AN: For "EKWTSM9" in honor of the man who has been her inspiration.
Hope you all enjoy this little, silly tale that was written for a yahoo group prompt.
Birthday Blues
It was late in the day and the boys in the bullpen of SFPD's homicide department were getting ready to call it a night and head on home with the exception of one Lieutenant, Michael Stone.
"Come on Mike, it's your birthday for crying out loud!" Homicide's Captain, Rudy Olsen, called out from the cubicle that housed the bespectacled detective.
"I know, I know but if I don't get these reports done, well, let's just say Steve is going to be pulling an all-nighter on his first day back," Mike replied with a sigh, his eyes never leaving the typewriter on his desk.
"Mike, you're one hellava good cop and the best man I know but when it comes to time management…"
The senior detective's head snapped up. "I'm working on it. There, done!" With a triumphant smile, Mike tore the paper from the Smith Corona typewriter and removed his glasses.
"Good. Now let's the hell outta here!" Olsen barked good-naturedly. "You can leave the report on my desk. I'll take a look at it in the morning."
"Yessir!" Mike saluted Rudy who wished him a happy birthday and hurried out of the bullpen. Packing away his files, Mike then dutifully carried the report to the Captain's office. Turning off the light and closing the door behind him, he left the building with his colleagues, Haseejian and Tanner.
"I'm surprised Steve didn't show up. I mean, I thought maybe you guys were going to head out for a drink?" Bill mused aloud as they waited to cross the street to where their cars were parked. It was going to be a longer wait than normal, with the sheet of rain coming down before them. Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, the Afro-American detective shivered. Winter was upon them and the unrelenting rain had settled in.
"In this weather?" Mike raised his eyebrows. "No, this year I'm planning to have a quiet, uneventful birthday. I think I deserve that after what happened last time!"
"Well, you can't say the kid didn't try to make your day a memorable one," Norm pitched in when the memory of a not so amused Mike Stone revisited him.
"It was memorable alright!" Mike scoffed then signaled the all clear to cross the black river ahead of them. "Come on!"
When they reached the other side, Bill let out a chuckle. "I think what Norm meant was, Steve was just trying to be creative."
"I don't want creative. All I want for my birthday is some peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?" Mike grumbled.
Norm rolled his eyes and fished out the keys from his pocket. "You know what, Mike?"
"What?" Mike called out from the side of his car as his cold fingers fumbled for his own keys.
"You're getting old!" Norm laughed and much to Mike's dismay, Bill followed suit.
"Very funny! I tell you what's not funny – having my leg in a cast for six weeks!" Mike leaned his head out of the car and shouted at the two men as they got in their vehicles. No, this year, it's going to be me, a glass red wine and a good book.
Little did Mike know that this was not happening.
Driving slowly through the neighborhood of Protrero Hill, Mike turned into De Haro street and noted the little mustard Porsche which could only belong to his partner, parked at the curb. Great. Can't a man have a quiet night in on his own? With a heavy sigh, Mike pulled into the driveway of his home. His mood was darker, knowing that his daughter – the one person – he would welcome for company on this day could not be there.
Before he even reached the top step of the porch, the front door flew open and there stood his beaming daughter, dressed in a light blue sweater and jeans. Suddenly his mood brightened. He had no expected Jeannie to be at his house when he had received a phone call from her earlier that week to tell him she wasn't going to make it. But here she was! Forgetting that he was still standing in the rain, Mike felt rather silly when his daughter stepped forward and took him by the arms, pulling him inside.
"I thought your bus was cancelled and you weren't going to make it?" Mike said, closing the door behind him and removing his boots then allowing Jeannie to help him slip off his fedora and shed out of his rain-soaked coat.
"That's right but Steve picked me up and drove us back here this morning. We wanted to surprise you!" Jeannie explained. She held him at arm's length, savoring the look of sheer surprise and unspoken joy in her father's eyes. "I hope you're happy! I didn't mean to ruin your plans or anything," she joked.
Mike pulled his daughter into a heartfelt hug. "Of course I'm happy! And no, I had no plans whatsoever."
"Happy birthday, daddy," Jeannie whispered, closing her eyes and allowing her father to hold her a moment longer. "Come on, I think dinner's ready." She withdraw from his arms and held his hand, then walked him to the dining room table.
