Fic! Yay!
Title: It's All Down to Timing
Disclaimer: Greater people than me own the characters depicted.
Author: Classicist Lass (aka classics_lover)
Author's Notes: written for sampaguita_blue who asked for unrequited Sally/Patrick and a birthday present disaster. Sorry it took so long, but the ending was problematic for my Muses.
Summary: It's Patrick's Birthday, and Sally wants to get him the best present.
Rating/Warning(s): 12A for innuendo and themes.
*-*-*
6 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Sally Harper paced her flat in agitation as she listened to the chirp-chirp of the outgoing phone call not being answered. Finally, as she was about to hang up on the 17th ring of her 5th attempt to make this call, the phone was answered.
"Susan, thank God I've got you! What were you doing? Never mind that, this is an emergency!" Sally gasped this out in a rush, as she collapsed onto her couch.
"Hello Sally."
"Steve, what are you doing there?"
"My phone, actually."
"I'd like to talk to Susan."
"Kind of got that, what with all the hysterical squealing. What sort of emergency is it? Life or death? Or does your pinkie finger look like it might need Botox?"
"Much, much, much worse than that. May I please speak to Susan?"
"Just give her a minute to catch her breath. You interrupted us."
"What were you doing?"
"Susan."
"You were doing Susan? What do you...? Oh. Oh! Oh, I see. Oh, I'm sorry Steve."
"You say that, but you haven't hung up yet."
"I really need to talk to Susan."
"Well, if it's that important..."
"It is, Steve, I promise you, it's a real emergency."
"Here she is. Good night Sally."
"Night, Steve. Susan?"
"Sally. What's wrong this time? Have you discovered a patch of dry, flaky skin?"
"No! Why do people always assume that? It's not that kind of emergency!"
"Well then, what kind of emergency is it? Is your flat on fire? Are you in hospital?"
"It's Patrick's birthday in six weeks' time, and I don't know what to get him!"
"That's not really an emergency, now, is it? We'll talk tomorrow."
"But, but, but Susan, what if I get him something amazing and he realises how I feel?"
"Go to sleep, Sally."
"And then he laughs at me? I'd be humiliated. Birthdays are stressful enough as it is for me!"
"Good night Sally."
"People get older on their birthdays! Do you know how depressing that is? Susan?"
But Susan had hung up.
*-*-*
3 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Sally and Jane were already sitting at the girls' usual table with bottles of red, white and rosé wine open in front of them when Susan arrived. Sally was highly-strung and agitated, and Jane was looking worriedly at her friend.
"Sorry I'm late," said Susan, pouring herself a glass of rosé. "What's the matter, Sally?"
"Patrick's birthday is now in three weeks' time, and I still don't know what to give him!"
"Yes, I know that. You told me so last night. You know Steve's going to have your number blocked from his phone if you don't stop calling in the middle of … things," said Susan seriously. "Your panicky voice, surprisingly enough, seems to kill the mood for him."
"That's easily remedied, Susan," said Jane slyly. "All you have to do is put on a video of Steven King's The Shining."
"The horror film with Jack Nicholson?" Susan asked sceptically. "It's not exactly a title that screams "sex, sex, sex", though."
"Of course it is. He gets scared after ten minutes and pulls me onto his lap, and things ... escalate," she finished smugly.
"Oh, I see what you mean. Steve and I have our own film for putting us both in the Mood. I just have to put on Gladiator at the scene where Russell Crowe is in chains and I can't keep my hands off him. And he loves that film," Susan gloated.
Jane pouted and downed another glass of red. During this exchange Sally chose to alternate between giving Susan the Glare of Doom and polishing off the white wine.
"What about Patrick?" Sally asked plaintively.
"Patrick and I didn't really have a sex movie, per se. We only went out for a month, remember?"
"What am I going to get him for his birthday?"
"Surely you're better qualified than we are to decide that. After all, you have a movie night every week with him, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but... This present has to give him a special message!"
"Why not just ask him what he wants?"
