𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓹𝓲𝓽𝔂 | 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝓽𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼

Steve knows that it's laughably easy to get information on people in this generation, especially when they have a Wikipedia page, so he shouldn't be surprised when (Y/n) shows up at his doorstep on the 4th of July, armed with a bright smile, a bouquet and balloons, and sings 'Happy Birthday' to him.

He's a little embarrassed because he isn't used to being presented with balloons and a song and the like, but he's mostly flattered that his young friend actually took the time to find out his birthday and is there to wish him with the biggest smile he's seen on her.

"Thank you," he says as earnestly as he possibly can, unsure of what to do, and she probably senses that because (Y/n) laughs and hands him his bouquet and balloons.

He realizes that she's balancing a small box in her hands as well, and once she's inside and the box is placed on his coffee table, she opens it to reveal a small cake.

Something in him bubbles up his chest, and Steve finds it hard to breathe for a moment because his heart squeezes strangely. He frets, hoping he doesn't start to cry and then proceeds to thank (Y/n) profusely, telling her that she didn't have to do any of this.

"Turning 96 is a pretty big deal, though," she argues, batting her eyes at him innocently when he narrows his own, and he doesn't push it any further.

Instead, they cut the chocolate cake and she insists on a picture before revealing that she has one last surprise for him.

"I'm sure you'd rather spend the holiday with your aunt, (Y/n)," he tries to protest, but she shakes her head.

"My aunt has a date tonight," she reveals with a conspiratorial grin. "A picnic by the river with a view of the fireworks."

Waving away every other excuse, she asks him to dress nicely before they head out to wherever she's planned for them to go. He complies, putting on his dark blue dress shirt because he did notice that (Y/n) was dressed up quite nicely as well in a navy-blue dress of her own.

And then she's dragging him along the crowded streets, through the throngs of people milling about for the national holiday, and it's a lot nicer outside even if it's way too hot.

They end up at a quaint, out-of-the-way bar, where the noise is a little further away and he can hear faint music thumping from within the establishment. Steve freezes, the upbeat music making his stomach lurch because it's so familiar but it feels like a faraway dream, and he turns to (Y/n) with wide eyes only to find her smiling at him.

The same, strange little smile that was a little sad and looked unnatural on a face he was used to equating with joy.

She gently tugs at his elbow, pulling him in with a faint, "Come on", and Steve is hit with so much nostalgia, he wants to bend over and maybe cry.

(Y/n)'s a little nervous, he realizes, when her hand tightens around his arm and she marches them across to an empty table to the side. "I read about a bunch of people meeting up today for a swing night, and I thought you'd enjoy something familiar," she explains before pausing abruptly, turning to him with unbidden concern in her wide eyes. "We can leave if you're uncomfortable, of course. I didn't even think-"