Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Today’s your first day of Driver’s Education, isn’t it, James?” Grey asks.

Carolina watches Church go from grumpily eating his breakfast to looking excited, though he’s clearly trying to downplay his excitement. He nods. “Yeah. Tucker and I are doing it.” Then he glances sideways at Carolina. “Still don’t know why you aren’t.”

Carolina shrugs. “Not like we have an extra car. I’ll probably do it next year.” Besides, they both know that she doesn't really need lessons. She just has to get around to taking the learner's permit test. She grins at Church. “And Mr. Simmons has enough on his plate. He’s teaching you guys.”

Church’s eyes narrow a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Tucker is going to spend the whole time talking about how driving will finally get him a girlfriend.”

“...That’s fair." 

And if you’re as bad at driving as you are at video games, Simmons will have his hands full, Carolina doesn’t add, even if she thinks it.

“That reminds me,” Kimball says. Something in her tone makes Carolina look at her. “You haven’t asked anyone about broom or vacuum riding lessons. Did you ever take the learner’s test?”

“Uh,” Carolina says. She’s trying to figure out how to politely say that she put the broom and the vacuum in her closet and then forgot about it when Kimball adds, “I’m sure your dad would want to teach you himself, but I’m happy to help. You need twenty hours of test flights before you can get your full license.”

Carolina’s hit by a guilty pang. Her dad had bought her gifts and then she’d just ignored them. And it probably can’t take too long to learn, right? It seems a lot easier than learning how to drive a car, even if she can’t see herself flying around the skies on a regular basis. But it would probably make her dad happy. “Right. Uh. Maybe we can do that soon.”

Church snickers. “Yeah. Have fun with that.”

It’s Carolina’s turn to squint suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“It means that mortals have the right idea. Cars and airplanes are way better than brooms and vacuums.”

Grey and Kimball both grin like he's made a very funny joke.

Grey says brightly, “James, it’s a rite of passage for all young witches to learn how to fly!”

“Like learning how to ride a bicycle for mortals,” Kimball agrees.

“Yeah, well, not planning on learning that either,” Church says. “Cars are safer anyway. At least if you run into a tree in a car, the car will protect you.”

“Of course, it’s even safer not to hit a tree at all,” Kimball says dryly.

Church rolls his eyes.

“Why isn’t Caboose taking it with you guys?” Carolina asks.

Church shrugs. “Uh, one, it costs money. Two, he has a million sisters who can teach him.” He pauses and makes a face, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Plus Driver’s Ed means less time he can figure out Valentine’s Day and what he’s doing with Sheila.”

Carolina smiles. “I’m sure she’ll like whatever he comes up with.”

Church snorts again. “Yeah, maybe he’ll make a robot that says sappy Valentine’s Day stuff at her….”

“Aw, crap,” Dex groans.

Kai looks over. Simmons has already left for his weird mortal job, so it’s just her and her brother, relaxing on the couch watching mortal TV. It kind of reminds her of home, except that Dex is catified. It’s still weird to see his eyes stay the same color. Makes him harder to read. He definitely sounds annoyed though. “What?”

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” Dex says.

Kai thinks Valentine’s Day is dumb, but her brother’s a softy at heart. Plus she knows for a fact he enjoys all the half-price mortal candy the next day. She’s surprised that he sounds irritated. “Yeah, so?”

“So that means it’s gonna be Simmons’ birthday.”

Kai brightens. Westbridge has been pretty boring so far. She’s definitely in the mood to have some fun. She wonders what Simmons’ favorite drink is. “We’re throwing him a party?”

Dex glances sideways at her. “Not your kind of party.”

“Ugh,” Kai says. She shouldn’t be surprised. Simmons is a total stick-in-the-mud. The only interesting things about him are his delusion that he’s a mortal and the fact that he’s not a total jerk to her brother. Both of them are super cagey about how he even ended up as Dex's guardian, going with the whole weird 'he's a mortal' thing. “Even fake mortal parties can be fun, just let me get some teq--”

“No,” Dex says, but he sounds a little amused.

Kai crosses her arms against her chest. Trust her brother and his lame guardian to turn even a birthday party boring. “Okay, then what the duck are we doing?”

“No clue. But you owe him a party he’ll like.”

“Me?” Kai says, blinking down at Dex. “What?”

“You’re living at his place rent-free.”

