Entirely dedicated to the genius that is InSilva. Partly because it's her birthday and partly because she exists.

Happy Birthday!!

--

Danny had decided to ignore this day very early on. Thus, he ignored the phone, the answering machine and the mail.

And most of all, he ignored all mirrors in the house.

Turning fifty had never been on his non-existent 'Thing To Do Before You Die' list. Not that he had ever felt a desire to kick the bucket before this day, it was just that it had always seemed fairly far away.

In the evening, he ate reheated lasagne and later he found himself watching a late-night special about the Rat Pack. Raindrops were cascading down the windows and he remembered Italy, sticky hotel rooms and Happy Days. And getting a Vespa at two in the morning. The others had never found out. And Rusty had insisted.

Suddenly, Danny felt old for the first time in his life.

Sure, he had been sulking up to this point and he hadn't even bothered to open the parcel Basher had sent because he knew – he just knew – that he'd find a CD with songs like "When I'm sixty-four" and The Bards' "The Oldest Swinger in Town" in there and he really didn't need that.

He had pulled the sheets up to his ears, disconnected the door bell and made a great fuss about the dentures information letter from some health fund that had arrived two days ago, but he hadn't felt old.

He didn't only feel old, he felt ancient. He felt useless and lonely. 'Face it, you are lonely', he muttered and he regretted ever allowing himself that thought, because it gripped him and didn't let him go, and he saw the reflection of his grey hair in the window and didn't have the strength to call it anything else. And all the letters and phone-calls couldn't fill the hole.

It was a quarter past eleven and his only wish was for this day to end, but the minutes became longer and he had already drunk the wine (which, despite being Wine Of The Year, hadn't tasted as good as the one they had drunk after the five espressos).

Switching off the TV, he noticed that the rain was now drumming against the wall and he remembered leaving the bedroom windows open. And he realised he didn't care.

Then he felt the breeze that was coming from the hallway and turned to check the front door.

Rusty.

Soaking and concerned and letting the picklock sink back into his pocket.

And all Danny could think of was so much more than he could say, so he settled for "I got jelly beans and cashews."

Rusty grinned. "Oh, I thought you would."

After three seconds of waiting for Rusty to make a witty remark about his sweatpants and the pile of unopened letters next to the door, he opened his mouth to say something, because Rusty really should be in Malaysia right now and he had never asked for it, not even indicated the question, but then Rusty made three long steps towards him and kissed him.

His mind soared and his heart leapt and his shoulders brushed against the wallpaper and it was not until they reached the first floor that he realised where this was going and remembered to think and pull back.

"Wait."

Rusty didn't react and Danny had to assemble all his willpower to tell him to stop.

"No, seriously, hold on. The bed's wet, I left the window…"

Rusty shook his head, placed his fingertips on Danny's lips and gave him a look that quite expletively told him he didn't care. And Danny couldn't help but think that a damp bed probably wasn't one of the most extraordinary places for Rusty Ryan to have sex in.

Quite soon it became very clear that the clammy sheets and pillows would be the last thing on his mind. Yes, they had kissed before, and no, he had never expected anything more than that, and he knew that Rusty had never been willing to go further only due to base motives such as their connection. They didn't need that and they both knew.

So, Danny figured, this had to be – and, seemingly, it really had to be – for entirely different reasons.

Quick, skilled fingers ran over his body and Danny felt himself sinking back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and he swore he could hear Rusty whispering something, but all the time his lips were on his and not a word was uttered.

Their lips parted and the tongue travelled lower. Danny couldn't remember Rusty taking his clothes off, hell, he couldn't even remember taking his own clothes off, but as long as Rusty seemed to know what he was doing, things were fine. And suddenly all reasoning became irrelevant when heart-stopping, stunning sensations shot up his body and he didn't even try biting his lip.

He closed his eyes and felt raindrops falling on his face and then Rusty was there again, beside him, and his hands ran through his hair and he didn't need him to shift his weight to suddenly notice himself act. It felt natural and when he opened his eyes he was surprised to find himself already on top of Rusty and there were no questions and Rusty answered them all with one smile.

And this, Danny realised, was love. And through all the kisses and skin on skin and rhythms and gasps, it was pure and it was flawless and he knew Rusty was embracing that feeling, he could see it in his eyes and taste it on his lips.

"Happy Birthday," Rusty said and he could hear it in his voice.

The smell of immortality was in the air and if the world ended, it wouldn't matter.

Later, they sat in the living room, drinking whiskey, and Rusty said: "Salt and pepper is probably the best thing that's ever happened to you." And Danny, standing up to get the cashew nuts, understood and didn't have to respond to put it straight.

--

Oh, dear God. This was, indeed, my first time writing something like this. And I dearly hope InSilva can live with this present. Not sure if the T-rating works, but it might just be appropriate.

Sadly, I don't own them.