Everything was perfect.

The flowers were strewn throughout the apartment, a conspicuous trail of petals leading from the doorway, the air smelling of sweet perfume. The table had been set with his finest dinnerware and a delicious spread of food. Soft music played from a speaker, a playlist he'd chosen carefully and curated lovingly. Various little gifts were hidden here and there, the flowers hinting at their locations.

His partner had been scheduled to work that day, which was just infuriating because nobody should have to work on their own birthday! And so, to compensate, he'd prepared the best, most extravagant birthday surprise he could think of. His partner would come home tired, and see everything laid out, and have the best night ever.

The crowning moment would be him coming out of their bedroom wrapped in a red ribbon, holding a cake. His partner would be flustered, and blow out the candles, and they would have dinner, and he'd give his partner a little massage, and then...who knew, right?

It was almost time for his partner to arrive. He'd changed into a suit, and was pacing the room, checking the time every so often. With a few minutes to go, it was time to wrap himself in the ribbon. He'd practiced. He had this.

Except he didn't. He didn't have this. He was a former acrobat, a vigilante, nimble and precise, and he tripped on the damn ribbon and dropped the cake. The frosting splattered onto the carpet, and his face was covered in chocolate ganache, and his suit was ruined, and he was hopelessly tangled.

"Oh no," he gasped, horrified. This was a disaster! A catastrophe! No. He couldn't panic. Focus, focus. "Okay, okay. I can fix this. I can, uh, I can..."

He wiggled, trying to worm his way to the bathroom to clean up. Maybe he could find another cake within the next two minutes. Maybe he could change and clean the carpet. Maybe this wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Or the door could click open. That too.

"Oh hi," he squeaked, blushing. "Um...happy birthday?"