“C’mon,” Mal says, pulling away and tugging up his jeans before Rowan has a chance to think about the moment that passed between them. “Think everyone else is prob’ly gettin’ suspicious.”

THE REST of the group shares knowing smirks—Amy making an exaggerated gagging noise—when they eventually make their way back to the table.

“That was a birthday gift from all of us,” Jeremiah says, making the rest of the group burst into laughter.

“Oh, fuck off,” Mal says, corners of his mouth pulling up even as he tries to wipe the smile off his face.

For the next hour or so, they wind down, a number of inside jokes from the night popping up and making them all dissolve into one fit of laughter after another. It’s nice. It’s fun. This little family Mal has assembled for himself and invited Rowan into is something he’s going to treasure for as long as he gets to have it. By the end of the night, Rowan has to agree with what Clover said at the beginning.

He’s so glad Mal invited him.

HAVING SAID their goodbyes to the rest of the group, Rowan and Mal walk together to the small parking lot behind the club, the midnight sky unusually sparkling with stars.

“Hey, before you go,” Rowan says as they near their cars. “Got you something.”

“Already gave me a birthday gift,” Mal quips.

Rowan snorts. “A real gift, dick.”

“Didn’t need to do that, man.”

“I wanted to. And it’s not much. C’mon.” He gestures for Mal to follow him to his car.

He opens the passenger door when they arrive and retrieves the carefully wrapped package. It’s a small white box with black twine that Rowan had painstakingly woven around to resemble some of the shibari rigs they’d done over the past few months. A little cheesy, maybe, but he’s proud of it. And when he hands it to Mal, the amused smile that blossoms over his face is completely worth it.

“Fuckin’ Boy Scout,” Mal mumbles, but there’s a small smile on his face as he dutifully begins unwinding the rope.

When he sees the small goldmine of miniature Reese’s cups inside, he snorts, but Rowan can tell he’s pleased.

“You tryn’a fatten me up, Campbell?”

“Nah,” Rowan laughs. “Although… if it went to your ass….”

“Fuuuck off, my ass is fantastic as it is.”

“Can’t argue there.” Rowan gestures to the box when it looks like Mal’s going to put the lid back on. “There’s something else too.”

Mal digs through the chocolate to find the tissue paper Rowan had neatly folded around his other present. He places the box down on the trunk of Rowan’s car and gingerly unwraps the paper until he reveals the jockstrap Rowan had custom ordered last week and paid out the ass for expedited shipping.