“Uh, so are you.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly get a job, can I?” Dex says with a sarcastic wave of his paw. Before Kai can argue, he adds, “Besides, he doesn’t need anything big. Dude would probably be happy with something like his favorite dinner and….” He stops. His tail twitches. “I’ll come up with something.”

Kai squints. “Bro. You don’t know what kind of birthday party he’d want? You’ve been living with him for--”

“Why would I know?” Dex says, sounding a little defensive. His tail starts twitching faster. “He didn’t even tell me his birthday until you showed up!”

Kai might not be able to tell his mood from his eyes anymore, but the tail’s kind of a new giveaway. She gives him an unimpressed look. “Uh huh. Didn’t he do some nice stuff for Halloween?”

“Only ‘cause he found out it was a family holiday,” Dex mutters. “He didn't know it was my birthday. I’ll figure it out, okay? Just be around so I can get you to do some magic.”

Kai snorts. “Sure. I’ll be around. Valentine’s Day sucks. The next day is awesome though.”

“Why?” Dex asks, sounding like he regrets the question it’s out of his kitty mouth.

Kai grins. “So many breakups. So many people who just need someone to--”

“Never mind,” Dex says quickly.

Church had kind of assumed that they would get into cars and just drive around the school parking lot. Apparently they actually have to have a real class in a real classroom first, and there’s a whole other manual to memorize besides his witch’s learner’s manual.

It’s annoying. It’s even more annoying that Tucker is complaining just like Carolina guessed he would.

“Why are we doing this the week of Valentine’s Day? Some of us could have plans.”

Church grins. “What, did you get a girlfriend when I wasn’t paying attention?”

Tucker rolls his eyes. “Funny.”

At the front of the room, Simmons turns away from where he’s been writing on the chalkboard. “It’s a bit of poor timing, but it’s either now or wait until next year.” He waits a beat, but Tucker just slouches in his chair instead of showing a new burst of enthusiasm. Simmons sighs. “And besides, Valentine’s Day is Saturday. We’ll all be at home.”

“Alone?” Church asks, unable to resist the urge to mess with both Simmons and Tucker at the same time. He shakes his head. “Sorry that you and Tucker can’t find dates. Sucks to be you.”

Tucker looks offended. “You're one to talk! You’re single too!”

“Yeah, but I don’t care,” Church says. Honestly, his life is complicated enough learning how to be Carolina’s brother and Leonard’s son and how to be a normal teen witch without throwing dating and hormones into the mix. “There’s more to life than dating.”

Tucker just stares at him like he’s started babbling in French.

“Why did you assume--” Simmons mutters, and then cuts himself off. He fiddles with his glasses and frowns. “You need classroom learning and a test before you can get actual driving experience. Let’s focus on that and not about who’s dating who, okay?”

Tucker leans over. “Dude, you were kidding, right?”

Church sighs.

Carolina stares around the Other Realm park.

It feels like something out of Wonderland. Above them, the sky is full of stars and over top that, like a canopy, is an endless stretch of pale clouds. Around them, flowers glow faintly in the starlight. When Carolina takes a deep breath, she can smell spices and sweetness and weirdly something almost like chocolate.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Kimball says. When Carolina looks over at her, she smiles.

“Yeah,” Carolina agrees. It’d be even prettier if she could show it to her mom someday.

Her dad clears his throat. He’s seated on a bench, his blind face turned towards her. “Which would you prefer to learn first, the vacuum or the broom? Both have excellent qualities, of course, but perhaps you would like to learn the modern method to begin with. Or perhaps it would be better to learn the broom first.”

There’s a thread of excitement in his voice. Carolina feels another pang of guilt for pretty much throwing the broom and vacuum into her closet and forgetting about them. She glances at both choices, hesitating. “I mean, I guess if the broom’s traditional, we could start there?”

“Excellent! Brooms involve a little more balance, but I’m certain that you’ll master it quickly.”

“Right,” Carolina says, keeping the doubt out of her voice.

She must not keep it out of her face, because Kimball looks at her for a second and then says, “It really is a little like riding a bicycle. It may take you a little time to figure out that balance, but once you’ve learned it, you won’t forget.”

Carolina nods.

Her dad says, “The broom is made of eucalyptus and imbued with magic. All you need to do is command it to lift into the air. Start with two feet. You’ll wish to learn how to balance and sit on it comfortably first.”

Carolina looks down at the broom. “Command it? Like a passion spell?”

