Don't burn it down ; small log, then OTA
ST JOHN:
It was stupid o'clock in the morning and not for the first time, St John was leaning over the table, arms pillowing his head while he slept a little longer. He didn't really do breakfast, he was never interested in getting out of his bed long enough for it, but for some reason he'd been unable to sleep and decided that there was no point in staying in the room when he could be elsewhere, not sleeping.
The mess wasn't always busy in the morning, sure the traffic picked up eventually, but it took a while, and when St John was sitting there before even the cooks were in the kitchen, it was quiet enough that he'd managed a small dose before being disturbed yet again.
He fucking hated insomnia.
MAC:
Most of the time, as crack of dawn was when Mac rolled through the mess to grab something to eat before crashing out in her room and waking at noon to restart her slightly twisted up schedule. Lunch was breakfast, dinner was lunch and breakfast was a quick snack before sleeping. The great thing with being decent friends with the chef was that she pretty much got fed when she needed it.
Usually, she arrived in the mess before anyone else, but this time there was the hunched over, half sleeping form of Allerdyce at the far table and Mac shook her head. The kid was a pain in the ass most of the time but she'd already recognised a good few traits of her own in him. He was a sarcastic little bitch most of the time and if he lost the chip on his shoulder they could get along. Mac didn't see it happening until the brat was a little older though.
Which smacked a big, old, neon sign onto her head right there and then. November fifth. Commonly known in the United Kingdom as Guy Fawkes Night and commonly known to, well, probably just a few people, as St John's birthday.
Grinning, Mac snagged one of the lame little cakes from the tray and snuck into the back to find Shar Pei while St John sat across the room.
ST JOHN:
Birthdays. Yes, who needed them. The last time St John could remember celebrating his birthday had been, well, years ago. It was a number and an annoyance to him, he didn't really care about it at all. Sure, he probably could've done something destructive or something but he hadn't. There was no explosion, no fireworks, no arson -mostly because there wasn't really anything to burn and the last time he'd tried it on base a certain mechanic had chased him with a damn monkey wrench.
It wasn't that he made a point of pissing off Sykes and Richards -Richards was easy to piss off and a little bit fun to do, but she had a malicious streak and was damn cruel with revenge, so it was better to not do that shit on purpose. Sykes just didn't care most of the time, and really, St John wasn't a fan of those brig cells, they sucked.
So maybe the birthday thing was why St John was sitting at the table in the mess, not moping, definitely not moping. No, he was just lounging, dosing and absolutely not thinking about another year older.
MAC:
Now, sneaking up on people wasn't something Mac did a lot, she was usually a train wreck coming through, thumping, bumping things, talking away to whatever. She didn't do quiet because that could be overlooked and Mackenzie Richards did not like to be overlooked, thank you very much. But this time, sure, a sneak attack was on the cards. Provided the cookers were off because she didn't want to get her hair fried like the last time.
Standing in front of St John, cupcake in hand with a stupid little candle in it, Mac flicked the match and lit the tip as quickly as possible since she knew that would alert Pyro to exactly where she was.
"Surprise," thrusting the cake towards him while grinning cheekily, Mac grinned at the boy -because he was a boy- while she stood there with the cake and waited for reaction.
ST JOHN:
As the match lights and the candle is lit, John is shocked enough but the sudden flare of knowing and that thrum of heat he always feels with fire around, that he's not even sure what she's doing for a good few seconds. She's just standing there with a cake and a candle and a grin. "What the fuck?"
It took a while for St John to really notice that Mac is most awake when she's tired, it's weird and unusual, but right before she decks it for the night, she's like a bubbly airhead on crack. And St John would know. What St John doesn't know is why Mac of all people, is presenting him with a cake. He wasn't even aware that she knew his birth date, he wasn't even aware that she cared.
"Have you lost your mind in all those motor fluids?" He can't help staring at the cake though.
MAC:
Rolling her eyes, Mac took the seat across from Pyro, placing the cake and still burning candle in front of him, "Don't be such a douche and just make your damn wish."
Growing up, Mac had loved birthdays. Her own had always been something special -her Dad would take her some place she loved, just the two of them because her sisters hated the things Mac loved, and then they'd all meet up for lunch at the Pizza Palace, make ice cream sundae's to die for and then go to the cinema. Birthdays were a big thing in Mac's family, so she didn't really understand how Pyro wasn't more excited about his.
Then again, she didn't really know that much about the kid past his attitude, mutation and that fact that he was a spry little shit when he needed to be.
ST JOHN:
"Okay, I wish you'd explain what the fuck this is about." St John was thirteen the last time he'd had a cupcake and a candle for his birthday; he'd got them himself and it had been the first time he'd really practised with his powers. He'd also burnt the cupcake out trying to light the candle, but that was neither here nor there.
What Pyro didn't get, was why Mac even bothered. They didn't get along, more often than not they were yelling at one another, pulling some stupid prank to annoy the other or getting pulled up by Sykes for fucking around with each other. It could've been all in good fun, except they'd passed that mark when she'd nearly broken his arm and he'd given her a concussion and then it was just all out war.
"Seriously, Ken. What the fuck?"
MAC:
With the space, Mac still managed to reach across the table and punch his shoulder for the remark, "Don't call me Ken, bitch." He'd been working through different ways to abbreviate her name, and even if she didn't care, she punched him every time and called him bitch. It was a game that resulted in many bruises for St John.
"It's a birthday, okay, that means cake, a wish and later, party hats." And if Mac got her way, maybe she'd be able to convince Ethan that a little fun could be had. Since his stupid privileges thing was lifted now, she was fairly sure that drinks and music in the mess was allowed. Surely.
"You blow out the candle now," since it was going to start dripping wax into the cupcake soon.
ST JOHN:
Still stunned, St John just gave a puff and blew it out. Wishes weren't something he bothered with, and extinguishing the fire wasn't anything fancy because he wasn't in a show off mood. If anything he was utterly disturbed at just how 'nice' Mac was being. He didn't like her nice, it was unnerving.
"Okay, done." And hopefully that would be the end of her whims.
St John would rather the day didn't exist. He'd just leave it as another Friday and ignore everything else. Birthdays were landmarks that other people celebrated. Not him.
MAC:
Shaking her head, Mac stole a glob of icing from the cupcake, eating it off her finger before sighing. "You are such a prissy little bitch, you know that." The kid was whacked out, Mac didn't know anyone who didn't like birthdays.
"Well, I tried, you were unmoveable, we had fun. I think that fills the quota for today." If more than three days went by where Mac and St John hadn't done something to piss off or annoy the other, the world was not right with itself. At the very least, Mac seemed to feel like she was missing something when that happened. Somehow, pestering and being pestered had just worked its way into their lives since Pyro showed up.
"I'm done for the day," which was her day, not his, "I'll see you at dinner." And Mac stole another piece of icing before standing up, ruffling Pyro's unruly hair and weaving her way out of the mess, bumping into several tables.
ST JOHN:
That left St John at the table, with a cupcake and burnt out candle and a look of complete surprise on his face. He was contemplating skipping dinner now. But that might just cause a malfunction with all the switches on the base and mean the mess was the only place with light. You could never really tell when Mac was serious about something.
Smoothing his hair back, as much as possible anyway, Pyro stared at the cake like it was venomous and pondered some more.
This, he thought, might've been the first time anyone had ever gotten him a birthday cake.