"Because! He's my best man-friend. I know him inside out. I'm supposed to know what he wants already! And men never ask for special gifts, they only ever want useful stuff. I can't give Patrick a useful present! It's not special enough!"
Sally drained her glass and refilled it.
"Alright, then," sighed Susan. "What do you need your present to say?"
"I need it to say 'I love you'. No, wait. Scratch that, not 'I love you'. It can't say 'I love you' until I know he loves me. Let me see. I need it to say 'you're special to me'. But it has to say that in a nonchalant sort of way, in a best friend sort of way, not in a needy or desperate or lonely way. I don't want him to think I'm pining for him. I want to give him something special, that will make him think of me, make him want me; but on my terms, not his. And I want it to cost less than a hundred pounds," said Sally, dithering and quavering uncertainly. "And … do you think I should throw a surprise party for him? Like you and Steve did for Jeff?"
"Well, that certainly seems a tall order; at least for a hundred pounds," said Susan. "And, I think you should maybe let me take care of catering; I want Steve to get used to having parties at our place."
"His place, don't you mean?" Jane cut in.
"No, I mean our place. We are living together, now, and he needs to know where he stands in the pecking order; the best way to do that is with dinner parties," said Susan defiantly, clearly practising for when she would debate the matter with Steve.
"As for the present; I've got Steve to do some espionage for me, to find out what Patrick would like. He's promised to get it out of him as soon as he can, as subtly as he can."
*-*-*
Still 3 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Patrick was already ensconced in his favourite armchair in the pub when Steve and Jeff arrived. They got their drinks and joined him, sitting on the sofa.
"So, Patrick, I understand your birthday's coming up in a few weeks," said Steve when he'd had his first sip of beer.
"That's right; what about it?"
"What d'you want? As a present?"
Resting his chin on his hand, with a finger brushing the corner of his mouth, Patrick sat back and thought for a moment.
"Spoiler for my car?"
"Let me rephrase that: what gift can Susan and I get for you that'll cost less than a hundred quid?"
"Ah. Right. Erm ... Let me think about that and I'll get back to you," said Patrick.
"Make sure you do. I don't want to go traipsing 'round the shops with Susan, looking for something she'll "know when she sees that's right for you". That takes ages, and nobody wants those kind of gifts," said Steve, gesticulating with his pint glass.
"You've never asked me what I want for my birthday," Jeff piped up. "So how do you always know?"
"Two reasons. One: I've known you since school. Two: You love porn. It's a gift that's guaranteed not to go wrong," said Steve smugly. "I'm not buying you porn, Patrick," he added sharply.
"Why not?"
"Susan understands about Jeff, but she actually went out with you. For a whole month. She'd never understand. And you know what she thinks of the adult industry as a whole, anyway," said Steve slightly sulkily.
"True for you, mate," said Jeff.
"S'pose you're right," said Patrick in disappointment. "Still, it'd be nice, though."
"Yeah," Jeff agreed. "Steve's got good taste. Hey, do you guys ever wonder..."
"Oh, here we go," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Why do they call it the Adult industry, when really, their biggest fans have a mental age of fifteen?"
"Because actual fifteen year olds don't have credit cards?" Steve offered sardonically.
"Maybe because the age of consent's sixteen?" Patrick asked.
"You know, Patrick, that must be the most mature, un-shallow answer I've ever heard you give," said Steve admiringly.
"Of course, girls only really start looking fit when they're eighteen, and by then they are almost adults, anyway," Patrick added thoughtfully; Steve shook his head, despairing of his friend's shallow nature.
"So, getting back to your birthday, Patrick: how are you going to celebrate it?"
"Go on the pull, I guess," shrugged Patrick, slurping his Guinness.
"Well that's hardly special; you go on the pull every other night," said Steve. "Listen, Susan's always looking for excuses to have dinner parties at ours, maybe I can talk her into doing something for your special day. How's that sound?"
"Yeah, that sounds good. You'll bring Sally along, right?"
"'Course we will. What about you, Jeff? You in?"