“Somewhat. Witches have an ancient and innate connection with broomsticks. You should only need to issue it a command once.”

“Okay,” Carolina says. She takes a deep breath and holds her hand out over the broom. “Lift into the air two feet.”

Nothing happens.

Carolina clears her throat, puts a little more authority into her voice, the way her mom’s voice gets sometimes when she’s ordering people around. “Lift into the air two feet.”

This time the broom twitches. It starts to rise, inch by inch, somehow managing to give off an air of reluctance, like it would rather be doing anything else.

Carolina glances at Kimball, who looks puzzled.

“Is it afloat?” her dad asks.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Excellent. Now, Vanessa will demonstrate how to sit on the broom.”

The corner of Kimball’s mouth quirks up in a half-sarcastic smile. “What a good suggestion,” she says. There's a dry emphasis on the final word. She approaches the broom, which remains floating. She gives it a long look and then sits down. She doesn’t straddle it. Instead she sits sideways, both hands on either side of her on the broom handle.

Carolina sees what they meant by figuring out the balance. She walks around the broom in a slow circle, trying to see how Kimball’s perched on the broom.

After a minute, Kimball gets off and smiles encouragingly. “Your turn.”

Carolina approaches even more slowly, remembering the broom’s sluggish liftoff.

She goes to sit down. The broom jerks, sliding away from her. She catches herself just in time, her back foot skidding on the grass. “Hey!”

“What happened?” her dad asks, puzzled.

“Nothing,” Carolina says quickly. She can feel her face getting hot from embarrassment. How did she manage to get a broom that apparently hates her? Especially when her dad’s so excited about her learning to fly. She glares at the broom. “Behave,” she hisses at it under her breath.

It gives another little twitch. Somehow it manages to radiate smugness. The broom reminds her of something, though she can’t remember what.

“Behave,” she whispers again and approaches.

This time she grabs onto the handle before she tries to sit down. It jerks in her grip. When she tries to sit, the broom bucks under her like a wild horse. Somehow she doesn’t think you’re supposed to feel like a cowboy when you’re riding your broom.

Confusion clouds Kimball’s expression for a moment. She takes a step towards Carolina and the broom.

Carolina hurriedly gestures at her to stay there, even more embarrassed.

Kimball looks concerned, but stops.

Her dad, thankfully oblivious, asks, “How’s your balance?”

“It’s, uh--” Carolina pauses as the broom thrashes under her. “I’ll get the hang of it soon.” She bends and snaps in a frustrated whisper, “What is your problem?”

The broom squirms.

Even as she asks, she realizes what the broom’s temper tantrum reminds her of: her spellbook when she’d avoided it for a few weeks. She rolls her eyes. “Why are all magical things so dramatic,” she mumbles.

This time the broom’s twitch is clearly offended.

“I’m using you now, aren’t I? Just let me fly.”

“Carolina?” her dad says, sounding puzzled, and Carolina’s face gets hotter.

“I’m fine! Just, uh, figuring out how to balance. Do people get cushions for brooms?”

“The comfort level is one of the reasons many witches switched to riding vacuums,” her dad says. He sounds slightly amused.

“I can see why,” Carolina says, forcing a smile. Then she lowers her voice back down to a frustrated whisper as the broom jerks under her. “Stop embarrassing me!”

Maybe that gets the broom’s sympathy, because it stops trying to buck her off. It just floats there, the way brooms are probably supposed to behave.

Carolina squints down at it, and then looks up at Kimball, who gives her a bemused shrug. Then she adjusts her position, trying to get comfortable. She really does wish she had a cushion.

When the broom keeps behaving, Carolina gives it a small pat and says, “Uh, I think I got it. So how do I tell it to fly--”

The broom jerks upwards.

Carolina yelps, clinging to the broom as it shoots up into the sky.

“Who knew there were so many rules about driving?” Tucker grumbles.

“Right? It can’t be this complicated,” Church says, flipping through the manual. How difficult is it to drive in a straight line and obey some traffic lights?

Tucker grimaces. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should study together.” Church must squint at him involuntarily, because he groans and mumbles under his breath, “Ugh. Seriously. If I didn’t want to drive so bad….”

Church knows why he wants to drive, but he realizes Tucker hasn’t said. “Why do you want to? Did your parents promise they’d get you a car or something?”

