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He's singing with a wry smile even as he hooks the door with a spider-leg and pushes it open.

"Haaaappy birrrrthday toooo youuuu..."

As he walks toward the bed singing the old chestnut, his heart is hammering, even if he's still smiling. Maybe this was a bad idea, an invasion of Otto's privacy on a level neither of them was ready for. For God's sake, the man wasn't even dressed yet. Never mind that he'd seen him that way before May - there were snatches of memory telling him maybe he didn't have the right. And yet, another part of him argued - the part that was slowly gaining strength - wouldn't Otto have declined if he didn't want him here?

"Happy birrrrrrthdaaaay to youuuu," he finished with a sheepish grin. "Surprise."

The second he hears that singing, Otto can feel his stomach fill with proverbial ice. That's today? ...That's today... And Norman remembered, because of course he would remember. He looks pained for a second, both out of embarrassment and because deep down, he knows this is a birthday he hadn't been meant to reach.

But then he catches sight of the breakfast tray, and he can't stop himself from smiling. When's the last time he had breakfast in bed? Rosie must've stopped making that for him after his 26th or 27th birthday. Not because she hadn't wanted to anymore, but because Otto had asked her to stop. He'd say he can't believe Norman would go to that trouble, but... He can believe it.

"Well, I'd have to say that ranks as one of the most interesting awakenings I've had in a while," he says. "Thank you, Norman."

"You're welcome," he says warmly, setting the tray down over Otto's lap and leaning to kiss his cheek.

"I know birthdays are ... a strange subject, for you and I. And I wanted to make sure you knew how glad I am that we get to share them, now. ... I can leave you to enjoy that and wake up, f'you like."

When the kiss lands on his cheek, Otto closes his eyes with a pleased little smile for a few seconds. The tray barely warrants attention, though he does take note of what exactly is laid out for him.

"Oh no, by all means, join me. Did you make the pancakes yourself?"

Arachne can't exactly blush, but the color in Norman's cheeks darkens at the invitation. He's happy, Norman reminds himself, like a mantra, as he perches on the edge of the mattress. He's comfortable. This is okay. I'M okay. We're both safe.

Then Otto's next question is enough to divert him from any second-guessing or uncertainty. He sits up a bit more straight, eyes shining as he smirks. "As a matter of fact, yes I did! From scratch, even. ... Though I'm man enough to admit the first few were lost to the cats and the birds in the yard."

As Norman gets settled, Otto slides himself sideways to make more room for him. He has to be careful, though, what with the breakfast tray. Once he's found a good spot, he reaches behind himself to flip the pillow upward so that he can lean back against it.

"Hah, so I'm getting only the best of the best? I trust you know that my expectations are through the roof, now."

Norman reaches out to help him with the pillow before climbing up beside him. It feels like trespassing, and he constantly reminds himself - a mantra on repeat at the back of his mind - that he's been allowed. That he's welcome. The warm, friendly banter helps distract him from that train of thought, and he can't help but wonder if that's why Otto's doing it, himself.

"Just remember that our roof's several feet of rock and dirt. Kind of hard for a pancake to break that."

Norman, you silly man, Otto's doing warm, friendly banter because he enjoys warm, friendly banter. It's true that he does, on occasion, still endure horrid memories of the Goblin, most commonly when they bleed into nightmares. However, he refuses to let it impact his affection for Norman. That's why, when the man settles beside him, his upper arm and shoulder press lightly against Norman's own.

"Well, alright. If the pancake at least makes it to the ceiling, that'll be enough."

"I thought it was supposed to be spaghetti you tried to make stick to the walls," Norman quipped back, making himself comfortable. It reminds him of the first time he kissed him, sitting in those horrible little theaters, and he finally starts to relax.

"G'wan, they're gonna get cold."

Now Otto's idly considering whether one could make pancakes with enough of an adhesive outer texture to make it stick to walls. Perhaps if the dough's undercooked... He certainly won't be trying with these, that's for certain. Reaching for the knife and fork, he casts a quick sideways glance Norman's way.

"You did have breakfast of your own, I should hope?" he asks. He wouldn't put it past his friend to spend so much attention on all this, he didn't have a single bite to eat for himself.

"Mmhmm!"

The little noise of reply comes quickly and easily, with the slightest furrow of Norman's brow. He thinks that'll actually work, but he has totally been had.

Edited 2022-08-25 23:55 (UTC)

Oh, he hears the ambiguity in that little noise. He hears it. A quiet huff of amusement escapes him and he has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from grinning too widely.

"Well, just in case, I think you'd better sample some of these pancakes too."

"Just in case, huh?" He huffs softly himself, knowing he's being called out.

"Only since you insist. If they're any good I might have to make more. ... But not too much, you need to save room for dinner later tonight."

He starts cutting into the top pancake, meticulously reducing it to segments that will be far easier to lift with the fork. His brow raises at that last sentiment.

"Oh? Do we have any plans for dinner?"

