Gonna Have a Party
Plenoptic
HAPPY BIRTHDAY OPTIMUS PRIME 007!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This fic is just for you :D After two weeks of debating, I've finally decided on a plot!
Her perferences were:
"Something with Optimus"
"Funny or adventurous"
I thought I'd go with adventurous, because being funny on demand is kind of hard, but anything adventurous would probably involve stress, and stress is the reason I had to go through three months of counseling, so I didn't fee like doing that.
So I figured the only way to be funny was to give Optimus a very hard time about something :D And what to torment him about! FEMMES!
Listening to: A combination of Fall Out Boy, Good Charlotte, The Medic Droid, Mutemath, Panic! At the Disco, Tokio Hotel, and Yellowcard. A 'happy jumpy' mix :D
Enjoy :D
As far as nothing fights went, it was a doozy. An argument over which of them was more perverted, liked groping, liked kissing, liked interface, like sparkbonding, more than the other. But Optimus Prime was thankful that it wasn't a real fight, one that made his spark hurt, one in which he made his Elita cry. It was a play fight, a simple competition between the two most stubborn bots on the planet.
The only downside was, like all other fights, as far as their bedroom hours went, Optimus wasn't getting any.
She'd called him a pervert, he'd called her needy. She'd said that she wasn't, and he demanded if she'd bet on it. And Elita One grinned and told him sure.
They'd agreed on it--they'd keep their paws off of one another. No contact whatsoever. Whoever caved and touched the other first was the loser.
"And," Lita said coyly, grinning suggestively at her mech, "the winner gets to do whatever she wants to the loser. For one whole night. Using whatever tools she desires."
"The winner could be a 'he,'' Optimus had reminded her, and she'd laughed.
"Yeah, right."
So. Optimus grinned to himself even as Prowl delivered the orn's expense report. All he had to do was keep his hands off of his mate longer than she could keep her hands off of him. Easy.
Keep his hands off of Elita.
Elita. Curvaceous, voluptuous, sultry, gorgeous Elita. Who he practically had to beg to interface and sparkbond with at night, who was probably the least sexually needy person he'd ever met in his entire life. He was sure she enjoyed their intimacies, but he doubted that she had random thoughts of him throughout the day; she probably didn't have to hand her shift over to a subordinate so she could go and take care of her arousal.
Optimus frowned. He did. Sometimes the thought of his mate was too much to stand; sometimes he really did just want to stomp into her office, pin her to the desk, and kiss her breathless before--
He shook his head frantically to rid it of these thoughts, and Prowl shot him a questioning look, frowning a bit. His commander's internal temperatures were rising…
"I heard you and Elita made a bet," he said casually, and Optimus made an expression somewhere between a grin and a wince.
"About that. I'll be needing some really strong handcuffs."
Prowl almost laughed. Almost. "You'll be needing them for Elita?"
"Hopefully," Optimus replied, pained. "Right now I'm more worried about locking up my hands so I can't use them."
"You think he'll cave first?"
"Of course he'll cave first."
"How come you're so sure?"
"He's a male."
"So?"
"He's Optimus."
Chromia grinned, practically skipping along beside her confident (for now) friend and commander. It usually wasn't fun to see Optimus and Elita argue, but this was entertaining. Chromia hoped she was present when they hit their breaking points.
"Are you really going to deny that perfect piece of mech you have, though?" Chromia sighed, shaking her head. Optimus probably was going to be the first to cave; maybe she could give him a hand and poke at Elita behind the scenes.
"I got through the first few thousand vorns of my life without him, I think I'll be alright," Elita replied, snorting and shaking her head.
"Sparkling years don't count."
"I didn't count the sparkling years."
"Neither do youngling years!"
"…Er…"
"How much time actually passed between your coming out of younglinghood and your hooking up with Optimus?" Chromia demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
Elita paused, cocking her head. "Uhm…not much," she admitted reluctantly.
"Hah," Chromia snorted, grinning victoriously. "Face it, babe, you've been with Optimus since you were old enough to know what an interface appliance was. I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You want to bet on that?"
"Sure," Chromia grinned. "I win, I get to kiss Optimus."
"Frag that!"
"Scared?"
