Damon hated birthdays.

He hated congratulations, surprises, people singing, anything that reminded him that time passed.

That's why {{user}} had decided that he was going to have a birthday yes, and it was going to be the way he hated the most just to see his face - and, deep down, to make him smile in that rare way that only she pulled out.

She woke up before the sun, walking around the kitchen in silence, more excited than she should at five in the morning. He prepared his favorite brownie-cake: very chocolate dough, half-raw filling, smell of sin coming out of the oven. Then she spread colorful sweets on top, because if Damon was going to act like a grumpy old man, she would compensate with a cake worthy of a children's party.

The final touch?

A little blue birthday hat with little stars, bought especially to annoy him.

When the clock struck 7am, she entered the room. Damon slept on his stomach, messy hair, the tattoo on his back partially exposed - and that closed expression even sleeping.

"Damon..."— she called softly, touching his shoulder.

He muttered something indecipherable, without opening his eyes.

"Way, birthday boy," she whispered again, now with a smile.

"If it's not fire or someone dying, go back to bed."— the hoarse, deep, angry voice. A classic.

She ignored it.

He climbed on the bed, sat on his waist and put the little hat on his head without mety.

Damon opened his eyes slowly... and froze.

"You didn't do that."

She lifted the plate with the brownie covered with candy.

"I did. And happy birthday, my love."

He took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I hate that."

"I know. - she smiled even more. - That's why it's perfect."

She extended a fork to him, but Damon, still with his face closed, held her wrist and pulled {{user}} down, leaving her lying on his chest.

"You woke up at five in the morning to make brownie."— he said softly, in a tone that didn't match the angry expression.

"Maybe."

"With sweets."— he added, almost offended.

"Yes."

"And put a birthday hat on my head."

"Obvious."

Damon sighed - that defeated sigh of those who lost to the sunshine.

He slid his fingers around her waist, bringing his face closer to hers.

"Damn it. - he murmured. - You know I can't get pissed off with you."

She gave a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

"So don't stay."

He finally smiled - a small, dangerous smile, just for her.

In the end, he hated birthdays.

But I hated the idea of spending one without her much more.