"Sweet-heart you really shouldn't have gone to the trouble!" said Mike when he saw the simple, yet beautiful way she had dressed the table with a bottle of Merlot serving as the centerpiece.
"Oh, it's nothing! With Steve slaving away in the kitchen, I really didn't have much else to do," Jeannie reassured her father and gestured for him to take a seat.
"Steve?" Mike's jaw almost dropped at the shock of hearing him slaving away in anyone's kitchen including his own.
Jeannie nodded. "He's been cooking up a storm all afternoon."
Before Mike could express how impressed he was at this new revelation, a yelp caused him to turn his head toward the kitchen.
"Jeannie! Er, Mike's not here yet, is he?" came the concerned voice from the kitchen.
"Yes, he just got here. How's the roast going?"
"It's uh…well, it's going!" Steve replied in an oddly high-pitched sort of voice.
Mike was about to get up from the table but Jeannie stopped him. "Maybe I should…""
"Let me," Jeannie gave her father a smile then rushed to Steve's aid.
"Steve, what's wrong?" Jeannie asked a red in the face Steve Keller who was looking rather comical wearing her apron but somehow he still had that charm about him that made her feel a little warm in the cheeks.
"The roast. It's…" Steve pulled the tray out of the oven with a pair of mits covering his hands. What was once a large, handsome chicken now looked like a miserable charred little bird, no bigger than a quail.
"What happened?" Jeannie whispered.
Steve shrugged his shoulders and started to draw in lungfuls of air to stop a panic attack from gripping him. "Oh God, what now?"
"It's okay. Er…how's the soup?" Jeannie guided Steve to the counter and placed a wire rack for him to set down the smoldering tray.
"Well, you know how you said it needed a little more flavor?"
"Uh-huh?"
"I added some more seasoning but I don't know, it doesn't taste quite right," Steve continued.
Jeannie grabbed a spoon from the drawer and decided a taste test was in order. At least soup can't get burnt. "It looks fine."
Steve looked on expectantly and held his breath as Jeannie brought the spoon to her lips. The moment the liquid hit her tongue, her face screwed up and she almost gagged.
"What's the matter?" Steve demanded.
"It's…it's too salty!" Jeannie croaked. Washing down the overpowering saltiness from her throat with a glass of water, she knew Steve only had one other dish to present. "Salad?"
A sliver of hope lit up in Steve's green eyes. "Ah, in the fridge. Let me get it." Opening the fridge door, Steve carefully withdrew the crystal bowl filled with his very first attempt of making a Waldorf Salad. If he was happy with anything that day, it would be the salad. He followed Jeannie's directions every step of the way so what could possibly go wrong? He wished he had not asked that question because the next moment travelled in slow motion, yet he felt powerless to stop what was happening.
"Is everything alright?" Mike's voice surprised both Steve and Jeannie who had not expected him to go into the kitchen.
A startled Steve could only watch as the inevitable played out in front of him when the chilled and slippery bowl slipped out of his grasp and landed with a shattering crash on the floor, along with its contents.
Jeannie's mouth formed an O and she looked at Steve with sympathy. The expression on his face spoke volumes. There was no doubt he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and bury himself in it. Clearing her throat loudly, she broke the awkward stillness within the room, "Would anyone like some cake?"
"What a smashing idea, Jeannie. I would love some!" Mike replied.
Steve looked up from his hands and saw the smile that broke out on the older man's face.
"Why don't we leave that for now and have some cake, Buddy Boy. I'll help you clean that up later, hm? Mike ushered. He stepped around the mess and placed the kettle on the stove to boil. "I'll fix us some tea, sweet-heart if you can slice us some of that cake." It was yet another birthday to remember but this time, on a positive note, thought Mike. The fact that Steve had in fact slaved himself in the kitchen to redeem himself for last year's catastrophe really touched his heart, especially since he also made it possible for Jeannie to be there on this day. That thought alone meant more to him than any extravagant meal. "Steve?"
"Yes, Mike," Steve replied blankly. He had not dared to move from where he stood.
"Why don't you sit down and I'll make you some tea? Come on, now," Mike wrapped his arm around the young man's shoulders then led him to the dining table.
"Mike?" Steve called out before his mentor disappeared back to the kitchen. Turning his head, he said with the shadow of a grin, "Happy birthday."
The End