"'Course I am. I love Susan's cooking," said Jeff. He closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his head to one side.
"Jeff," said Steve sternly, before Jeff could carry on his train of thought, "if you mention my girlfriend, food, the word "naked" and your imagination in the same sentence, I'm going to have to hurt you. Do you understand that?"
"I suppose so," said Jeff, pouting.
*-*-*
1 Week To Go
*-*-*
At around half past four on the Friday before Patrick's birthday (which would take place the following Thursday) Steve Taylor came home from the supermarket laden down with groceries. He slammed the front door shut with his foot and marched straight into the kitchen to tidy everything away. He was heading out to the hall to hang up his jacket when he noticed Susan was in the sitting room.
"You're home early," he said, smiling warmly as he picked her up and kissed her thoroughly.
"Ahem," said a prim feminine voice.
"Oh, for God's sake! Every damn time I get a moment alone with her, Sally. Every bloody time! For five weeks! Five whole weeks, Sally! Are you trying to get on my nerves? Because if you are, let me tell you, you've succeeded beyond your wildest dreams."
"Steve! Be nice," Susan admonished with good humour. "Sally and I are just trying to work out what to get for Patrick, since you haven't discovered what he wants."
Steve noticed an alarming number of store catalogues on the coffee table. Catalogues from expensive stores. He needed to do some damage limitation, and he needed to do it before his girlfriend bankrupted him.
"That's not true!" Steve protested. "Not entirely, anyway," he added for Susan's benefit.
"Well then, get on with it! What does Patrick want?"
"Spoiler for his car?" Steve suggested.
"And how much would that cost?" Susan asked sardonically.
"Anywhere from four hundred quid to a grand."
"That's out of the question, then," said Susan authoritatively. "Anything else?"
"He likes music, so maybe a mix tape?"
Susan was about to scoff at Steve when Sally got a look of inspiration on her face.
"That's not a bad idea, Steve, and I could get a small stereo for him, too; he was complaining that the decorators broke his last one. He'd like that because it's personal and practical! Thank you Steve!"
"You're welcome, Sally," said Steve, while treating Susan to his "I told you so" face.
*-*-*
PBD - Day (Patrick's Birthday - Day)
*-*-*
"Are we in agreement? Susan?" Steve was following Susan around the flat in high agitation.
"Yes, Steve! We are in agreement. After what happened last time, Jane is not allowed to bring any guests," said Susan exasperatedly.
"And there will be no mention made of my videos?"
"I can guarantee it," Susan ground out.
"And, Susan, one more thing," said Steve.
"What! What thing? What do you want?" Susan practically shouted.
Steve pulled back, pouting, and folded his arms.
"Nothing," he muttered.
"No, Steve, come on. I'm sorry I got cross, it's just that Sally's pestering me to get everything perfect, and now you… What was it?" Susan relented quickly.
"No, no, it doesn't matter," said Steve, posturing sulkily.
"Yes, yes it does matter. Please, tell me?" Susan pleaded.
"Just wanted a cuddle," muttered Steve.
He turned away and sat down on the couch, back straight, arms folded, one foot on the coffee table. Steve was definitely in Sulking Teenager mode. Susan sat beside him, and he sniffed and pushed over to the side of the couch. Susan moved over, too, and climbed onto his lap. Steve sniffed again, and looked to one side.
"Steve," said Susan in a singsong tone.
"What?"
"Are you pretending to be annoyed with me so I'll apologise and we can have make-up sex tonight?"
"Maybe. Did it work?"
"Not even a little bit."
Steve's next pout was genuine and heartfelt. Sally appeared as if from nowhere and tutted loudly.
"Will you two kindly leave the fighting until after my party?"
"It's Patrick's party - and I'll sulk if I want to!"
"She has a point, Steve," said Susan. "There's still quite a bit to do. You could wrap Patrick's presents, if you wanted something to do."
"What if I didn't want something to do?" Steve muttered rebelliously.
"Then you would have nothing to look forward to tonight, after everyone has gone," said Susan.
