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Jack Alston, Baron Hawthorn, hadn't celebrated his birthday in over a decade. It simply hadn't felt right, and what was the point anyway? Without his twin sister getting them into trouble at the festivities?
On the first birthday after Elsie had died, his mother had been determined to celebrate anyway; to hold up her memory and to celebrate the life of her remaining, beloved son. Then she had made the mistake to ask Jack what he wanted for his birthday. He had answered, in the cruel, unthinking sullenness of a grieving teenage boy: “To do what I have done since the day we were born. To follow Elsie.”
His mother had never asked him this question again.
Then Jack had fled. Fled from the estate of Cheetham Hall, where every corner, every buzzing of the bees and every act of magic performed reminded him of Elsie and the magic he no longer possessed. He hadn't been able to handle the pain of losing his sister, a pain that had been almost unbearable, even without the revolting land of Cheetham almost falling apart with grief itself.
When he had been in the war, he hadn't had the time to think about things as birthdays. Instead he had been too busy keeping his men (and maybe even himself) alive.
After the war, he hadn't seen his parents for many years. Too heavy the loss and the shame had weighed on him. He couldn't look his parents in the eyes without thinking: “I want to tell you exactly what happened to us, but I can't, because my bloody bastard of a cousin and uncle made sure every word would be full of agony if I tried.” And: “It should have been me, not her. She sacrificed her life for mine, but she deserved more to be alive, because she is...was so much better than me. She wouldn't have run away from her parents and Cheetham and her previous life. She was good.”
That last one he would have been able to tell his parents – hell, especially his mother would have deserved anything that came close to an explanation. But he hadn't been ready. Not for the last sixteen years.
The birthdays after his return from war he had spent alone in his townhouse, horizontal in his bed, without a human soul in his vicinity and completely and utterly drunk; until he forgot what day it was and could only concentrate on the dull emptiness his expensive whiskey and wine left in his head. He always felt the aftershocks of it on the next day, throbbing headaches and a nausea the only thing forcing him out of bed to vomit into his plumbed toilet instead of his chamber pot. This way, at least his servants didn't need to clean too much afterwards.
His thirty-fifth birthday on the other hand was... something new.
Somehow, he had suspected that he couldn't get away with another birthday to spend in bed. This time, though, not drunk and alone and grieving, but with Alan. For a few blissful moments before he drifted off to sleep the previous night, he had thought that he could wake up to Alan’s warm, familiar body pressed against his, kissing until their lips were swollen red and sore. Maybe even fucking once or twice before Jack ordered the staff to serve them their breakfast in bed.
But in the morning, when Jack was still half asleep, he ran a tired, searching hand over the side of the bed that now usually was Alan's and found the sheets and the mattress cold and empty. What the...?
He blinked open his eyes, squinting at the already bright sun. With a soft groan, he propped himself up on his elbows and scanned the room. Alan was nowhere in sight.
Of course Jack hadn't reminded Alan of his birthday the day before. He wasn't a five-year-old and excited for this day anymore. But he couldn't help the dull pang of disappointment settling in his chest as he considered for a moment that Alan could have forgotten. For the last 15 years he would have been happy for this day to simply not exist at all, but now...
He had thought that this year the day could finally be special again. Well, obviously he had been bloody mistaken.
He felt like a sulking child as he slumped back into the pillows, closed his eyes and pulled the duvet over his head. But who fucking cared anyway?
So much for his birthday plans. He was close to drifting back to sleep – what was he supposed to do anyway? – when he heard the door to his bedroom closing softly, followed by a muffled: “Fuck, no...! Oh shit, that was close...”
Jack’s eyes snapped open again, because that was unmistakably Alan's voice. Jack sat up in bed and watched with huge eyes, as Alan, already fully clothed, carried a big, juicy looking chocolate cake into the room. Alan's eyes were fixed upon the cake as he balanced it, with his tongue between his teeth, concentrating to not allow the cake fall to the floor.
When Alan looked up, he noticed Jack staring at him.
“Shit, did I wake you?” Alan asked apologetically. “Um, I mean, it was about time, you lazy toff.”
Jack's mouth twitched and his pathetic heart was one beat away from bursting with love and relief. Alan hadn't forgotten.
“Watch your mouth, you filthy rat,” Jack answered, a fond smile on his face.
