Summary: In Rosenkreuz, having been born is not a motive of celebration. But they're not in Rosenkreuz anymore.
A/N: Thank you very much to avierra for the beta-reading!
Crawford looked flabbergasted for a moment, keys still in hand. It was a rare occurrence, so Schuldig tried to squeeze the experience to the fullest.
"You don't know when my birthday is," Crawford said with disinterest, his normal self again.
"Neither do you, so I decided that my guess was as good as any."
Crawford started to take off his jacket. Fortunately, no party decorations had been set and no cake was in sight. Schuldig's concept of a birthday seemed strangely subdued.
"May 14th?" he asked, walking to the closet.
"You try to look like a 'Libra', but I think 'Taurus' suits you better."
Crawford loosened the tie and took it off over his head without undoing the knot. Obviously the news that today was his new birthday hadn't been important enough to make him falter in his routine. Schuldig would have liked it better if he had made a show of undressing. But, well, it was supposed to be Crawford's birthday, not his own.
As if reading his mind (and it was not the first time, so Schuldig was starting to wonder if there wasn't a bit of telepathic blood in Crawford's veins after all), Crawford asked, "And when have you decided yours is?"
"How about August 1st?
Crawford didn't shrug, but Schuldig interpreted his inaction as such.
"Remind me, by then."
Schuldig knew it wouldn't be necessary. Crawford wasn't feigning nonchalance, Schuldig knew he truly didn't care. But he wouldn't forget, if only because Crawford's mind didn't work that way.
"Aren't you going to dispute my chosen zodiac sign? I might threaten your leadership, you know..."
Crawford closed the closet door and walked towards the desk.
"I've seen the future and it's not written in the stars."
Thankfully, the precog rarely changed his shirt when he arrived home. Schuldig actually liked how Crawford looked in a shirt, without ugly jackets or hideous ties, not to mention the vests, those outdated pieces of crap.
"It's not about the future. It's the character traits. I'm still in time to change it to November or something-" Schuldig's voice grew silent when Crawford tried to pull the chair away from the desk, intent on continuing to work a bit more. The telepath shot out a hand to keep the chair where it was. "You haven't unwrapped your present, yet."
Crawford didn't show his annoyance.
"I didn't see anything of the sort."
"Just guess what I tied the ribbon bow to," Schuldig drawled, wiggling his eyebrows.
They were close, both sharing a grip on the back of the chair.
"I already have that," Crawford murmured, keeping himself immobile.
"It's impolite to take people for granted, Crawford. And karma doesn't care for bad manners. See what happened to the Elders."
"I'm not giving you anything for your birthday."
"Karma doesn't care for ungratefulness, either."
"Stop calling yourself 'karma'."
"Stop being an ass. The ribbon is making me itchy down there and I'm far more irritable when I'm itchy."
Crawford refrained from reminding the telepath that it had been his idea, not Crawford's, and reached for Schuldig's belt. Instead of undoing it, he yanked so that their bodies were pressed together. A sudden flash of a vision let him know the stupid design of Schuldig's underwear. It made him smile. He leaned down and kissed Schuldig on the mouth. It wasn't long till he felt Schuldig's arms circling his shoulders.
He decided that he could leave work for later and enjoy his present now, before it plotted some kind of silly vengeance. He could afford it. It was his birthday, after all.