Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

CLINGY DRUNK OR ANGRY DRUNK?...NAH, CLINGY HIGH.

TARA

Joey burst into the room with all the energy of a runaway train, launching himself onto the bed just as Shannon and I stepped through the doorway. "Happy birthday, ya little shit!" he yelled with a wide grin, bouncing on the mattress like it was a trampoline.

Tadhg, however, was not having it. "Get outta my face, ya fat, greasy pig," he snarled, burrowing himself deeper into the duvet, yanking it over his head to block out the light Joey had just flicked on. "And turn off the fucking lights!"

"Who're ya calling a fat, greasy pig, huh? You skinny little runt!" Joey teased, effortlessly dodging the flailing arms and legs as Tadhg kicked and punched in a desperate attempt to reclaim the covers.

"Ya bollocks, let me go!" Tadhg spat, fists swinging wildly as he tried to land a punch, his blonde hair sticking up in all directions like a disgruntled hedgehog.

I glanced down, feeling small hands wrap around my legs. Ollie stood there, half-asleep, his hair sticking out at odd angles. "Morning, Ollie," I smiled, reaching down to ruffle his soft curls.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he pressed his face into my leg.

I pulled Tadhg into a tight hug. "Happy birthday, ya little rascal," I whispered in his ear, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head. His small body relaxed into the hug, though his gaze flickered towards Joey with a hint of irritation. "Ready for today?"

"Can I bring my water gun?"

"We'll stick to rubber swords."

"Is Nanny coming?" Ollie asked as we all made our way downstairs.

"Someone has to mind you and Sean in the morning," Shannon said, balancing Sean, who was draped lazily over her hip. His sleepy eyes were half-closed, clearly still waking up. "But we'll all be together in the afternoon."

"Lucky me," Tadhg muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as we descended the stairs.

Joey gave him a playful smack on the back of the head. "Son of a bitch, that hurt!" he whined, rubbing his scalp.

"It was meant to, ya little shit."

As we entered the kitchen, the soft flicker of candlelight caught my eye. Mam and Darren were seated at the table, a small chocolate cake in front of them, with candles lit and ready. Both of them wore identical smiles.

"Happy birthday, Tadhg."

Tadhg eyed the cake with distaste. "I don't like chocolate," he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest as Shannon set Sean in his highchair, and Ollie climbed into the chair beside him. "Why'd you get me chocolate?"

Darren frowned, clearly caught off guard. "You've always liked chocolate."

"I like Oreos, not fucking chocolate. It's not the same."

Ollie, ever the loyal little brother, nodded vigorously. "Oreo's are better, Darren."

Mam sighed. "Tadhg, baby, sit down, will ya? It's your birthday," she pleaded, her voice gentle.

"I'm not your fucking baby or anything like that."

Joey and I exchanged a glance—time to play parent. Again.

"Tadhg, sit yer arse down," Joey said firmly, but with a note of patience.

"But—"

"Sit down," I echoed, cutting him off before he could argue further. "I've got packs of Oreos in the drawer. Will you eat a slice of cake if I crush them up and sprinkle them on top?"