Author's Note: HAPPY FREAKIN' BIRTHDAY! For my very dear friend, callieandjack. Since I can't really get you anything else, I wrote this. I'm sorry: I can't actually get you Chris Evans or Steve Rogers, so for your birthday, this will have to do. Thank you for being such a good friend to me. Some of it's a bit embellished of course, but that's the point of fiction, right? :-D

You wake up far later than you usually do—which throws you for a loop for several seconds as your brain processes the different lighting. After a moment of staring, you turn to check your clock. 10:30 AM. Your eyebrows raise—you haven't woken that late in years!

"Steve?" you wonder aloud, looking around the quaint Brooklyn apartment bedroom for your husband. Nothing. "Steve?" you repeat, louder. The silence continues.

The chill of the Brooklyn winter has eased a bit into your bedroom and you wish your husband was with you—he radiated heat like a furnace and there was nothing like cuddling under the fluffy blankets on a cold winter's morning. Well, I guess I better go find him, then, you think. A hug from him sounded like a lovely way to start your day—and today was going to be a great one. You just knew it.

Sighing, you roll out of bed. Your husband's side has been neatly made—left over from his army training. You make your side—a bit sloppier, perhaps—and heave a cleansing breath. You love your husband's neatness because the apartment is almost always impeccable (with a few exceptions like when friends come over), but sometimes it's frustrating if you want to know where he's gone off to. Usually if he had to go out on a mission on call he'd wake you up.

You open the bedroom door to start to see the hallway—before a piece of paper falls in front of your vision. You manage to catch it before it hits the ground and flip it over. It's in your husband's old-fashioned, elegant handwriting.

My love—my beautiful world—Happy Birthday! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are! With all my love, your soldier—your Captain—Steve

A grin lights up your face. Looking down at the carpet, you see a trail of rose petals go down the hallway and around the corner into the kitchen. "Oh Steve," you whisper, both exasperated and delighted, shaking your head amusedly.

Lightly you tread down the hallway—careful to avoid stepping on petals. The trail leaves a pool of red on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and another pool around a plate with your favorite breakfast on top of it. A small bouquet of roses are in a crystal vase just behind the plate. Another note in Steve's handwriting had an arrow drawn in the direction of the chair with two words written on it: "Sit here." Chuckling, you cross the room and take your seat.

Warm hands hold your shoulders and soft lips press a kiss to the top of your head. "Good morning, beautiful," he murmurs into your hair. You blush.

"Morning Steve," you greet.

He rests his chin on your shoulder. "What do you say we head into Manhattan later for a little celebration at the Tower?" he asks quietly, lips brushing your ear—which tickles. You slightly shy away from his touch and turn a bit to look at him.

"You didn't," you mutter. "You didn't make a big deal out of this did you?" You're not sure you want a big celebration with the team.

Your husband smiles mischievously. "Not at all. Bucky did."

You chuckle lightly. Bucky had become a very good friend of yours in the last few years (helped, possibly, by the fact that he was finally engaged to another friend of yours after several years of you encouraging both of them—but that's for another time). So you sigh and look at your husband as he plays with your wedding ring while he holds your hand. "Well, if you didn't put it together… I guess we can go," you concede.

Steve smiles and gives you a big kiss on your cheek. "Great! I have a feeling you'll really like it!"

Instantly you're a little suspicious that Steve knows a lot more than he's letting on—and of course he does. "What did Bucky tell you?" you ask casually as you start in on your breakfast. Normally acting casual gets him to spill because he's not exactly the best liar—he's a soldier, not a spy—but for once he catches himself.

"Not a lot. Just that he and the rest of the team have put something together that you'll enjoy. Bucky said his fiancée did a lot of the work."

You snicker. "Of course she did."

Steve moves from behind you to the seat next to you. It's kind of strange—him watching you as you eat—but you don't mind. He's got his "dreamy" look on. The one where he looks at you like you're his whole universe. There's a tiny smile on his face.

You grin at him and give him a kiss.

When you're done with your breakfast, he takes your hand and stands you up. After a moment of fiddling with his record player, he sets the needle to the vinyl and soft music drifts from the speaker. Holding you to his warm chest, Captain America dances with you gently. You smile into his T-shirt and hold him as tightly as you can. He's a big, warm, cuddly teddy bear. Sure his muscles are firmer than a brick wall, but he's really all fuzzy on the inside.

