Nick's birthday today

[See? I was trying to be consistent with the post title. Anyway, possibly the record number of grammatical mistakes in a while, and yet my editor managed to beta it in record time (almost freakishly fast, in fact o_O) which, I'm sure, Nick would appreciate if the logic of fiction, fictional characters, and real life ever got compromised and then sorted out. ]

May: Birthday, part II

Certain types of friends should come with warning signs, simply because they were the types of people they were, and had a habit of doing the sort of things that they did. Admittedly, it wasn’t because of anything bad. More often than not, the warning was needed just as a precaution because for certain types of friendship, randomness and surprises were an inseparable part of the package.

At the sound of the first knock, Zach lit the candles, hoping that Nick had strong heart and no genetic predisposition for panic attacks. He wasn’t sure if he had managed to get the point of dumping-things-over-other-people-is-bad across but, if it came to the worst, the cider and the food were on the table and Mike would have to get around him to reach them.

“The door’s open, you know,” Mike raised his voice. He grinned at them. Gary gave him a thumbs up and aimed—Zach saw with a sinking heart—several of the annoyances that people generally called ‘party poppers’ at the door. Don’t, Zach mouthed. His friends either didn’t see or, as was more likely the case, pretended not to notice.

He blew out the candle, positioned himself directly in front of the cider, just in case, and crossed his arms in the universal come-what-may gesture. The doorknob turned.

Zach hoped Nick had a strong heart.

The doorknob turned, squeaking slightly as it did. Gary made a note to file a room repair report about it and readjusted his grip on the party poppers.

“Are all of you guys here without me?” Came Nick’s voice from on the other side of the door. It was a complaint if Gary ever heard one. He grinned slightly wider and, as the door opened, yanked on the strings of the multiple poppers.

Which promptly exploded with the sound equivalent of a miniature fire cracker, about an inch to the right of Nick’s shoulder. Nick gave an undignified yelp and made a leap backward, but Mike was already there, hauling Nick, wide-eyed and shocked, into the room.

“Why look,” he drawled, unceremoniously shoving Nick into a chair half filled with bits of the crepe streamers that were now hoping to ascend to a better place. “It’s the birthday boy.”

Crunch, went the decorations.

“Happy birthday,” quipped up Zach. “We got food. And movies. And presents, of course. Which one would you like first?”

“Say food,” whispered Gary loudly, and was pleased when Mike threw the bag of chips at him.

“Um,” tried Nick. He looked at them, looked at the room, food, rented DVDs and all, fished a bit of confetti out of the collar of his shirt, and looked at them again. “Er.” He said, more urgently, after a moment.

“That’s a good start,” said Mike dryly, but he was grinning, just the same. “How about trying for a actual reco’izeable language this time? English? Français?”

“Polska?” added Gary, “Ducth?”

“Joyeux anniversa?” attempted Zach. Mike made a face at him.

“Don’t,” he instructed. “First of all, it’s joyeux anniversaire, second of all, most people ‘round here say bon anniversaire and third—your accent’s awful.”

“Thanks,” said Zach. His lips twitched. “I’ll keep those in mind.” Mike eyed him suspiciously.

“Oh my god,” said Nick.

“Oh my god the man talked!” Gary used his announcer’s voice—the one he’d learned from his dad. He held out an imaginary microphone. “Is there anything you would like to say on your special day, Monsieur Lucille?”

A smile spread across Nick’s face, slow and beautifully genuine. He laughed, looked around as if he was seeing the room, seeing them, for the first time, and laughed again. He still looked overwhelmed, but happily so. “Oh my god you guys!” His voice was a little strange, but no one mentioned it. “I cannot believe you did this!”

“I can punch you,” Mike suggested. “To make sure that you’re not, you know, dreamin’.”

“Mike!” hissed Zach.

“What?” protested Mike, unrepentant, “He looks like he needs it!” He pointed to Nick, who was grinning stupidly as he dazedly pulled out shreds of streamers from behind him, underneath him, and partially over him like brightly colored vines and dropping them onto the floor. Gary admitted that Mike did have a point since Nick did, in fact, look a bit as if he were in a dream.

Gary rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, but that didn’t quite erase the smile there. He opened the bag of chips that he’d been holding, offering them to Nick first.

“Chips?” He asked. Then added, “Happy birthday!”

[P.S. If I get a few minutes of extra time before my classes I'll experiment with baby Nick. Should be interesting.]