“A used one, but uh.” Tucker shrugs. “Uh, obviously chicks dig cars. I'll definitely get a girlfriend with one. Just have to make sure the car my parents get isn’t like an old person car or something. I need to look cool. What other reason would I want a car?”

His words get him a dirty look from a girl sitting near them, but Tucker doesn’t notice.

Church squints at him. That was a lot of words just to say he wanted a car to get a girlfriend. “So you don’t have to take a bus?” he suggests.

“I mean, that’s a given,” Tucker says with an awkward laugh.

Church keeps squinting. He wishes Caboose was around to give one of his weirdly insightful comments about what’s going on with Tucker. All he knows is that Tucker is being weird.

“...Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird,” Tucker says.

“How am I being weird?” Church demands. Yeah, he definitely needs Caboose here to translate. “I asked a normal question and you’re acting like I asked you the secret to life or something!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you wanna drive?”

“Uh, cause when Grey isn’t working I can drive to school and avoid the bus. And Grey’s terrible driving.”

Tucker looks sympathetic for a second, as anyone would after experiencing Grey’s driving. Then he slouches. “See? Avoiding the bus is a given.”

“Uh huh,” Church says. He waits a second, but Tucker just flips aimlessly through the manual, acting like the conversation’s done.

“If you two are finished, the break’s over,” Simmons says dryly from the front of the room. “We’re going to discuss some common road signs you’ll need to know.”

“Can we guess?” Church asks. “I’m going with the stop sign.”

Simmons sighs.

“Carolina!” her dad says, sounding alarmed.

Kimball puts her hand on his shoulder. Through the roaring wind, Carolina makes out some sort of reassurance that she’ll catch Carolina if she falls.

It’s reassuring, because the broom is spiraling up into the sky, towards the stars and the clouds like it plans to take her out of the Other Realm entirely. Carolina clings to the broom, white-knuckled on the handle, a mixture of alarm and adrenaline pounding through her.

The broom takes her on a loop-de-loop, twisting and turning as Carolina grits her teeth and refuses to let go. The stupid broom isn’t going to make her fall.

When it goes for another one, Carolina growls, “You can keep trying, but you won’t make me fall. Tire yourself out and then take me back down.”

The broom must take her words for a challenge. It does another loop-de-loop, and then another one, until Carolina’s head spinning like she’s on a roller-coaster.

It’d be fun, if she wasn’t acutely aware of Kimball watching and her dad waiting. She clings to the broom, laughing a little breathlessly. “Is that the best you can do?”

The broom responds with a barrel roll, which makes Carolina laugh again.

They’re so high up that she can barely see Kimball and her dad on the ground. She’s almost at the cloud canopy. It should probably feel colder than it actually is, just cold enough to raise goosebumps on her skin but not completely numb her hands.

She stares down. Part of the Other Realm sprawls out beneath her, with a bunch of random buildings, from castles to Victorian mansions to smaller houses and staircases that seem to lead to nowhere. As she watches, another witch flies by on a vacuum, giving her a curious look and a wave, and then dips down towards a house that looks like it might actually be made out of candy.

A shadow falls over her and she looks up as a griffin soars above her, tail whipping behind it, an enormous velvet jacket proclaiming it to be a member of the oldest witch courier service, for when you don’t want to trust the closet service to deliver your packages. It has a chair carefully cradled in its huge claws.

Carolina is still staring at it, amazed, when the broom does another barrel roll.

A few rolls later, the broom banks abruptly and goes into a spiraling plummet that’s fast enough that Carolina’s heart leaps into her throat and Kimball has her hands up, as though ready to magic up something soft for her to crash into.

But the broom pulls up sharply and floats there, positioned so that Carolina's feet brush the grass.

Carolina stands up before she lets go of the broom, shaking out her stiff hands. Her cheeks are actually stinging from the wind, and she’s pretty sure her hair looks crazy. “Okay,” she says softly to the broom, grinning. “Point made. I definitely should’ve flown you earlier.”

The broom gives a satisfied twitch at that.

Kimball raises an eyebrow, giving her a look. “Most witches start with a slow loop around the clearing,” she says dryly.

“Yes,” her dad agrees, but there’s a tightness in his voice. When Carolina looks at him, she realizes he’s tense and trying to hide it, mustering up an encouraging smile that doesn’t quite reach his unnaturally white eyes. “The equivalent of walking before you run.”

