(Warning: Slash / Shounen-ai / not-quite-yaoi / teh gay pplz)

Fifteen

October twenty-third dawned bright and early, disturbing many people who didn’t have curtains from their sleep. While Aidan had curtains, he had made sure to be awake early. It would be a good day—it was his fifteenth birthday, after all—and he wanted to enjoy the sensation for as long as possible.

The alarm clock began its low, monotonous buzz at seven that morning. Aidan slowly awoke, staring blearily at the object. It was a Saturday and Ailill’s arms were warm around him and… well, he really didn’t feel like getting up when the time came. He decided to ignore the annoying buzz, snuggling closer to Ailill with a big smile on his face.

Of course, Ailill was a light sleeper, so he was very quickly awoken by the alarm. The arms around Aidan were quickly retracted, reaching over to press the off button on the clock.

“…You awake?” came Ailill’s voice, thick with sleep.

Aidan immediately sat up. “Yeah.” He pouted slightly, staring down at his hands, which were covered by his shirtsleeves.

“…Happy birthday.”

“Yay!” he cried, tackling Ailill with such force that he fell backward.

Golden eyes peered up at him. “…Fifteen?” The voice was full of dread.

Aidan nodded fervently.

Ailill gave a groan. “How ‘bout we have breakfast first?”

The blonde smiled and said, “Sure,” before leaning down and stealing what was officially Ailill’s first kiss.

(l)(o)(v)(e)

“Nope, Ailill, you’re not getting out of it. I’ve waited this long—you can’t stop me now.” The two walked through the halls, their arms looped together. “Oh ho ho ho!”

The mage gave a heavy sigh. “I know, Aidan.”

“It’s your fault for making me wait, y’know. Because my desire has only grown stronger these past two years.”

Ailill looked decidedly green. “Let’s not talk about desire yet.”

The blonde gave him a puzzled look. “Huh?” Ailill sweat-dropped. “Oh. Oh. You mean those late-night desires that you’ve never had, right?”

The other flushed, puffing up considerably. “I have had late-night desires!”

“Ooh, really? About who?”

“…It’s whom,” Ailill corrected, in an attempt to avoid the question. “Who is subjective; whom is objective.”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on,” Aidan whined as they entered the dining hall.

“Oh, Aidan, it’s you. It’s always you, because you’re the only person I have feelings for, romantically or sexually—”

“Romantically or sexually?” Aidan repeated.

There was the sound of a long-suffering sigh. “There’s a difference.”

“Well, all right.”

“—And it just makes me feel squick-y, because I enjoy it so much, and… and…”

“And now I’m fifteen and you don’t have to feel squick-y anymore,” Aidan finished enthusiastically.

“…But I’m nineteen. Soon I’ll be twenty.” Ailill cringed and sat at the sturdy oak table. Aidan slid into place beside him, patting his shoulder.

“It’s OK, Ailill. You’re not a pedophile and it isn’t wrong. We’re not going to be doing anything illegal, in any government’s book.”

Ailill twitched nervously. “Oh, I dunno—if those Republicans have their way, we won’t even be able to hold hands without getting twenty-four hours…”

The half-vampire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Eat up so we can start playing footsie under the table.”

“Do we have to?”

Aidan glared.

“Oh, all right.”

(m)(o)(u)

Despite all Ailill’s moral protests and childish whining, he didn’t actually mind all of it. He had been looking forward to Aidan’s fifteenth almost as much as Aidan had, and even if it didn’t still feel quite right, he knew that just holding Aidan’s hand would take that feeling away.

It was a few hours later when they sat out in the garden, underneath the shade of a tree. Aidan was warm against Ailill’s shoulder, which somewhat made up for the discomfort of the box that was digging at him through his pocket. The mage wrestled with it for a long while before the small, wrapped box finally slid out.

He gently nudged Aidan, who was beginning to fall asleep.

“Hmm?” the boy asked, blue-violet eyes clouded with fatigue.

“Your present.”

“…Belonging to you and having you belong to me is present enough,” Aidan murmured, before burying his face in Ailill’s shoulder once more and trying to resume his nap.

Ailill’s eyes became curiously wet around the edges at this and he felt a strange, not-so-ambiguous movement in his chest region. “Really, Aidan. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve all day. If you don’t take this present off my hands now, you probably won’t get it ‘til Christmas.”

Aidan gave a sigh before sitting up, giving Ailill an expectant look.

“I do hope you haven’t been slobbering on me.”

“Of course not. I’ve got better manners than that. It’s a major point in all the etiquette textbooks: never slobber on someone you’re using as a pillow. Never being bolded, underlined, written in rainbow letters, and considerably larger than all the other text.”

Ailill grinned. “Of course.” He handed Aidan his present—which, consequently, had a pretty purple bow on it. “Here you go.”

The vampire prince had a painstaking way of unwrapping presents, Ailill knew from experience. Most of the time he gave Aidan presents in bags, but this one was too small. Thus, he was forced to endure the almost-striptease that consisted of Aidan unwrapping the blue and pink polka dotted paper as slowly as possible.

At least he could use that same paper to wrap another present. It would certainly save on the annual budget. After all, he gave away… four presents a year. --;;

Ailill coughed. “You really can rip the paper. I won’t be offended or anything. In fact, in my culture it’s very good manners to rip paper.”

The blonde giggled as he finally slid the last section of paper from the box, taking the lid off the miniscule box as slowly as he possibly could. Of course, Ailill finally got his revenge when the blonde saw what was inside. Blue eyes the size of coffee mugs turned to the mage.

“No wonder you were so reluctant to commit! You thought I wanted you to propose? No, no, Ailill, the courtship must come first.” Aidan was shaking his head so that little blonde wisps of hair flew around his face.

Ailill sighed. Never mind about the revenge. Aidan was just going to make fun of him. “I’m not proposing… not yet.”

The yet tasted sweet as it left the mage’s lips and lingered upon the air. Aidan relished the sound of it.

“Yet?” Aidan repeated in a breathy voice.

The mage coughed, not liking the tense, expectant atmosphere. Aidan really shouldn’t hold his breath—Ailill had already placed the next age restriction on him. He just didn’t know it yet.

Aidan turned his attention back to the ring, sitting innocently on its cushion in the box.

“…It was mother’s. She… she gave it to me before she died. She told me to give it to the person I loved as much as she… loved my father.”

The blonde was oddly quiet, reminding Ailill of Aidan-when-he’s-depressed. Aidan-when-he’s-depressed is not nearly as annoying, incorrigible, or lovably endearing as Aidan-when-he’s-not-depressed.

So Ailill continued, “And I love you so much more than that. Our love won’t be doomed like theirs, Aidan.” He reached expectantly for Aidan’s hand, and was rewarded when it was slipped, soft and delicate, into his palm. The ring twinkled up at Ailill as he placed it on Aidan’s ring finger—but the right ring finger, mind, which was only dangerous if you were Orthodox. Which neither of them were. “We’ll be together always.”

Ailill heard a sniff, and looked down into Aidan’s face. “Of course,” the blonde whispered, little tears in his eyes. Slowly he leaned forward, placing his hands lovingly on either side of Ailill’s face.

The mage didn’t even bother protesting this time, as soft lips touched his own and his back hit the tree with a loud thunk. They both wanted—needed—this, and he’d be a fool to stop it.

Even Ailill couldn’t resist Aidan, when he was pressed against him, so wonderfully soft and warm—except for the cold, hard metal of the ring, making twin curved marks in his cheek.

10/3/05

Mwa. Read and review. Please. And if you like the characters and want to know how their story ends, you can read Plans... as long as you have a hanky at the ready. --;; 'Tis sad.