The terrifying screech of some bird of prey resolved itself into the annoying screech of the alarm clock. Skinner opened one eye. 7:30. On Saturday? Before he could reach out, a warm body thumped over his chest, and Pendrell pawed at the clock, finally hitting the snooze button. He lay there, a drowsy weight pinning Skinner to the bed.
Now fully alert, Skinner stared at the ceiling, since he couldn't sit up, and wondered why Pendrell had set the alarm. He usually slept past nine at least. The red head began to move, depositing wet morning kisses on Skinner's left shoulder. Then bleary eyes looked into his own.
"Happy Birthday, Walter." The alarm began to scream again and Pendrell winced. Skinner turned it off, idly wondering how much the invention of the snooze button had contributed to the degeneracy of western society.
"Thank you." Skinner scratched Pendrell's head. "Did you have to get up at this hour just to tell me that?"
"No, I was, I mean, I'm going to make coffee for you so you don't have to get up." Pendrell yawned and buried his face in Skinner's chest hair. "In just a minute."
"I can make the coffee. I was going to get up anyhow."
"No, I'm just getting up." Pendrell sat, crumpled and flushed still from sleep. "You just stay here and I'll bring it in." He got up and swayed a little before grabbing his robe.
"Can I at least go to the bathroom?"
"Only if you go right back to bed after." Pendrell left and Skinner smiled in spite of himself. Then he got up as well and headed to the bathroom.
When he got back to the bedroom, Lucy was sitting on his pillow, defying him to move her. Two could play at that game. He slid under the covers and lay back, trapping her beneath his neck. She squirmed for a few moments, then complained loudly. Enough fun. He sat up and she stalked to the end of the bed, where she washed herself pointedly.
Propping himself on the pillows, Skinner wondered what a birthday spent with Daniel would be like. With any luck, he wouldn't have to endure the whole day being pampered. It would be nice just to relax. Maybe go for a walk if the weather was nice; too early to tell though. Play cribbage, since there he had at least a chance of winning.
He mused a few minutes more, then Pendrell returned with the coffee and climbed in beside him. Good coffee. Skinner was surprised and then felt guilty that he had been. After all, why shouldn't an intelligent scientist like Daniel be able to make good coffee?
"Thank you, Daniel. It's good."
"Mmm." Pendrell leaned against Skinner's shoulder as they sipped in silence for a while. "I'll make you breakfast too. I have some Eggos."
"I think I'd just prefer cereal." At least Daniel hadn't planned to make pancakes from scratch or something. "And more coffee."
"Your wish is my command." Pendrell drained his own cup and, crawling back out of bed, headed for the kitchen again. When he returned, he carried both cups in one hand and large bag in the other. "I got you something, Walter." He set the cups down on the dresser, then passed one to Skinner. "It's not wrapped though. And I was pretty rushed when I bought it, so if you don't like it, we'll take it back. Or it might not fit."
"I'm sure it's fine." Skinner took a healthy swallow and put the cup down. "And thank you."
Pendrell peered into the bag. "Actually, maybe I should just take it back before I show it to you. I don't think--"
"Just give it to me already." Holding out his hand, Skinner allowed a hint of a glare into his gaze. Pendrell gave him the bag and Skinner drew out his gift. It was black. It was bulky. He shook it out and suddenly it was a cardigan.
A cardigan? Skinner studied the garment. Did he look like Arnold Palmer all of a sudden? At least this wasn't a home knitted version.
"I swear, the salesclerk forced me to buy that at gunpoint."
Skinner sat further up and tried the sweater on. "Are you telling me you weren't carrying your weapon?"
"Hmm, it's not as bad as I thought, at least when you wear it like that."
The cardigan stretched tightly across Skinner's back, sleeves riding up above his wrists. Unbuttoned, it revealed much of the broad expanse of his bare chest. And it itched. "Daniel, it's too small." Not to mention too ugly.
"I'm sorry, Skipper. Tell you what, after breakfast we'll go to the mall and you can pick out something that you like."
"Then what?"
"Anything you want." Pendrell smiled. "It's your day."
Skinner relaxed. No big plans for something well-meaning and publicly humiliating. No weird things. He started to sketch out a schedule for the rest of the day. An hour for the mall trip, then a hike through the park, lunch in the pub, bring the crib board and sit for a few hours over beer, back home, dinner, then... He made a mental note not to push Pendrell too hard on the hike.
The mall didn't open until ten, so Skinner had a lazy breakfast with Lucy while Pendrell checked an experiment in the basement. For a wonder, Pendrell didn't get completely lost in his work and was ready in good time to head out.
Just after ten, they stood in the middle of the huge mall. Not many other people were out shopping yet, Skinner noted with satisfaction. "Which way to..." Skinner checked the logo on the bag. "Black & Peters -- Fine Clothing for Men?"
"This way." Pendrell headed off down one wing, not waiting to see if Skinner followed him. At the very end of the huge hallway, they found the store. It was staffed by two young men who looked like they were just putting in time until their Versace shoot.
Skinner narrowed his eyes. "And one of these guys had you at gunpoint?"
"Just what are you suggesting?" Pendrell narrowed back. "Just look around and see if there's anything you want from here. Any clothes, that is."
"I don't think this place is quite my style."
"Should we go to Sears?" Pendrell led the way to the till.