Alan's own smile was wide and tender as he came to a halt beside the bed.
“Happy Birthday, my lord!” he said, smiling down at Jack. “You may now get your splendid arse out of bed so I can set down this surprisingly heavy cake.”
“Or,” Jack replied, showing off his poshest voice, “you could be a good boy and serve me the cake in bed. If you behave nicely, maybe you get a slice of it yourself. Or perhaps… you desire something else?”
This caused a variety of emotions to show up on Alan's face and in his body language. He flinched with a glance on the bed and then licked his lips while simultaneously pressing his legs together, obviously just an inch away from crossing them. Jack felt a smug smile spreading on his lips. This game between them never went old or boring.
“No,” was Alan's answer to Jack's suggestion.
Jack raised an eyebrow and looked as though never in his life someone had denied him anything. As far as Alan knew, this could have been the case entirely.
“No?” Jack asked, his deep voice rumbling dangerously and Alan knew well enough that this was a part of the recent game.
But somehow, Alan wasn't particularly responsive today.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean off crumbs from the bed sheets?” he asked, instead of giving in to Jack's attempt to bring them both into the right frame of mind for... more fun activities.
“I can't see how that is any of my business,” Jack replied in a supercilious voice, still hoping to tease Alan further.
“God, you're such an arrogant prick,” Alan laughed, shaking his head.
“Yes, but you love me anyway.”
Oh.
The word had slipped out of his careless mouth before he really noticed what he said.
Jack Alston didn't think before he spoke most of the time, but this felt... big, in a way. Different. He had grown up in the knowledge of being loved, even if his parents had scolded him for something that had been Elsie's fault most of the times. And if someone had clearly not liked or loved him, he simply had been confident enough to not give a damn. All in all, he had never felt the need to truly care who loved him and who did not. But with Alan, he cared.
They hadn't said that word out loud yet. Not in that way, at least. Sure, Alan had told Jack that he loved his broad shoulders and his deep voice and the way he fucked... But he hadn't said that he loved Jack, as a person.
Jack's shocked face remained fixed on Alan for a painful, long moment until he cleared his throat in an almost embarrassed way that was completely uncharacteristic for the normally indifferent and arrogant Lord Hawthorn.
“Um... I mean...,” he added hastily, "I don't mean to assume... Um...”
Alan's gaze now was just as shocked as Jack's. He finally placed the chocolate cake onto a table and with a knife he had brought with him, cut two pieces off and laid each of them on one plate he must have brought up here earlier.
Jack glanced at him as he did so and wondered whether he was going to receive an answer or if Alan would just sweep the topic under the expensive rug.
Alan took the two plates and went back to the bed, where Jack was still sitting with his knees drawn up. He placed the plates carefully on one of the two bedside tables and climbed beside Jack into bed himself. Then he looked Jack in the eyes, his gaze free of their usual banter and sarcasm. Instead he searched Jack's own eyes with a sincerity that was only reserved for the truly important conversations.
Alan lifted a gentle finger to touch Jack's chin that was still covered in morning stubble.
“What do you think, Jack?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Jack could feel Alan's breathing against his own skin, it made it tingle with want and – oh – love. He swallowed as he held Alan's intense gaze. But he didn't dare answer Alan's question. He was very good at living in their fantasies and whatever scenario they imagined. But this, he realized, was the real world, and were real feelings, not one of Alan's scripted stories.
When it was clear that Jack wouldn't say a thing, Alan sighed softly. He let his fingers wander over Jack's chin, his razor-sharp jawline and to his lips, where he gently touched the corner of his mouth.
“Of course I love you. I thought you might have noticed by now. I am completely besotted, even though you are a posh idiot. But you are my posh idiot and unless you someday grow tired of me, I do not intend to change anything about this at all.”
Jack suddenly felt a lump in his throat. God, he would not start to cry over this. But, the truth was, after Elsie died, he had never allowed anyone to live in his heart again. Losing her had been so painful that he had sworn to himself to never love anyone as much ever again. Then Alan had stolen his way into his life (quite literally) and as much as he had fought against it, Jack hadn't been able to stop his feelings from growing deeper and deeper, until they consumed him whole.
Of course, it was a different love than the one he had felt for Elsie. But nonetheless it was so overwhelming that it almost scared him.
