Sergei's Birthday Party

• This was written for Chloe's birthday and is dedicated to her.
• Here is basically a parody disguising itself as a fic. It's meant to be funny; whether it is or not, you be the judge.
• The lyrics within are from the songs

***

“Awwww, you guys didn’t have to do this!”

Sergei Fedorov looked around the room, pleased beyond words. He was surrounded by eight of his teammates, all of whom were grinning at him. For Brendan Shanahan, Mathieu Dandenault, Jiri Fischer, Nick Lidstrom, Sean Avery, Boyd Devereaux, Igor Larionov, and Pavel Datsuk had stayed late in the locker room of the Red Wings, and had not been idle. Before Sergei, late as usual, had come in after showering, they had filled the room with balloons and streamers, and confetti of every color glittered over the benches and floor. There was even a large colorful banner strung against the far wall reading “Happy Birthday Sergei!” For so it was, and now that the day’s practice was over with, it looked like celebration time was about to begin.

“Yes, we did!” Brendan said. From the triumphant way he held his head, it was clear that he was the mastermind behind the whole thing. “We couldn’t let your birthday go unnoticed!”

“I didn’t think anyone knew,” said Sergei, taking hold of one of the brightly-colored streamers that fell draped from the tops of the lockers.

“You talk in your sleep,” said Nick matter-of-factly. Sergei flushed a dark red and everyone else laughed.

“Just kidding,” Nick added with a grin. “It’s in the program they pass out at the games, you dork.”

Sergei smiled, though he was still blushing.

“Of course,” he said, laughing just a bit too loud. “Like you’d know if I talked in my sleep.”

“Sergei! Happy Birthday!” said Boyd, hurrying up to him. Sergei smiled, grateful for a change in the conversation. “What do you think of the balloons?”

“They’re great,” Sergei replied. Balloons of every size and color were scattered about the room. “There sure is a lot.”

“Brendan put me in charge of them,” Boyd said proudly. “He let me blow them all.”

“Up,” finished Igor.

“Yeah, sure. Up.” Brendan grinned and there was another general laugh, this time Sergei included. Boyd frowned.

“It’s not funny,” he said. “I had to do them all while you were in the shower. I feel a little light-headed now from all the blowing.” He swayed slightly.

“I guess that’s our cue to head to the bar,” said Brendan. He clapped Boyd on the back, almost knocking him to the floor. “Can’t have you passing out until after we’ve had a few rounds of shots.”

“The bar?” asked Sergei.

“Yep!” Mathieu gathered up Sergei’s things for him. “It’s your birthday and it’s time to party. We’ve got tables saved and everything.”

“But it’s a weeknight, you guys have families to go to,” Sergei protested, though he was smiling again.

“Don’t worry about that!” Brendan grinned, looking more proud of himself than ever. “I’ve worked that all out. Steve really wanted to come, but he can’t because his knee’s still bothering him. He still wanted to help, though, so he’s watching all of our kids for us.”

“All of them?” Sergei was amazed. “Do you think he’ll be able to handle that?”

“Sure, he’s the Captain, he’s used to dealing with a group of whiny children,” said Nick, waving his hand. “Besides, he’ll be calling later to see how we’re doing.”

“Well,” Sergei looked around at the smiling faces, still smiling himself. “Well, let’s go then!”

“Woohoo!” said Brendan, and a general cheer went up.

They filed out the door and into the hallway. As they left, they passed Dave Lewis, who was on his way in.

“Good practice today, gentlemen,” said Dave, as they walked past him out towards the parking lot.

“Hey, thanks, Dave,” said Brendan. “And have fun cleaning all that shit up.” He dashed toward the exit.

“Clean…” Dave then caught sight of the locker room. “What the-” He looked around, dumb with amazement and irritation. “It looks like a goddamn rainbow exploded in here!”

