oddthatway | Give you something good to celebrate. [Gathering; Pre-dated to 6/5/15]

Tris ought to know well enough by now that I never go back on my word, once given. Especially when it comes to something as important as celebrating her 19th birthday. (And I have no doubt her and Four will find their own ways to celebrate later, but I try not to think about that. For my own sake.) She also still doesn't know that this celebration is about far more than her almost not being a teenager anymore. I'm putting my all into this because, back home, Tris doesn't get the chance to live this long. Back in Chicago, the Tris I've left behind is resting in a morgue.

I have the living room all decked out because of the rabbit. While Tris still isn't here, I'll admit: the damn thing's cute. And at least Tris had the sense to get a pet with Dauntless colors. It makes the whole pet thing seem far less Amity.

I've worked hard, tying ribbons of various colors - vibrant, spring colors like sky blue and lavender - and balloons around every available edge and corner. Behind the couch, I've put a banner that I've painted myself, which is why the writing looks so sloppy. Again, I've used the colors of the ribbons and the balloons, to write a simple message of 'Happy birthday, old lady!'

Not that Tris is old at all. Far from it. But I can't resist a bit of teasing, even for my best friend's birthday.

On the table rests a cake I bought at one of the local bakeries, in the shape of a bird, with some berries on top. It's the kind of quaint that I think Tris will appreciate. Next to it, my gifts: a slinky, shimmery light blue dress, because one can never have too many sexy dresses, and the other, a beautifully designed knife with crows etched onto the handle of the blade. Both were hardly cheap, but for Tris, I would be willing to spend far more.

So now I'm waiting, pacing through the living room, adjusting the various decorations while keeping an eye out for Tris.

I've invited others, of course. It wouldn't do to just be the two of us. Slowly, I'm beginning to understand how much Tris' friends here mean to her. So I've invited as many people as I've been able to get a hold of. Now all I can do is wait.

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"Alors, we must not aim too high," Athos replies at a deadpan, a smirk flickering at his lips. With a touch of a sheepish look, he extracts the flask he has brought from his jacket, and after taking a drink, he offers it to Tris. She will likely refuse, but it only seems right to share a drink on a comrade's birthday.

As for Athos, he is in particular need of the liquor to bolster his courage. He clears his throat after the significant swig of vodka leaves it a raw. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you."

Perhaps she already knows. Perhaps this humiliation is for nothing. But it seems only fair, somehow, to tell Tris of the changed nature of his relationship with Aramis and Porthos.

I smile at him but shake my head at the offered flask, certain he'd expected me to. We'd both understood the importance of the gesture, even if I didn't partake.

Then he goes properly serious and I look at him, nodding. "Go ahead."

I doubt there's anything he can really say that will surprise me. Maybe, a year ago, it would have shocked me utterly, but not anymore.

Athos takes another drink before slipping the flask back into his jacket. Though he has observed blithe acceptance of every form of dalliance since coming to Darrow, and never for a moment believes that Tris herself will disapprove, he still shies from the telling. Surely this is not something to be spoken of, every instinct and understanding of propriety tells him, and certainly not to a young woman. Not even one who reminds him more of his brothers-in-arms than any girl he has ever met.

“I wanted you to hear it from my lips before word reached you. If it has not already.” He looks away when he thinks precisely how Tris may have surmised the truth already. “Aramis, and Paris, and I… The nature of our friendship has changed of late."

"I kind of guessed." Not because of the sounds above me or because of a change in their behavior. It had been a change in the atmosphere when the three of them were present, a lack of tension in the air. "You seemed more at ease with all of them. Happier."

I offer him a small, hopeful smile. "Is it a good change? Are you happy?" I screw up my face and look at him thoughtfully. "As happy as you let yourself be?"

Athos can feel the heat on his face as he flushes faintly. By God, what a fool I am, he thinks, but he is smiling as he ducks his head. Instead of shame, he feels lighter for the telling, and Tris’ unconcerned and hopeful smile warm him.

He scoffs, though it’s a reasonably question, he supposes. “I…am,” Athos answers slowly, letting his mind settle around the idea. Happy. It is such a simple thing, and yet has been so often out of reach. Now, despite complications - despite the talk of children and his lingering fear that he cannot offer what Aramis and Porthos truly want - the word fits around him snugly as it has not in a long time.

I reach out and take his hands in mine, a gesture that could have once been charged and is now friendly and platonic. No matter how far apart we are in age and time, he is a true friend. I'm certain of that.

"Then that's all there is to it. I don't know, just the air has felt clearer. Before, when you were fighting, there was tension whenever I went upstairs. Now it feels easier."

Neither of them are affectionate people, but now Athos presses her hand in both of his, briefly but warmly, before letting the touch fall away. The more people he tells, the easier this confession becomes, and though he will likely always see his relationship with Aramis and Porthos as something private, he is beginning to shed the fear and shame that once hung over him. Bit by bit.

He wants to protest that they were not fighting, but merely dancing around the matter at hand, but perhaps that is a distinction without a difference. “Things are certainly different,” he quips instead. “And... not at all what I ever thought they would be."

I squeeze his hands once more before I let my hands drop to my sides. I understand the importance of our gestures, the touch we've let one another share, and I don't take it as a rebuff. Instead, I just nod.

"I hope different is better, in this case," I say, smiling at him. "Now...have you had the cake yet?"

Fondly, he rolls his eyes. “I have not. Should I?” The cake in question is quite lovely, decorated like a bird that he assumes is meant to mimic the one tattooed on Tris’ skin.

"Only if you want to guarantee that you'll get some before the end." Ever since we sliced into it, the cake has been going fast and I have to grin at him.

"That was one thing Dauntless always got right. Plenty of cake."

Athos grins softly. “Well then, I would not wish to lose my advantage. I will see to the cake.” He pauses, though, before departing. “Happy birthday, once again. It is good to see you so well."

Give you something good to celebrate. [Gathering; Pre-dated to 6/5/15]

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