"Book store." Studying some ties on display, Skinner leaned against the counter as Pendrell tried to convince the clerk that he wanted a refund, not an exchange. Skinner could see the other man approaching with a haberdasher's gleam in his eye, so he glared grimly at the clerk, hoping to hurry things along. It worked and Skinner made his way out, escaping the ensnaring tape measure.
Pendrell joined him. "Thanks for the backup, Skipper. Book store, you said? I just have to stop at the music store on the way."
Great, Skinner thought. More stops. The mall was starting to fill up and the thought of so many people milling around, shopping, made him uneasy.
They wove and dodged their way back towards the centre of the mall. How many shoe stores could one mall support? Skinner wondered. He turned to ask Pendrell's opinion just in time to see him veer off into a store. Not the music store. The pet store. Skinner noticed a bench just outside and went to sit and wait. But if he waited outside, how long was Daniel likely to take? Resigned, he entered the humid, rustling, squawking room and scanned for the red head.
Pendrell was peering into some fish tanks. "Walter, do you want some fish?" He looked up and smiled. "You could keep them on your desk at work. Like Captain Picard."
"Do you know how many smart remarks I'd have to endure?"
"But think of the fun you could have, quelling them with a stern glance. Don't tell me you don't get off on that." Pendrell turned back to the fish, reading the labels on the tanks.
"No, thank you. Did you need something in here?" He'd have to get Pendrell out of here fast. This place was a cavern of wonders for pet keepers and gadget lovers. "Can I help? Catnip for Lucy?"
"My cat doesn't inhale. Do I have to call the DEA?" At least Pendrell wasn't engrossed in the fish anymore. "But let's look in the cat section." They picked their way carefully across the room. "Robo-mouse. I think battery operated toys don't stimulate the imagination enough, don't you, Walter?"
"Oh, sure." Skinner could not believe the sheer volume of junk that cat fanciers could buy for their little darlings. Twenty kinds of snacks, countless toys, collars, dishes, special beds, vitamins, litter boxes with computer chips in them to sieve the litter when the cat was gone. Clearly more was wrong with this country than just the snooze button.
"Look at this -- a self-groomer. You put it on the corner of the wall and the plastic bits stick out so the cat can rub against them and comb her fur."
"Daniel, if you put that up you'll have constant puncture wounds in your calves from bumping into it."
"Mmm, you're probably right. But it looks so neat. I'll have to work on a safer way to implement that."
"Are you going to buy something or can we go?"
Pendrell looked contrite. "I'm sorry. We can go." He led the way out, hurrying now and for a while they made good time. In the atrium, though, they almost lost each other as the press of humanity seethed around them. Skinner spotted Pendrell through the crowd and skirted the edges to get to him.
"Over here, Walter. The music store and the book store, the good book store, are down this aisle."
"What do you have to do at the music store, anyhow?"
"An exchange." Pendrell pulled a bag out of his pocket and showed Skinner a CD.
Shania Twain. The Woman In Me. "Do I even want to know?"
"You remember my charming sister Lisa. You were perhaps too distracted by other things at the time to notice, but this is what she thoughtfully gave me for Christmas."
Before Skinner could reply, the music store throbbed around them and Pendrell headed for the counter. Skinner couldn't hear the conversation, but Pendrell and the fortyish woman behind the cash register seemed to be getting along fine. Just fine. Skinner wandered up and down the aisles, not really taking in the albums he saw. Finally, he saw Pendrell waiting by the door.
Out in the mall, Skinner's hearing readjusted itself. "Why did that take so long?"
"Well, the CD wasn't from this store, or even from this chain, and it's more than a month after Christmas, so it took a little while for me to convince her to exchange it for me."
"How did you convince her at all?"
"Older women like me." Pendrell grinned. "It never got me laid, but it's been good for a lot of free food."
"Ah. What did you get?"
"Alanis Morissette -- Jagged Little Pill."
"Just don't play it in the car on the way back, OK?"
"I would never do something that I thought might annoy you. You know that, right?" Before Skinner could react, Pendrell pointed to a kiosk in the middle of the aisle. "How about lottery tickets?"
"People who buy lottery tickets for their friends are just asking for trouble. If you win nothing, it's too cheap. If you win a couple of hundred, it causes friction. If you win big, everybody gets a lawyer."
"OK, OK. What can I get you then?"
"A book." Hadn't he already said that?
A tobaconnist's came into view. "A pipe?"
"Book."
A jeweller's. "Tie clip?"
"Book."
A toy store. "Lego?"
At last. Skinner grabbed Pendrell by the arm and hauled him into the book store, heading straight for the hardcovers. He swept the shelves, found what he was looking for, picked it up, and handed it to Pendrell. "Buy this. Happy Birthday to me." A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. Looked good.
"At least it's not a western." Pendrell took it to the counter.
Skinner checked his watch. After twelve already. Damn.
Pendrell returned. "Ready for lunch? To the pub?"
"OK, but can we pick up--"
"Crib board's in the glove compartment. Then we'll walk off the beer in the park. Home and you can make lasagna while I read to you from your book. Am I right?"
Might as well give up and smile. "You're right. Why did I ever doubt you?"
Pendrell handed him the book. "Here, Walter."
"Thank you. What about after dinner?"
"I rented 'Batman Forever.'" Blue eyes dared Skinner to protest. "But that's just a formality."
Skinner smiled. "Give Alfred the night off, Boy Wonder.
"Close the gates to stately Wayne Manor."
"Unplug the Batphone."
"Put out the Batcat."
And they laughed and went to lunch.
FINIS