Elita flinched; how dare her best friend use the 'S' word! "Never. Fine, you get a kiss. If I win, though, you're not allowed to screw Ironhide, in any way, shape, or form, for a deca-cycle."
Chromia twitched. No interface, sparkbonding, blowjobs, or shower trysts for an entire deca-cycle? This was going to be rough. She'd have to really help Optimus out, for her own sake…
"Fine, crazy femme. You're on."
He was set.
In his office, the doors locked, with a huge heaping stack of data pads right in front of his face. He had his computer terminal off, so there was no chance of getting messages from her. His comm link was on only for Prowl and Ironhide. No chance of getting a call. The handcuffs were out of sight on top of a filing cabinet, so there was no chance of naughty thoughts springing into his head.
Zero femme contact. He was in a lockdown. Of course…Optimus Prime glanced doubtfully at his chestplates. Did the bet allow her to tease him over their sparkbond? Or what if she started dredging up old video files of their intimacies and sent them over their processor link? He supposed that counted as 'touching,' but he didn't want to block Elita. He was determined to win, but it wasn't worth having to banish Elita from his spark for any amount of time. Maybe they could just agree not to use their bond?
Cautiously, he opened his comm link to her, coughing to get her attention. "Er, Lita?" He immediately went stock still; she was panting, gasping. Groaning softly. "Lita?!"
"Hey," she whimpered, and he clamped his legs together. Oh, Primus. She sounded like she was about to overload! How many times had she vocalized her passions like that on his berth?
"Are you okay?"
"Yup. Training with Magnus, you know how it goes--I SAID TIME OUT! PRIMUS!--anyway, what's up?"
"Um, it can wait--"
"No, I've already stalled Magnus, might as well tell me now."
"Er…manipulating our sparkbond is illegal, right?"
"What?"
"Teasing me over our sparkbond counts as 'touching,' yes? I mean, it's a violation of our agreement?"
There was a pause, and then she burst into laughter. "Trying to decide how to avoid me?"
"No!" he snapped, his faceplates going hot. Damn her femme instincts.
"Don't worry, I won't provoke you," she practically purred, and he thought he was going to drop dead on the spot; that sultry tone always caught him in their quarters. "I'll see you tonight, sweetspark."
Her line went off with a click, but he didn't turn his off, listening to the hiss of the static. Frag. He'd cleverly and elaborately found ways to stay away from temptation during the day, but…he had to recharge with her. Without touching! Was that even possible? Even when he wasn't feeling lustful or passionate, he always touched Elita before falling into recharge: caressed her smooth armored body or her face, held her in his arms, kissed her, hugged her, tickled her even. When they fought, he waited until she was sound asleep before slipping into bed, and even then he touched her. Kissed her and whispered that he loved her, unconditionally, and that he could handle her being a stubborn glitch every now and again.
Optimus groaned, dropping his head onto his desk. Frag, this bet had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it didn't seem so fun. For the first time in his life, he was trying to avoid contact with the femme he adored, and now she was filtering into every aspect of his day, his night, his very existence!
She was everywhere! He wasn't going to be able to shut her out! Maybe he ought to go and jump her now, get it over with--
"Yo, Optimus! Open up, big man!"
His head snapped up, surprised at the interruption, and he got to his feet to open his office door. He blinked. Ironhide, Chromia, and a grinning Rodimus Prime were crowded in the hallway, all three looking like they were up to something.
"What?" he asked uneasily, shrinking back, but Chromia reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward.
"Come on!"
"Come on where?"
"We're going to get your mind off of your incredibly sexy sparkmate," Rodimus almost purred, seizing the commander's other arm and digging his heels in as he pulled back. "Elita's convinced she's gonna win. Doncha wanna put her in her place?"
"Not really," Optimus admitted. He'd been starting to warm up to the idea of being chained to their berth, having her sitting at his feet and wondering what to do to him. Torture in its purest form, something far worse than anything a Decepticon could throw. But far better than the sweetest dream…
"For the time being, ya do," Ironhide said gruffly, taking a hold of Optimus by the scruff bar and promptly wrenching him from the office, dragging Rodimus and Chromia along as a result. "You need a break anyway."
"I do?"
"Yeah, ya do."