You dance for a while before Steve leads you back to the bedroom. "Okay. I promise this wasn't my idea. Tony had this sent over." He pulls a garment bag out from the very back of the closet and unzips it.

"No," you decide.

Steve bites his lower lip and smiles. "Why not?"

"You may be willing to go around cosplaying the American flag all the time, but I think it's a little much."

"C'mon Cal," he teases. "Tony thought it would be a great idea."

The dress is barely longer than knee-length, with three-quarter sleeves. The entire bodice is navy blue with white stars. The skirt is thick vertical stripes of red and white. It's quite pretty, honestly, but maybe a little much, considering you're married to Captain America. "How many people are going to be at the party?" you ask, thinking about relenting.

"Just the team—and I think some of your family," he answers. You stare at the dress as Steve drapes it over the bed. He pulls his more casual suit out of the closet, along with a small selection of ties. "What do you think? Should we match?" He lifts his American flag tie. "Or should I go with… this one?" He lifts a simple gray-blue one that goes with his eyes. "Because, Natasha knew what Tony was doing with that dress and sent this one over." He pulls another garment bag out of the closet while you stare. You love the team dearly, but they have a penchant for going all-out.

He unzips the bag. Inside is an almost identical dress with a wider skirt that's almost the exact same shade of blue as your eyes. Your lips part in surprise. Natasha has pretty good taste.

"I think I'd prefer the second one."

Your husband nods. "Yeah me too. Natasha has better taste than Tony." He pauses for a moment as a thought hits him. "Should I wear my black suit instead of my blue one?" You look at your husband and think for a minute. His blue suit is very handsome on him—it complements his eyes—but his black suit is downright sexy. Of course, so is his military uniform so it's always hard to resist him. You make a face as you try to decide.

"Let's go with… blue. Better not be too fancy or Tony will leave the party for twenty minutes and come back in something grander in an attempt to one-up you," you tease. Steve laughs.

Steve zips up the back of your dress for you and kisses the nape of your neck. "Mmm. You look so beautiful," he murmurs into your skin. It tickles just enough that shivers rush down your spine. You shudder and your husband chuckles.

In the mirror you can see the full effect of the dress. Natasha had chosen wisely. It hides everything you want to be hidden and shows off everything you don't mind revealing.

You'll have to thank her later.

The party is in the big, main room of the Tower, like parties at the Tower usually are. Snow is drifting past the big slanted windows, heading for the sidewalk about one hundred stories below. Soft music is playing in the background—old stuff like the songs Steve has on vinyl. You and Steve step out of the elevator arm-in-arm to see the team milling about. Everybody's relaxed in slightly-dressy attire. There's food on one of the tables and the bar lights are all on. You smile as everyone turns at the sound of the elevator door and realizes it's you.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALLIE!" the team shouts loudly.

Very suddenly you're tackle-hugged by Tony from the side. You probably would have fallen over if Steve wasn't about as hard to move as a tree. "Hey, kid!" he greets. "Congratulations on surviving this universe one more year!"

You laugh and pat his back before he lets you go. "Thanks Tony."

"But why aren't you wearing the dress I got you?" He sounds both offended and juvenile.

"Because I have better taste, can-head," Natasha snaps as she elbows him out of the way to give you a hug.

You're passed around the arms of the team while Tony stands off to the side and pouts with a cocktail of some kind in his hand. Natasha is giving him playful jabs, standing next to him with her arms crossed, looking smug. Eventually Tony admits that her dress choice was probably better than his and downs the rest of whatever's in his glass.

After a while you realize something. "Steve?" you ask your husband. He looks down at you expectantly. "Where are Bucky and Cass?" Steve's face drops with realization (plus a possible hint of anxiety) and he looks around the party. There's Maria Hill, Tony, Pepper, Clint (and his wife), Natasha, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda, the Vision, Pietro, Bruce, Thor, Jane, even Darcy and her British boyfriend Ian, your immediate family from back home, but no Bucky Barnes or his fiancée.

"Huh. Should we go find them?" he asks.

"Do you have your phone?" you suggest. "Mine's in my purse in the coat room."

Your husband smiles and pulls his phone out of his inner jacket pocket. That was your soldier—always prepared for anything. You scroll through his contacts until you find Cass's number. She's more likely to have her phone on. Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Hey Steve," the voice on the other end greets. You can hear noises of the city in the background.

