in his breath.

The paper is folded meticulously like everything he does. I tear through it, slow and deliberate, watching him the entire time. Inside is a leather watch, simple and refined, just my style.

"Thoughtful," I murmur, setting it down. I let a beat of silence stretch between us before tilting my head. "Nothing else?"

His fingers twitch. It's subtle, but I catch it.

"I'm not sure what you are referring to, sir."

Liar.

I rise from my chair, closing the space between us with slow, measured steps. He doesn't move, but his shoulders go rigid, and his breath grows shallow.

Interesting.

Stopping just inches away, I lower my voice. "Where is my birthday kiss?"

A sharp inhale.

His eyes widen, just a fraction, before he quickly masks it with that same infuriating composure.

"Sir"

"Come on." I lift a hand, my fingers grazing along his jaw before tilting his chin up. His lips part slightly, though he doesn't speak. His pulse, I notice, is racing.

"You wouldn't deny the birthday boy, would you?"

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. A war rages in his eyes, hesitation clashing with something far deeper, something he's buried for too long.

I'm done waiting.

I close the distance, pressing my lips to his.

He stiffens at first, caught between resistance and surrender. But then, his resolve crumbles. His hands clutch at my sleeves, his body leaning into mine, and his lips part slightly, letting me in.

It's slow, deep, intoxicating. Every ounce of restraint he's ever held is unraveling right here, right now. And I take it all every shaky breath, every silent plea hidden in the way he grips me tighter instead of pulling away.

When I finally break the kiss, I keep him close, resting my forehead against his.

"Best gift ever," I murmur, my fingers still resting at the nape of his neck.

He exhales, still breathless, still lost in the moment. His gaze flickers to mine, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before.

"I..."He hesitates, then shakes his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "This... shouldn't"

"It should," I interrupt, cupping his face. "Because I love you."

His breath catches. His eyes widen, lips parting in silent shock.

I don't let him look away.

"I've loved you for a long time." My thumb brushes over his cheek. "And I don't plan to stop."

A shaky exhale. Then, with a sudden urgency, he pulls me in again, lips crashing onto mine. There's no hesitation this time, no restraint. Only raw, unfiltered emotion.

When we part, his forehead rests against mine, his voice barely a whisper.

"I love you too."