Author's Note: Something fun and summery for the wonderful Two-Bit Mathews' birthday. Because, ya know, I love 'im. Features second gen characters and OCs, so also a bit self-indulgent, but hey – the next chapter of For Their Flowers is kinda heavy, so this is a nice little break for me. But just so you know, Two-Bit married Bridget Stevens from Don't Think Twice, and they have three kids named Mary, Dallas, and Lisa. That should get ya through!

Happy reading :)

XXXXX

So. I may or may not have very strategically planned to be down in Tulsa for my birthday. I usually don't really care – honest – but I guess I decided number forty-five would be a good time to start. And it's not as if we wouldn't have ended up in Tulsa at some point over the summer anyway because we always do. My wife can't expect for me to not want to go home for a few weeks. I don't think it even registered with my family that it lined up like this because like I said, it's not like I make a big of my birthday, and I never really have, not even as a kid. Bee thinks that's weird, like it's some sorta miscalculation in my personality because according to her, "You're basically a big kid – I have no idea why you wouldn't love birthdays."

Well, she's not completely on it with that because I don't have a problem with birthdays – I like 'em! I mean, I like other peoples. For example, for Darry's fortieth birthday, the guys and I woke him up with a bucket of water (after dear Jackie had gotten up, that is), confetti, the Funeral March, and got Polaroid proof; for Steve's twenty-fifth, he convinced us all to get matching tattoos; for Sodapop's eighteenth, we drove him down to get his Army physical in his underwear and his pop's helmet (ironic, because his number came up two weeks later); and for Pony's sixteenth, we all took him out driving, which I think gave us all ulcers. And my kids? Kiddie birthdays are fun because we ain't dirt poor and, well, I guess my kids like birthdays. And I like them and all, cuz they're my kids and all that jazz. Bridget makes a big deal of them, grabs our other two kids and wakes the birthday kiddo up by singing to them, which is usually so loud it wakes me up, too.

And then Bridget and I celebrate each other's' birthdays in a…very intimate way.

Actually, one year, Bridget gave me a bunch of nudie pictures for my birthday, so I guess I can safely say that my twenty-sixth birthday is my favorite. Because if we're being honest, great as my Mom is, I grew up a redneck greaser (is that…is that a thing?), and all my eighteenth birthday meant was that I could legally drink and had to get my draft card; all twenty-seven meant was getting ready for our first baby to come; and all forty meant was the horrible realization that I had somehow made it to forty.

But all of a sudden, forty-five was kinda important to me. I guess in my own quiet way, I decided that if I could just be in Tulsa for it, that would be enough. No one even needed to remember it was happening. As long as I was there, it would be good. No one needed to even say anything about it or bake me a cake or any of the regular shit, I just wanted to be there.

"I wanna get there by the thirteenth," I told the family. We were all still just sitting around the kitchen table after dinner, Bridget darting around cleaning up and putting away, listening in. "Hon, I already talked to Viviane. Same arrangement as always."

"Seems we usually go closer to Steve and Evie's anniversary," Bee mused. Steve and Evie were married on the Fourth of July. There were always fireworks and everything!

"And you said we could go see the Mets next week!" Dallas said, and I scowled at him.

"Kid, season lasts 'til October."

"We don't know that!" He stressed. "There's no promise they'll make it that long." I cocked my eyebrow; I forgot how melodramatic fifteen-year-olds could be – shoulda seen Pony when he was that age.

"Don't you need to go check your blood sugar or somethin'?" I asked, and he scowled right back.

The drive from New York to Tulsa is roughly twenty-one hours, alright, so you bet yer ass I was flicking on lights and pulling shades at ass-'o'-clock in the morning, and you can also bet that for as happy as I was to be behind the wheel, nobody else was. Even Bee was eyeing me funny. But an annual pilgrimage to Tulsa was a given, and the visits are always long, just like I like 'em. We usually spend the duration at my in-law's home (shudder), but we get to spend our days with everyone else, usually well into the evening past bedtime. Guess us parents usually can't be bothered to be torn away. We just tell the kids to get on their bikes, ride off, and be back in time for dinner. And then us big kids lounge around, either already working on dinner or just talking. Eventually, the kids would get home, hollering and laughing and kidding around, sweaty and dirty, signaling dinnertime. They'd all get ushered inside and told sternly to wash up, not doing so being at pain of going without food, and then Mama would announce that they'd be heading to the river the next day.

