for stef, who deserves buttercream
FIVE SIX WAYS TO FAIL AT BIRTHDAYS
a Cell-Bean Production
brought to you by celli and barely_bean
Author's Note 1: Stef, Happy Birthday from the crazy fictional men (and even crazier real friends) in your life. -- Celli
Author's Note 2: Tiger, it's officially your birthday! I hope you have a fantastic one at that, and that this little collaboration brings you as much joy as you bring to us every day. Love you! -- Caro
Author's Note 3: Thank you to slodwick for looking this over, and for making this community, and for general awesomeness all around.
Disclaimer: No pundits were impregnated in the making of this fic.
Fandom(s): SPN, SN, Psych, Stargate Atlantis, Justice League, PRT
1) Supernatural
Dean put up with the sulking silence. He put up with Sam disappearing outside the motel room every time his phone rang. He put up with the phone ringing, for that matter. All damn day. But somewhere around the thirty-fifth time Sam answered a perfectly reasonable question ("Pepperoni or Canadian bacon?") with a huff and a "WhatEVER," Dean decided enough was enough.
Sam was refusing to look him in the eye, concentrating instead on the static-covered local news playing on the TV. So Dean got his attention the easy way--planting his butt firmly on the inch and a half of dresser space in front of the TV.
"Are you going to tell me what brought on this sudden attack of PMS, or what, Sammy?"
"You have no idea, do you?"
Dean spread his hands wide. "No. Which is why I'm *asking.*"
Sam made a mumbly sort of groan. "What day is it, Dean?"
"What?" Dean thought back. The goatman in Maryland had been on a Sunday, he was pretty sure, and the ghost haunting the SUV in Ohio had been--"Tuesday?" he hazarded.
Sam huffed again--Dean hated that sound--and stomped off into the bathroom. Dean dashed over to the laptop and booted it up.
"Not Tuesday," he said, looking down at the computer calendar. "Thursday." Thursday, May 2, 2007.
Well, shit. Where was he going to get his hands on a birthday card and a bottle of Jack at this hour?
***
2) Sports Night
"I'd just like to say, it's not your birthday today," Danny declared, walking into their shared office.
"...okay."
"No, I mean it. Your birthday, some other day."
Casey made a show of looking at his calendar, then his computer, and then the giant balloons that Natalie tied to the back of his chair, and back at Dan. "Thing is, Dan, I'm fairly sure it is."
"Hmph." Danny stomped (no other word for it, Casey admitted) over to his desk, sitting down in front of his computer and making a show of typing.
"So, why isn't it my birthday?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Because."
"Wow, eloquent. Did anyone ever tell you that you should consider a career in writing?"
Danny scowled, which really just made Casey grin all that much harder. He pushed back from his desk, and walked over to Dan's, hopping up on the desk and leaning over his shoulder.
"I don't think Dana will accept an entire script that says 'blah blah blah'," he said, reading the screen.
"Shut up."
"Danny, why isn't it my birthday?"
Dan sighed, and finally turned around to look at Casey. And then promptly looked away and then mumbled, "Iforgotyourpresent."
"You what?"
"I forgot to get you a present."
"Oh." Casey thought it over. "Nope, still not making sense."
"Casey."
"No seriously, last year you got me a pack of tube socks, and a half-eaten Krispy Kreme. You didn't invalidate my birthday."
"That was different."
"I'm trying to figure out why. I mean, usually your presents to me are of the 'oops I forgot and let me see what I can pick up at Duane Reade on the way in' variety. You'll make it up to me next week with courtside seats to some sporting event and enough steak to cause a decline in the cow population of the United States."
"But. This is..."
"Different. You said that." Casey brought his hand up to cup the back of Dan's neck, forcing eye contact. "What's going on in your kooky little head?"
"Kooky?"
"Kooky," Casey repeated, punctuating the word with a slight squeeze of his hand.
"It's different this year. It's the first, well, you know."
Casey smiled. He got what this was about.
"It's okay Danny, nothing's different. We're still us. Same as we ever were."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Casey said, grinning. He took a quick glance around, then moved in and brushed his lips against the corner of Dan's mouth. "I expect my donut later."
"Consider it done," Danny said, but his voice was shaky. It gave Casey a strange thrill to hear it.
"And maybe, later, tonight, we could stay in, order some Chinese, watch the Knicks lose?"
"Of course," Dan said. "Whatever you want. It's your birthday after all."
***
3) Psych
"Fire!" Shawn shrieked.
Almost everyone in earshot jumped and turned to stare at him, with the exception of Lassiter, who twitched--he'd started doing that lately, twitching--and Gus, who just raised an eyebrow and waited for it.