He didn't know if he was able to speak properly, but he tried anyway. “There is no way that I will ever grow tired of you, Cesare. I love you, too. And I swear, I will do so for the rest of my life.”
Alan smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Jack's mouth. It felt like the first sunbeam after weeks of a cloudy rainstorm.
“As will I,” Alan promised softly and kissed him again.
Then, he drew away and placed one of the plates in Jack's hand.
Jack, still a little dizzy from all the confessions, shot Alan an amused, questioning glance.
“But what about the crumbs?” he asked, a mocking grin on his lips.
Alan sighed theatrically. “Because it's your birthday, my lord, I'll allow it. Once.”
“How very generous,” Jack said with a small smile.
They happily devoured their cake and when Jack wanted to tell Alan his plans for the day, Alan surprised him by cutting him short. No, actually he wasn't surprised. Still – rude.
Alan took the two plates and placed them back on the nightstand. Then he got up, brushed some cake-crumbs off his trousers. “Good. Now we need to go to the train station, so hurry up a bit,” he announced.
Jack's eyes widened in shock. The train station? He hadn't planned to go on a fucking trip this day.
“I didn't know we had plans today...?” Jack asked with a little pout that looked adorable but didn't bother Alan in the slightest.
“Yes, that's what surprises are for, dumbass,” Alan answered with a fond smile.
Jack sighed and climbed out of bed without asking further questions because he knew that Alan would tell him nothing if he didn't want to.
And Alan didn't even schedule enough time for one quick round of lovemaking before they had to hurry off to the station. What poor planning.
The surprise, it turned out, was a birthday party at Cheetham Hall. It was not what Jack had intended to do – he hadn't planned on going to Cheetham and he certainly hadn't planned to spend the day with anyone other than Alan. But here he was now, sitting in the first class compartment of the train that would bring them to Essex.
Jack had felt a pang of guilty disappointment as he had realized they were heading to the home of his childhood, the place he had grown up, where he had built his happiest memories that now were soiled with the deepest grief and the worst agony a human being could feel.
Though he didn’t admit it, he felt anxious during the train ride. Too many emotions fought within him to get to the surface, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. Of course, he had visited Cheetham Hall in the past months after the Equinox Gala. But this was something different. It was the first birthday he would spend here, where everything reminded him of Elsie and the birthdays she had been robbed of.
He tried not to think about all of the birthdays they had celebrated together. Careless, cheerful days on which they hadn’t wasted a single thought that things could be different. That one of them might simply no longer be there in the future.
He knew that Alan noticed. But, thankfully, Alan didn’t press him to speak about it, didn’t torment him with pitying looks. That wasn’t how their relationship worked. If one of them had the need to talk or to simply be held in the other’s arms, they made sure through actions to let the other one know. Otherwise, they simply gave one another space, knowing that they were there for each other if needed.
Instead, Alan babbled for the length of the whole train ride in their first class compartment. Most of the time he complained about how ridiculous it was that even trains were divided in classes and how he despised to be forced by Jack to travel first class.
Jack didn’t answer as much as he would have done on other days, but it seemed alright for Alan. Jack just looked at him, one side of his mouth tilted upwards and marvelled in the fact that Alan was capable of soothing his worries simply by complaining about the aristocracy. By being there, sitting beside Jack, their thighs pressed together and their fingers brushing gently against each other.
At the train station of Essex they met Freddy Oliver, who had travelled with them but had been sitting in another compartment because Jack had asked for some personal space.
As soon as Jack stepped onto the land of Cheetham, he felt his shoulders easing. He hadn’t really noticed how stiff they had been until now.
The land bid it’s welcome by sending a soft breeze of wind against his skin. Alan, Jack and Freddy strolled along the long pathway that led to the grand manor of Cheetham Hall. The greenery on the land wasn't as lush as it was in the summer months, but his mother had made sure through magic to have at least some of the trees and flowers bloom.
After just a few steps, Jack felt the joy of the land upon the return of its only heir. He felt it mirrored in his own skin, in his own heart. It almost felt like when Alan visited him after a week of being busy or Jack arriving back in London to see Alan after a fortnight spent at Cheetham. It was a giddy, delighted feeling that started in his stomach and seeped right into his heart.
