Misha laid back in his car’s seat, making a few final notes in his journal while sketching out the vampire he’d killed a few hours ago. The car washes parking lot a lovely place to work, and get something to spray his clothes with to try covering the scent. The faint scent of ash still faintly on his clothes, if with some floral freshness over it, he had rather high hopes Charlotte wouldn't find it in herself to question the fact. He’d swore up and down he’d never smoked a day in his life, and had already changed into a pair of his nicer clothes. The idea of trying to conjure up another semi nice pair of clothes on short notice was a tall ask even for him..

  Nonetheless, Misha was still wondering if he should have swung by a store when his phone rang with King Herod’s Song, and he flipped it open without looking to answer, “Kumbaya, my Lord?”

  “You better have changed that fucking ringtone, or I’m having you executed,” Alfred said, the threat sounding a little hollow even if the annoyance was genuine, “is there a reason you missed our weekly meetup?”

  “Yeah, I told you I’m celebrating my birthday tonight,” Misha said rather blandly, “Sister moved out a few months ago, couldn’t really make it down so soon after moving, Charlotte’s making dinner for me since I was down in the dumps. This is the third time we’ve had this conversation about my plans tonight. You got invited twice now. I was just waiting until six like she told me to.”

  “Misha, it’s been almost a year and a half,” Alfred laughed at his apprentice, “you get this attached to every sob story with a kid you find on the job, you’re going to have a rather full schedule and empty wallet.”

  “Look, I just help her out on occasion,” Misha half-lied, before adding on, “I invited you over, you going to come by or not? Because you seem to forget everything I tell you.”

  “Yeah, I hear you talking and I figure you’re complaining about something or saying something weird I don’t want to know,” Alfred admitted, the smirk obvious on his face through the speaker, “how about you save me some cake, I’ll swing by, say my hellos after I’m done dropping off these files with niece.”

  “Take your time,” Misha chuckled, seeing the clock tick over, “I need to go, I don’t want to seem like a dick being late to my own party.”

  “Just don’t get your hopes up,” Alfred said even as the younger man started to drive onward, struggling a little to listen and drive at the same time.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re, oh, twenty-one today isn’t it? Look like a guy who smoked weed behind his high school a few years ago? Spending at least one night a week visiting a woman closer to forty than not, who happens to have a kid,” Alfred said with a small click of his tongue, “I’m saying not to catch any feelings, when you’re about the last person this girl will want.”

  “You’re an old pervert,” Misha told him, even as he said his goodbyes and hung up.

  A short drive, Misha turned onto Charlotte’s suburb and not a few minutes later pulled into her driveway. There he, fetching the envelope and bag from his truck’s passenger seat, climbed out and made his way towards the door with an awkward shuffle.

  In his slacks and green-button down Misha didn’t exactly look that great by his standards, but at the very least he thought he looked better than normal. As far as he knew, the dinner was just going to be him, Charlotte, and Timmy, with Alfred a potential late arrival, but it was still a special occasion. Living alone with his sisters for years, he and Fox tried to raise their little sister when their dad left. In those sort of circumstances, birthdays for him had been barely celebrated affairs for the older kids. A small cake maybe, occasionally a book or art supply for him or a piece of jewelry he found on a job for Fox’s birthdays. This was different, this was a purposeful dinner and time set aside for him, something he went to and had planned for him rather than being with someone he lived with.

  Misha barely had time to knock on the door when it swung open, and Charlotte greeted him dressed up a little bit herself. Wearing a floral patterned dress with a blue cardigan over it, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, she looked rather stunning he had to admit. A little tired, something that couldn’t be held against her, and perhaps something Misha should have done better to try remedying.

  No.

  He knew that wasn’t a good idea, he needed to remember that before he started getting hopes up.

  Misha knew he was doing fucking plenty, and if he offered to do anymore he was going to start seeming pushy or worse, like he was in it for something. Alfred was…well, Alfred was right at least that Charlotte was not the type of babe who was going to be interested in him. As much as he did to try and help her, he thought it would have probably been a dick move for him to put her on the spot by even hinting at that idea of them being anything but friends.

  All the same, Misha couldn’t help but notice how nice she looked as she smiled and looked him over, asking, “you got dressed up for this? I told you we were just keeping it casual.”

