Chapter Text
2003
“Happy birthday toooo youuuuuuu!”
Joel shoots Tommy a look as he draws out the last line of the song, sending Sarah into a fit of giggles.
He leans forward to blow out the candles, wax already threatening to drip onto the icing, when Tommy yanks him backwards and starts singing again.
“Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el rey David -”
Joel reaches back and shoves his brother away, Tommy laughing loudly. “Cállate, cabrón, let me blow the candles out before the cake is inedible. God, your voice gets worse every year.”
There’s mock outrage on Tommy’s face as he flops down on the couch next to Sarah. “Oh fuck off man, my voice is beautiful. The women love it every time I go to karaoke night.”
“Language,” Joel chastises half-heartedly, blowing the candles out just in time; only a couple spots of wax to be seen on the icing.
“Yeah yeah, whatever.”
“What did you wish for, Dad?” Sarah asks from her spot curled up next to her uncle.
“Can’t tell you,” he replies, leaning over to flick her nose affectionately, smiling when she wrinkles it at him. “You know if you tell your wish it won’t come true.”
It’s kind of a lie though - he hadn’t wished for anything. He’s got his kid and his kid brother here with him, a roof over his head, food in the fridge, decent job, so he’s kind of set. Doesn’t need to wish for things.
–-
Joel changes his mind about wishes somewhere around two in the morning, when he gets a call from his dumbass brother needing to be bailed out of the county jail. Again. He wishes Tommy wasn’t such a punch-first-ask-questions-later type.
Sarah’s asleep with her head in his lap on the couch, and he tries to pick her up to get her to bed without actually waking her up but she stirs the second he moves. Eyes blink up at him sleepily as she stretches and yawns.
“Sorry baby girl,” Joel murmurs, running a hand over her curls. “Gonna get you up to bed and then I gotta go get your uncle.”
“What did Uncle Tommy do this time?” She asks, rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes.
“Oh you know, his usual Uncle Tommy bullshit.” He tries not to let his disappointment in his little brother's behavior color his words. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
Sarah stretches a little and then stands up, readjusting the hem of her sleepshirt. “Nah, I’ll just come with you. Can’t sleep in the house by myself, it creeps me out.”
“You’ve slept in the house by yourself plenty of times.” Joel tugs on his shoes and grabs the keys from the hook by the door, holding it open for her.
“That’s different,” she says with the patient tone of a teenager who thinks her parent is an idiot. “Me being asleep already and you leaving me alone for an hour or two is completely different than me being awake and trying to fall asleep knowing I’m alone in the house. Every time the house settles it makes me think there’s a serial killer lurking.”
“Well then maybe,” Joel says as he holds open the truck door for her, “you oughta quit watching CSI marathons before bed.”
Sarah just rolls her eyes and clicks her seatbelt on. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
-–
He ends up with a lot more wishes before the night is out, way more than one measly birthday cake could possibly handle.
He wishes Tommy’s release had gone just a little faster or a little slower.
He wishes his brother hadn’t felt the need to argue so vehemently from the backseat why he was in the right for punching the guy at the bar who put his hands on the waitress.
He wishes he hadn’t felt the need to argue back, his eyes meeting Tommy's in the rearview mirror.
He wishes he’d been paying enough attention to see the truck speeding towards their intersection.
Most of all, by the time he wakes up in the hospital the next day, he wishes he was dead as well.