"Fer sure that," Rodimus said chipperly, prancing along at his hapless commander's side. "It'll be fun, Optimus, trust me."
"What are we doing, exactly?"
"Racing."
"…Racing what?"
Ironhide grinned slightly. "You'll see."
"MOTHAH FRAGGAH! JUST WAIT TILL AH GET MAH HANDS ON YA! YOU'LL WISH YA'D NEVER BEEN SPARKED!"
"Aw, he's mad. Can we go yet, Roddy?"
"Nope," Rodimus said cheerfully. He was sitting with his aft against Optimus Prime's massive grill, digging his heels into the ground while the massive vehicle tried to drive back to base. "C'mon, Optimus, lighten up. It'll be fun."
"LIKE PIT IT WILL!"
"COME BACK HERE AND TRY THA' AGAIN!"
"Rodimus…"
"Just gimme a sec, Chromia!" Rodimus turned, placing his hands on Optimus's hood. The commander revved helplessly--when had Roddy gotten so fragging strong? "Optimus, you need to loosen up anyway. Plus, you'll be too tried to try anything on Elita tonight, won't you?"
"Maybe," Optimus conceded, rumbling softly. Rodimus decided it was safe to let go and cautiously lifted his hands from the hood, perfectly ready to grab on again if Optimus pulled a fast one. "I could use a break…"
"'Course you could," Rodimus confirmed, grinning. "Whaddaya say, Optimus?"
"Bye," Optimus said simply, then abruptly threw himself into reverse, pulling into the wide street, and whirled himself around. With a rev of his engine, he took off, hotly pursuing the moron who had swerved too close to the sidewalk and nearly squashed Ironhide flat.
"Damn," Ironhide muttered, whistling. "Fraggah moves fast when he wants ta."
"Less talk, more drive," Chromia said cheerfully, smoothly sliding into her vehicle mode, engine purring at her mate. Her back tires kicked up dust in his face before she sped off after their commander.
Ironhide and Rodimus, hardly a duo to be left out of the fun, mimicked her, collapsing into their vehicle counterparts and tearing off down the road. As opposed to Optimus and Chromia, who had been raised aristocratically and far away from city fun, Ironhide and Rodimus had been street racing since they'd been able to transform.
And Primus knew it never got old.
The rush of it all was insane. Optimus knew he'd never get away with this around Elita--or any of his other officers, for that matter. The High Council had been breathing down his neck since the day Sentinel Prime died, watching, waiting for him to slip up, waiting to find an error so that they could drag him from his position and nominate someone they more preferred. Optimus had gone out of his way to distinguish himself from other young mechs his age, and so far he'd been successful enough; but he'd never quite forgotten the fact that he'd been deprived of a proper childhood, first by his parents' death and then by Sentinel's.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! FRAG!"
"I'm having fun too, incidentally," Rodimus said brightly over their comm links. "Chromia, don't let him kill himself, okay? Elita will gut us with our own interfaces."
"Whoa! Would she really?"
"You betcher butt, Ironhide. The femme's terrifying."
"Well, Ah knew tha', but…Ah didn' know she was tha' bad…"
"She's not," Chromia said distastefully, and Rodimus could almost hear her irritation through their link.
"AAAAAH! FRAG, FRAG, FRAG!"
"We heard you the first time, Op."
"FRAGGER'S FAST!"
"Why are you shouting?"
"I'M EXCITED AS PIT! THAT'S WHY!"
"Ah. Got ya. Have fun."
"AaaaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Primus, what a male," Chromia muttered. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He's going to be so revved up when he gets back to base he won't be able to keep his paws off Elita for more than a few astroseconds…"
"Yeah, but think of all the blackmail material we have on him," Rodimus snickered, and Chromia groaned.
"You're incorrigible."
"I love you too."
"Shut up, Pit-brain."
"Yes ma'am…"
Elita One was trying to keep herself occupied and having a very hard time of it. It was easy enough to keep herself away from Optimus during the day; as commanders, they both had more than enough on their plates to keep them locked in their respective offices for joors at a time. But they shared a berth…
She groaned, kneading her foreplate with her knuckles. Frag. If she pretended to be asleep when he came in, maybe…maybe she could pull it off. It would only be a matter of time before Optimus cracked, after all…
Her head snapped up as the doors parted with a soft, pneumatic hiss, and she groaned inwardly when a grinning Optimus Prime traipsed in.