He almost wanted to say to the land: “I am glad I came here too.”
Instead he did what he hadn’t done in ages. It was an urge he couldn’t resist in that moment. He signalled Alan and Freddy to wait and bent down to untie his shoelaces. Then he toed his shoes off, rolled up the legs of his trousers and removed his socks, which he then tucked into his shoes. Then he rolled his trouser legs back down and let himself feel. He felt the soil under his bare feet that surprisingly wasn’t as cold as he had imagined. The land made sure to not let him freeze; it ensured that every step Jack was taking felt warm and welcoming.
Elsie had done this all the time, and now Jack knew how it must have felt for her. Being one with the land, connected not only through blood but through touch.
“Jack…?” Alan asked, his brow furrowed in concerned lines.
“It’s alright,” Jack assured him. “It feels incredible.”
And it did. Every step he took further into the estate had his worries and his dark thoughts easing and replacing them with a profuse contentment to be here. Jack suspected it felt as strong as it did because the land remembered it was his birthday.
They went on until they arrived at the manor that sat enthroned over the wide, beautiful gardens and the lawns and the small woods. As soon as they arrived there, Jack’s mother, Polly Alston, hurried towards them.
“Here you are!” she exclaimed joyfully and crossed the last steps that separated them.
“Hello, Polly,” Jack greeted her with a loving smile on his lips, not sure what he was supposed to do, because he wasn’t used to moving in company during his birthday anymore.
But his mother obviously had no such problems. She threw her arms around him, clearly relieved to finally having her boy with her again. She hold onto him surprisingly long and firm, gently cradling his hair. Jack leaned into the embrace, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat and tears starting to pool in his eyes. All the emotions he had so eagerly tried to ignore and put away into the farthest corner of his heart, suddenly washed over him like a wave of cold water he hadn't seen coming. He was back and Elsie was not here. But his mother was, strong and steadying, as she enfolded the solid body of her grown-up son as though he was still a child and as though he hadn't been absent for so long.
Jack closed his eyes, while he savoured the feeling of his mother’s protective arms around him, as if he was a little boy again, searching for comfort after a nightmare or a skinned knee.
“Happy birthday, my darling!” Polly whispered into his ear.
Jack couldn’t answer, because he feared for his voice to break. Instead he pressed his hand a little tighter against his mother’s back, nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, to show her how much it meant to him, finally having her company again and for her not blaming him for being absent for fifteen birthdays.
As if she had read his mind, Polly whispered: “Oh, it’s alright, darling. You are here now.”
Jack finally let go of the embrace. He didn’t want to, really, but he also didn’t want to make Alan and Freddy wait to greet the lady of the house. He sniffed and discreetly wiped the corner of his eyes with his hands. Polly laid her hands on his cheeks and gently kissed his forehead.
Alan and Freddy had given them space, tactfully bending their heads down. Now, they were greeted by Polly in a cheerful way.
After the words of welcome had been exchanged, Jack turned to Freddy to request for both Alan’s and his luggage to bring upstairs. “After that you are free to do whatever you wish for the remaining day. I would believe you are happy to spend time with your mother?”
Freddy looked as if he wanted to protest, but Jack looked at him with an insistent gaze and so Freddy bowed his head and did as he was told after profusely thanking his lordship.
Polly took one arm each from Alan and Jack to link arms with them and then led them around the house. Jack was surprised, because he had thought they would have lunch inside the house together. But instead she led them to the back garden while chatting happily with both of them.
“Jack, dear, I hope our little conspiracy hasn’t caught you too off-guard. But Mr. Ross and I thought we should make sure you have a nice birthday to spend with people you like.”
Before Jack could think of an answer he heard voices in the back garden.
“Are there more people?” he asked. “Is father…?”
Polly sighed. “No, your father couldn’t be here. Business, you know? But he sends his regards and his best birthday wishes. As for the other question… there are people who want to spend time with you, you know?”
“Strange as it may be,” Alan muttered and Jack was surprised how at ease Alan must be feeling in the presence of his mother to make such a comment. But on the other hand: who could blame him? His mother always had been so easy to love.
When they reached the garden, Jack was stunned into silence. A big pavilion had been set up on the lawn, with candles floating under the roof, far enough away to not burn the fabric. Maybe it was just an illusion, but either way it gave the space a comfortable, cosy atmosphere with the flickering light that was reflected through the white fabric.