"But I thought ... Shameless manipulator," said Steve admiringly. "It worked, I'm going, I'll wrap presents," he added quickly as Susan looked outraged.
*-*-*
"Women are God's idea of a practical joke," said a harassed-looking Steve to Jeff and Patrick as he opened the front door.
"Yeah ... why?" Patrick asked, not really interested.
"Doesn't matter," sighed Steve. "Happy Birthday, Patrick."
"Yeah, Happy Birthday," Jeff chimed in.
"Thanks, guys," said Patrick happily.
*-*
"Time for presents!" Sally shouted, practically deafening the whole group. She was definitely the worse for wear, having polished off most of a bottle of red wine all by herself out of nerves.
Patrick opened Jeff's gift first.
"Porn! Brilliant! How did you know?"
"Who doesn't love a bit of porn on their birthday?"
"Charming, Jeff," said Susan.
Jane handed her gift over next.
"Excellent! More porn! Thank you, Jane."
"You're welcome. You know, I find it is a brilliant gift for a man, because what man will turn it down, and nobody will ever return it!"
"That's ... lovely, Jane, just lovely," said Susan.
"You never ever gave me porn when we went out," said Steve in outrage. "I begged!"
Susan glared at Steve and he quickly backtracked.
"Not that I'm into that kind of thing anymore!"
Steve handed over a hastily-wrapped box next. Patrick picked it up and shook it.
"Is it more porn?"
"Nope," said Susan.
"Aw," said Patrick.
"Open it!"
"A model car! Brilliant!"
"Yep, it's a remote control BMW Z-5, just like your car. Rechargable battery, and there's a webcam with it so you can post your journeys online," said Steve proudly.
"What is it about men and gadgets?" Susan asked rhetorically. "It's not like they ever appreciate my gadgets."
"Your gadgets are scary," said Steve succinctly. "What d'you think? Like it?"
"Fantastic," said Patrick, immensely pleased.
"And now mine, Patrick. Open my present," said Sally.
"Oh, er, a radio. Great. Just what I wanted," said Patrick.
"It's not just a radio, it's a stereo CD-player, too. And there's a mixed CD of all your favourite songs, too," Sally added, desperate to hide how hurt she was by his disappointment.
"Well, it's a great gift, Sally, and I bet it took ages to get it, but ... um ... did you by any chance keep the receipt? Only Ivan - you remember Ivan, right? Well he got me this ultra-cool, multi-changer, subwoofer, surround sound, hi-fi system. So I don't really need this."
"What? You mean that blustering, overbearing, competitive shagger out-gifted me? That's not fair! That can't be allowed, can it? I mean, it's not like he's your real friend, is it? Can't you return his gift instead of mine?"
"Well, I could, but then I wouldn't have subwoofer surround sound for changing my CDs, would I?" Patrick asked reasonably. "And it is my birthday present, right?"
"No! It's mine! I bought it, made it, wrapped it-"
"Oi! I was the one who wrapped it," Steve interrupted.
"Whatever. Doesn't really matter anyway, does it? It's not like it was a lot of work or anything. It's not like it's been keeping me awake at night, worrying about how much you'll like it," Sally said, very quickly, laughing breathily - almost hysterically.
"So ... the receipt, then," Patrick prompted.
"I'll see if it's at home. I'll give it to you on movie night," huffed Sally.
*-*
Not long after that, Steve and Susan saw their friends out the door and began to clear up the party's detritus.
"That went well," said Steve.
"Yes," agreed Susan, "except for poor Sally's present."
"Yeah, that was unfortunate. At least she won't be interrupting us while I … interrupt this tidy-up for a special bulletin," Steve said in his bedroom-voice.
Steve had managed to half-undress Susan and had her pinned beneath him on the sofa when the phone rang.
*-*
The neighbour who smoked watched calmly as, accompanied by the sound of a roaring Taylor, a telephone handset was flung unceremoniously out the window, to be smashed under the wheels of a passing van.