"It's Callie," you correct.

"Callie! Hi! Happy birthday!"

"Where are you? I thought this whole party was Bucky's idea?"

The voice on the other side clears her throat. "We're caught in traffic. We're trying I promise."

"Neither of you are willing to drive in New York and you both live in the Tower until further notice," Steve points out, listening in.

"I never said we were driving," Cass retorts sassily.

"Then what are you doing?" you demand.

"We had to pick up something and it took forever! We're almost to the Tower, I promise. The party's just barely started!"

Before you or Steve can say anything, she hangs up. "Well, she's not in a helpful mood," you remark.

"Could try calling Bucky," Steve comments.

"If he's with her than he'll be just as unhelpful," you mutter.

"Well, at least they're coming and weren't killed or something." Despite how morbid that sounds, you concede that he's got a point. Whatever's holding them up must be important because Cass is the type of person who's ten minutes early to everything. Steve holds your hand as you both stand as close as you can to the slanted windows and stare out them at the gently falling snow. Through the clouds, the moon can be slightly seen. Just a pale light through the gray. It's lovely. "Wanna get some food?" Steve asks.

You shrug. "Why not?"

Cass was definitely in charge of planning for the meal because almost all of your particular favorites are laid out on the table near the bar. Your husband stacks his plate carefully, but it's definitely over-full due to his metabolism, while you fill yours but make sure to leave some room.

By the time the two of you finish eating, the rest of the team has also started eating, and there's still no sign of the super assassin and his fiancée.

Tony is just standing up—whether to refill his plate or begin an off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday" you're not sure—when the doors to the elevator open with a very pleasant ding!, revealing two figures. One, a tall man with dark hair wearing an all-black suit—including his shirt—with a leather glove on his left hand. And the other, a small girl with hip-length chocolaty brown hair in a knee-length, cap-sleeved, all-black dress with silk gloves of the same color up to her elbows—who actually put makeup on for the occasion. The girl's face lights up when she sees you and she lets go of the man whose arm she's holding onto to run across the room and practically tackles you into the sofa.

"CALLIE!" she shouts, giving you a massive hug with as much strength as her unimpressive 5'1" form can muster. You put your arms around her back, feeling amused. "Happy birthday!" She squeezes you and rocks back and forth for a moment to regain her balance. When she pulls back, she smiles giddily and looks like she's about to scream. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" she exclaims, dramatically sighing. "You look amazing!"

"It's good to see you too, Cass," Steve remarks sarcastically.

She turns to him and gives him a hug as her escort reaches you and gives you a one-armed hug with his right arm. "Happy birthday, Callie," he says, much softer than she had. You smile and hug him back.

"Thanks, Bucky." You pause for a moment. "So, I heard this was all your doing?"

He opens his mouth but tilts his head to the side. "Well… it was her idea, but I did all the lifting."

Cass hears him and rolls her eyes. "Puh-lease, Mr. Barnes! It was your idea. I just improved it."

You snicker. They already bicker like a married couple and they aren't even married yet.

"Well, soon-to-be-Mrs. Barnes," you tease. "You did a very good job."

Cass smiles hopefully. "You like it?"

You look around. Everyone's watching the four of you. "Of course. How could I not?"

Her grin gets wider—and takes on an element of mischief that would make Loki proud but almost concerns you. "Good! Because it's about to get… a little bit better," she says. Without waiting for your response, she grabs her fiancé's hand and pulls him back towards the elevator. He smiles but gives you and your husband an exasperated look—eye-roll included.

"He knows he loves her," you remark to Steve. He chuckles and wraps his big, warm arm around your shoulders.

"Oh yeah," he agrees. You can't quite tell if he's being sarcastic or not, but you're pretty sure he's not.

The two are gone for several long minutes—and you're just starting to wonder where they've gotten themselves off to—when the doors open again. "Here we are!" Cass announces proudly. "This is the reason we were late!"

Balanced between her fiancé's hands is a huge, frosting-covered cake.

"Oh no!" Tony exclaims sarcastically. "Could you two be any more cliché?"

Cass grins. "Yes I could, actually," she sasses. "This is me holding back!"

Bucky is holding a giant, edible-rendition of your husband's shield.