“Sorry,” Carolina says, smoothing down her hair. “Got, um, carried away.”

When she speaks, her dad’s shoulders visibly relax.

Then Kimball’s lips twitch. “You certainly were.”

Carolina blinks at her, then replays her own words back. She lets out a huff of laughter. Yeah, she probably could’ve phrased that better.

“So,” Kimball says. There’s still an amused gleam in her eyes. “Are you up for a flight on the vacuum?”

Carolina looks at the vacuum. It’s deceptively motionless, but then again, so had the broom at first. She wonders if it will be as dramatic.

As though it can hear her thoughts, the vacuum turns on for a second, rumbling like a revving engine.

Carolina grins. She wonders how fast she can go on the vacuum.

She’s about to say yes when her dad says quickly, “Perhaps you should practice a while longer with the broom….”

Carolina studies her dad’s face, the way his smile is still slightly forced. Then she leans and pats the vacuum’s handle. “Next time,” she whispers to it. Louder, she says, “Yeah, good idea.”

Church waits until he and Tucker are stuck in the back seat of the student driver car, watching Simmons try to teach a girl that Church thinks is in his English class where to put her hands on the steering wheeling. Then he says, “You know I can just ask Caboose why you’re being weird about getting your license, right?”

“Dude,” Tucker says, looking betrayed.

Church just stares at him. He’s gonna find out why Tucker is being weird.

After a moment Tucker groans. He darts a look towards Simmons and Cherry. “It’s cheesy, okay?”

“If you think I’m gonna promise not to laugh, I won’t,” Church says.

Tucker glares. “Come on.”

“Fine. I won’t laugh much.”

Tucker glances at the front seats again, but Cherry is gripping the wheel with white knuckles and Simmons is smiling reassuringly at her. He lowers his voice. “It’s just...gonna be cool that I can drive us all places. Like more concerts, or the Slicery. Or even to the grocery store, because I can probably sneak some extra junk food into the shopping cart since my mom won’t be there. That sort of stuff.”

Church blinks as Tucker avoids his eyes. He’s not sure what he thought Tucker would say, but being embarrassed about doing nice stuff with his friends wasn’t it. “Yeah, that is pretty cheesy,” he says to buy himself time.

“Shut up.”

“Does that mean you’ll pick me up on days I don’t have Grey’s car? Hope you don’t expect me to help pay for gas.”

Tucker snorts. “Yeah. Definitely didn’t expect that.”

Church nudges him with an elbow. “Just don’t volunteer to pick up Caboose. You’ll get like five sisters coming along.”

Tucker doesn’t laugh at the joke. He rubs at his neck and slouches lower in his seat, stopped only by the seat belt. “I mean, Mrs. Caboose has like twelve kids at home, and they’re all doing clubs and sports and stuff. If I’m picking Caboose up and we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t be a big deal to take them too….”

Church squints.

“Shut up,” Tucker mumbles.

Church keeps squinting. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. Someone who was Caboose’s best friend before Church showed up can’t be a totally selfish guy. And he did get Church a cool gift for his birthday. Tucker can be thoughtful with the five percent of his brain not dedicated to getting himself a girlfriend. Church finally snorts and nudges Tucker again.

“I'd better keep an eye out, make sure everyone in our grade doesn't ask you for rides.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tucker says, but he grins a little.

“I’m just saving you from having to drive that Reggie guy anywhere.”

Tucker laughs. “He’s not that bad. Needs better jokes, but--”

“He has a mustache,” Church says as Cherry slowly inches the car around the parking lot. “And loves knock-knock jokes. Guy’s even weirder than you.”

Tucker shakes his head, still grinning. “So, what, you’re gonna be my bouncer for who gets to ride in my car? Do I need to give you a list of approved people?”

“I think I can figure it out. Me. Caboose. The whole Caboose family. Maybe York, as long as he doesn’t invite your other basketball buddies. Probably none of your orchestra nerds--”

“Being in the orchestra doesn’t make me a nerd,” Tucker says. “That’s marching band and theater. They're nerds.” He glances back towards Simmons and Cherry and coughs. He’s back to looking a little shifty as he says, “But yeah, probably not most of the orchestra….”

Church holds up a finger. “One, being in the orchestra totally makes you a nerd.”

“Says the guy in the Robotics Club,” Tucker says.

