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Fundy’s last birthday had been amongst rubble and smoke, a whisper drowned out by battle cries. There had been no cake. Niki had baked him a sweet berry muffin though, in the moments between fighting. In his memory, it was still the best thing he had ever eaten.
Fundy hadn't minded, back then. Or at least he had told himself that. There was a war to win, and Fundy was a man. Not some little boy, crying over not getting a birthday present.
He told himself the same thing applied here too. Las Nevadas was still new, still only half-finished. There was work to be done, plans to put into action. Quackity had his project – the one he wouldn’t talk about – and everyone else had their jobs. Really, it was understandable.
Fundy would just keep working like everyone else. The road still needed to be extended, so that’s what he would do. Normally he would be looking after Yogurt as well, making sure he didn’t try and eat a cactus for the fourth time, but Purpled had offered to babysit. For free. Fundy was still a bit shocked by that one, but he wasn’t too surprised. His son was a cute, fluffy, adorable fungus; give him enough time and he’ll grow on you. Even Technoblade wouldn’t be able to resist his charms. Though he wasn’t quite ready to put that theory to the test, even if Yogurt wasn’t an orphan.
“Hey, Fundy!” called Foolish, waving from in front of the fountain. He almost hurt to look at, his golden skin shining nearly as bright as the sun. “Quackity wants you in the casino!”
“But he told me to stay away from the casino today!” yelled back Fundy. It had hurt a little but no doubt Quackity just had something delicate in progress, something he didn’t want to risk Fundy fucking up.
“Change of orders!”
Fundy shrugged and put down the concrete. Worst comes to worst, he could always just blame Foolish. And he wouldn’t even be lying, for once.
He set off down the road, felt the cool breeze on his back. The desert of Las Nevadas was the strangest he had ever encountered. Even as the sun bore down on him, he never felt too hot. It even snowed occasionally. Not that he was complaining; fur and heat did not mix.
Foolish had already disappeared inside the casino. Fundy followed suit.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FUNDY!”
Fundy nearly jumped out of his skin. But then he saw the inside of the casino, and his eyes went wide.
Someone had decorated the columns with orange and black banners. Sitting in the middle was a table, with a giant, half-collapsed cake on it. Around the table were Sam, and Slime, and Purpled, and Foolish, and Tubbo, and Quackity, and Yogurt. Each of them had a party hat.
“Dad, dad!” yelled Yogurt, with excitement. He raced over, grabbed Fundy’s arm, and started dragging him to the table. “I made a cake! Well, actually, me and Tubbo and Purpled made a cake. Well, Purpled mainly just crossed his arms and watched. But he still helped! It kind of collapsed though. Sam said it lacked struc—struct—struct-ur-al in-teg-ri-ty. But Foolish said it was still good to eat!”
Yogurt shoved a smashed slice of cake into his hands.
Still only half-processing everything, Fundy took a bite.
It was the best thing he had ever eaten.