"Have you got the stuff?"

Xi-Wang Cheng sat a parcel down firmly on the communal kitchen countertop, which was currently covered in gloom. There was one light on; it glittered off his companion's golden scales, making him look somewhat like a moving Christmas ornament. Dark-green hair looked like he'd just gotten out of bed; probably had done.

"Yeah. Did you turn it on?"

Brian Haddock gave a furtive look over his shoulder, then nodded. "All set up, man."

"Right. Door's locked." The Holder started fumbling in the plastic bag, pulling out various items; white powder, crystal granules, other precious things that had been wrapped lovingly in tissue paper and placed in a box so as not to break. Xi cringed at every heinously loud crinkle the offending bag gave off; once all the items were out, he kicked it surrepticiously to the ground, wiping one hand against his bandanna as his best friend hurriedly rustled among the ingredients with understandable nervousness.

"Have you ever done this before, Xi?"

"Oh, yeah, dozens of times," Xi lied easily. "Just leave it to ol' King Zombie, babe."

"So long as Emmers doesn't find out, I won't shortsheet your bed," Brian said sunnily, checking the ingredients. "How much did it cost you?"

"Through the fuckin' nose. Pot comes cheaper than some of that stuff nowadays."

"I owe you one, Cheng."

"By this time? You owe me dozens."

"Yeah, yeah. You're amazing, Xi, I swear. I never could've done this by myself." Grinning to himself, Brian suddenly paled. "Hold on a sec. Vanilla essence. This stuff calls for vanilla essence. Did we get va - "

Longsuffering, the tousle-haired Chinese man drew a tiny bottle out of his jacket pocket. "I had to promise a date to a senile ol' Russian woman to get this shit for you."

"I'd kiss you if you didn't have sixty-three teeth."

"Oh, 'Rian, my darling, our love will never be. Emily will find out for certain." Xi swooned dramatically against the counter, hand against his forehead. "Woe, woe is us and our doomed love."

"Eh, she'd just kill you," Brian beamed practically. "She'd keep me, I'm sweet and cute and lovely. Let's get this show on the road, bud. Pass the flour, willya."

It occurred to both men quite early on that neither had ever made a birthday cake in their lives, but if there was any skill Brian possessed it was making a good fist of things. He had the clinging tenacity of the Itsy-Bitsy Spider, crawling up that waterspout; Xi just trailed along behind, genuinely amazed at the other man about seven times per week. They worked there, in that flickering darkness of the room, arguing over what the batter should look like and how much vanilla was too much and whether the tin was the right size. Neither had the faintest idea about either; it was with a certain resignation that they finally stoically watched the cake bake in the oven, taking turns to lick the bowl, Xi's bandanna pulled down to his neck so that his rows of fangs gleamed like Brian's scales.

"So what'd you get her?"

"Bracelet."

"Jewellry, eh? Someone wants down her panties."

"Shut up, Cheng," Brian said easily. His expression was soft; Xi loved the way both Brian and his fiancee's faces looked when they talked about each other, though he would have rather dipped his balls in acid than admit it. "You know how Emmy feels about that."

"If it was me, I'd burst into her room and say, 'Hey, babe, I'm your lord and master, so succumb to my passion and go slip into something more comfortable' - "

"Which is why I'm getting married to her and not you," the other man chuckled. "What'd you get her?"

Xi grinned toothily, as only he could. "Know how she's been working on a coupla planks and some crates? Ray helped me make a proper damn desk down in one of the basements. Secret drawer for nude pictures of you. Putting it up in her office tomorrow morning."

"She'll love that."

"She'll stop getting splinters in her arms, at least."

"I know you adore her up to her sweet little eyeteeth, old man." Brian scooped up another fingerful of batter; angelfood, since it was her favourite. "Admit it."

Xi snorted comically, pulling a battered little tin bowl towards them both. Icing sugar; that had come dear, and there was just enough of it to make the icing for the dark-haired woman's cake. "I've known Turandot longer than you have, kid, I'm admitting nothing. You're the one stupid enough to marry her."

"Awww, you do. You're so cute about it. She thinks the world of you, you know."

"And she still won't let me slide down the bannisters? Bitch."

"We both do. Y'know - " Brian measured out margarine, the only fat they could procure. " - once we have our kids, you know you're godfather, right?"

"I hope you never have children."

"I hope they have her eyes, you know?"

"Hope they don't have your brains."

"I want little girls," Brian confessed, having long known the delicate art of translating or alternately ignoring whatever Xi was saying. "All dark-haired... Or green-haired, we'll see how that goes. Not many. Maybe just one. She'd overwork herself and go mad over too many."

"As much as I love sitting here psychoanalyzing your future brood of squealing goblins, pass the vanilla."

Through some divine miracle, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the cake. Brian set it on a wire rack to cool; they sat there, talking quietly, attempting not to eat little bits of the chocolate icing as they waited. After slightly burnt fingers (and little bits of icing being eaten), they finally covered the surface with all the delicacy they could manage. Xi produced a packet of Hershey's Kisses, which were duly unwrapped and carefully placed around the edge of the cake.

"Yeah," Xi said, deeply satisfied, surveying their handiwork. "That is the finest cake I have ever baked. That is the only cake I have ever baked."

"I thought you said you'd done this before."

"I lied. I was a cake virgin. This broke my baking cherry. I think that for this grand finale, we should drink something alcoholic."

"There's nothing but the vanilla essence."

"Let's drink that."

"... Xi, it's vanilla essence."

"Here. You drink this half out of the measuring cup."

"You don't think we should save it?"

"You think there'll be any more cakes during this war? Come on. Let's make a toast."

The gold-scaled mutant and his best friend solemnly held up their respective vessels of strongly-smelling fluid. Xi remembered that moment for ever after; a flickering lightbulb illuminating both, his best friend's unearthly scales glowing in the dark, suppressed laughing grin, that damn floofy green hair falling over his forehead. In barely months they would discover him in a dumpster, shot into so many holes his midsection resembled a pair of Xi's socks.

"To my lovely wife-to-be and another year of her being gorgeous," Brian toasted solemnly. "To friends. To peace."

"To maudlin toasts at 3 AM. Have you been hitting the essence without telling me? C'mon, own up."

"To me completely smacking your ass if I wasn't a charming pacifist any moment now."

"To you hopefully dying of drinking this shit and me having to comfort your beautiful, tearful fiancee."

"Ha. Told you you thought she was beautiful. You ol' softy. To Haven."

"To Haven."

They both drank deeply. And spat it out in the sink after holding it in their mouths for a few moments, but as Brian said afterwards, it was the look of the thing.