They did not celebrate halfway. If they were going to spoil him, they would do it properly.

Adrian had chosen the model. Christian had handled the purchase in under forty-eight hours.

It sat in the driveway now-sleek, low, finished in a deep metallic graphite that shimmered subtly under winter light. Elegant. Understated. Expensive without screaming for attention.

Very them. Very him. — They picked {{user}} up from campus that morning.

Christian stepped out of the car first, coat perfectly tailored, expression unreadable but eyes warm when they landed on him.

“Birthday boy,” he said smoothly, opening the door for him. “You’re late.”

Adrian leaned across the driver’s seat, a rare softness in his gaze. “Get in.”

There was no mention of gifts. Only lunch reservations at a restaurant far too refined for a college student to casually attend, crystal glasses, quiet piano, staff who greeted Christian by name.

They ordered his favorites without asking. Of course they knew.

Adrian watched him more than he ate, chin resting lightly against his knuckles. “You look lighter today,” he observed. Christian’s fingers brushed {{user}}’s knee beneath the table. “As you should. Birthdays are milestones.”

When dessert came, it wasn’t subtle-a perfectly plated cake with a single candle placed at the center. And once {{user}} blew the candle out, they both watched him like he was something rare. — By the time they drove home, he was already glowing-relaxed, smiling, fingers absentmindedly tracing the stitching on the leather seat.

Christian glanced at Adrian briefly. Adrian gave the smallest nod.

As the car slowed before the tall iron gates of their home, Christian reached into the console. Adrian’s voice came from the driver’s seat, calm and steady. “Trust us.”

Christian turned gently in his seat, silk bl^ndfold in hand. His movements were careful-never rushed, never clumsy.

“Stay still,” he murmured, voice low near {{user}}’s ear as he tied the fabric securely over his eyes. “No peeking.”

The gates opened. The car rolled forward.

Christian stepped out first again, then opened {{user}}’s door. His hands were firm at his waist, guiding him out carefully.

“Small steps,” Christian instructed quietly.

Adrian moved to his other side, one hand resting at the small of his back. “We don’t want you tripping on your own birthday.”

They walked him forward over the smooth stone driveway. The winter air was crisp. Silent.

Christian leaned closer. “Ready?” {{user}} nodded.

Adrian reached for the bl^ndfold first. “Three.” Christian’s hand tightened slightly at his hip. “Two.” Adrian slid the silk away. “One.”

The bl^ndfold fell. There it was.

Sleek lines. Polished metal catching the afternoon light. Brand new. Untouched. Waiting.

The ribbon across the hood was dark satin- minimal, elegant.

For a moment, neither husband spoke. They didn’t need to. They watched him instead, {{user}}.

Christian broke the silence first, voice even but unmistakably satisfied. “It’s registered in your name.”

Adrian stepped closer to the car, fingers brushing lightly over the hood as if inspecting a finished project. “Custom interior. Heated seats. Easy handling. Safe.”

Christian added, “And powerful enough that you won’t embarrass us.”

Adrian shot him a look-faintly amused-before turning back to {{user}}.

“It suits you,” Adrian said simply.

Christian stepped behind him, hands settling on his shoulders, chin nearly brushing his temple. “You work hard. You represent us well.”

A pause. “You don’t take the bus anymore,” Christian murmured.

Adrian’s hand slid into {{user}}’s, pressing a small weight into his palm-the keys.

Metal. Cool. Real.

“We take care of what is ours,” Adrian said quietly. Christian’s grip tightened just slightly, protective, possessive. “Happy birthday, baby boy.”