Those are my favorites. The days spent at the river are long ones. Bee would round up the kids early in the morning and make them eat breakfast while they were still half asleep. (She liked to get out the door early.) Then we'd all pile into the family truckster and meet up with Daddy's buddies' families, like they weren't Bee's friends, too. So I'd set off with the boys and fish, and then Bee would sit up on the bank with the other moms. Their numbers are smaller – the wife-to-husband ratio is four-to-five because Sodapop's wife had left, and left him with their daughter. The former Mrs. S. Curtis was often a brief topic of discussion, and if we were in range, Sodapop would flinch at her name. While we sat on the dock and fished and turned brighter and brighter shades of red before browning, the kids' mothers kept their children supplied with Cokes and sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. These kids spent most of their time with their mothers, even now as they were getting older, even the boys.

But I guess that's sorta on purpose. I think it's a sorta unspoken thing that we all get together so that the five of us can see each other because we don't all live in the same town anymore. And that kinda sucks. So Daddy and his buddies spent more time together than we did with our families, but for whatever reason, no one seemed to mind. We'd make predictions about how OSU would do in the upcoming season, and bitch about the Sooners. Darry could gut a catfish faster than you could say "Muskogee", and fry it even faster. Ponyboy's drawl would come back, shocking his English wife every time. Sodapop would inevitably drag them all to a rodeo at one point or another. Steve would race the kids on bikes. I don't know what I contributed, but I was sure there, every year. On the particularly long days, where we were out long past bedtime, the guys and I would sit on the dock in folding chairs, several beers in, playing a cutthroat game of Oklahoma Poker and howling into the still night, scaring off every living thing for miles.

Meals were a casual affair, and we adults usually started drinking in the afternoon. The ladies were partial to Bloody Marys ("Mary, dahlin', no.") and cocktails that were nothing but orange juice and a splash of vodka. Darry liked to grill. Steaks and burgers were common fare. Jackie was from Louisiana, and her dinners all had a distinctive Cajun flair to them, and she often bemoaned the fact that Oklahoma was a landlocked state, and its love affair with red meat. That's where the catfish came in. The best cook of all the daddies was Darry, so if the moms just weren't in the mood, Darry would wordlessly take over the task. Everything wasn't always grilled, but we always ate outside, languidly lounging on chairs and in the grass after long days spent in the sun with plates piled high with too much food for any one person, with corn and heavily buttered slices of French bread and fried catfish or hot dogs or hamburgers or…shit, anything, really.

"Why is it that you never cook like this?" I asked Bee. Roughly a week in, and I was already getting that feeling of never wanting to leave Tulsa again. Why hadn't I convinced Bridget to stay here? I guess it's because she had big dreams and all, and the only dream I'd ever had was to marry her. And to become a Dodger, I guess, but that didn't pan out. Anyways, I wanted to stay here forever, is the point. I forget how much I miss this stupid town, and this stupid state. I'd also gotten this far in without a single mention of birthdays, so I considered it a win.

"Because if I did, your cholesterol would be through the roof, Chief. That's why," she snarked from her perch next to Evie, both of them with their cover-ups open so we could all see their bikinis. The guys and I wondered to each other how any of these women still wore 'em after having kids, but we didn't exactly mind, did we? I waved her off, and Evie snorted. Pony's gal, Roz, asked Soda to open a bottle of champagne, and the girls all squealed at the pop! Pony looked at his wife in confusion.

"What're we celebratin'?" He asked. He'd finally kinda figured out how to raise just one eyebrow.

It was Roz's turn to look confused. "Well…Two-Bit's birthday, of course." Instant silence as everyone stared at her. I tried to communicate to her telepathically that this was a bad idea, wrong, red alert, abandon ship, but she didn't seem to get the message. Her eyes scanned all of us, and I could feel my wife's big green ones on me, drilling holes slowly and painfully into the side of my head. "Isn't it tomorrow? I could have sworn it was. I just thought a little pre-celebration might be fun."

I cleared my throat. "Uh. Yeah," was all I could say. Man – cover blown. Steve scoffed.

"Holy shit, Two-Bit. Tomorrow's your birthday."