You laugh as Bucky sets it on the coffee table in the middle of the assembled group of people. After giving your family a quick greeting, Cass pulls a blue paper bag stuffed with tissue paper out from behind her back. It's small and there's a card sticking out of it. "And uh… this is the other reason we were late," she admits, face flushing with embarrassment. She holds it out to you. You take it and smile at her.

"Didn't I mention that you didn't have to get me anything?" you ask.

She licks her lips in thought—a habit that you figured out she picked up from Bucky—and nods slowly. "Yes. I think at some point you did mention. That being said, you were the one to get the love of my life to even talk to me in the first place," she remarks. "And, obviously, this isn't something big. I just… had to get you something." She shrugs and retreats to the cake where Bucky has started adding candles to it. He goes off and eats—sweetly grabbing something for her even though you both know she's picky and probably "isn't hungry" anyway—while she finishes adding the candles. As well as counting and double-counting to make sure they got the right amount.

She lights the candles and lifts her hands. "Alright everyone!" she shouts, getting the party's attention. "As we all well know, the night is young, and it is Callie Rogers' birthday!" There are cheers and whistles and clapping. "If you'd all join me, I think we should sing to her!" More cheering and a few raised glasses.

Tony sings the loudest, as usual, and he's definitely the tipsiest despite how early in the evening it is. Cass and Steve are the most on-key and smiling the brightest—with the exception of your immediate family of course.

"Happy birthday to you!" the last phrase finishes. You smile and blow out all the candles, still making a wish even though most people saw that as childish. Bucky starts cutting the cake as another round of hugs starts and Cass finally eats something. While she's munching and you're getting passed from embrace to embrace, Steve and Bucky put sliced pieces of cake on little plates with plastic forks and start passing them around—making sure you get first-pick.

As the cake starts to get consumed, Cass sits next to you on the couch with Steve at your other side. "Open it!" she urges, pointing to the little bag at your side. You chuckle and hand your plate to your husband—who balances it on his knees.

"Okay," you relent. You pop open the seal of the card. It's a simple one with a cartoon cake on the front.

Dear Callie,

Happy Birthday! I hope your day is absolutely wonderful! You totally deserve it! Thank you so much for always being such a good friend to me and always listening to everything I've ever said. And, of course, thanks for setting me up with Bucky. I wouldn't be where I am if not for you. Thank you for always being willing to hear my rants and listen to me mull through things and tell you about whatever weird stuff is happening in my life. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're an absolutely amazing friend and I'm so grateful I know you. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me!

With lots of love,

Cass

Off to the side, on the other side of the crease of the card, was another note in more old-fashioned handwriting.

Dear Callie,

I hope you have the best birthday possible. Thank you for everything—including marrying that punk Steve who doesn't deserve you (I'm joking, you both suit each other well)—especially everything you've ever done for me. (Which also includes making me take Cass on that first date.) I'm glad I got to know you. You're a true friend. A good, bright woman in an increasingly dark world. Happy birthday, again.

Love from both of us,

Bucky Barnes

You smile and give them both tight hugs. Cass bounces in her seat. "Open it!" she whispers excitedly. You chuckle and pull the tissue paper out. Inside the bag is a small velvet box—one that would hold jewelry. You narrow your eyes suspiciously. What was Cass up to? She tended to give gifts that were either meaningless but functional (like socks) or had some sort of joke behind them.

You pull the velvet box out and see your friend bite her lip in excitement.

Carefully, you open it. "No," you say decisively. "No way. You didn't!"

The grin on Cass's face is one to rival Loki—and Pietro, and every other trickster you can think of. "Yes I did."

Sitting in the box on the little velvet prop-up is a necklace. The charm is Captain America's shield with a diamond on the star. "You did not get me the one from Bruises."

"Oh I did," Cass replies cheekily.

"I wrote that ages ago! How did you even remember?"

Cass taps her forehead. "Good memory. And a stable internet connection."

"I wrote that before I even met everybody!"

"Not before you met meeeeeee," Cass remarks in a singsong voice. "See, I thought about getting you a necklace like mine—" She touches the glass locket full of little fake gems and two charms of a crescent moon and a shooting star hanging around her neck. "—but then I thought, 'why not get her something that will exasperate and thrill her?'!" You sigh. She's an interesting girl, that's for sure. "C'mon, lemme put it on you!" She has to remove her gloves to do so but she manages it. She pulls the necklace out of the box and secures it behind your head. "It looks so pretty!" she exclaims.