A dining table sat under the tent, just big enough to fit for eight people. On one side of the pavilion, a buffet was standing, loaded with all kinds of dishes, sweet and hearty, as well as drinks.
Jack's mother had long let go of his arm to give him space. A group of people was chatting on the other side of the tent. While Jack still contemplated the scene, he heard a truly unladylike, but cheerful squeal. Just seconds later he was almost tackled down by Maud, who, as always, gave a damn about etiquette and flung his arms around him.
"Happy birthday!" she said, thankfully not squealing anymore.
"Thank you, Maud." Jack patted her back and smiled gently. Over her back he could see Alan grinning at them. Jack didn't give a damn about etiquette either.
After Maud was untangled from him, the line of congratulators went on, in a less boisterous way. Addy and Violet gave him a kiss on the cheek and Edwin and Robin gave him a brotherly handshake, Robin's grip being firmer than Edwin's.
Still a little overwhelmed, Jack was then led to the dining table, where he was seated at the head. Of course these people would participate in a surprise birthday party for him, he thought, affectionately.
"I hope you don't expect a speech from me," Jack said, once everyone was seated and looking expectantly at him. "I was trapped into this situation and therefore haven't prepared anything."
"Why, my lord, you usually aren't at a loss for words, aren't you?" Alan asked with an innocent smile.
"Who has invited this stray dog?" Jack asked, a provoking smile tugging at his lips.
"Jack!" his mother scolded him, not too harshly, because she had figured out by now that Alan was all too happy to engage in a verbal duel with her son, almost in a way Jack had done with Elsie.
"I am sorry, Polly." Jack grinned. "I am glad that you are here. All of you." He shot a look at Alan, who returned it with a fond smile. He was visibly pleased that his and Polly's surprise had obviously been a success.
"You know, Jack, we don't actually expect a long speech," Robin informed him.
"Yes," Addy added, "we are actually just waiting for you to open the buffet."
Everyone laughed and so Jack did as he was expected.
It was a happy little party. The air under the pavilion was warm, despite the coldness of winter that lay upon the land. Everyone was chatting cheerfully and Jack, too, was feeling completely at ease by now.
The buffet was a variety of all the food Jack loved. Ham, lamb chop, different kinds of cheese, potatoes and vegetables. The sweet food included a variety of ice cream, magically cooled, and different cakes; cherry and strawberry tarts and different kinds of fruit. Strawberry tarts, Jack remembered, had been Elsie's absolute favourite. As he loaded one of it onto his plate, he caught the glance of his mother. They shared a knowing smile.
At the end of the dinner, he felt completely seated with food and contentment, lazily twisting a half empty glass of Port between thumb and index finger.
"Time for the presents!" Violet called, as soon as the table had been cleared of the tableware.
"Presents?" Jack asked surprised. The party surely was gift enough for him but his friends (the word still felt a little foreign to him) seemed eager to spoil him even more.
"Of course, silly!" Violet scolded him. "What is a birthday without presents?"
Robin and Addy gifted him a beautiful silken burgundy cravat with floral patterns in a slightly brighter colour.
"Robin chose it," Addy explained, before sipping on her own wine.
"Thank you," Jack said. "It looks stunning!"
Violet and Maud gave him a tie-pin in the shape of a horseshoe, set with little sparkling jewels, which Jack immediately pinned to his tie, much to Maud's delight.
Then it was Edwin's turn.
"A book? Really?" Jack asked, before he could help himself. But since being with Robin, Edwin had a new confidence, that even made him to offer a retort at times.
"You can give it back, if you don't like it," Edwin replied.
Jack examined the book closely. It was a book about the development of equestrian sport through the centuries. It was a thoughtful gift. Jack couldn't wait to read it.
"Thank you," Jack sounded pleasantly surprised, which made Edwin's mouth twitch a little into a small smile.
"So you like it?" Edwin asked.
"Yes, I really do."
"Good. Len Geiger recommended it to me. He will be pleased that I am not turning it back."
After that, Jack needed a little time to himself. He was happy in the company of these people, but he still needed a bit of healthy solitude after long spans of time in company. He excused himself and went to the terrace that overlooked the large garden of Cheetham. From here, he could see the oak with the swing that had been Elsie's favourite place.
