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Two pieces of pink paper fluttered down into the middle of the book Z was engrossed in, pulling her out of the story she had, up to that point, been thoroughly enjoying. They were shiny and gaudy, covered in loopy cursive and cheesy pictures of people dancing. A sparkle on her finger caught her eye and she grimaced. Glitter. They were also covered in glitter. As were her hands, her shirt, and now her book.
“Thanks, Syd. Just what I needed.” Z blew as much glitter off her book as she could and shut it a little more forcefully than was actually necessary.
“Say yes! I've already requested the night off for all of us,” Syd beamed at her. Z looked up, confused.
“Y…es?” She hadn't meant to agree, but somehow Syd managed to get her to do it anyway. Syd jumped and clapped, squealing in delight.
“The other one is for Jack. Please make sure he gets it. He HAS to be there. After all, it’s his party too.” Syd danced out of the room and Z finally read the paper. She had just agreed to attend Syd’s birthday party. A formal dance. Z groaned and dropped her head onto her book forgetting about the glitter. She’d be covered in it for weeks.
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Bridge was thoroughly enjoying the toast he’d just made in the kitchens. He wasn't technically supposed to be down here, but it was the only way to get extra buttery toast. The kitchen staff generally liked him. He’d probably be safe. He could always volunteer for dishes duty if he got caught. Buttery toast was worth extra dishes.
“Bridgey! There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.” Syd skipped into the kitchen and Bridge nearly dropped his toast. He caught it but now his gloves were all buttery.
“What’s up, Syd?” he asked, licking the greasy goodness from the leather.
“I’m inviting you to my and Jack’s birthday party.” She thrust a pink piece of paper into his hands and smiled. He read it quickly.
“Dancing sounds like fun. But… fancy dress? What kind of dress do I need?” He furrowed his brow and read it again. It definitely said fancy dress.
“No, Bridge, you don’t wear a dress. Fancy dress just means you need to wear your fanciest attire. Suit. Tuxedo. Formal wear. Something fitting of a formal ball.” He nodded and she turned on her heel to leave, a stack of invitations still in her hand.
“Syd!” he called. She turned at the door. “What if I want to wear a dress? Could I do that? Can boys wear dresses to your fancy dress dancing party?”
“Sure, Bridge. If you really want, I’d be okay with that.” She headed out the door and Bridge looked back down at the invitation.
“But I don’t have any dresses,” he sighed, taking another bite of toast. At least it was still warm.
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“Sky. I’m giving you this invitation but it’s not really a request. It’s my birthday and you will be there. I've already cleared it with Doggie and you have the evening off. If you’d like to look at it as a patrol mission or ensuring the safety of civilians or whatever, that’s fine, but you’ll be there.”
Sky didn't even have time to process her words before Syd shoved a piece of paper in his face. The following Saturday, Syd was having a birthday party at a formal ballroom. The invitation said there would be a live band, an open bar, a cake made by some famous baker from all the way across the country, and dancing. Lots of suits, flash, and dancing. Jack’s name was on the top as well.
“I don’t dance.” Sky tried to hand the paper back. Syd glared.
“I don’t like crowds. Or rich people.” he tried again. She glared some more.
“I have a sensitive stomach?” He knew she wouldn't buy it. And she didn't. He sighed in resignation. He didn't even have to look up to know she was gloating as she pranced away.
“I mean it though!” He yelled after her. “I don’t dance!”
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Jack was just finishing packing the last bag for the day, ready for distribution to the city’s homeless, when Z came sauntering in. He pushed the cart towards two of his usual volunteers and headed to the front to meet her.
“Hey Sis, what brings you to this side of town? Out of uniform, even.” She smiled and handed him a card.
“I’m here to invite you to your own birthday party. Well, yours and Syd’s.”
“My… birthday party?” he asked, reaching for the paper. It was pink. He wasn't a pink kind of guy.
“Yes. A formal birthday party.” Z was trying hard not to laugh. He hated when she did that.
“I don’t have a birthday. And I don’t want a party. Or, apparently, dancing. I don’t even know what ballroom dancing is. Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He handed the invitation back but Z shook her head. She wouldn't take it.
“Syd said she’d share her birthday. So now it’s yours too. And not just dancing. Ballroom dancing.” She emphasized ballroom. He didn't like the sound of it.
“I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” he asked.
“You want to argue with Syd?” She cocked an eyebrow. She already knew the answer to that.
“I know better than to fight a battle I can’t win. Tell her I’ll be there.” He had to admit, he kind of liked the idea. He’d never had a birthday party before.
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It was the best birthday party Syd had ever had. All her parents’ friends were there. All her childhood friends. But most importantly, her S.P.D. family was there. And they were even all having a good time. Or at least they seemed to be. Sky had taken a position next to the dessert table. He hadn't moved all night. He was wearing his S.P.D. dress uniform which was probably as dressy as she could have hoped he would get.
“Dance with me!” she pleaded, sidling up to him. He barely looked down.
“I don’t dance,” he deadpanned.
“Please? Just once?” He glanced down at her, a small victory. “Call it my birthday present.”
“I already gave you a birthday present.” She couldn't deny that. He’d given her the smallest little diamond, for her to do with as she pleased, as a reminder of the first mission they’d shared just the two of them in the early days of B Squad. Sure, it had been an embarrassing failure, but they’d done it together and she appreciated his sense of humour. She still wished he’d dance, though he’d gone back to a cold stare at the crowd gliding across the ballroom floor.
“I’d really like a dance, Sky.” She tried one more time. He grimaced.
“I. Don’t. Dance.” She sighed and gave up.
She looked for Bridge next, having shared a few quiet waltzes with him earlier, but he was already engaged in the middle of the dance floor with Z. His dancing was ridiculous. He was flailing about completely out to time to the music, but he didn't seem to care. His suit was ill fitting, mismatched, and his green Star Wars tie kept flapping into his face. He barely seemed to notice. She was only partly glad he hadn't worn an actual dress. She would have liked to see him in one.
Z had to stop dancing for all the laughing she was doing. Her dress was green, the colour she should have been promoted to, or possibly in homage to the colour Bridge had recently given up, but still seemed to fit him better than the blue he currently wore. Syd wasn't sure and she didn't care. Z was stunning as she twirled, doubling over with laughter. She couldn't bear to interrupt them.
“Share a dance with me, Birthday Girl?” a voice asked from behind her. She whirled directly into Jack’s arms and he led her smoothly onto the dance floor.
“I would love to, Birthday Boy.” He smiled and they turned and turned, sharing a friendly giggle.
“Thanks for including me in your birthday.”
“It’s your birthday too, now. I’m glad to share it. And I promise pizza and cake for all your friends at the shelter tomorrow.” She smoothed the coat of his jacket, perfectly suited to him but obviously rented. He’d taken the time for her nonetheless and she appreciated it.
“Double the party, double the fun. And thank you for the present. That crate of socks, towels, and water bottles will go a long way at the shelter.” She beamed. He’d been hard to shop for, but she wanted him to get a birthday present too. It was her favourite part of the whole day.
They danced in silence for two more songs before literally bumping into Bridge and Z. Bridge kept right on flailing and while the other guests around them seemed to shy away, Syd couldn't help it. She was overcome with love for her friends. She, Jack, and Z joined him in flailing uncontrollably for the remainder of the night.
Nobody else seemed to understand, but it was the best party she’d ever had.