Shawn's left arm and right leg flailed out in unison, making him look like a Rockette who'd just been tasered. "Fire! Flames! Flickering over an expanse of white! Is it an ice floe? A snowbank?"
(It was a credit to Shawn's charisma that hardly anyone turned to look outside at the 80-degree Southern California afternoon.)
"No, wait! There's a--a wind!" Shawn hunched over as if he were being buffeted by a gale. "And the flames are gone now! What could possibly have defeated such a fire?"
He whirled around and pointed both index fingers at Gus. "YOU!"
"What?"
Lassiter twitched again.
"Juliet!" Shawn called, and she appeared around the corner, carring a giant birthday cake. It said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUS" in messy frosting across the top, and someone--hard to imagine who--had stuck at least twice as many candles as necessary all over it.
"The mystery is solved," Shawn said with a grin, and led the entire police department in a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday."
Lassiter twitched along.
***
4) Stargate Atlantis
"Wait? What's all this?" Rodney asked, entering the half-decorated mess. "We're having a party and no one told me?"
"You're a piece of work," a familiar voice said, and Rodney looked up to see Laura Cadman standing at the top of a stepladder hanging up balloons.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney scowled as he walked over and helped steady the ladder while she climbed down.
Laura hopped off the last stair and then turned around to face Rodney, blowing an errant strand of hair from her face. "It means that Katie Brown was right, you are the world's worst boyfriend."
"Katie never said that!" Rodney protested. "We're still friends. Also, stop using that word in public."
"Regardless." She put her hands on her hips. "Do you know what today is?"
"Monday?" he asked hopefully.
"Uh huh. Also known as Colonel's Sheppard's birthday. But oh, why would you remember that?"
"Hey! I'm sorry if I'm a little busy remembering to save the galaxy and our lives on a-- wait, did you say Colonel Sheppard's birthday?"
Laura nodded, smugly.
"Dammit. I thought I had another week."
"It was very sneaky."
"So, this party?" Rodney gestured to the room. "It's for him."
"Yes, Rodney."
"Huh."
"I take it you don't have gift."
"You can definitely take it that way."
"Well, look at the bright side? There's at least six hours before the Colonel returns from the mainland. Surely a genius like you could come up with something in that time."
Rodney nodded. He was a *genius.* He could come up with an idea. He thought hard for a minute. "Yeah, well, I'm screwed."
"Nothing huh?" Laura asked, sympathetically.
"I'm terrible at this."
"I'm so surprised."
"No, really. I'm awful at this. In college, I once dumped a girlfriend the day before Valentine's day so I wouldn't have to buy her a gift."
"Wow." Laura whistled. "You know, McKay, talking to you always makes me consider taking up lesbianism."
"Strangely, you're not the first woman to tell me that."
Laura laughed, linking her arms through Rodney's and ignoring the panicked look on his face as she dragged him out of the mess. "Come on genius, let's go figure out a gift for your boyfriend."
"Seriously. Stop using that word."
***
5) Justice League
Things the Flash Is Not Allowed To Do At Watchtower Birthday Parties. EVER AGAIN.
***
6) Pundits
"I keep feeling like we're supposed to be somewhere today."
"Shhh. Quiet you, I'm working."
"You're doodling pictures of Keith as a seahorse on cocktail napkins. Stop doing that. It freaks him out."
"I don't know why. You'd think he'd be honored to be in my latest installment of Tek Jansen."
"You made him a neurotic aquatic anchorman who wants to bear your children."
"Face it, Jon. Everyone wants a piece of me."
"Uh huh," Jon said. He pointed to the other corner of the bar. "I'm gonna go stand over there now."
Before he could get up, his cell phone beeped at him. He picked up the phone and flipped it open to read the message. Then he snapped it closed again and said, "Okay, so I just remembered where we're supposed to be."
Stephen looked up from where he was jotting story notes (obsessed, aging, hero worship) beside the world's worst approximation of a super-powered alien seahorse. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Does a certain anchorman's fortieth birthday celebration ring a bell?"
"Shit. Anderson's surprise party."
"Got it in one." Jon put his jacket on. "Come on, we can figure out how to grovel into his good graces on the cab ride there."
Stephen nodded. Then he looked up at Jon hopefully, "Hey, do you think he wants to be in my story?"
"Sure," Jon said, throwing some cash on the bar. "Who doesn't want to have your babies?"
a Cell-Bean Production
brought to you by celli and barely_bean
Author's Note 1: Stef, Happy Birthday from the crazy fictional men (and even crazier real friends) in your life. -- Celli
Author's Note 2: Tiger, it's officially your birthday! I hope you have a fantastic one at that, and that this little collaboration brings you as much joy as you bring to us every day. Love you! -- Caro
Author's Note 3: Thank you to slodwick for looking this over, and for making this community, and for general awesomeness all around.
