(Probably not what you wanted or expected, but when I read this story on notalwaysromantic.com, I couldn't help but use it for this prompt. *g*)

Gibbs came home late, after a day spent at the lumberyard and Home Depot. It was his birthday, and he had celebrated it the way he liked best: By ignoring the fact it was his birthday.

In fact, it had been the reason why he and Tony had had a fight. Tony wanted to throw a party (he was smart enough not to make it an actual surprise party, at least), but Gibbs adamantly refused to have people stampede through his house, eating his food and drinking his beer, when all he really wanted was to find the perfect wood for his next basement project.

So he had informed Tony that he'd spend the day out but refused to tell his lover where exactly, and had said Tony should better cancel any party plans he might have cooked up. Tony had pouted and looked unhappy, but Gibbs didn't care. He had received a call from his father and from Abby, both of which had gone to voicemail. Anyone else had thankfully left him alone. Gibbs was happy as a clam after a day spent caressing lumber and picking out new tools. He had also bought some rose bushes which he planned to plant the following morning. Life was good.

What he didn't expect to find when he entered the kitchen through the back door was complete disaster. There was flour all over the floor. A cracked egg was slowly dripping down one cabinet door. Spilled milk was pooling near the sink, which was overflowing with used bowls, cups and an assortment of baking utensils.

Gibbs remembered the last time his kitchen had looked like that: When he had baked Christmas cookies with Kelly. His daughter had been four at the time.

The only possible culprit for this particular mess, however, was already forty.

Gibbs scowled and stalked out of the kitchen, ready to find his lover and kick Tony's ass.

He stopped a couple of steps later when he saw Tony draped over the dining table, his head on his crossed arms, peacefully slumbering. Next to him stood what had to be a birthday cake.

Gibbs couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Hey, Tony," he said softly, wanting to wake his lover without startling him.

"Hmm?" Tony blinked sleepily and then looked at Gibbs. "Oh, hey. You're back." He smiled brightly.

"Yeah." Gibbs nodded at the lopsided cake. "What's a Nappy Birdday?" he asked, not even trying to hide his amused grin.

Tony frowned in confusion. "Nappy Birdday?" He followed Gibbs' gaze, looked at the cake, and frowned even more. "Nappy Birdday," he repeated in disbelief. He scowled at the cake. He had been so proud of managing to actually bake the damn thing, even if it didn't look perfect. He had hoped to hide the little flaws by adding lots of frosting and icing. And he had been especially proud of himself when he had managed to write "Happy Birthday" on it with the sticky stuff.

Or so he had thought.

Gibbs only smiled. "You didn't let the cake cool first, did you?"

"Cool?"

"Yeah. You gotta let the cake cool first. Before adding frosting or icing. Otherwise it starts to run." Gibbs nodded at the cake which still proudly proclaimed "Nappy Birdday".

Tony looked crushed. "Oh." He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Jeth. I wanted to bake you the perfect cake to make up for our fight."

"Are you kidding? This is the perfect cake!" Gibbs reached out and sampled the still slightly warm frosting. He slowly licked his finger clean, making lewd noises that went straight to Tony's cock--just the way Gibbs wanted it. Gibbs grinned broadly and leaned down to kiss his lover, then whispered against Tony's lips, "From now on, I want a Nappy Birdday cake every year."

Tony looked completely astonished, but then beamed. "Okay," he agreed happily.

And from that year on, Gibbs received his Nappy Birdday cake on every birthday.