It was supposed to be Nikita's party, but the dark eyed Russian was nowhere to be found.
Typical, Oleander thought with a surge of protective irritation. Bellamy had actually made it home this time, only to be called off the night before Nikita was to officially turn twenty three on some emergency business. Of course Nikita had plastered a smile on his face and waved off Bellamy's several attempts at an apology. He'd rode to the airport to see the soldier off.
Since then though, the Russian had been scarce.
Vitaly and Eustass had planned a surprise party on the eve of Nikita's birthday, despite Oleander's constant warnings on how this would only make things worse. A party wouldn't feel right without Bellamy, not to Nikita. They went ahead though, determined to celebrate and attempt to lighten Nikky's mood.
Surprise, surprise, just as Oleander had predicted it had caused Nikita to flee. He couldn't even be found to cut the cake.
Oleander stole the first slice, claiming a piece that had been decorated with bright blue frosting to create a rose. He picked a single candle from the center of the cake, popping it in his mouth as he would a cigarette before slipping quietly away.
No one seemed to know where Nikita had disappeared to, no one except Oleander and he refused to share his secrets.
Oleander made it onto the roof with the grace of someone who'd done this thousands of times, familiar with every shingle and edge. The sharp scent of tobacco tainted the air, curling around Oleander's form as he neared its source. Nikita had bought himself a bottle of vodka on the way home from fight club, and it sat nearly finished off to his side. As he took a seat, Oleander was sure to take the bottle and settle it just out of Nikita's reach.
"Only a true asshole skips out on his own birthday party." The words seemed accusatory, but they were spoken with such softness that Nikita could find no offense.
"I didn't ask for a party."
Oleander didn't tell Nikita that he'd tried to fight for him.
"Shut up, I brought you cake."
Ollie offered up the slice of cake, plucking the candle from his mouth and pressing it into the white frosted center, just to the side of the iced rose.
"I thought you hated me? You don't bring cake to people you hate." Nikita was slurring his words, the liquor having loosened his tongue.
"I do hate you. Ninety percent of the time I look at you and just want to beat that pretty fucking face of yours."
There was a beat of silence as Nikita considered him.
"What about the other ten percent?"
Oleander snorted at the question, dragging his cool gaze over to rest on Nikita.
"I always hate you, but the ten percent represents the handful of moments I don't want to kill you."
"Everytime you say that I believe you a little less."
Oleander huffed softly into the acrid air, once more shoving the plate in Nikita's direction. "Shut up. We're going to have our own party, even if you didn't ask for it. Everyone deserves cake on their birthday. Even assholes like yourself." Oleander was saying 'I wont leave you alone', and 'It's okay if you needed to escape' while still keeping his guard up. He could have asked why Nikita had disappeared but he didn't have to. Oleander always knew.
Nikita could only blink at him, slowly reaching out with unsteady fingers to claim his cake. He'd known Oleander would follow, but he hadn't realized that he'd started expecting it, taking comfort in it. Wherever he went, Ollie was always by his side. His heart seemed to tighten in his chest, and Nikita hoped it was merely the alcohol burning through his system.
"Fuck, stop staring or i'll take my cake back." Oleander pressed a slender hand to Nikita's cheek, gently forcing his gaze away while simultaneously stealing the cigarette that had been hanging between the Russian's lips.
"You'll be okay. Yes or no." This was a game Oleander had developed years ago. Nikita hated to talk about his feelings, so Oleander made it so he wouldn't have to. All he ever had to answer with was yes or no and there would be no questions asked.
"Yes." Nikita answered slowly, honoring the rules to to never lie during their game. "Im not right now, but I will be." He watched as Oleander leaned over and reached into his coat pocket, digging around until he'd found Nikita's lighter. Ollie took a slow drag from what was left of his stolen cigarette as he moved to cup a careful hand around the single candle of Nikita's cake. It took him several times to light it, and he cursed at the wind like a sailor might on a stormy sea, but eventually the candle flickered to life and he drew back just enough to fix Nikita with a toothy grin.
"Make a wish, shit face."
Nikita did make his wish, however impossible it seemed.
But he never blew out his candles.
Instead the flame was swept away when Nikita closed the small gap between them, his plate forgotten off to the side as their lips molded together.
Oleander could taste the bite of Vodka on Nikita's tongue, his world stuttering to a halt against the warmth of the Russian's mouth. Ollie was lost in that kiss, only coming back when he felt Nikita's fingers clenching into the helm of his shirt. It was all wrong then, and Oleander was forced to break their kiss with a hand pressed firm against Nikita's heaving chest.
"Tell me no." Oleander's voice was a quiet demand, nearly lost on the wind but he knew Nikita had heard. The Russian was staring as though he didn't understand.
Of course he didn't, he was drunk, and hurting. Oleander would not fault him for the way he was trying to soothe his ache.
"Why?" The alcohol had given Nikita's eyes a glazed shine. Now wasn't the time to notice but Oleander could never help himself.
"This is a no, Nikita. You're just too wasted to realize."
The Russian sat up a little straighter, leaning forward as though to inspect Oleander's face. He seemed to be looking for something, but Oleander gave nothing away.
"I thought you wanted me to tell you yes."
This earned Nikita a sharp scowl, Oleander's expression twisted with horrified disbelief. When he next spoke, his voice was eerily calm and sharp with truth.
"This isn't a yes. You're drunk off your ass and this is you having a nervous breakdown. If you do this, if I let you do this, tomorrow you'll wake up and regret it. I won't be something you regret and I wont be something that hurts you, even if you'd let me be." Oleander leveled the Russian with a fierce stare, willing him to absorb the words and understand them. He only allowed the silence to stretch out a moment longer before motioning to the abandoned piece of cake.
"Now stop being stupid and eat your cake. Im done with this conversation."
Nikita opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again. "Thank you. For the cake and everything." He felt his chest constrict each time his heart beat, but for the first time that night he could breath easier.
Oleander lit another cigarette. "Ninety one percent, going on ninety two."