"Where've you been?" she inquired, arching an optic ridge at him. "You're…filthy."
"Thank you," he said brightly. He was dripping mud and debris from other conceivable corner of his frame, and his engine was so overheated she could feel the warmth radiating from his frame. Trying not to shiver visibly, she curtly pointed a finger towards their private wash racks.
"Sure, sure," he chuckled, and marched himself over to their stall, leaving a track of mud behind him.
"What've you been up to?" she asked.
"You're gonna have to come in here, I can't hear a word you're saying--"
Her spark trembled. Great. She wanted to know why her normally presentable mech now resembled a street brawler, but asking him would require seeing him in all of his unarmored beauty. Tricky…
Against her better judgment she hoisted herself from their berth and poked her head cautiously into the stall. She almost groaned out loud; Optimus Prime was standing in his protoform, head tilted back and his optics shuttered, moaning softly at the feel of the warm fluid seeping into his long neglected body. She backed out for a moment to collect herself before planting herself firmly in the doorway.
"What have you been up to all day?" she questioned loudly, and Prime lazily opened one optic to glance at her. A low rumble came up from his chest and he shuttered his optic again, turning his face back into the warm stream from the overhead nozzle.
"Out with the guys."
She cocked an optic ridge, planting a hand on one curvy hip. "Uh huh."
"Yup." He rotated his head to let the fluid soothe his aching neck joints. Elita forced away the guilty feeling that crept into her spark; she normally took it upon herself to massage her sore mech at night. She'd forgotten last night, having drifted into recharge early, and for the sake of their bet he'd be going without it tonight as well…
"Optimus," she said timidly, "if you want to, er, postpone the bet--I could…"
He chuckled softly, turning his head to grin at her. "And what, let you have free reign over me? 'Oh, Optimus, your interface cord is looking a little overworked, let me rub that right out'--"
"Shut up," she growled, and he laughed.
"I'll be alright, femme. Don't worry yourself on my account."
She scowled and turned on her heel, striding purposefully back to their berth. "Alright, fine. I won't."
"Thank you," he called smoothly, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He counted the astroseconds. Exactly three point seven passed before she was at the doorway again.
"YOU CAN HEAR ME JUST FINE FROM IN HERE!"
"Yup," he replied, tossing a grin in her direction. She glared at him for a moment more before departing once again, leaving him to pat himself on the back for his tactics in privacy.
"Sneaky, under handed, under sexed, sly little…" Her grumblings continued as she shed her battle armor, allowing it to retract to her back and various subspace pockets. Well, two could play at this game…
Optimus Prime climbed out of the shower a few breems later, cheerfully toweling himself off. This game was as good as won. He'd seen the look in Elita's optics, the brief flicker of desire, of want, before she'd stormed out. He was fighting back, standing up to her, and it was undoubtedly a turn on for the normally dominant femme. Optimus snickered; Elita's male recruits tended to kiss up to her in the hopes of attracting her; he would bet everything he owned that not one of them had considered usurping her to catch her attention. It wasn't that Elita was power hungry, but she liked a challenge; she didn't want some push over in her bed at night.
So it was a confident Autobot commander that turned to his recharge berth--
And every ounce of his resolve melted away.
Elita was snuggled very comfortably against the many cushions that adorned his recharge berth, the light thermal blanket covering up to her hips, exposing each and every alluring curve of her bare protoform body to her mate. She felt a surge of triumph as Optimus spluttered, frozen on the spot, optics locked on her. Gotcha!
"Something wrong?" she inquired softly, arching an optic ridge, resting her chin in her palm. She resisted the urge to laugh maniacally when Optimus twitched and trembled.
"No," he replied, forcing his voice to remain level, even if his spark was trying to jump out of its box. He'd forgotten that forbidden femmes always looked the sexiest. Hadn't Elita grown in beauty each time she'd rejected him when he'd first begun courting her? She loved teasing her mech, and she looked so damn good when she did it…
Forcing his legs to move, Optimus propelled himself around the front of the berth to slide in on the other side of her, keeping as far away from the femme as possible. He knew he could just go and recharge elsewhere, but his pride wouldn't let him, and he couldn't bear the thought of Elita grinning after him, knowing that she'd driven him out. No, backing out now would be as good as losing, and he wouldn't have it.
