prompt: “ohh so you think i’m cute when i’m angry? well get ready because i’m about to be gorgeous.” prompted by @leoswritingcorner♥ would all of these people be at the same birthday party? i don't know. i don't care. i love second gen. there's a thread of connection and i might be reaching for straws but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's FOR FUN. pls enjoy. no edits posting like men
“Do they have to do this now?” Dec mutters to his brothers as they shepherd the younger kids into the house.
“You know Ma,” Leo replies, “She’ll put this kinda stuff off until she can’t anymore.”
Ace groans, doubling back to pick up a crying Evita Rivers-Quijada from the lawn chair.
“Yeah, but like, is Maybelle’s birthday the best place for this?” he says, catching up with the others.
Declan adamantly shakes his head.
“Nah, but there’s been enough going wrong today,” Dec says sagely, “I think she’s allowed this.”
The triplets glance back at the lawn, where their mother - respected and well decorated SBI agent and Chicago werewolf pack co-leader Dusty Mabel Holliday-MacLeod - is covered in birthday cake.
“I hate these parties,” Ace mutters, as the door swings shut behind him. “Okay, c’mon Evie, stop crying and I’ll do the silly voice,” he coaxes, carrying the child into the living room. Several of the younger kids with cake-covered hands toddle about, grabbing for anything within their reach. The triplets look at one another quickly, as their sister sniffles on the couch, wiping cake off her face.
“Okay!” Leo announces, clapping his hands. “Entertainment, let’s do this. Jack, you’re up!”
The dark-haired boy turns to him impassively, crossing his arms. A shock of auburn hair stands out in his long dark hair, accusing blue eyes focusing on the young werewolf.
“Magic isn’t meant for entertainment Leo,” he says monotonously. “I don’t do card tricks.”
“I do!” his brother pipes up, making grabby hands. “Let me!”
“Shut up, Ways,” Adelaide groans, curled up next to Charlie, and the birthday girl. “Why can’t we go back outside?” she whines,
The triplets exchange a look, having one of their famous silent conversations.
“Oh great,” Emmy Lou sighs, “They’re conspiring.”
“Not conspiring,” Dec clarifies, shaking his head at his brothers. “Just planning what’s next.”
Holly pulls back one of the curtains, where the adults are facing off against a floating cake.
“Who bought haunted candles?” she asks, watching as her mother pulls the cake to the ground with a clever breeze. Her father, armed with the cake knife, crouches to cleanly slice the glowing candles in half.
“Dad,” the triplets and May say in unison. Holly frowns, opening the window with a grunt to the echoing yells of the parents in attendance.
“Sorry love,” Grant is yelling, as Zelda picks up the eerie purple candles from the lawn, passing one to her husband. “They were on sale at Bits!”
Dusty lets out a long groan that the kids can hear from inside.
“Just because something is on sale doesn’t mean you have to get it,” she says, wiping icing from her shoulders.
“Ye look cute though,” he teases, coming over, “Where’d the kids all go?”
“Inside,” Ainslie calls, as Medora rushes to the door.
“Cute??” Dusty says, her voice rising in pitch, “Ohh so you think I’m cute when I’m angry? Well, get ready because I'm about to be gorgeous.”
“I always think you’re gorgeous,” Grant says with a shrug, “C’mon love ye can yell at me later ‘bout the candles. Where’s Maybelle?”
“Here,” the birthday girl calls, pushing past Medora in the living room to run out to her parents. “Daddy, why did you get me haunted candles?”
“I didn’t know they were haunted love,” Grant replies, wrapping an arm around the eleven-year-old. “I know how much ye like purple.”
“And then the cake threw up on Ma,” Dec says, as the kids make their way back outside.
“Declan,” Dusty admonishes, “It didn’t…throw up on me.”
“Kinda did,” Leo pipes up, “Just, like, threw half the icing onto you when Maybs blew out the flames.”
“Disgusting,” Ace agrees, holding little Evita.
“Silly voice,” she commands, tugging at his shaggy auburn hair.
“Aye lass, as ye command,” he replies in an imitation of his father’s accent, “Disgustin’.”
“You’re going to get such a talking to,” Dusty mutters to her husband, who wraps his other arm around her shoulders. “And I’m gonna talk to Aoife about labelling her wares more clearly.”
“Ach, it’s harmless, really, just a bi’ o’ a wee mess,” Ace interrupts, as Evita shrieks with laughter.
“Ace,” Grant groans warningly, “He’s righ’ though. Just a bi’ o’ a mess,” he adds, thickening his accent before licking icing off of his wife’s nose.
“Not in front of the kids MacLeod,” Zelda yells from across the lawn, “Get a room!”