  “Well, I just wanted to try looking good, didn’t think I’d even have a birthday this year,” Misha admitted, letting out an awkward cough, “I probably look ridiculous, I had to dig this up from a box of shit my brother left when he moved out of my building. I was surprised it was still laying around.”

  “You look good, though…” Charlotte started, stepping forward as her fingers moved to his throat. He went completely still a moment, feeling like he might have fucking blushed like a teenager if he wasn’t careful, and felt her slowly undo the first two buttons of his shirt before pressing it out. “There, now you look great.”

  Misha had a smile on his face that couldn’t grow any larger, and he followed the woman into her home and to the living room. Wildly different from when he’d first seen it, the walls were decorated with pictures of parks and streets Charlotte had taken over the last year. The coffee table had a few decorative candles on it in the center, currently lit, and Timmy sat on one side of it by the lit fireplace playing with a pair of action figures as he chirped, “hi Mr. Misha.”

  Giving a small nod back to the woman, Me showed her the envelope and sat it on the mantle as I told her, “for the groceries this week, you still doing good?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Better than good with your help. I keep telling you though you don’t need to do this,” Charlotte admitted hesitantly, smiling as she looked to the ground, “was able to keep a little extra in savings last month for the first time since…well, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Misha said, knowing she didn’t like talking about the man. Wanting to help her quickly change the subject, he raised the bag in his hand and announced, “brought presents for everyone.”

  Timmy jumped up at that point and cheerfully asked, “what did you get me?” while Charlotte shook her head and said, “Christmas is five days away and it’s your birthday, you don’t need to give out presents.”

  “Bah, nothing big, just a couple things I saw while I was out running errands yesterday,” Misha said, reaching into the bag as he pulled out Timmy’s first. An action figure from one of the shows he liked, Misha was a good eighty percent sure it was one he didn’t have. His suspicions were confirmed as Timmy saw it, and he watched the kid snatch it up while saying a wave of thanks. Misha chuckled, and with a shake of his head told him, “give me a minute, I’ll help you open it.”

  “I even want to know what you got me?” Charlotte asked with a small laugh.

  “Nothing big, like I said,” Misha told her, pulling out the perfume bottle in the bag as he handed it over to her, “I got the scent right? Was picking up some fancy soap for a friend, and I knew you said it was never in stock when you went. You were complaining last week about running out, so I just grabbed you some.”

  “You’re too much, you know that?” the older woman asked with a small laugh, “couldn’t have saved this for Christmas?”

  “Oh, who said I don’t have something for that?” Misha asked with a quiet chuckle.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Wasn’t a big deal, barely cost me anything,” Misha half-lied, getting led to the kitchen by Charlotte. Timmy left behind, Misha waited until he thought he was out of earshot before continuing, “knew you were saying you wanted to save up to get him a bike this spring. Guy I knew had this nice one that was the right size in his scrap yard, room for the kid to grow a good foot or two. I already got it cleaned up and replaced the tires, seat, chain, and made sure the brakes work. The guy even scraped the rust for me, gave it a nice paint job while waiting for me to pick it up — I did him a good sized favor a few months ago.”

  Good sized favor meaning ‘helped him dismember a body and melt it in acid, instead of just running off once the job was done’, but Misha wasn’t getting into that.

  “Do I even want to know for me?” she asked with a glance back.

  “Well, I did a huge favor for this camera shop owner and,” Misha stopped himself, pretending he was thinking deeply about it, “well, probably rude to spoil the surprise and tell you.”

  Found missing son, though proud as he was about that one he couldn’t really brag about it.

  “The neighbors are going to start talking if you keep this up, Mr. Lyon,” Charlotte teased, playfully slapping his shoulder as she checked her various pots. “Can you get the plates ready, dinner’s almost ready. Is your partner not coming?”

  “He said he might come over for some cake, but you never know with him,” Misha admitted, going to the cabinet as he collected a four plates and the silverware all the same. Setting them out on the table, he adjusted them as he asked, “do you mind if I put a pot of coffee on?”

  “I could do with some myself honestly. I fixed that cup you like,” Charlotte said, taking down her own blue floral cup and the red cup Misha used with a now-cracked handle. Setting them out for the man, she went about finishing dinner while Misha prepared the coffee maker and asked her about work.