“Not yet, we just decorated,” said Boyd, who was the last to leave. “That part of the party comes later.” Dave gaped at him as he ran from the room, still breathing heavily.

~~~

In the parking lot, Sergei was bending over, laughing so hard he was in danger of pulling a muscle. Before him sat a large van, easily capable of seating all nine members of the birthday party. It was an ordinary white, but painted on each side, in red, were the words “Sergei’s Par-tay Moblie.” The letters were each a foot high.

“Great, isn’t it?” Brendan stood with his hands on his hips. “That was Sean’s idea. I don’t know where he bought the washable spray paint.”

“Washable?” Sean looked at Brendan. He blinked.

“Yeah, it…” Brendan trailed off, looking at Sean closely. Sean blinked again.

“Oh shit!” Brendan yelled. He ran to the van and inspected it. “Dammit, Sean, this is a rental!”

“The deductible will cover it,” said Jiri. They all stared at him.

“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?” Igor asked.

“Ummm,” Jiri said. “Not really, no.”

“Well, it can’t be helped now,” Nick said, calm as usual. “Right now we need to get to the bar.”

“He’s right,” Brendan sighed. “We’ll worry about the paint later.”

“Shotgun!” Sean yelled.

“I wanted shotgun,” Boyd protested.

“No way, I called it this morning!” Mathieu pouted.

“Sergei gets shotgun!” Brendan decided. “It’s his birthday.”

He glared at Sean. “Anyway, your place is behind the wheel. You’re our designated driver tonight. No drinking for you!”

“What? Why?” Sean was upset.

“We all flipped for it, and you lost,” Nick told him.

“I don’t remember that!”

“If you don’t believe us, ask that guy,” said Igor, pointing.

“What guy?” Sean looked behind him. He looked back, and found that all the others had run to the van and scrambled in. Brendan threw the keys through one of the back windows, and they clattered at Sean’s feet. He sighed.

Sean climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He pulled Sergei’s Par-tay Mobile onto the road and began to maneuver through the streets toward the bar.

“Man, I hope Kris and Darren and Kirk are there already,” Jiri said. Sergei turned around.

“Are they coming too? I wondered where they were.”

“They went ahead,” Nick informed him. “They had to claim the tables and get all the presents there.”

“And don’t forget,” Boyd cut in from behind him. “They were supposed to make sure the big cake was-”

“Shut up, Boyd!” Nick frowned.

Sergei smiled. “You can’t have a birthday party without cake.”

“Nope.” Brendan looked solemn, but Jiri and Mathieu dissolved into giggles.

“Oops, there’s my turn!” Sean said. He slammed on the brakes and made a hard right into the parking lot. The van’s tires squealed and everyone within was flung to the left. Sean found a parking spot and pulled into it. He frowned at his side mirrors.

“Not quite in the lines,” he said. He put the van into reverse, backed up, turned the wheel, put the van into drive, and pulled forward again. He frowned at his mirrors.

“Still not in,” he said. He repeated his process. And then twice more.

“Perfect!” he said. He shut of the engine and turned around. Everyone was glaring at him.

“What?” said Sean. He blinked.

“You suck as a driver.” Jiri was rubbing his elbow where he had slammed it against the side of the van. “You keep that up and I won’t dance with you tonight.”

“But you promised!” Sean said, opening the door. “And I didn’t want to drive anyway.”

They walked across the parking lot, Nick walking close to Sergei. He leaned in close to him.

“And I promise to dance with you tonight,” he whispered in a husky voice.

“You shouldn’t have said that about me talking in my sleep,” Sergei whispered back. “We agreed that we shouldn’t tell anyone until we figure out if this is more serious than just, well…”

“Just fucking?” Nick finished.

“Shhhh!” Sergei looked about him anxiously. Nick laughed.

“You worry too much,” he said.

The nine men made their way into the bar, which was already loud with music and laughter. They walked past the bouncer and looked around them. Up to their right on the upper level overlooking the dance floor was a large space of empty tables. Empty, that is, except for three men sitting at one end, with a pile of packages lying in front of them. One of the men caught sight of them and stood, waving his arms.