Gritting his dental plates, he threw himself down on his back, staring purposefully up at the ceiling. It did nothing to cool his arousal--he knew how tantalizing close his gorgeous mate was--but it didn't egg it on, either. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd slip into recharge before--
"Optimus," she murmured, and he felt her spark brush up against his through their link.
"No!" he yelped, sitting bolt straight up, smacking his chestplates to shake the feeling. "You promised! No manipulating our bond!"
He glanced sideways when she didn't retaliate, and to his shock found her looking quite hurt. "I, um, didn't mean to," she mumbled, lowering her optics. "I just wanted to tell you I love you…"
He blinked twice and felt his spark break when she hiccupped softly. "Oh, Lita…Lita, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just thought--frag, I'm so caught up in this stupid bet that I…I'm sorry…"
Optimus leaned in close with every intention of kissing her, and was a microsecond away from brushing her mouthplates with his when he noticed her grinning.
"Gotcha again," she giggled, and he threw himself off the berth, snarling.
"Evil! Evil, evil femme! Primus!"
"Sorry, sorry," she laughed, laying back down and stretching widely. "You're so cute when you're apologetic I couldn't help it. At least I didn't let you actually kiss me, right?"
"You were going to! If I hadn't noticed that slag-eating grin on your face…"
She beamed. "Come on, sweetspark. No more tricks, I promise. And it's not as though you didn't pull one of your own! Primus, making me come into the stall…"
"I didn't make you do anything," he replied, his mood lightening when she reminded him of his brilliant little joke. "If you weren't so damnably interested in what I get into every day…"
"What were you doing, anyway?" she asked again, and he snorted.
"As if I'm going to tell you, after that little stunt you pulled."
"Optimus!"
"Hey, who knows?" he responded cheekily, flashing her a grin that, strangely enough, made her want to slap him. "I could've been filling out data pads, I could've been in a bar…in someone's apartment…"
"Keep talking and you'll wake up without an interface," she growled.
"Ah, but that would count as touching me. And then I'd get to do whatever I wanted to you for a whole night, but unfortunately, because I wouldn't have an interface, I'd have to rile you all up and then leave you hanging for an overload." He sighed dramatically and tossed a glance at her to find that she'd promptly rolled over and had a cushion over her audios.
"Good night," he chuckled, rolling onto his side and poking her gently through their bond. "I love you."
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, but he smiled when her spark reluctantly brushed against his.
"You made it through the night?" Chromia gasped, optics widening in wonder. "That's amazing! I thought you were going to crack for sure!"
"Thanks," Optimus grumped, scowling. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I don't think I can make it another day and night…"
"Pit yes you will," Chromia snapped, smacking the back of his helm ("Ow!"). "I've got a bet with Elita myself, you know--" ("What was that for?!") "--and I won't have you ruining it!"
"What did you bet her?" Optimus asked, rubbing his helm, his frown deepening. The femme hit fragging hard!
"If you lose, I'm not allowed to be intimate with Ironhide in any way, shape, or form for a whole deca-cycle."
"And if I win?"
"I get to kiss you."
Optimus stared, his mouthplates slack in surprise. "But…but…don't I get any say in that?"
"Nope," Chromia replied brightly, and he groaned. The door beeped at him, and he reluctantly gave his visitor permission to enter, still scowling at a laughing Chromia. To his great surprise, Elita strode in, the light from the window sparkling magnificently off of her rose armor.
"You were street racing?" she growled before Optimus could get a word out, and he grimaced. Oops.
"Er, well, I--"
"Street racing?! Do you have any idea what could have happened?!"
"Of course, but--"
"You could have been arrested, you could have wrecked, you could have killed somebody, you could have killed yourself--!"
"Elita!" he said loudly, cutting in, and she stopped in her tirade, glaring daggers at him. "It was just a little harmless fun. When was the last time I got out with the other mechs?"