You chuckle and give her a hug. "Thanks. Both of you." Bucky smiles over his fiancée's shoulder.

"Let me see?" Steve asks. You turn to him so he can see the necklace. He smiles. "Wow! It's beautiful!" He leans forward to look at his best friend and your friend. "Nice choice!" he tells them. Cass gives a cheeky grin and gives you another hug.

Bucky and Steve stand up abruptly as a familiar song turns on. The other Avengers look around to see the soldiers. Steve puts his hand out to you and Bucky to Cass. "May I have this dance?" they ask in almost perfect unison. You see Cass smirk mischievously out of the corner of your eye as she grabs her fiancé's normal hand and lets him pull her to her feet. You do the same with your husband.

It's Been a Long, Long Time.

The old-fashioned tune was your wedding song. Your husband holds you just as close, if not closer, as he did at your wedding. Sure you're both a little clumsy—in comparison to Bucky and Cass who dance all the time—but his arms are home to you.

Just because you can, you kick your shoes off. There's nothing like dancing barefoot on a hardwood floor with the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

Thor pulls Jane to her feet, Clint eagerly bounces up with Natasha following behind and Laura laughing from the sofa, Tony manages to convince Pepper to join in, and even Wanda gets Vision to dance. Pietro tries to get Maria Hill to be his partner, but she politely refuses—with the added comment of, "If you ask again I'll break your neck." The expression in her piercing blue eyes is enough to get Pietro to shut up. (Darcy did, however, agree to dance with him while Ian sat in a huff.) You smile as your family joins and the team all dance around you. "This has been a good birthday," you remark, holding your husband tightly. You can sense his smile as the two of you sway gently to the beat.

"I'm glad. It's been a great day for me too," he agrees, kissing the top of your head.

"Show offs!" Tony protests as Bucky and Cass do some cute-but-daring dip as the song winds to its graceful close and a new, more poppy song starts in its place. Everyone turns to look as the ex-assassin bends his fiancée so low almost all of her hair pools on the ground. He leans forward, holding her weight on his leg and in his metal arm, and gives her a kiss—which earns a catcall from Sam and a teasing whistle from Natasha.

As the couple straightens up and moves back into their cute, huggy dance hold, Bucky gives Cass a look you recognize. It's the same one he always gives anyone right before he proposes something crazy. You know that back in the day it was always Steve making trouble, but there was something about this team (or maybe just his fiancée) that made him a little more reckless. He seemed more willing to do things that could get him into trouble since he'd recovered from HYDRA's brainwashing.

"How about we show them 'showing off'?" Bucky asks Cass teasingly. Your friend says nothing—just bounces her eyebrows and winks.

Because you know them, you tug Steve out of the way. Cass is grinning with more mischief than even Loki and Pietro combined in her eyes—which is a dangerous thing when she's anywhere in the vicinity of her fiancé.

You catch him mouthing two words to her. "Trust me?"

Her grin widens. "Of course."

Bucky flings her out. She runs into his arms with her left side pressed to his chest and her arms around his neck. He pushes her weight even higher up his torso and throws her right leg around the back of his neck. Lucky her, she's wearing a pair of black shorts under her knee-length black dress. With his left arm, he pushes her left leg down and around until it's under his right arm and locked with her other ankle. Cass is bent upwards in a position that doesn't look very comfortable. Bucky brings his hands up, smiling at her. She takes his left in hers, and his right in her right, in a grip like they are going to arm-wrestle. She smirks at him and arches her back. Her upper body falls backwards. She's only being held up by her ankles wrapped around Bucky's normal shoulder and her grip on his hands.

Bucky starts to spin around, making Cass's body lift with momentum.

They drop their hands. She's only being held up by her crossed ankles.

Steve grunts with his arm around your shoulders. "Can-opener," he remarks.

"What?" you ask.

"That's one of the names of the move. The other—more recent term—is helicopter."

Bucky slows to a stop and holds one hand down for Cass. She takes it, pulls herself back up, releases her ankles, and drops her legs. Once she's on solid ground, she eases up onto her tiptoes and gives her fiancé a long kiss—earning a few more whistles while you and Steve laugh.

Tony is standing with his hands on his hips. "Show offs," he teases.