“There’s Darren!” Brendan made his way lightly up the stairs. The rest of followed behind. When they got to the table, it was clear that all three men had started drinking already.

“Sergs!” Kris said. He rose to his feet unsteadily and pulled him into a hug. “I love you, man!”

“Happy Birthday!” Kirk added. He blinked hazily at Sergei and smiled. “Let’s order some drinks and then you can open your presents.”

Brendan had pulled Darren aside as the rest sat down and began to order drinks. “Is everything ready for the…” Brendan raised his eyebrows and looked at Darren.

“For the what?” Darren asked. He paused for a second. “OH. Right. Yeah, everything’s ready for that. When do you want it?”

“We’ll wait until a little later,” said Brendan.

Sergei began to open his presents. He moved through the pile slowly, while in the meantime the servers kept the table filled with drinks and shot glasses. Everyone except Sean was fairly drunk by the time he was through. Behind him on the floor lay a pile of wrapping and bows. In front of him was quite an impressive arsenal of underwear and sex toys.

Sergei looked at the assembled group. “Thanks, you guys,” he said. He looked back down at the table. “Though I don’t know why I would need four different whips.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” said Nick, and everyone but he and Sergei laughed.

The band was in full swing, and some of the guys began to make their way to the dance floor. As promised, Jiri was dancing with Sean. Though the song wasn’t particularly slow, they danced close. Jiri was whispering into Sean’s ear, who listened with eyes closed.

Sergei, as the man of the hour, was passed around like a prize. At one dangerous point, the entire grind line attempted to swing dance with him, all at once. After finishing a song with Igor, they came back to the table for another drink.

“Just say it,” Brendan was saying to Pavel. “Trust me, it always works.”

With that, Pavel rose, swayed a moment, and then staggered to a nearby table. Sergei sat beside Brendan.

“What was that all about?” he asked, signaling the server.

“Pavel is hot for the blond at the table over there,” said Brendan, pointing with his chin toward where a handsome blond man was sitting by himself. “He still doesn’t speak English that well, so I gave him a line to use.” He gave a wicked grin.

They listened intently as Pavel approached the handsome man, who smiled up at him.

“Nice.. shoes,” said Pavel slowly. “Want to fuck?”

The blond man’s eyes widened, and then he grinned. He stood, grabbed Pavel’s hand, and led him away toward the front of the bar. Pavel allowed himself to be led, looking back at Brendan. He grinned and gave him the thumbs-up before he disappeared from sight.

Brendan sat with his mouth open, stunned.

“That never worked for me!” he said. “I thought for sure he’d get smacked.”

Suddenly Brendan’s cell phone rang, and he answered it.

“Hello?” he said. “Oh, hi, Steve!” He listened for a second. “Oh, sure, hang on.”

He handed the phone to Sergei. “He wants to talk to you.”

Sergei took the phone. “Hi, Steve!”

“Hi, Sergei,” Steve replied. It was hard to tell over the noise of the bar, but Steve’s voice sounded just a little harried. “Happy birthday! I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Steve,” Sergei said. “I got your present. Thank you very much for the thongs. I didn’t even know they came in vinyl.”

Steve snickered. “You’re welcome. Hey, listen, can I talk to Brendan again?”

“Sure, Steve, thanks for calling. Bye.” Sergei handed the phone back to Brendan, whose eyes were fastened on Mathieu. Dandy was licking his beer bottle suggestively and was winking at Brendan.

“Hey Steve,” Brendan said absently, still looking at Mathieu. He listened for a moment.

“Uh huh,” he said, not moving his eyes. “Uh huh, uh huh.” His eyes widened as Mathieu began to deep-throat the neck of the bottle. “That’s great Steve, have fun, I gotta go, bye.”

Brendan put the cell phone away and pulled Mathieu into his lap. Sergei grinned. So those two were at it again.

“What did Steve have to say to you?” asked Sergei, wanting to find out before Brendan’s mouth was busy elsewhere.