*-*-*
Disclaimer: Greater people than me own the characters depicted.
Author: Classicist Lass (aka classics_lover)
Author's Notes: written for sampaguita_blue who asked for unrequited Sally/Patrick and a birthday present disaster. Sorry it took so long, but the ending was problematic for my Muses.
Summary: It's Patrick's Birthday, and Sally wants to get him the best present.
Rating/Warning(s): 12A for innuendo and themes.
*-*-*
6 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Sally Harper paced her flat in agitation as she listened to the chirp-chirp of the outgoing phone call not being answered. Finally, as she was about to hang up on the 17th ring of her 5th attempt to make this call, the phone was answered.
"Susan, thank God I've got you! What were you doing? Never mind that, this is an emergency!" Sally gasped this out in a rush, as she collapsed onto her couch.
"Hello Sally."
"Steve, what are you doing there?"
"My phone, actually."
"I'd like to talk to Susan."
"Kind of got that, what with all the hysterical squealing. What sort of emergency is it? Life or death? Or does your pinkie finger look like it might need Botox?"
"Much, much, much worse than that. May I please speak to Susan?"
"Just give her a minute to catch her breath. You interrupted us."
"What were you doing?"
"Susan."
"You were doing Susan? What do you...? Oh. Oh! Oh, I see. Oh, I'm sorry Steve."
"You say that, but you haven't hung up yet."
"I really need to talk to Susan."
"Well, if it's that important..."
"It is, Steve, I promise you, it's a real emergency."
"Here she is. Good night Sally."
"Night, Steve. Susan?"
"Sally. What's wrong this time? Have you discovered a patch of dry, flaky skin?"
"No! Why do people always assume that? It's not that kind of emergency!"
"Well then, what kind of emergency is it? Is your flat on fire? Are you in hospital?"
"It's Patrick's birthday in six weeks' time, and I don't know what to get him!"
"That's not really an emergency, now, is it? We'll talk tomorrow."
"But, but, but Susan, what if I get him something amazing and he realises how I feel?"
"Go to sleep, Sally."
"And then he laughs at me? I'd be humiliated. Birthdays are stressful enough as it is for me!"
"Good night Sally."
"People get older on their birthdays! Do you know how depressing that is? Susan?"
But Susan had hung up.
*-*-*
3 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Sally and Jane were already sitting at the girls' usual table with bottles of red, white and rosé wine open in front of them when Susan arrived. Sally was highly-strung and agitated, and Jane was looking worriedly at her friend.
"Sorry I'm late," said Susan, pouring herself a glass of rosé. "What's the matter, Sally?"
"Patrick's birthday is now in three weeks' time, and I still don't know what to give him!"
"Yes, I know that. You told me so last night. You know Steve's going to have your number blocked from his phone if you don't stop calling in the middle of … things," said Susan seriously. "Your panicky voice, surprisingly enough, seems to kill the mood for him."
"That's easily remedied, Susan," said Jane slyly. "All you have to do is put on a video of Steven King's The Shining."
"The horror film with Jack Nicholson?" Susan asked sceptically. "It's not exactly a title that screams "sex, sex, sex", though."
"Of course it is. He gets scared after ten minutes and pulls me onto his lap, and things ... escalate," she finished smugly.
"Oh, I see what you mean. Steve and I have our own film for putting us both in the Mood. I just have to put on Gladiator at the scene where Russell Crowe is in chains and I can't keep my hands off him. And he loves that film," Susan gloated.
Jane pouted and downed another glass of red. During this exchange Sally chose to alternate between giving Susan the Glare of Doom and polishing off the white wine.
"What about Patrick?" Sally asked plaintively.
"Patrick and I didn't really have a sex movie, per se. We only went out for a month, remember?"
"What am I going to get him for his birthday?"
"Surely you're better qualified than we are to decide that. After all, you have a movie night every week with him, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but... This present has to give him a special message!"
"Why not just ask him what he wants?"
