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The balloons were up, the backyard was decorated with pastel banners that read Happy 1st Birthday, Liana!, and a bubble machine was burping out soapy magic every few seconds.
Darrian stood in the middle of it all, holding a clipboard, visibly sweating.
"Okay, juice boxes by the cooler, party favors in the baskets, napkins—WHERE ARE THE NAPKINS?!"
David appeared behind him like the most casual tornado, a baby on his hip and a juice pouch in his mouth.
"Relax, babe," he mumbled around the straw. "It's a one-year-old's birthday, not the Oscars."
Darrian turned to him, deadpan. "You say that now. Wait until five toddlers simultaneously scream because there's no more blue cupcakes."
David shrugged. "They're feral anyway. Let the wild things scream."
Darrian sighed and looked around the yard. Parents mingled near the fence line, kids zipped around like they were caffeinated squirrels, and Liana was happily squishing frosting into her highchair tray.
It was chaotic. Loud. Messy.
And somehow... working.
Until it wasn't.
Darrian had just stepped out of the house, holding the masterpiece of a cake—three tiers, frosted in soft pinks and whites, complete with a tiny edible giraffe topper—when it happened.
A small stampede of children tore past him. One little boy crashed into his leg, another darted under his arm, and in the panic to not squash them with a cake, Darrian stumbled.
It all happened in slow motion.
"NO NO NO—"
Thud.
The cake hit the grass. Sideways. Frosting smeared. Giraffe decapitated.
Dead. On. Arrival.
Silence fell like a wave. Then came the gasp—his gasp—and Darrian stared down at the mess.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't even move.
Then his face crumpled.
"Oh my god," he whispered, covering his mouth. "I worked all night—I just wanted today to be perfect—I—I..."
And then the tears came. Stress, exhaustion, too little sleep, too much pressure—all of it spilled out in silent sobs.
David was there in seconds, handing Liana off to a nearby cousin before gently wrapping his arms around Darrian from behind.
"Hey, hey," he whispered. "Breathe, baby. It's okay."
"I ruined it," Darrian said, his voice cracking. "Her first birthday, and I dropped the cake like a clumsy idiot in front of everyone."
"You are not an idiot," David said firmly. "You're a sleep-deprived superhero who planned the best damn first birthday this kid will never remember."
Darrian let out a wet laugh. "That's not comforting."
David smiled, then suddenly grinned mischievously.
Without warning, he crouched down, scooped up a spoonful of un-squashed cake top, and dramatically shoved it into his mouth like he was at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Everyone watching burst into laughter.
David licked his lips and gave an exaggerated chef's kiss. "Ten out of ten. Better than store-bought."
Darrian blinked. And then, slowly, laughter bubbled up between his sniffles. He dropped to his knees beside him, scooped some frosting onto a finger, and joined in.
"Tastes like my sanity."
"Delicious and slightly unstable," David said, grinning.
Just then, the back gate swung open with a creaky clang.
"I swear to God," a familiar voice groaned, "I am too pregnant for this!"
In waddled Ethan, David's younger brother, looking simultaneously exhausted and glowing, one hand on his belly, the other carrying five oversized gift bags. Behind him came his husband Elijah, balancing a bakery-fresh cake box and four boxes of pizza stacked so high he could barely see over them.
Ethan looked at the frosting-smudged ground, at David eating off a spoon, at Darrian snorting with laughter on the lawn, and sighed dramatically.
"You know what?" Ethan said. "I don't know what I walked into, but I approve."
Elijah chimed in, smiling, "We brought reinforcements. Cake. Pizza. Baby clothes. One unnecessary noise machine."
David jumped to his feet. "Ethan. Elijah. You beautiful men."
Darrian stood up, wiping his eyes. "You just saved this party."
Ethan beamed, setting the bags down with a grunt. "Well, you know. Pregnant superhero things."
Darrian pulled him into a gentle hug. "I missed you."
"Missed you too," Ethan said, then patted his bump. "Little one says hi."
David handed out paper plates, Elijah passed around pizza, and someone started playing Baby Shark loud enough to summon dancing toddlers again. The chaos returned, but this time, it was joyful.
Darrian looked around at the backyard. At the messy frosting smears, the sticky-faced kids, the cake-smeared spoon in David's hand, the family around them.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was theirs.
And it was more than enough.
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