The Greatest Showman: March One-Shots

12. Birthday

Tonight is going to be perfect.

It's Charity's birthday, and P.T. is set on not ruining it. He's been so busy with work lately that he can't remember the last time he had dinner with his three favorite girls, can't remember the last time he helped put Caroline and Helen to bed, can't remember the last kiss he shared with Charity that wasn't a quick goodbye in the morning.

Per request, Caroline and Helen are sleeping over at Lettie's tonight, which leaves a night full of surprises for Charity and P.T. Little does she know, he has everything planned out.

P.T. walks into the living and stops, waiting for Charity to look up from her book. When she does, she smiles at him. "May I help you?"

He doesn't say anything, just simply holds out his hand with a smile on his face. Charity nervously laughs as she stands up, placing her book on the coffee table. "What's this?"

"It's your birthday," P.T. says, as if it's the universal answer. "And I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Charity laughs, spinning into P.T.'s arms, her back pressed up against his chest. "Well, quite honestly, that's kind of the truth." She turns her head up to look at him, and he gives her a sheepish smile. Leans down to peck her lips. Spins her out again.

"And because of that, I have planned the night of your dreams," P.T. says dramatically, reaching towards the hallway table. He grabs a neatly wrapped box, then hands it over to Charity.

"Oh, the night of my dreams, huh?" Charity laughs a little as she goes to open up the box. "What is this, lingerie?"

P.T. pretends to look hurt. "I'm offended. Really."

He waits until she finishes opening it up to reveal a light purple floor-length dress and a new pair of white heels. Charity blushes a little as she unfolds the dress and holds it out in front of her.

"Well," she says, "I guess I was wrong." She leans forward and presses her lips against her husband's for a moment. "Thank you, Phin," she whispers.

P.T. pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing their lips together again. Both of their mouths part, four pairs of lips now moving in perfect synchronization, nearly silent.

When they come up from air, P.T. whispers, "Better go put that on, then. Because I have more planned than just making-out."

Charity smiles a little, then grabs her shoes and hurries into the bathroom to change. Not even five minutes later, she emerges, twirling in her dress so that it billows out around her. They're both laughing: P.T. in admiration, Charity in joy. He holds out his hand again and she grabs ahold of it, letting him lead her outside.

There's a carriage waiting at the edge of the lawn, and they step inside. Despite Charity's playful nagging, asking her husband where he's taking her, he refuses to give in.

"It's a surprise!" he keeps saying, looking out the window with a permanent smile plastered on his face.

They stop at the beach, and Charity momentarily raises her eyebrows at her husband. He doesn't notice, though, as he's quick to hop out of the carriage to offer his hand to her and help her out. He then grabs the picnic basket from the floor, and the two of them walk out on the sand.

"Why'd you give me new heels if you were taking me to the beach?" Charity asks through a small laugh, stopping to slip them off and shake the sand out.

P.T. shrugs. "I figured a new dress deserved a new pair of shoes."

Charity rolls her eyes—lovingly. "But, honey, I have enough dresses and pairs of shoes to wear one a day for the next year without repeating."

"Oh, well," he simply says. "Another one doesn't hurt."

They begin to slow as they near the boardwalk, and P.T. watches Charity's reaction closely, smiling. Her eyes are wide as they stare down the boardwalk, completely illuminated with Christmas lights and candles, instrumental music playing through the speakers. The sun is beginning to set, illuminating the sky in the brightest palette of warm colors ever known to mankind: a mixture of oranges and yellows and reds and pinks and purples, casting dark shadows along the ocean and the sand. It could not look more perfect.

"Oh, Phin," Charity says in disbelief.

"See, that's why you needed the new shoes," P.T. teases, leaning down to kiss Charity's temple. She playfully swats at his arm, then suddenly takes off at a run towards the boardwalk. P.T. quickly catches on to her little game, and runs after her.

They're a fit of giggles as they both stop at the end of the boardwalk, stumbling around as they try to catch their breaths. Charity falls into P.T., resting the side of her head against his chest as she stares off into the sunset.

"It's so beautiful," she whispers, still breathing heavily. "I wish everyday could be like this, you know?"

"Yeah," P.T. agrees.

They stand there in silence for the next few minutes, watching the sun gradually make its way below the horizon line. Charity still holds her heels, and P.T. still holds the picnic basket.

"You hungry?" he eventually asks, holding it up.

Charity nods eagerly, smiling, then helps P.T. set it all up.

They just lay there on the boardwalk, enjoying each other's company while they eat, talk about things, be a little bit more intimate than they would in front of the girls. And when the last streaks of orange have been replaced by a deep purple, P.T. stands up, offering Charity his hand again. She slips on her shoes, and then they slow dance to the soft music.

They watch the first stars appear and black replace the purple. They lay on their backs and try to find and name the constellations, and then create their own new ones. They make wishes on shooting stars—primarily for more beautiful nights like these.

And when the clock in the distance strikes twelve, they pack up the picnic basket and start to head back down the boardwalk, hand-in-hand, and Charity's head resting against P.T.'s shoulder.

They're immersed in a quiet, calm, comfortable silence as they climb back into the carriage, and then share a kiss that speaks millions. It's as if it's their last kiss, and they need to treasure every touch, every feeling, every sound.

Back at home, they fall asleep on the living room floor, tangled in blankets and pillows and each other's arms. Their hearts and souls filled with joy and peace, making more wishes on the shooting stars in their minds.

On the verge of sleep, P.T. kisses the top of Charity's head. "Happy birthday, Charity," he whispers. And she shifts ever so slightly, cuddling in closer to her husband, her lips turning up into a smile.