"Because! He's my best man-friend. I know him inside out. I'm supposed to know what he wants already! And men never ask for special gifts, they only ever want useful stuff. I can't give Patrick a useful present! It's not special enough!"
Sally drained her glass and refilled it.
"Alright, then," sighed Susan. "What do you need your present to say?"
"I need it to say 'I love you'. No, wait. Scratch that, not 'I love you'. It can't say 'I love you' until I know he loves me. Let me see. I need it to say 'you're special to me'. But it has to say that in a nonchalant sort of way, in a best friend sort of way, not in a needy or desperate or lonely way. I don't want him to think I'm pining for him. I want to give him something special, that will make him think of me, make him want me; but on my terms, not his. And I want it to cost less than a hundred pounds," said Sally, dithering and quavering uncertainly. "And … do you think I should throw a surprise party for him? Like you and Steve did for Jeff?"
"Well, that certainly seems a tall order; at least for a hundred pounds," said Susan. "And, I think you should maybe let me take care of catering; I want Steve to get used to having parties at our place."
"His place, don't you mean?" Jane cut in.
"No, I mean our place. We are living together, now, and he needs to know where he stands in the pecking order; the best way to do that is with dinner parties," said Susan defiantly, clearly practising for when she would debate the matter with Steve.
"As for the present; I've got Steve to do some espionage for me, to find out what Patrick would like. He's promised to get it out of him as soon as he can, as subtly as he can."
*-*-*
Still 3 Weeks To Go
*-*-*
Patrick was already ensconced in his favourite armchair in the pub when Steve and Jeff arrived. They got their drinks and joined him, sitting on the sofa.
"So, Patrick, I understand your birthday's coming up in a few weeks," said Steve when he'd had his first sip of beer.
"That's right; what about it?"
"What d'you want? As a present?"
Resting his chin on his hand, with a finger brushing the corner of his mouth, Patrick sat back and thought for a moment.
"Spoiler for my car?"
"Let me rephrase that: what gift can Susan and I get for you that'll cost less than a hundred quid?"
"Ah. Right. Erm ... Let me think about that and I'll get back to you," said Patrick.
"Make sure you do. I don't want to go traipsing 'round the shops with Susan, looking for something she'll "know when she sees that's right for you". That takes ages, and nobody wants those kind of gifts," said Steve, gesticulating with his pint glass.
"You've never asked me what I want for my birthday," Jeff piped up. "So how do you always know?"
"Two reasons. One: I've known you since school. Two: You love porn. It's a gift that's guaranteed not to go wrong," said Steve smugly. "I'm not buying you porn, Patrick," he added sharply.
"Why not?"
"Susan understands about Jeff, but she actually went out with you. For a whole month. She'd never understand. And you know what she thinks of the adult industry as a whole, anyway," said Steve slightly sulkily.
"True for you, mate," said Jeff.
"S'pose you're right," said Patrick in disappointment. "Still, it'd be nice, though."
"Yeah," Jeff agreed. "Steve's got good taste. Hey, do you guys ever wonder..."
"Oh, here we go," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Why do they call it the Adult industry, when really, their biggest fans have a mental age of fifteen?"
"Because actual fifteen year olds don't have credit cards?" Steve offered sardonically.
"Maybe because the age of consent's sixteen?" Patrick asked.
"You know, Patrick, that must be the most mature, un-shallow answer I've ever heard you give," said Steve admiringly.
"Of course, girls only really start looking fit when they're eighteen, and by then they are almost adults, anyway," Patrick added thoughtfully; Steve shook his head, despairing of his friend's shallow nature.
"So, getting back to your birthday, Patrick: how are you going to celebrate it?"
"Go on the pull, I guess," shrugged Patrick, slurping his Guinness.
"Well that's hardly special; you go on the pull every other night," said Steve. "Listen, Susan's always looking for excuses to have dinner parties at ours, maybe I can talk her into doing something for your special day. How's that sound?"
"Yeah, that sounds good. You'll bring Sally along, right?"
"'Course we will. What about you, Jeff? You in?"