Fuck! And I'd been working so hard to hide it, too. All eyes were on me suddenly, and everyone on the porch had gotten real quiet, and Bridget was looking at me with her jaw dropped, and I knew exactly where this was going. I tried to play it off, laughing a little, because again, I really didn't care – I just wanted to be here, and that was enough. But now I could tell that they all felt guilty and shit, which was the last thing I had wanted.

"Guess so," I chuckled nervously. "Number for-ty-five…"

God, now it was even more awkward. What made it ever weirder now was that not only had I not mentioned anything about it, everyone had forgotten. I mean, when we get down her each year, everything's out the window. The wives spend their days in swimsuits and cover-ups, all sun-kissed. The guys and I are practically trying to out-drink each other and only worry about who catches the most fish. We all have raccoon eyes from wearing sunglasses. I don't think we even know where our kids are half the time. (Like right now. Betcha a hundred bucks Mary's off tradin' spit with Lee Curtis.) No fuckin' wonder I'd wanted to come down here – I'd wanted all of 'em to forget that I even had a birthday, that I hadn't just shown up fully-formed. There was a heavy beat of silence before they all shouted at me,

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

Not kidding, all in unison. No joke. I think all my buddies thought it was kinda funny, but Bridget just looked kinda ashamed, which I felt bad about.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I just…didn't? Surprise?" I tried.

That didn't exactly go over well; all it got me was them all simultaneously shouting at me in what sounded like gibberish. That's pretty much what they did for the rest of the evening, the night ending with Soda swearing that they were gonna do something reallllll speeeeecialllll tomorrow for the big four-five. I drove us back to Bridget's old house with my shirt unbuttoned and the windows rolled down, the kids all leaning against each other in the backseat, all sweaty and hot and worn out. I felt a poke on my arm and looked over and saw Bridget staring at me.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She wondered.

"Just isn't a big deal," I shrugged.

"So you tried to bury it in our trip down here?"

"I just wanted to be here for my birthday…"

Bee groaned dramatically and leaned her head back on the seat. "Keith!" I flinched at hearing my real name. Even my wife almost never uses it, and when she does, it's serious. "You…you're…you're impossible."

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…"

I laughed, she didn't; story of our relationship. That's her problem; Bridget cares too much about everything. It's nice when it comes to the kids, but I mean where I'm concerned. I think she's trying to help me compensate for my upbringing or whatever, but what she don't understand is that my life wasn't all crap until I met her, and that her childhood wasn't exactly peaches and cream either. So when I, say, conveniently forget to tell people about my birthday, she gets all hurt and "I think we should talk about this," and then I'm very "I don't think we should talk about this at all," and then she goes "That's just like you! You don't take anything seriously, don't let anyone do anything nice for you. It's really very inconsiderate." And then I would ask "What's the big fucking deal? It's a birthday, and I'm tellin' ya, I got exactly what I wanted. I didn't want to do anything but be here, and it's my birthday, so why do you care?" Then I'll feel stupid because of course she cares, she loves me.

Ew – she loves me.

"You know what I don't get, Two-Bit?" Pony asked me the next day, my birthday. I don't exactly remember what time I was born at, but I'll be forty-five at some point today, and that's weird enough for me. Mary turns eighteen in October, Dallas sixteen in July, and Lisa twelve in December. Forty-five is way too close to fifty for my liking, but at least it isn't forty-seven, like it is for Darry.

"What don't you get?" I asked.

Today didn't look any different than any other summer day. We were all down at the river again. All the kids were with the girls a ways down the bank. I could see the four ladies lathering each other in this reddish-brown concoction as they gabbed with each other. The sun was high in the sky, and it sure felt like the summer days I remembered as a kid. Ah - Oklahoma, OK!

Pony looked up from his book – A Lesson Before Dying. Never heard of it. He really didn't do much fishing. "We do something for your birthday every year. What's different this year?"

I shrugged. "Guess when I finally decided to care enough to put any thought into it, I decided I'd rather just ignore it!"

Pony just scoffed and shook his head. "I think he's just scared of gettin' old," Steve said, finally deciding to put in his two cents.

"Aw, don't be scared, Two-Bit. Lookit Darry – he's forty-seven already, and he's doin' just fine! He survived forty-five."

"You sure?" Darry asked, and Sodapop stuck his tongue out at him.

Darry turned on me. "Do you remember your nineteenth birthday?"

I sighed. "Ehhh…not really?" I held up a hand. "Oh – but lemme guess. I got drunk, probably embarrassed y'all somehow, probably threw up at some point. I get it?"

