The Birthday Boy

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead," Tom whispered, brushing back his best friend's curls with his hand.

Harrison, still worn down from the previous night's events of drinking and poker, grumbled and rolled away. "Mmfivemoreminutes."

"You said that five minutes ago, and five minutes before that. Come on, you need to wake up."

"What time is it?" Harrison asked, his voice muffled by the blankets.

Tom glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "A little after nine."

"Nope, nope, far too early."

Tom sighed and chuckled at once. "You can't sleep the day away, especially not when it's such a special one."

This managed to wake Harrison who rolled onto his back and looked at his best friend. Tom smiled at the boy's disheveled morning appearance -- hair tangled, eyes puffy, lips chapped. He always managed to look beautiful no matter the situation. "I told you I didn't want anything special. Just a nice, relaxing day at home."

"And that's what you'll get," Tom agreed. He leaned down and briefly warmed Harrison's lips with his own, then pulled back in a teasing act of disgust. "Gross, morning breath."

"Hey, you kissed me, mister," Harrison defended through a yawn and upwardly stretched arms. "Why do I need to be up so early anyway? You guys wore me out last night."

That was true, Tom thought. Last night's events of two six-packs and a lengthy game of poker with Harry and Tuwaine had done all of them in. Had it not been for wanting to surprise his best friend, Tom would have probably still been asleep like the rest of the house.

"Because I wanted to give you your present," Tom eventually said. He jumped to his feet and hurried out of the bedroom. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a tray drenched in every breakfast item one could imagine. Pancakes. Scrambled eggs. Sausage. Yogurt. Fresh-cut berries. Orange juice. Milk.

Harrison smiled at the gesture. "What's this then?"

"A very special breakfast for a very special man." Tom sat the tray on his best friend's lap then climbed under the blankets beside him. "You can't expect me to get you nothing, can you?"

"Yes, I can. Still, I can't turn this away. Not when you worked so hard on it." Harrison cocked an eyebrow as Tom cringed inwardly. "Harry made it, didn't he?"

"You know I'm no good in the kitchen," Tom said sheepishly. They both laughed before Harrison leaned in for another kiss. This time it was longer, a thank you in so little words.

When Harrison pulled away, he said, "You spoil me, you know that?"

"Oh, I know it. And I won't stop." He climbed out of the bed once more. "Now, you eat and I'll be back with the second part of your surprise."

"Second part?" Harrison asked, mouth full of egg. He began to protest when Tom disappeared into the hall, whistling "Happy Birthday" softly.

Harrison smiled and shook his head then grabbed his phone from the bedside table. He clicked open the Instagram app and was bombarded by countless birthday wishes, most from fans. Harrison scrolled through them, liking a few here and there. Eventually, he stumbled upon Tom's post, because of course, the dork couldn't not make a social media post about the day.

My muse! One day, I hope to be able to strike a pose and look off into the middle distance. Happy birthday mate. Love you

Harrison grinned widely at the words. Though so little and probably meaningless to anyone else who had read them, they were like literature to him. Quickly, before Tom returned, Harrison screenshotted the post and filed it into a folder in his camera roll labeled Our Photos.