Church ignores him. He holds up another finger. “Two, you’re being weird again. What’s going on with the orchestra?” He honestly mostly tunes out whenever Tucker talks about his violin lessons and the orchestra practices. It’s not like they’re playing grunge.

“Nothing’s going on,” Tucker says, back to slouching.

“Fine, I’ll ask Caboose.”

Tucker rolls his eyes. “Is that gonna be your threat from now on?”

“Hey, if it works,” Church says with a smirk. “Spill.”

Tucker slouches lower. “There’s...just a girl who’s pretty cool. That’s all.”

Church waits, but Tucker doesn’t go into his usual spiel about how hot she is. That’s interesting. “Gonna need a name for my approved list.”

“Funny,” Tucker says. He fidgets with his seat belt. “Her name’s, uh. Naomi. She’s the first cello, so this year we see a lot of each other. Like I said, she’s cool.”

“Cool, huh,” Church says slowly. His stomach twists a little. Then he makes a mental face of frustration at himself. Caboose still hangs out with him all the time, even if he’s dating Sheila. Tucker wouldn’t ditch them either. Well, not completely. He nudges Tucker again. “Well, if Caboose can get a girlfriend, anyone can.”

Tucker groans. “Can’t believe he got a girlfriend before me. And Sheila’s pretty great.”

“Yeah, maybe you should try being less desperate,” Church suggests, grinning.

Tucker gives him a look. He looks torn between amusement and annoyance. “I’m not taking advice from you. You crashed and burned even harder than I did, remember?”

Embarrassed heat creeps into Church’s face at the reminder of that stupid dare. He and Tucker hadn’t gotten a single girl’s number, while Caboose had walked away with a handful.

“We crashed and burned equally,” he mutters. In his defense, he’d been relying on a few hazy memories of Leonard’s experience, which had amounted to next to nothing for a millennia until Allison. He pretends not to notice Tucker’s grin.

“Okay!” Simmons says. “Who wants to go next?”

“Me,” Church says, a half-second before Tucker.

He’s smug about it until he actually gets in the driver’s seat. Then it sinks in that he’s in charge of a two thousand pound machine. Somehow flying a broom or vacuum suddenly seems much more appealing. He swallows and ignores the nervous twist of his stomach. Driving can’t be that hard. Millions of mortals do it every day. He grips the steering wheel, half-listening to Simmons explain all the controls and fiddling with the mirrors until he can see stuff properly.

When Simmons finally stops talking, Church presses down on the accelerator.

“...You can go a little faster than that,” Simmons says after a second. When Church glances at him, he looks like he’s fighting a smile.

“I’m going--” Church stops as he looks at the speedometer. Right. He’s only going five miles per hour. And if Simmons, the dude who told them to obey the speed limit and traffic lights when he was half-passed out, says he’s going too slow, Church probably is.

Church pushes down harder on the gas, and the car jerks forward.

Tucker snickers behind him. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to stomp on it.”

Church doesn’t look over his shoulder but he rolls his eyes at the mirror. “Whatever.”

“You’ll get the hang of it soon,” Simmons assures him. “It just takes practice.”

“Uh huh,” Church says as the speedometer crawls up to a whopping fifteen miles per hour.

Simmons has never really enjoyed his birthday. When his parents did acknowledge it, it was usually to host a dinner party that was more for business than family, awkwardly formal in a way he hated.

He’s kind of looking forward to this one. It means he’ll get a break from teaching a bunch of teenagers how to drive, which is much more stressful than Sarge made it out to be, and he knows Grif will let him sleep in.

He manages to sleep in a whole half-hour before his internal alarm clock wakes him up. He lets himself linger in bed for a few minutes more before he gets up and heads towards the kitchen.

Simmons is halfway through making some coffee when Kai skids into the room, still wearing her equivalent of pajamas, a tank top and boxers.

“Good morning,” he says, and then falters when she stares at him. Weirdly, she looks almost annoyed. 

“What the duck. You aren’t supposed to be up yet!”

“Um. I’m not?”

“No,” Kai says firmly. Then she looks over her shoulder. “Dex! He’s up!”

“Really should’ve seen that coming,” comes the half-awake reply. Then Grif pads into the kitchen, yawning. “Dude, it’s your birthday. Why are you awake?”

Simmons can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question or not, so he just shrugs.

Grif yawns again. “Okay. Kai, get him breakfast.”

Kai claps her hands. When the yellow sparkles dissolve, there’s a whole breakfast spread on the table.