Darry chuckled low and switched his bait. "Surprisingly, no. That was the year of that huge storm. There was a tornado just outside'a town, the library got flooded, Pony was all devastated. It happened the day before."

Well, I definitely remembered all that, and I remember the summer of 1967 very clearly. But I couldn't remember what had happened on my birthday for shit. "I remember that," Pony mumbled, not looking up from his book. "Tragic."

I ignored him. "So what happened?"

"Well, it was that next day, the twenty-first, and we were all five us in the basement waiting it out, and it's real quiet, and all of a sudden you say, 'Oh, and I guess I'm nineteen now.' That was it. We'd all forgotten."

I threw my head back and laughed because yeah, that sounded like me, too. "Shit, man! 'Course I don't remember that. What's yer point?"

"Point is that you pull this shit every year." I looked over at Darry and saw his baby blues peering at me over his sunglasses. So I pulled mine down, too, and stared down my nose at him.

"So?"

"So don't ya think it's a kinda shitty thing to do?"

"Why? It's my birthday. All's I wanted was to just be down here with y'all and let it go by quietly."

Steve shook his head. "You're a fuckin' mystery. You're all noise and gab three-hundred-and-sixty-four days outta the year, and the one day where people actually wanna be nice to ya, you hope people forget about it. You draw attention to yourself all the time! What's the deal?"

Truth be told, I didn't know. I didn't really know. Instead I said, "Ya wanna know what I woke up to this mornin'?"

I guess I really shouldn't have been surprised. I wonder if maybe they were getting revenge on me for how I'd gotten them up the morning we left. They were coming up the stairs…coming down the hall…standing right in front the door, whispering to each other their grand plan. I knew exactly what the fuck they were doing, so I decided to be cool and pretend I hadn't heard them and was still asleep. It was kinda surprising that Mary and Dallas were getting into this because they're seventeen and fifteen and usually pretend to hate everything on the planet, even me, but I'm pretty sure they were the loudest as they sang "Happy Birthday" and got me trapped under their weight.

"Good fuckin' god," I groaned. "Can't even let the birthday boy sleep in."

"Nope!" Lisa cheered.

I cracked an eye open. Bee was standing over me, cake in one hand, lighting candles with the other. "Oh, my."

"That was real shifty of you, hiding this," she said. "Dallas, come hold this. I've got twenty more of these to light."

"Oh, don't say that," I mumbled as I sat up. Lisa clamored into my lap.

"Why not? Ya scared?" Mary teased.

"Yeah, Dad – c'mon! Forty-five is just a number." Count on Dallas to tag on. I half-heartedly scowled at him as he held onto the chocolate layer cake that they'd brought in.

"You shouldn't listen to them, Daddy," Lisa said.

"Ya think?" I drawled.

"Yeah. Even though forty-five is old..."

They all started laughing. Guess I'm an easy target. "Alright," Bee sighed. The candles were all lit, and she had two hands under that cake and was holding it right in front of my face. "Make a wish, Two-Bit Mathews." The room was dark enough that I could still really see the reflection of the little flames flickering in her eyes. "Before they melt, preferably."

"Ain't this the part where I'm s'posed to say that all I could ever wish for is right here?" Bee smirked.

"Seems a bit trite," she whispered.

I thought about it a second. I mean, I wasn't far off the mark – they were here, I was gonna go see the guys later that day (and who knows what they had planned.) I didn't really know what else to ask for.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What'd ya wish for?"

I flashed my pearly whites at him. "Aw, can't tell ya, Darrel. Otherwise, it wouldn't come true."

I decided not to tell him all the hokey stuff about how I'm just glad that I was here and the five of us still liked each other enough to want to see each other as often as we do. That for as much as things have changed, they're still the same between us. That I'm glad Steve's still snarky and Sodapop's still wild and Ponyboy's still dreamy and that he's still my best friend. But I couldn't say all that. Two-Bit Mathews doesn't do sap – it would ruin his rep.

Darry tossed his beer. "Whatever, Two-Bitch. Let's go see what Soda's got cookin' for ya, birthday boy."

XXXXX

AN: Just a little something. There's a few Easter eggs in there for those of you who've read a lot of my stories ;)

I hope to have an update up on For Their Flowers on Friday. Think it's gonna happen! Cross your fingers for me.

Thank you all for reading!