  A few minutes later and the three of them were eating spaghetti, Timmy nervously talked about kindergarten while Misha listened with a surprising ease. Rather used to dealing with younger kids, he knew to just keep asking them questions about whatever was said and listen to their response. Better for them to get comfortable talking about it, rather than make them think you didn’t care.

  When they eventually finished, Timmy ran off to play with his new toy, and Misha helped Charlotte put everything away and started loading the dishwasher before they moved onto cake. A slow process, he was trying to figure out how to best fit all the pots together when Charlotte got his attention with a cough.

  She was holding up a plastic leftover container, smaller than the other she’d put most of the spaghetti in, and with a roll of her eyes she scolded, “don’t pretend to forget it this time. I know you’re not eating right half the time now you’ve moved on your own. You deserve at least one good meal a week when you’re not here.”

  Misha had to laugh at that, and shook his head as he told her, “I’m in the office all day helping organize the file room tomorrow. I’ll appreciate having a home cooked meal instead of whatever frozen monstrosity Alfred discovers in his mini-fridge.” Leaning in with a cocky grin to add on, “he claimed last months meal were frozen burgers, but I have my doubts there was meat or bread involved in the creation.

  “Another day of hard work at the FBI,” the woman agreed, the words strangely sending a bolt of pain through the man.

  Misha cleared his throat, starting the dishwasher as he slowly walked over to her. The woman looked up at him in confusion for a moment, and Misha shook my head as he realized what he was about to say. It was stupid, he had a good cover, she believed it he thought, and yet he looked to the ground as he admitted, “I’m…not in the FBI.”

  Well, that was it. Friendship ruined, probably going to have the cops called on him, The Lady and Alfred were going to be pissed, and-

  “I know,” the woman said, crossing her arms as she looked up at Misha. he tilted his head in confusion, and she raised a brow, “I put it together a month after we met. Your schedule made no sense and you didn’t dress like someone who needed to be serious even once a month. Nineteen year old boys don’t become FBI agents, especially without a news article getting written about them, and you didn’t know what Watergate was. By the time I put it together I figured I owed you the benefit of the doubt, and thought you had a good reason to lie.”

  Good reason to lie, needed to lie again. This time he’d make it a half-lie, maybe one day the full truth, “I work for this rich bitch, she’s really into that X-Files crap. She pays me and my partner to go around and investigate this supposedly supernatural bullshit. Haunted buildings, Alien kidnappings, weird disappearances, I mean we had to talk to these women in West Virginia about Mothman once, you know? I know it’s wrong to lie, but it’s hard getting a good job and-”

  “Misha,” Charlotte interrupted, lips pursed tight in a barely contained laugh as she covered her mouth, “I get lying about that, but that’s fucking hilarious.”

  Misha nodded, having to let out a small chuckle at it himself even as he heard footsteps coming up the hallway. Tensing for only a moment, he watched Alfred come around the corner as the older man asked, “Sorry, let myself in. Did I miss cake?”

  “We were just getting to it,” Charlotte agreed, walking over to the cake in the corner.

  Misha was forced to sit down, and Timmy was gathered to sing the courtesy Happy Birthday. They ate the cake, and all was well until Timmy dragged Misha upstairs to show off a project he’d made in class. A lovely looking diorama of forest Misha was sure Charlotte did the majority of. When Misha finally came back down stairs, Timmy staying behind to play with his toys, Charlotte was gone, and Alfred sat alone sipping a cup of coffee with a proud smirk.

  “She went to get your present from the car, hope you like cologne — spoilers,” the man explained, watching as his apprentice sat across from him, “I owe you an apology.”

  “Why?” Misha asked, not sure what Alfred meant as he sipped his own cup.

  “Charlotte asked if I could babysit for her next week, don’t know why me. Said she wanted to go eat out, maybe watch a movie,” Alfred said, confusing Misha even more.

  Shaking his head, Misha glanced back towards the door to the garage and a little hurt whispered, “she doesn’t trust me? I would have done it.”

  “Well, you see, that’s why I owe you the apology, I asked the same thing,” Alfred said, leaning forward with a proud smirk, “she said she was going to ask you to go with her once I left. So, I’m sticking around long enough for you to open her present and then head out.”