"You would have loved them all," Jack whispered while he looked at the swing. Was he imagining things or was the swing actually swaying softly? It could have well been just the wind but Jack liked to think that Elsie could somehow see them from wherever she was now.
He looked a while at the swing before turning back to watch the party.
There was his mother, eagerly interrogating Alan about his nephews and nieces and how Bella's baby was doing. Alan happily shared every piece of information with her.
Edwin was talking to Violet, clearly giving a long monologue about his latest studies in magic or the greenery of Sutton cottage. Violet listened, interested for once. Robin was staring at Edwin as he so often did: besotted, as if Edwin could recite one of his books about magic backwards and in Latin and he would still be greedy to listen to every word coming out of Edwin's mouth.
Jack was glad about how happy Edwin seemed. They both clearly hadn't had the best of memories together. They simply hadn't fit together. It had been the wrong time to be in a relationship, both being in a terrible state. Now, both of them had caring partners that truly fit their personality and Jack and Edwin had become friends again.
Maud chatted with Addy about her imminent time at university. Jack was so proud of Maud. She reminded him of Elsie in many ways and he was glad she could develop her brilliant potential.
After a little while, Alan climbed up the steps to the terrace to join Jack. He leaned beside him on the balustrade and watched in shared, pleasant silence at the others.
"You didn't give me a birthday present yet, Cesare," Jack scolded after some minutes in a gentle, affectionate voice. He wasn't in the mood of talking about his feelings yet. Bantering with Alan was so much easier.
"What could a gutter rat like me possibly give to the grand Lord Hawthorn?" Alan asked theatrically. "My pockets are empty, my lord." As if to prove his point he turned to face Jack and pulled out the fabric from inside his trouser pockets. "But I could write an article about this posh, needlessly lavish birthday party, what do you think? Society papers would love a story like this about the debauched Lord Hawthorn."
Alan and Jack looked at the private little garden party that had nothing to do with what one would imagine a birthday party for a baron.
"Don't you dare!" Jack threatened, without sounding too determined. In fact, his mouth made a little twitch upwards at the corner. "But," he continued, "you are more than welcome to write one of your little stories about a luxurious birthday party. I imagine it this way: the generous, much-loved Lord of the house throws a birthday party, but sadly his most trusted servant forgot to give him a birthday present. So he has no other choice than to punish him for this shameless insult after everyone is gone."
Jack looked Alan questioningly and calm in the eyes, as if he asked for his judgement about the colour of the waistcoat he was wearing today. Alan swallowed. "I will think about this excellent idea after the party is over, my lord. I should hire you as co-writer. Maybe you could join me in a round of research."
Alan’s grin was cheerful and he looked like he indeed couldn't wait for the party to be over and transferred in Jack’s private rooms and both of them making use of Jack’s big and fancy bed.
"I'll consider it," Jack promised, both of them knowing exactly what the subject of their evening activities would be today.
"But, I have to contradict, my lord. You already got a present today, remember? I baked you a delicious cake."
Jack looked at Alan, aghast. Of course his reprimand hadn't been entirely serious. Alan had obviously planned this party for him, together with the others. But he had to admit that he hadn't thought about the cake as a present either. He hadn't even considered that Alan had baked it himself. He had thought Alan had simply asked the kitchen staff to bake a cake for him.
"You baked the cake yourself?" he blurted out.
Alan stared for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. "God, you really are a posh prat, aren't you? Of course I baked it myself. It's tradition in the Rossi family. Though I must admit, in your kitchen I had a lot of fancy ingredients to use. My nephews and nieces would have been jealous."
"You can bake them a hundred cakes in my kitchen and with my ingredients, if you want to," Jack said, now completely honest. Alan always was eager to refuse accepting the offers Jack made to help his family. Alan simply was too proud and too used to feeding them alone. But maybe with some cakes even Alan could do.
"I'll consider it," Alan promised, sounding earnest. Then he sighed and continued, "But, as your lordship clearly isn't satisfied with a cake, I will see what I have in my pockets."
Jack watched as Alan extracted a little box out of a trouser pocket he previously hadn't pulled out to show him how empty they were.
For a short, ridiculous moment, Jack thought Alan would propose to him. But they both knew how impossible that was.