“Oh, the usual,” Brendan said, running his hands up Matheiu’s thighs. “My twins are screaming and won’t stop, Kris’ daughter threw up on the couch, and Darren’s boys just set the garage on fire. Nothing he can’t handle.” Then he kissed Mathieu, and Sergei walked down to the dance floor so as to give them a little more privacy.

“OK, ladies and gentlemen!” The band had halted, and the singer was addressing the bar. “It’s time what you’ve all been waiting for! It’s karaoke time!”

There was much drunken cheering.

“So, if we have any volunteers-”

“Me!” Jiri ran up onto the stage. He messed with the karaoke machine for a few seconds until he found the song he wanted. He got on the microphone.

“This is for you, Sergei,” he slurred. “Happy birthday!”

Soft, sweet music cued up, and Jiri began to sing in a horribly off-key voice.

“You are so beautiful, to meeeeeeeee…” People on the dance floor began to groan. The band members cringed. “You are so beautiful, to meeeeee, can’t you seeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE!!” Everyone held their ears, except for Sean, who sat entranced.

Igor walked up and gave Sergei a grim look.

“This is all your fault, you know,” said Igor in Russian.

“I didn’t ask him to sing,” protested Sergei, also in their native language. “He took it upon himself. Now I wish he hadn’t had all those tequila shots.”

“You’ll be wishing that again when he’s throwing up on your shoes in the van,” prophesied Igor glumly.

Finally, finally, Jiri’s song ended. The whole bar exploded in applause of relief. Jiri beamed.

“Thank you, thank you very much!” he said. “I can sing another song, if you want-”

“NOO!” came the general shout. Jiri pouted, then stumped down the stairs of the stage.

“That’s OK, Jiri,” said Sean. “I thought you were great!”

“That’s because you’re just as tone deaf as he is,” called Igor. “So for God’s sake don’t try to do his encore. Let’s have something from the birthday boy next!”

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Sergei, backing away warily.

“Ohh yes we do!” Brendan and Mathieu had crept up behind him during Jiri’s grand finale. They each took one of Sergei’s arms and assisted him to the stage. Sergei glared at his grinning teammates, who retreated, leaving him alone with the band. He was annoyed, but encouraged by the cheering of the crowd. Or maybe it was the last few long island iced teas he’d had. He ignored the catcalls and whistles as he looked through the machine. He had no real idea what he was going to sing, but he paused when he came across a song that had been stuck in his head lately. It made him think, when his mind became drunk or tired enough to allow the thought, of the recent nights he had spent with Nick. A tender expression floated across his face for a second, and he selected the song.

He cleared his throat into the mike, and the music cued up. The crowd fell silent as he began to sing in a low, clear baritone.

~

I’m finding my way back to sanity again

Where I want to be

~

The song ended and the crowd was silent for a moment. Sergei took a nervous step backward and then the applause started. It was genuine, he realized with a sort of drunk wonder, and he smiled as the cheers resounded.

“More! More!” the crowd called, but Sergei would not be persuaded. He came down from the stage, moving through the group of people who had come up to congratulate him. He walked toward his group but was met halfway by Boyd.

“Sergei,” said Boyd, his voice thick and his eyes bleary. “Sergei, that was, that was just…” He burst into tears.

Sergei hugged him. “Thanks, Boyd.”

“Really, I mean it!” Boyd protested, stepping away unsteadily. “I mean it, that was really, really…” he broke off. “Ummm…” his eyes widened in a panic.

“Uh oh,” he said, and his face took on a sickly green pale. “Room’s spinning!” He rushed off toward the bathrooms.

Sergei accepted some more praise from his teammates and looked around discretely for one in particular. Jiri and Sean were making out not so discretely at a darkened table. Pavel was still not to be found. Back at the party’s tables, Brendan had returned with the rest of the group and was holding court. Darren, Kris, Mathieu, Kirk, and Igor were rolling with laughter at whatever Brendan was saying. But there was no sign of Nick.

Sergei looked around more anxiously. Had he heard the song? Did he know what it was supposed to mean? Where was he?