"'Course I am. I love Susan's cooking," said Jeff. He closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his head to one side.
"Jeff," said Steve sternly, before Jeff could carry on his train of thought, "if you mention my girlfriend, food, the word "naked" and your imagination in the same sentence, I'm going to have to hurt you. Do you understand that?"
"I suppose so," said Jeff, pouting.
*-*-*
1 Week To Go
*-*-*
At around half past four on the Friday before Patrick's birthday (which would take place the following Thursday) Steve Taylor came home from the supermarket laden down with groceries. He slammed the front door shut with his foot and marched straight into the kitchen to tidy everything away. He was heading out to the hall to hang up his jacket when he noticed Susan was in the sitting room.
"You're home early," he said, smiling warmly as he picked her up and kissed her thoroughly.
"Ahem," said a prim feminine voice.
"Oh, for God's sake! Every damn time I get a moment alone with her, Sally. Every bloody time! For five weeks! Five whole weeks, Sally! Are you trying to get on my nerves? Because if you are, let me tell you, you've succeeded beyond your wildest dreams."
"Steve! Be nice," Susan admonished with good humour. "Sally and I are just trying to work out what to get for Patrick, since you haven't discovered what he wants."
Steve noticed an alarming number of store catalogues on the coffee table. Catalogues from expensive stores. He needed to do some damage limitation, and he needed to do it before his girlfriend bankrupted him.
"That's not true!" Steve protested. "Not entirely, anyway," he added for Susan's benefit.
"Well then, get on with it! What does Patrick want?"
"Spoiler for his car?" Steve suggested.
"And how much would that cost?" Susan asked sardonically.
"Anywhere from four hundred quid to a grand."
"That's out of the question, then," said Susan authoritatively. "Anything else?"
"He likes music, so maybe a mix tape?"
Susan was about to scoff at Steve when Sally got a look of inspiration on her face.
"That's not a bad idea, Steve, and I could get a small stereo for him, too; he was complaining that the decorators broke his last one. He'd like that because it's personal and practical! Thank you Steve!"
"You're welcome, Sally," said Steve, while treating Susan to his "I told you so" face.
*-*-*
PBD - Day (Patrick's Birthday - Day)
*-*-*
"Are we in agreement? Susan?" Steve was following Susan around the flat in high agitation.
"Yes, Steve! We are in agreement. After what happened last time, Jane is not allowed to bring any guests," said Susan exasperatedly.
"And there will be no mention made of my videos?"
"I can guarantee it," Susan ground out.
"And, Susan, one more thing," said Steve.
"What! What thing? What do you want?" Susan practically shouted.
Steve pulled back, pouting, and folded his arms.
"Nothing," he muttered.
"No, Steve, come on. I'm sorry I got cross, it's just that Sally's pestering me to get everything perfect, and now you… What was it?" Susan relented quickly.
"No, no, it doesn't matter," said Steve, posturing sulkily.
"Yes, yes it does matter. Please, tell me?" Susan pleaded.
"Just wanted a cuddle," muttered Steve.
He turned away and sat down on the couch, back straight, arms folded, one foot on the coffee table. Steve was definitely in Sulking Teenager mode. Susan sat beside him, and he sniffed and pushed over to the side of the couch. Susan moved over, too, and climbed onto his lap. Steve sniffed again, and looked to one side.
"Steve," said Susan in a singsong tone.
"What?"
"Are you pretending to be annoyed with me so I'll apologise and we can have make-up sex tonight?"
"Maybe. Did it work?"
"Not even a little bit."
Steve's next pout was genuine and heartfelt. Sally appeared as if from nowhere and tutted loudly.
"Will you two kindly leave the fighting until after my party?"
"It's Patrick's party - and I'll sulk if I want to!"
"She has a point, Steve," said Susan. "There's still quite a bit to do. You could wrap Patrick's presents, if you wanted something to do."
"What if I didn't want something to do?" Steve muttered rebelliously.
"Then you would have nothing to look forward to tonight, after everyone has gone," said Susan.