"I wanted to wait until we were in your rooms. But I guess we have more urgent things to do, once we are there, so I'll give it to you now." Alan stretched out his hand and Jack took the little box. Jack looked Alan in the eyes, that now were full of anticipation, before carefully lifting the lid of the box.
He almost burst into laughter. Inside the box lay a pair of cufflinks. They weren't as extravagant as his own, but they looked nice. He glanced questioningly at Alan, who replied softly: "They were my father's. Mamma gave them to me after… after he died."
Jack's heart sank. He looked between the cufflinks and Alan and didn't know what to say. Alan looked at him, as if it wasn't a big deal, but Jack could see the anticipation in his eyes.
"No," Jack finally said. "No, I can't accept that. It's a family heirloom. No."
Alan's face fell. Then, he sighed. "I was afraid you would say that. But you absolutely can. Yes, it is a family heirloom. But since I can't give you a ring for obvious reasons, I thought this could be kind of an equivalent. A promise. That I will love you for the rest of my life."
Jack swallowed. For the third time this day, he had tears stinging in his eyes. "That's too much. It belonged to your father."
"No, it really isn't," Alan promised calmly. "I love you, John Frederick Charles Alston. Even though you have a ridiculous name and are a posh twat and nothing, nothing I can give you will ever be too much to ask." He smiled at Jack in the most sincere way he had ever done. Then, his glance brightened. "And, as you may be aware by now, I have a nice collection of stolen cufflinks anyway."
Jack barked out a laugh, but his heart was still full of love. "I want to kiss you," he blurted out.
"Why, look at you," Alan sighed, "so greedy and spoiled."
"I simply want to take what is mine," Jack replied, easily falling back into their usual banter.
"In front of everyone, my lord? How scandalous!" Alan exclaimed. Then, more sincere: "Are you sure? Here?"
Jack nodded. "Look at them." He waved a hand in the direction where their friends were still sitting and enjoying the afternoon. "Nobody of them will mind. My mother surely knows by now. I guess she even knew back when we stayed here before the Equinox Gala. I mean, especially Robin and Edwin can't hide anything."
Alan smiled. "Alright," he agreed. "Then so shall it be."
He stood on his tiptoes to reach out with his hands and cup Jack's face. Jack bent down to make it easier for Alan to reach his mouth. And then their lips met. Jack could taste a lot of things: Port and ice cream and strawberries. But more than that Alan tasted of love, so pure and straightforward it made Jack's heart clench.
Maybe they kissed for hours or just moments. Jack couldn't tell. But they were interrupted by a squeal that unmistakably came from Maud. When they both looked up, she was staring at them, with her hands pressed to her mouth.
"Sorry!" she called apologetically. "Just… keep going."
Jack and Alan laughed and the others chuckled too. Polly was looking at them with a fond smile. She was just visibly glad that her boy was happy.
Jack turned his head to Alan again. "Thank you," he whispered.
"What for? The cufflinks?"
"No. Yes. That, too, but… for loving me. And for making me love again."
Alan smiled and brushed a gentle finger over Jack's cheek. "It's always a pleasure to be of service, my lord."
Jack chuckled and then leaned in for another kiss.
After that, Alan asked him: "Want to come back?"
"Right away, Cesare. Just one more second."
Alan nodded, squeezed Jack's hand and went back to the pavilion, where Polly greeted him with a thankful kiss to his cheek.
Jack stood there several moments and thought about the day.
It still hurt, not having Elsie by his side. But it wasn't as painful and all-consuming anymore as it had been for the past fifteen years. Not with all these people around who had shamelessly stolen their way into his life and on the way had filled a part of the empty, black hole Elsie's loss had ripped into his chest and had refused to be mended. Until now.
"Who wants to play a little game of Lady Macbeth?" Polly suddenly called. The question was followed by loud cheering and when Jack found Alan's gaze, they both laughed. Alan wiggled his eyebrows at him, as if he wanted to say, 'This time, the others have no chance!'
Jack sighed and turned to look a last time at the oak and the swing. "Happy birthday, Elsie! I miss you so much. But I am going to be okay." He considered his words for a moment. "No, I am okay. Don't worry about me. I love you."
Finally, he left the terrace and rejoined the people that somehow had become his friends; no, his family. He wouldn't want to miss them ever again.