Happy Birthday to my dear friend and co-writer ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wesleysgirl.
I'm so grateful for our friendship and writing with you is a joy and a delight. I hope that today is a wonderfully happy one from start to finish.
::lots of love and many hugs::
I wrote you a tiny John/Nick fic for your birthday which will only make sense to us and anyone who's read the Laying a Ghost books and Act of Nature :-) It's maybe PG13, 450 words.
Happy Birthday!
Birthday Wishes
Nick picked up the birthday cards John had opened and read with a smile over a leisurely breakfast of fish and homemade bread.
"How many are there? Ten, eleven...You're a popular man," he said as he put them up on the shelf over the fireplace.
John made a small, pleased grumble. "We'll see how many want to buy me a drink in the pub tonight. Then I'll know who my real friends are."
Nick glanced over his shoulder. "If you get too drunk to appreciate the birthday blowjob I planned to deliver later, you won't be popular with me."
"You could always give me that before we go," John suggested, coming up behind him to give Nick a hug. John smelled of fresh air and saltwater. He'd woken at dawn and gone out to catch the mackerel they'd had for breakfast, shrugging off Nick's protests that if it was his birthday he should be waited on and pampered.
Nick read the message inside each card before propping it up on the shelf.. John's mother, one from Michael and Sheila... He paused at an unfamiliar set of names and held the final card up. It was an expensive one, a painting of a Hebridean beach on the front, the white sand heaped into low dunes tied together with marram grass to stem erosion. Nick had felt blades of that grass whip his bare legs often enough to appreciate the way the artist had made it look sharp with a few strokes of his brush. "So who're Xander and Rupert?"
John peered over Nick's shoulder. "Search me. I thought they were friends of yours. The postmark was London. Do they work for your publisher, then?"
"Never heard of them." They studied the card for a moment, then John took it from Nick and put it with the others. "Whoever they were, it was nice of them to remember an old man."
"Old!" Nick turned in John's arms and kissed him soundly. "You've got to be kidding me. Forty's not old. You've got, what, maybe ten gray hairs on your head?"
"It's the worry of not knowing if I'm getting your mouth on me later that's turning my hair gray," John said solemnly. "That and the way the roof's leaking on wet days."
Nick grinned at him, the trivial mystery of the card forgotten, and nodded at the couch. "I'm going to let Niall deal with the roof, but if you sit down, I can take care of your other worry."
John smiled at him, a twinkle in his eyes. "I worry about it a lot," he said. "You'll need to be verra convincing."
"Oh, I can do that," Nick assured him and set about proving it.
wesleysgirl.I'm so grateful for our friendship and writing with you is a joy and a delight. I hope that today is a wonderfully happy one from start to finish.
::lots of love and many hugs::
I wrote you a tiny John/Nick fic for your birthday which will only make sense to us and anyone who's read the Laying a Ghost books and Act of Nature :-) It's maybe PG13, 450 words.
Happy Birthday!
Birthday Wishes
Nick picked up the birthday cards John had opened and read with a smile over a leisurely breakfast of fish and homemade bread.
"How many are there? Ten, eleven...You're a popular man," he said as he put them up on the shelf over the fireplace.
John made a small, pleased grumble. "We'll see how many want to buy me a drink in the pub tonight. Then I'll know who my real friends are."
Nick glanced over his shoulder. "If you get too drunk to appreciate the birthday blowjob I planned to deliver later, you won't be popular with me."
"You could always give me that before we go," John suggested, coming up behind him to give Nick a hug. John smelled of fresh air and saltwater. He'd woken at dawn and gone out to catch the mackerel they'd had for breakfast, shrugging off Nick's protests that if it was his birthday he should be waited on and pampered.
Nick read the message inside each card before propping it up on the shelf.. John's mother, one from Michael and Sheila... He paused at an unfamiliar set of names and held the final card up. It was an expensive one, a painting of a Hebridean beach on the front, the white sand heaped into low dunes tied together with marram grass to stem erosion. Nick had felt blades of that grass whip his bare legs often enough to appreciate the way the artist had made it look sharp with a few strokes of his brush. "So who're Xander and Rupert?"
John peered over Nick's shoulder. "Search me. I thought they were friends of yours. The postmark was London. Do they work for your publisher, then?"
"Never heard of them." They studied the card for a moment, then John took it from Nick and put it with the others. "Whoever they were, it was nice of them to remember an old man."
"Old!" Nick turned in John's arms and kissed him soundly. "You've got to be kidding me. Forty's not old. You've got, what, maybe ten gray hairs on your head?"
"It's the worry of not knowing if I'm getting your mouth on me later that's turning my hair gray," John said solemnly. "That and the way the roof's leaking on wet days."
Nick grinned at him, the trivial mystery of the card forgotten, and nodded at the couch. "I'm going to let Niall deal with the roof, but if you sit down, I can take care of your other worry."
John smiled at him, a twinkle in his eyes. "I worry about it a lot," he said. "You'll need to be verra convincing."
"Oh, I can do that," Nick assured him and set about proving it.
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