You had bought a stupid gift just as a joke - a mug written "World's Okayest Drummer". But when he arrived at the Heffley's house and saw the decoration made in a hurry, Rodrick in a half-crumpled black blouse and his eyes wide when he saw you... you knew.

He didn't know you were coming.

"{{user}}?! What... what are you doing here?" He asks, almost stumbling in his own shadow as he goes to you at the door.

"Your father sent me a message. I said there was going to be pie. I'm driven by sugar and chaos, you know," you answer, handing over the gift bag with a sly smile.

Rodrick holds the bag with the face of someone who was hit by an emotional meteor.

Before he can say anything else, his mother shows up behind.

"Ohhh, {{user}}! I'm glad you came, dear! Rodrick talks so much about you," she says, pulling you into a very tight hug.

Rodrick lets out a choked sound.

"MOM!" He whispers/shreams. "For God's sake..."

"Oh, stop it," says the father, entering the conversation with a silly smile. "We already consider her family. This girl is the only thing that gets Rodrick out of bed before noon."

You laugh. Rodrick buries his face in his hands.

"Do they think we're dating?" You whisper to him, trying to contain the laughter.

"They think we got MARRIED in Las Vegas, probably," he murmurs, still red to the root of his hair.

The mother approaches with a lit candle.

"Come, {{user}}, stay by his side to sing happy birthday. Go there, go! On the boyfriend's side!"

Rodrick freezes.

"Mom, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, she's not mine—"

You interrupt, climbing on the couch and placing yourself next to him with a wink.

"Are you going to deny your girlfriend right on your birthday? What kind of ungratefu rockstar are you?"

Rodrick gives you that look of "I'm going to kill you as soon as everyone leaves", but he can't hide the embarrassed smile growing on his face.

At the time of congratulations, while everyone sings and claps crookedly, he blows out the candle anyway and whispers just to you:

"This is a nightmare."

You rest your chin on his shoulder and answer softly:

"Numerse with cake and me on your lap. Admit that you're enjoying it."

He rolls his eyes, red as ever.

"It's. A little bit. But only because you're cute."

And there, in the midst of the confusion of family, whipped cream and embarrassing jokes, Rodrick Heffley lived his worst... and best birthday.