Title: Happy Birthday
Characters: Kieran/Cinnia, Vaeramae
Note: Strong swearing


I heard the phone ring and hurried to pick it up. “Hello?” I said into the receiver.

“Cinnia! Happy Birthday!” a familiar voice cried into the phone.

I winced at the sound. It was Vaeramae. She didn’t sound drunk. Maybe she was a little tipsy. Not unusual for her. I would never say that she was a raging drunk but she strongly reminded me of an Irishman more than half the time.

Which, when I thought about it, was a silly thing to say. The Vikings did come from their overcrowded, poor homeland of Norway in antiquity to find more places to settle and some money to survive and quite a few of them landed in what is now known as the United Kingdom. More than a few Vikings settled down in the area so it was probably best to think of it in terms of “the Irish remind me of the ancient Vikings.”

Moving along.

Again, she didn’t sound drunk, just a little tipsy. So, I decided to stay on the phone. “Vaeramae, you do know that my birthday isn’t until next week, right?”

I didn’t think she heard me. That, or she chose to ignore me. In any case, I heard her break into song.

“Happy birthday.” Pause. “To you!”

I groaned inwardly. It sounded like the Marilyn Monroe version of “Happy Birthday” but with more oppiettes. Gods help me.

I listened to her patiently as she attempted to finish the song. Unfortunately, she didn’t.


I heard her pause for just a second and then launch into “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” I wasn’t quite sure how “Itsy Bitsy Spider” had anything to do with “Happy Birthday” but I decided not to interrupt and confuse her any more than she probably already was.

“The itsy bitsy… Fuck, I can’t do this.”

That’s when I knew she was drunk. It wasn’t a Rubix cube, it wasn’t a crossword puzzle, it was a song that a four year old could sing without a problem. Yet, here Vaeramae was, struggling over a song meant for pre-schoolers.

There was a pause followed by an inhalation of breath. “The itsy bitsy… Fuck!”

That was when I realized how painful this conversation was going to be unless I helped her. “Spider?”

“Yes! Gods, yes! Spider!” She sounded like she was about ready to have an orgasm.

I closed my eyes in pain and felt my brows furrow together. I let her begin again and supplied the words if she forgot them. I thought the conversation would be quick with my help but, as Murphy’s Law would have it, that wasn’t the case. It was an hour before we finished the song.

I hate Murphy. I really do.


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