Suddenly Sean, the only sober one of the group, gasped. He removed his hands from under Jiri’s shirt and ran up the steps to Brendan. He spoke in a low, hurried voice and Brendan grinned.

“Jiri, Sergei, front and center!” Brendan called. The two men climbed the steps, one giggling and other wary. Brendan looked around.

“Well, I don’t know where Pavel’s got himself, but you can bet he’s very happy where he is,” began Brendan, and everyone else laughed. “And I think Boyd is still flushing away all the money he’s spent tonight-”

“No way, I’m here, Brendan,” said Boyd weakly. He had returned from the bathrooms, and collapsed into a chair. He put his head down on his arms and didn’t move.

“Boyd’s going to be sorry he missed this,” said Brendan. He nudged Kirk, who stood up. He motioned to Darren and Kris, and the three men went down the stairs and into the back room behind the bar. Sergei watched in astonishment as the bartenders let them go in, grinning.

“What’s going on?” Sergei asked warily. Nick was not at the table and Brendan had not commented on it.

“Sean has just reminded me that it’s time for the cake,” Brendan announced. “As you said, Sergei, you can’t have a birthday party without cake. So, without further ado, let us go down to the bar!”

The whole party went down the stairs, Igor lifting Boyd over one shoulder. As they reached the bar, a huge cake of many layers was wheeled out of the back room. It was easily five feet tall, with brightly-colored icing. “Happy Birthday, Sergei!” was written in white icing along the sides.

Sergei was floored. “Wow, thank you!” he said, as the whole bar applauded. “I’ve never seen one that big.”

“That’s what you think!” came a disembodied voice. Sergei blinked in surprise. The muffled voice seemed to have come from inside the cake!

“What the…” Sergei began, when suddenly the top of the cake exploded. Cake and icing flew all over everyone nearby as a man stood up directly inside the cake. He had apparently been crouching inside of it. He stood now, bare-chested, with sugary, rainbow pieces of the cake in his hair and on his arms and shoulders. He ran a finger around one of the surviving layers and licked off the icing. The man was Nick!

“Happy Birthday, Sergei,” he said seductively. “I hope you have everything you wanted. Because I know that I do.”

Everyone cheered and applauded. Sergei looked at Nick in amazement, who smiled down at him and nodded. Brendan and Mathieu helped Nick out of the cake, and everyone in the bar began to laugh as they saw what he was wearing. Or what he wasn’t wearing. Nick wore only a red silky thong with the number 91 on the front, in white thread. Nick went immediately to Sergei and hugged him.

“I hope this answers any questions you have,” whispered Nick. “Because I don’t really think I can find a more obvious way of showing you how crazy I am about you.”

Sergei smiled and held Nick closer. “It does,” he whispered back. “And you’re the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

Nick pulled away slightly and looked at Sergei solemnly. “Thank you for the song,” he said. “It was beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Sergei whispered, looking at Nick’s lips. Nick leaned in and kissed him, long and slowly, as everyone in the bar cheered again.

“Jesus, get a room, you guys!” Brendan yelled. But when he smiled there were tears in his eyes. Sergei and Nick broke apart, laughing.

The band began to play the birthday song, and everyone sang along. Everyone then took to the dance floor for the last few slow songs before last call.

Sergei had not left Nick’s arms. The two men danced close, Sergei’s hands on Nick’s bare ass; “to shield him from the room” was the given excuse that fooled absolutely no one.

“I wish this night would never end,” said Sergei wistfully. “It’s been amazing.”

“It will get more amazing when we get home,” promised Nick, grinning wickedly. “That is, if we can leave.”

“Why couldn’t we leave?”

“Because,” Nick said, grinning even more broadly. “Pavel and that blond guy are screwing in the van.”

Sergei laughed, and pressed Nick closer. The end of the last song of the night was drowned out in applause.

***

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