Disclaimer: No pundits were impregnated in the making of this fic.
Fandom(s): SPN, SN, Psych, Stargate Atlantis, Justice League, PRT
1) Supernatural
Dean put up with the sulking silence. He put up with Sam disappearing outside the motel room every time his phone rang. He put up with the phone ringing, for that matter. All damn day. But somewhere around the thirty-fifth time Sam answered a perfectly reasonable question ("Pepperoni or Canadian bacon?") with a huff and a "WhatEVER," Dean decided enough was enough.
Sam was refusing to look him in the eye, concentrating instead on the static-covered local news playing on the TV. So Dean got his attention the easy way--planting his butt firmly on the inch and a half of dresser space in front of the TV.
"Are you going to tell me what brought on this sudden attack of PMS, or what, Sammy?"
"You have no idea, do you?"
Dean spread his hands wide. "No. Which is why I'm *asking.*"
Sam made a mumbly sort of groan. "What day is it, Dean?"
"What?" Dean thought back. The goatman in Maryland had been on a Sunday, he was pretty sure, and the ghost haunting the SUV in Ohio had been--"Tuesday?" he hazarded.
Sam huffed again--Dean hated that sound--and stomped off into the bathroom. Dean dashed over to the laptop and booted it up.
"Not Tuesday," he said, looking down at the computer calendar. "Thursday." Thursday, May 2, 2007.
Well, shit. Where was he going to get his hands on a birthday card and a bottle of Jack at this hour?
***
2) Sports Night
"I'd just like to say, it's not your birthday today," Danny declared, walking into their shared office.
"...okay."
"No, I mean it. Your birthday, some other day."
Casey made a show of looking at his calendar, then his computer, and then the giant balloons that Natalie tied to the back of his chair, and back at Dan. "Thing is, Dan, I'm fairly sure it is."
"Hmph." Danny stomped (no other word for it, Casey admitted) over to his desk, sitting down in front of his computer and making a show of typing.
"So, why isn't it my birthday?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Because."
"Wow, eloquent. Did anyone ever tell you that you should consider a career in writing?"
Danny scowled, which really just made Casey grin all that much harder. He pushed back from his desk, and walked over to Dan's, hopping up on the desk and leaning over his shoulder.
"I don't think Dana will accept an entire script that says 'blah blah blah'," he said, reading the screen.
"Shut up."
"Danny, why isn't it my birthday?"
Dan sighed, and finally turned around to look at Casey. And then promptly looked away and then mumbled, "Iforgotyourpresent."
"You what?"
"I forgot to get you a present."
"Oh." Casey thought it over. "Nope, still not making sense."
"Casey."
"No seriously, last year you got me a pack of tube socks, and a half-eaten Krispy Kreme. You didn't invalidate my birthday."
"That was different."
"I'm trying to figure out why. I mean, usually your presents to me are of the 'oops I forgot and let me see what I can pick up at Duane Reade on the way in' variety. You'll make it up to me next week with courtside seats to some sporting event and enough steak to cause a decline in the cow population of the United States."
"But. This is..."
"Different. You said that." Casey brought his hand up to cup the back of Dan's neck, forcing eye contact. "What's going on in your kooky little head?"
"Kooky?"
"Kooky," Casey repeated, punctuating the word with a slight squeeze of his hand.
"It's different this year. It's the first, well, you know."
Casey smiled. He got what this was about.
"It's okay Danny, nothing's different. We're still us. Same as we ever were."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Casey said, grinning. He took a quick glance around, then moved in and brushed his lips against the corner of Dan's mouth. "I expect my donut later."
"Consider it done," Danny said, but his voice was shaky. It gave Casey a strange thrill to hear it.
"And maybe, later, tonight, we could stay in, order some Chinese, watch the Knicks lose?"
"Of course," Dan said. "Whatever you want. It's your birthday after all."
***
3) Psych
"Fire!" Shawn shrieked.
Almost everyone in earshot jumped and turned to stare at him, with the exception of Lassiter, who twitched--he'd started doing that lately, twitching--and Gus, who just raised an eyebrow and waited for it.
Shawn's left arm and right leg flailed out in unison, making him look like a Rockette who'd just been tasered. "Fire! Flames! Flickering over an expanse of white! Is it an ice floe? A snowbank?"
(It was a credit to Shawn's charisma that hardly anyone turned to look outside at the 80-degree Southern California afternoon.)
"No, wait! There's a--a wind!" Shawn hunched over as if he were being buffeted by a gale. "And the flames are gone now! What could possibly have defeated such a fire?"