Simmons blinks down at it. He’s pretty sure most of these are his favorite breakfast foods. There’s fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, wheat pancakes, the works. He picks up one of the nearest muffins and takes a careful bite. It’s a carrot cake oatmeal muffin.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, once he’s swallowed. Then he realizes Kai did magic. He can feel it in the air. He eyes the still-brewing coffee. It’s not a bad brand, but it’s the best he can afford on his salary. Definitely nothing like the coffee his family could afford. He grins in anticipation.

“Since we’re celebrating my birthday, I want my favorite coffee blend without delay.”

He gets that little thrill he always does when the magic works. There’s a glow of red magic and then he’s holding a steaming cup of coffee.

He takes a slow sip. Exactly as good as he remembers. 

Kai flops into a chair. “Happy birthday.”

Grif jumps up onto the table. He gives a little sigh as he looks at the food.

“Thank you,” Simmons says. The coffee clears the surprise and sleep from his head. Grif must’ve told her all of his favorite foods. Grif probably only remembered them because the food’s mostly the opposite of what Grif likes, but it’s still...nice. He piles a couple of things onto a plate for Grif. He throws a few pieces of fruit on as well and ignores the look Grif gives him. It’s his birthday. He can make Grif eat some fruit. “The birthday breakfast is, um, nice. Thanks.”

“Dex said you’d like it,” Kai says, confirming his thoughts. She helps herself to a pancake. Then she leans forward, fixing Simmons with a look that makes him nervous. He’s even more nervous when she says, “He also said you’d want to have a ducking boring day at home. The party offer is still on the table if you--”

“This is good,” Simmons says quickly.

Grif snorts. “My birthday present is keeping Kai from dragging you to a rave.”

Simmons glances at Kai, trying to figure out how to convey his gratitude without being rude.

Grif must see it in his face, because he snorts again. “You’re welcome.”

Simmons smiles at him. “It sounds like a nice birthday. I was probably gonna do some reading and relax--”

“After the movie,” Kai says.

Simmons blinks. “Movie?”

“Bro said you were a nerd about lost mortal movies.”

When Kai claps her hands, an old movie reel appears on the table.

Simmons stares down at it. “Hollywood,” he reads. The date 1923 is written on it as well. For a second it doesn’t click and then it does. “Wait, I’ve heard of this one! It’s one of the first movies about Hollywood. It has a bunch of Hollywood actors playing themselves, like Chaplin and--”

“Yeah, he said you’d get excited,” Kai says, looking amused.

Simmons looks down at Grif.

Grif looks back. “What? You’re a nerd about lost movies.”

“I’m not--” Simmons stops. He looks at the reel again. He’s going to get to watch a film that’s been lost for decades because Grif remembered he liked old movies. His chest tightens. It’s shaping up to be a really good birthday. He takes another sip of his coffee, his throat feeling weirdly tight. “Thanks.”

Grif licks the tip of his nose. “Yeah, well. Happy birthday.”

Simmons is still smiling when Kai groans.

“You two are so ducking lame. I want to party!”

Grif ignores her other than a twitch of his ears. It’s only when they move into the living room that Grif perches himself comfortably on the back of the couch and drawls, “Forgetting something?”

“Huh?” Kai says.

“Breakfast, movie, and--”

Understanding lights up Kai’s face. “Oh, right.” She claps her hands.

Sparkles of yellow swirl around the coffee table.

A second later, Simmons stares down at a birthday cake, decorated with already lit red and pink candles and piped with bright red icing. His gaze lingers on the words.

Happy Birthday, Simons!

A new emotion swells in his chest.

Grif groans, peering over his shoulder, his whiskers tickling Simmons’ ear. “Seriously? I gave you three things to do!”

Kai looks blank. “What?”

“His name has two Ms!”

“How was I supposed to know that, Dex?”

Simmons says, hearing the amused shake in his voice, “It’s, um, the thought that counts?”

“That’s what people say when they get crappy gifts,” Grif says, disgusted, and then blinks up at him as Simmons laughs.

“Whatever,” Kai says. She crosses her arms. “Make a wish!”

Simmons, still amused, takes a deep breath. He’s distracted for a second, wondering if the tradition of making wishes came from witch culture or mortal culture, and if witch wishes actually had a chance of coming true. With the magic in the air, it feels possible.

He closes his eyes, makes his wish, and blows out the candles.