age thirty-one.
Ten years with Charlie, and his birthdays had slowly become something he looked forward to. Their birthdays were just two weeks apart, so they had formed a tradition. They would do something for each other on the actual days and then do something as a pair somewhere in between. This year, they had decided they would take a road trip once Charlie visited the doctor to get her broken hand looked at. The appointment was still a week away, which meant they were still at home on the morning of March 19th.

He hadn't seen her text message until after he'd woken up to her underneath the covers, mouth just where the text message he read later said it would be. She always knew how to brighten his day.

The truth was, there was nothing else he would rather be doing than spending the day in bed with her. They didn't do much in the realm of talking, but they had never much for words when it came to conveying their feelings. They were individuals of action and tended to show they cared through action and through what wasn't said. Ten years of fighting side by side and sleeping together and ten years of sharing birthdays and making good memories to replace the old, bad ones meant they didn't need words. Charlie knew Danny better than anyone, knew what to do to make him happy, just as he did with her. He knew what pissed her off, what turned her on, what she liked and didn't (which meant he was confused as hell when she ate a banana as a mid-afternoon snack), but today he avoided the things that pissed her off. He focused on satisfying her needs (and his own along with them), countless times throughout the day. Charlie Price was better than any birthday cake or gift. Happy was not a word he used to describe his state of being, well, ever, but today he was pretty damn close to feeling it.

If given the choice now between a party with his friends and a day in with Charlie, he would the latter every time. There was nothing better than spending a birthday fucking the one woman as psychotic as he was.