Several weeks ago I started a prompt challenge on my Tumblr. You drop me a prompt on my ask, I'll fill it if I'm seduced by it.
A few of those will be posted here. This is one of them.
BIRTHDAY
You think his name is Dave.
You don't know.
How are you supposed to tell so many two-year-olds apart?
How are you supposed to entertain literally dozens of their bored, adult progenitors?
Anyway. Little Dave is running butt naked through the house.
You've got to do something.
You're supposed to be at the barbecue right now. Puck sucks at barbecues.
Of course, your son shows up equally naked and equally running through the living room.
Oh, if he wasn't so cute and giggly with that soft black hair. He'd be in so much trouble.
"I'm going to get ya!" Brittany shows up, carrying a towel, and manages to get a hold of both boys, one under each arm.
They struggle and giggle and laugh and clap as Brittany gets to you and gives you a quick peck. "You know, San, the hamburgers are burning. Puck is afraid of fire, I think."
You roll your eyes and take your son from Brittany, holding him on your left shoulder. "How about we put on some swim shorts and play in the pool with Aunt Rachel?"
Little Dave and little Alex clap their hands and scream a delighted yes.
—-
After everyone has stuffed their faces with food, the party settles.
The adults sit by the garden, drinking their beers and diet Cokes and talking about the latest political scandal. The bigger kids play Harry Potter in peace, after a small – though heated – debate on who got to be Harry and who got to be Hermione. Puck had very much agreed to be Sirius, barking like a dog and running after them.
The small kids play by the baby pool with Rachel and Quinn, who are godsend people from the heavens who can actually entertain children and keep them from killing themselves somehow.
You would be so screwed if another person's kid died at your party. So screwed.
Brittany comes by, her skin glistening with sweat, holding two beers in her hands. "Your mind is fuzzy again."
You clink the bottles together and take a sip. "I know."
"You worry too much," she says, her palm on your bare thigh, hot and familiar.
You never thought you'd be a worrier. You take another sip, running your palm on your wife's white summer dress. "I like this dress."
Brittany smiles, and the little wrinkles on the corner of her eyes show up again. "I know."
"You were wearing it when you carried Alex into our house for the first time." You were so tired, so sleepy from your 18-hour labor, and Brittany took care of everything so smooth.
You cuddle into Brittany, even if it's too hot for that, and Brittany kisses the side of your forehead. "Yeah," she says. "You were amazing."
Little Alex comes running towards the both of you, donning a batman cape and his swimming shorts. He climbs to your lap with a practiced expertise, and you kiss his chlorine-smelly hair.
"You're a little fish, you know that?" You ask, tickling his wet belly.
He laughs, batting your hand away. "Nemo!"
Your hear Quinn clear laugh somewhere behind you, and you smile.
"I love you," Brittany whispers in your ear, and you kiss her lower lip.
"Kiss!" Alex squeals, standing on your lap to kiss Brittany's cheek too.