He whirled around and pointed both index fingers at Gus. "YOU!"
"What?"
Lassiter twitched again.
"Juliet!" Shawn called, and she appeared around the corner, carring a giant birthday cake. It said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUS" in messy frosting across the top, and someone--hard to imagine who--had stuck at least twice as many candles as necessary all over it.
"The mystery is solved," Shawn said with a grin, and led the entire police department in a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday."
Lassiter twitched along.
***
4) Stargate Atlantis
"Wait? What's all this?" Rodney asked, entering the half-decorated mess. "We're having a party and no one told me?"
"You're a piece of work," a familiar voice said, and Rodney looked up to see Laura Cadman standing at the top of a stepladder hanging up balloons.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney scowled as he walked over and helped steady the ladder while she climbed down.
Laura hopped off the last stair and then turned around to face Rodney, blowing an errant strand of hair from her face. "It means that Katie Brown was right, you are the world's worst boyfriend."
"Katie never said that!" Rodney protested. "We're still friends. Also, stop using that word in public."
"Regardless." She put her hands on her hips. "Do you know what today is?"
"Monday?" he asked hopefully.
"Uh huh. Also known as Colonel's Sheppard's birthday. But oh, why would you remember that?"
"Hey! I'm sorry if I'm a little busy remembering to save the galaxy and our lives on a-- wait, did you say Colonel Sheppard's birthday?"
Laura nodded, smugly.
"Dammit. I thought I had another week."
"It was very sneaky."
"So, this party?" Rodney gestured to the room. "It's for him."
"Yes, Rodney."
"Huh."
"I take it you don't have gift."
"You can definitely take it that way."
"Well, look at the bright side? There's at least six hours before the Colonel returns from the mainland. Surely a genius like you could come up with something in that time."
Rodney nodded. He was a *genius.* He could come up with an idea. He thought hard for a minute. "Yeah, well, I'm screwed."
"Nothing huh?" Laura asked, sympathetically.
"I'm terrible at this."
"I'm so surprised."
"No, really. I'm awful at this. In college, I once dumped a girlfriend the day before Valentine's day so I wouldn't have to buy her a gift."
"Wow." Laura whistled. "You know, McKay, talking to you always makes me consider taking up lesbianism."
"Strangely, you're not the first woman to tell me that."
Laura laughed, linking her arms through Rodney's and ignoring the panicked look on his face as she dragged him out of the mess. "Come on genius, let's go figure out a gift for your boyfriend."
"Seriously. Stop using that word."
***
5) Justice League
Things the Flash Is Not Allowed To Do At Watchtower Birthday Parties. EVER AGAIN.
- Make a cyclone around the birthday cake to blow out the candles. Not all League members can withstand a lack of oxygen.
- Set off fireworks. No, not outside, either. No, not even special alien fireworks. NO.
- We shouldn't even have to SAY no food fights.
- The Supervillain Charades game might have sounded like a good idea at the time, but not when you let the shapeshifters play and don't tell Wonder Woman.
- Stealing Batman's cape and wrapping presents in it. Again, shouldn't even have to be mentioned.
- I said NO FIREWORKS, Wally!
- Taking a dare to sing "Happy Birthday" in one breath while running from the landing bay of the Watchtower to the control room.
- Especially not blindfolded.
- No. Not so much as a lit cigarette. Stop asking, or you'll be patrolling an airlock. NO.
***
6) Pundits
"I keep feeling like we're supposed to be somewhere today."
"Shhh. Quiet you, I'm working."
"You're doodling pictures of Keith as a seahorse on cocktail napkins. Stop doing that. It freaks him out."
"I don't know why. You'd think he'd be honored to be in my latest installment of Tek Jansen."
"You made him a neurotic aquatic anchorman who wants to bear your children."
"Face it, Jon. Everyone wants a piece of me."
"Uh huh," Jon said. He pointed to the other corner of the bar. "I'm gonna go stand over there now."
Before he could get up, his cell phone beeped at him. He picked up the phone and flipped it open to read the message. Then he snapped it closed again and said, "Okay, so I just remembered where we're supposed to be."
Stephen looked up from where he was jotting story notes (obsessed, aging, hero worship) beside the world's worst approximation of a super-powered alien seahorse. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Does a certain anchorman's fortieth birthday celebration ring a bell?"
"Shit. Anderson's surprise party."
"Got it in one." Jon put his jacket on. "Come on, we can figure out how to grovel into his good graces on the cab ride there."
Stephen nodded. Then he looked up at Jon hopefully, "Hey, do you think he wants to be in my story?"
"Sure," Jon said, throwing some cash on the bar. "Who doesn't want to have your babies?"