"And femme," Elita growled, glancing towards her best friend, and Chromia grimaced. Frag. Optimus was lucky, he had some leeway over Elita (such as refusing to take off his interface panel or part his chestplates if she tried to punish him) but Chromia had no such power. She'd be on night duty for the next ten deca-cycles for this one…
"Chromia, care to go out for a second?" Optimus asked politely, and the black femme was off of his desk and out the door before Elita could even think to protest. She instead turned her attention back to her mate, who had stood up from his chair and was now walking towards her.
He was before her in two easy strides, so fast she almost flinched, his chest not quite touching hers. He gazed down at her, optics bright and luminous as a light fog moved in front of the sun, casting his office in shadow. Elita gulped, turning her face up to his.
"What?" she asked nervously, edging away from him, but he moved closer, his gaze never wavering.
"I think," he said softly, sending a shiver through her circuits, "that you need to loosen your leash a bit. I'm not your pet, Elita…"
"And, I think," she replied, her voice trembling slightly, and he shuddered at her tone, "that you need to slow down and use that processor of yours occasionally…so you don't make me worry so much, Optimus…"
"I would like to suggest that you trust me a bit more," he said quietly, planting his hands on the wall behind her.
"I would like to suggest that you be a little more considerate of my feelings," she whispered in response as he lowered his head, so close that her mouthplates nearly brushed his as she spoke.
"I believe that you should give up, femme," he murmured, the smallest of smiles dancing around his mouthplates. "I don't believe that you can resist…"
"I believe that you should follow your own advice," she growled, her optics narrowing. "I don't believe that you can resist either…"
His spark reached out to hers, and she latched on eagerly. His presence swept into her, commanding and loving at the same time, and she moaned softly, arching her back.
"Does this count as touching?" she demanded softly, and he snickered.
"I'm just telling you how much I love you…"
"I'm gonna kick you in the crotch if you don't watch it."
"That would count as touching…"
She shuttered her optics when he leaned in closer, their bodies mere atoms apart. His optics roved over her form, and he leaned in to whisper into her audio receptor.
"I love you…" he murmured, and she sighed softly.
"I love you too…"
His spark overwhelmed her, and they burst. Her arms flew around his neck, his around her waist, and their mouths pressed together, kissing hotly as their sparks sang out to one another. He moaned, dropping his mouthplates to her throat, suckling and nibbling upon the sensitive wiring. She gasped, tilting her head back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. His lower legs shifted to encompass hers, pulling her close as his lips traveled down to her breastplates.
"Optimus," she sighed, brushing her mouthplates over his helm, and he lifted his head to capture her lips again, thrusting his glossa into her sweet mouth. His hands roughly caressed her back and sides, sliding down occasionally to clutch her aft or grab her thigh.
"Celibacy does not work well for us," he panted, and she made a soft noise of agreement, pressing her mouth to his again, eager to feel his passion for her.
"GOTCHA!"
The couple jumped, turning their heads quickly to see Chromia standing in front of them, grinning widely. "I knew it," she snickered. "Neither of you could do it!"
Elita groaned, dropping her foreplate onto Optimus's chest, wishing she could disappear rather than stop time.
"Chromia's not a bad kisser, is she?" Optimus mused, licking his lips thoughtfully. "No wonder Ironhide's so loud at night…"
"Optimus," Elita groaned, but in a completely different context this time. They were sitting on their bed, several pairs of maximum security cufflinks between them. "At least she has to keep her hands off of Ironhide for awhile…we might be able to get some recharge…"
"Ha," Optimus snorted, glancing down at the cufflinks. "I doubt it. So, who wins?"
Elita pursued her lips thoughtfully. "Well, considering we both snapped at the same time…maybe we both get a night?"
"Seems reasonable enough," Optimus replied, nodding slightly. There was a silence, and then he cleared his throat. "So…who goes first?"
"Hm." Elita frowned.
"Whoever can drink the most high grade?"
"Nah. I'd beat you in a second," the femme responded, waving her hand in dismissal. He arched an optic ridge.
"Oh yeah?"
She glanced up and grinned slyly. "Oh yeah."
"You want to make a bet on that…?"
Happy late birthday to you, happy late birthday to you, happy late birthday optimus prime 007.…happy late birthday to you :D Hope you enjoyed. A little. It kinda sucks, I'm sorry…maybe I'll write about each of their nights? Heh. :D
Happy birthday, hope all is well.