"But I thought ... Shameless manipulator," said Steve admiringly. "It worked, I'm going, I'll wrap presents," he added quickly as Susan looked outraged.
*-*-*
"Women are God's idea of a practical joke," said a harassed-looking Steve to Jeff and Patrick as he opened the front door.
"Yeah ... why?" Patrick asked, not really interested.
"Doesn't matter," sighed Steve. "Happy Birthday, Patrick."
"Yeah, Happy Birthday," Jeff chimed in.
"Thanks, guys," said Patrick happily.
*-*
"Time for presents!" Sally shouted, practically deafening the whole group. She was definitely the worse for wear, having polished off most of a bottle of red wine all by herself out of nerves.
Patrick opened Jeff's gift first.
"Porn! Brilliant! How did you know?"
"Who doesn't love a bit of porn on their birthday?"
"Charming, Jeff," said Susan.
Jane handed her gift over next.
"Excellent! More porn! Thank you, Jane."
"You're welcome. You know, I find it is a brilliant gift for a man, because what man will turn it down, and nobody will ever return it!"
"That's ... lovely, Jane, just lovely," said Susan.
"You never ever gave me porn when we went out," said Steve in outrage. "I begged!"
Susan glared at Steve and he quickly backtracked.
"Not that I'm into that kind of thing anymore!"
Steve handed over a hastily-wrapped box next. Patrick picked it up and shook it.
"Is it more porn?"
"Nope," said Susan.
"Aw," said Patrick.
"Open it!"
"A model car! Brilliant!"
"Yep, it's a remote control BMW Z-5, just like your car. Rechargable battery, and there's a webcam with it so you can post your journeys online," said Steve proudly.
"What is it about men and gadgets?" Susan asked rhetorically. "It's not like they ever appreciate my gadgets."
"Your gadgets are scary," said Steve succinctly. "What d'you think? Like it?"
"Fantastic," said Patrick, immensely pleased.
"And now mine, Patrick. Open my present," said Sally.
"Oh, er, a radio. Great. Just what I wanted," said Patrick.
"It's not just a radio, it's a stereo CD-player, too. And there's a mixed CD of all your favourite songs, too," Sally added, desperate to hide how hurt she was by his disappointment.
"Well, it's a great gift, Sally, and I bet it took ages to get it, but ... um ... did you by any chance keep the receipt? Only Ivan - you remember Ivan, right? Well he got me this ultra-cool, multi-changer, subwoofer, surround sound, hi-fi system. So I don't really need this."
"What? You mean that blustering, overbearing, competitive shagger out-gifted me? That's not fair! That can't be allowed, can it? I mean, it's not like he's your real friend, is it? Can't you return his gift instead of mine?"
"Well, I could, but then I wouldn't have subwoofer surround sound for changing my CDs, would I?" Patrick asked reasonably. "And it is my birthday present, right?"
"No! It's mine! I bought it, made it, wrapped it-"
"Oi! I was the one who wrapped it," Steve interrupted.
"Whatever. Doesn't really matter anyway, does it? It's not like it was a lot of work or anything. It's not like it's been keeping me awake at night, worrying about how much you'll like it," Sally said, very quickly, laughing breathily - almost hysterically.
"So ... the receipt, then," Patrick prompted.
"I'll see if it's at home. I'll give it to you on movie night," huffed Sally.
*-*
Not long after that, Steve and Susan saw their friends out the door and began to clear up the party's detritus.
"That went well," said Steve.
"Yes," agreed Susan, "except for poor Sally's present."
"Yeah, that was unfortunate. At least she won't be interrupting us while I … interrupt this tidy-up for a special bulletin," Steve said in his bedroom-voice.
Steve had managed to half-undress Susan and had her pinned beneath him on the sofa when the phone rang.
*-*
The neighbour who smoked watched calmly as, accompanied by the sound of a roaring Taylor, a telephone handset was flung unceremoniously out the window, to be smashed under the wheels of a passing van.
*-*-*