neither_a_nor_b | I felt you in my life before I ever thought to

When she’d woken up on the morning of the 22nd and found herself still in one place, Bay had breathed a sigh of relief. The last couple birthdays had been kind of a crapshoot for her and Daphne, ending up in a new dimension every other year so it was nice to actually make it a year in one place.

Sure, it was almost Halloween and sure something was probably doomed to go to hell before the end of the month, but not today. Today Daphne had made a cake and some mexican rice and was planning a shrimp taco spread. Bay was cooking up some ground beef with spices while the contents of the alcohol cabinet waited for her to do some mixing later. They’d sent out invitations to their friends via text, and both were looking forward to a chill, low-key birthday party for their 19th.

Daphne had made sure not to book any catering jobs for today, but she still had her daily orders for some of the local coffee shops and service stations in the city. She’d gotten those taken care of, then come home and baked and frosted the cake and helped Bay clean and decorate. If she wanted to last more than 20 minutes at her own party, though, she’d decided a nap was a good idea.

She woke feeling much more refreshed and coherent and wandered out to find Bay cooking up ground beef for the red meat eaters that would be attending. “Hey,” she greeted her sister, peering over Bay’s shoulder into the pan before stepping back. “I’m going to get changed while you finish that up, then I’ll get the shrimp cooking while you get ready. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I just got a slew of ‘on my way’ texts but the taco filling is ready.” Proving her point, she took the beef off the stove and tipped all of it into a serving bowl. “I’m gonna stick it in the microwave, so we can nuke it if we need.”

“Actually, I’ve got a better idea.” Daphne grinned and ducked into her room, coming back out with a large box. “I bought myself a birthday present, sort of,” she explained, opening one end of the box and starting to pull out the pieces to the new electronic warmer she’d picked up yesterday. “Just give the dishes a quick wash and we should be good to go. This should keep the food warm through the whole party. Beef in one, shrimp in one, and rice in the third?” She shoved the packing materials back into the box, ready to tuck into her closet just in case something went wrong and she needed to return it.

“That is so fancy,” Bay said, genuinely impressed as she scraped the beef into the first dish. “Okay, you change, I’ll clean.”

“Okay.” Daphne went back into her room, stashed the box and quickly changed, then stopped in the bathroom to pull her hair back and put a little makeup on before taking over in the kitchen so Bay could get ready, getting her shrimp cooking as she made sure all of the food and mixers were ready for people’s arrival.

It didn’t take much time for her to get ready. Bay took a quick shower to get the smell of food out of her hair and off her skin. By the time she was finished blow-drying, Bay heard the first knock on the door. The party had started.

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Rat leans his head against Grey's smiling. Crazy. They both are. He didn't mean for it to happen but there they are.

When there's cake, Grey goes to get them a piece. Even though he'd gotten sick on the red velvet, he did like cake.

He doesn't have a fork, though, content to eat with his fingers.

Rat steals a bit with his fingers as well, seeing now why Daphne had asked him about cakes when they first met. Hers is definitely superior.

It's sweet, too, and Grey lets it dissolve on his tongue, coating it before he swallows. Rat doesn't have to steal; he can have all he wants.

It's good, easy, for them to sit together like this, sharing, being together.

Maybe there are reasons to like this place.

There are. And they may not be the best party-goers, but Grey doesn't know to care about that sort of thing. He sits with Rat, eating cake and occasionally watching people.

If people want to know them, Rat figures, they can approach instead. They've given their birthday greetings already anyway.

Reaching for Rat's hand, Grey turns it palm-up and studies it, the lines there. He'd overheard someone in his wanderings say that the lines have meanings, but he doesn't know what. He traces them anyway.

He doesn't know either, but he does like the feeling. It's like Grey's searching for something within him.

He is, but he doesn't know what. He holds up his scarred hand, compares it to Rat's. Of course, the pinked cut disects all of his lines.

Rat, in turn, runs his fingertip over the scar. A knife scar, he'd swear it. One that had gone all the way through.

It had. Grey turns the hand over to show Rat the other side. The pain is a ghost of a memory, dull, but still there. He moves to press his shoulder to Rat's, his palm to Rat's; their hands are nearly the same size.

"From the train?" he asks, touching the other side of it as well.

It seems so far away now. Grey nods. He moves a little so that he can jolt his hand in front of Rat's chest, a protective gesture. Then he uses his casted fingers to mimic stabbing, right through.

Rat hisses in sympathy. Grey's seen his bullet scars; they both know he's felt similar pain.

He'd done what he needed to do; Grey shrugs a little. Oh, how it had hurt, though: he remembers that.

Sometimes, at night, he still remembers being stabbed in the heart.

He kisses Rat's palm, instead, to chase away the ghosts.

The warmth of another person, Rat knows, can do a lot to chase those dark memories away. He may yet find himself in Rat's arms tonight.

Hopefully, anyway.

Grey holds Rat's hand in his and leans back against the wall.

Eventually, they'll finish out what seems to be a decent appearance at the party, but already Rat's thinking he wants to have a private party back at his apartment.

Can they take cake? Would that be rude? Grey doesn't know decorum, so he isn't sure. He is sure, though, that he likes just being like this, being this close.

Probably, if they make their polite goodbyes, but Rat's never been good at politeness.

Neither has Grey; there's never been a call for it. But when someone comes in, he nods at Rat toward the door. Now, they can go. Yes?

Yeah. He turns toward Bay and nods toward the door, giving a little wave. She says something in sign language, which he presumes is "thank you" and then waves goodbye.

Then, fingers laced together, they can make their way out.

It was Grey's first birthday party. He will remember it.

I felt you in my life before I ever thought to

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