Somehow, the fact that Otto is only cutting one pancake instead of all of the stack is ridiculously charming to Norman, and his smile turns into a grin at the question.

"As a matter of fact, we do. I didn't want to plan anything else in case you and Peter were going out, but I made us a reservation for eight."

Hey, Otto likes the challenge of only cutting the top of the stack! The slices are all roughly the same width, too. Besides, he wants to make this last, dinner plans or no dinner plans.

"Is that so? It's a good thing I didn't make any dinner plans of my own, then. I'll happily submit myself to whatever fine dining you believe to be most fitting for the occasion."

And here he thought arachne were supposed to be the relentlessly meticulous ones. Still, the fact that Otto's taking his time warms Norman's heart... for the most part. There's a tiny nagging thought - Maybe he just doesn't want to eat your cooking! - that he swats away, knowing full well he's taken his fair share of turns at cooking for the two of them and Peter before. Never mind that those had usually involved simple things like grilled cheese and pasta.

"Good, I'm glad."

Norman settles back against the headboard, glancing around the room. In part, he's looking to see if Otto has changed anything now that he has the space to himself, but mostly he's avoiding staring at him while he eats.

"Do you want to know where we're going now, or should I keep it a surprise?"

Not much has actively changed in the room over the past few months. There's a few more things, mostly small items, pens, notepads and books. That's the extent of it. Otto isn't much of an interior designer and tends not to bring anything into his living space unless it serves a purpose or is given to him. Not anymore, anyway. There's still a small box of shiny objects, like shimmering rocks and scraps of metal, that he collected as a merperson and can't bring himself to get rid of.

"A surprise, I should think. Curious as I am, the occasion only comes around once a year."

With that, he finally lowers the knife and brings the first slice of pancake up to his mouth. Did Norman do good?

The pancakes are passable, if a little flat. The flavor is good - he added in a little cinnamon to the batter along with the vanilla the recipe called for.

"A surprise it is, then," Norman agrees warmly, his gaze lingering on that box of scraps.

"What's all that?" He asks curiously. "You making something?"

Edited 2022-09-05 19:15 (UTC)

Otto happens to like cinnamon as an additional spice in baking, which earns the pancakes some brownie points and ensures the flatness is overlooked. Yep, he's going to enjoy this breakfast very much. The question doesn't quite register until he sees just what it is that Norman's looking at.

"Ah, no. It's a bit embarrassing, actually," he admits, smiling sheepishly. "When I was still a merperson, I kept pocketing things that caught my eye without really thinking about it. Rocks, coins, bits of metal... Nothing that belonged to someone else, of course. I didn't steal anything. It's all just junk. ... But now I don't want to part with it anymore."

"Tawna does that as a gargoyle, too," Norman remarks idly, stretching out a little more as he starts to settle fully into the mattress. "But for her, it's craft supplies. That's why she does that little get-together of hers ... "

Inspiration strikes, and he tilts his head at Otto, waiting until he doesn't have his mouth full and can answer.

"You could make something out of it. Weld the metal, maybe melt down the coins ..."

"Melt them down?"

Somehow, the sentiment doesn't sit well with him. Maybe, if he were still a merperson, it might've alarmed him and some of those instincts are lingering. He didn't mind other people touching his 'things', but it'd be another story if something had ever been stolen or broken. He's not a merperson anymore, though. There's no reason to be odd about this.

"... I suppose so. Though, I don't know what I'd make with it. They aren't exactly the sorts of metal that go well together."

He is, of course, thinking purely of creating something practical with these supplies. Art? What is that?

"Eh," he says idly, even as he's starting to consider a few ideas at the back of his mind. Smaller versions of the abstract sort of pieces that adorned countless New York lobbies, walkways, and subway stations, full of color and movement and fodder for the imagination. "S'just a thought."

He shrugs it off for now, deciding to let it go until he's had some more time to process the thought. "How're the pancakes?"

Edited 2022-09-14 23:08 (UTC)

Otto's own thoughts linger on the box of scraps for a little while longer, even as Norman shrugs it off. But then his attention is diverted back to the pancakes. There's more important things to worry about on his birthday than a bunch of shiny trinkets.

"They're wonderful," he says in all earnesty, before sticking his fork in one of the slices and holding it out towards Norman. "Here, try some."

Nor for the flavor, but because he wants Norman to eat something. If Otto has something to say about it, then by the time they're done, a good one third of those pancakes will have been diverted Norman's way.

"Only because you're so damned insistent," Norman chuckles, shaking his head. Then, instead of taking the fork, he just leans forward and takes a bite before giving Otto a sassy little 'are you happy now' look.

"When we're finished here, I have something in town I want to show you."

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kinda feel the need to specify this is not a gag tag he's just This Dumb

NORMAN....

WHAAAAAAT? 😇

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, OCTAVIUS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 015.03.020.15 * OCTAVIUS has joined 015.03.020.15 <OCTAVIUS>** You've reached Dr. Otto Octavius. Please leave a message.