"You're just jealous because you're too old to do it," Cass snaps sassily.

Bucky's mouth drops open in surprise and amusement while you and your husband chuckle. "She's going to get herself killed one of these days," you comment. Steve grunts noncommittally.

Tony looks offended. "How dare you call me old?" he demands while Pepper and Rhodey are trying not to laugh.

"Oh I dare," Cass retorts with a grin. Bucky spins her under his arm to distract her and the couples go back to dancing. Steve holds you close and you close your eyes. Realistically, he's definitely strong enough to pull off all the stunts Cass and Bucky get into, but neither of you particularly want to pull off all their crazy lifts and tricks.

After a couple songs of dancing in which the engaged couple tone down their insanity, the night winds down. You sit between Steve and your family as the team sits on the other sofas. Cass is sprawled on her fiancé's lap, completely sober because she doesn't drink but obviously exhausted. Bucky doesn't seem to mind—he's stroking her long hair and whispering that she's "his little angel". Clint is holding Laura's hand with his head on her shoulder. Back when you first met the team, Clint had acted as the closest thing to a father to you while you were so far from home. He is definitely one of your favorites.

Bucky tugs one of Cass's gloves off to reveal her engagement ring. It's simple, 1940s' styled—just like your wedding ring. You look down at it. Yours is a bit simpler than hers. That suits you just fine. It's gorgeous.

As you lean your head on Steve's warm, strong chest, you take a moment to remember Cass and Bucky's engagement party—in which the celebrating couple had disappeared for a while. You, of course, found them making out in the supply closet two floors below—looking very startled when you walked in to find more cups. The memory makes you smile and remember your own engagement party. Unlike Bucky and Cass, you and Steve attended the entire party instead of vanishing for fifteen minutes. You have lots of fun, happy memories between you and the team. They've become something of a second-family. A home-away-from-home.

You can tell Steve's getting tired. He wraps his other arm around you too as if you're a teddy bear and leans his head on top of yours—the way he does when he starts falling asleep while you two watch movies in your apartment or when you get back after a double-date with Bucky and Cass or Tony and Pepper or Thor and Jane—or that one very strange date you doubled with Wanda and Vision.

"Wanna go home?" you ask your husband.

"Hmm?" he replies, head lifting. You repeat your question. "Nah. We can stay over here tonight. Your family's here—for the whole week according to Bucky—and it's snowing pleasantly outside and I'm just tired enough that driving might not be the best idea." You chuckle.

"Your floor's just as it was," Pepper comments from where she's sitting on the couch with Tony sitting on the floor next to her legs. She's rubbing his head and he's almost passed out—then again, he had more alcohol than everybody except maybe Thor so he's definitely on the verge of collapsing. You smile at Pepper. She was a good friend to you.

"Then we're going to go get some sleep," you decide, tugging Steve to his feet. Everyone else stands up long enough to give you two a hug—even Tony—before you make your way to the elevator.

"Happy birthday, Callie!" Cass and Bucky shout in unison, followed by everyone else.

"Thank you! Today's been amazing!"

You get in the elevator and hit the button for the floor that had served as your and Steve's apartment until you found your own place in Brooklyn. The elevator drifts downward gently and deposits you in the familiar space. You and your husband take off your fancy party clothes and put on the pajamas that you left behind when you moved out. After brushing teeth, Steve simply face-plants the bed before climbing in while you slide into the sheets with a little more grace—but not much, because the while the night has been fun, it's taken a lot out of you.

You snuggle deep into Steve's arms and let him hold you close. Outside the window, snow is still falling—big, fat flakes drift past the glass. The floor that serves as your apartment is slightly cold from disuse—because why turn on the heating if no one is living there?—but your husband has a metabolism that burns four times faster than the average person. Key word: burns. He's like a fireplace. His big, muscly arms are home.

Steve gives you a kiss on the lips. "Happy birthday, my love, my beautiful universe, my Callie," he murmurs, voice slightly slurring with exhaustion. You grin happily and kiss him back, sighing contentedly as you relax into his strong but soft hold.

"Thank you, Steve. Today's been a very good day."

"Better than last year's?" Steve asks jokingly. You can't help but grin.

Last year's party ended up soaked because Thor had knocked over a lamp and it caught some curtains on fire—which activated the sprinkler system.

There was always some shenanigan to be had, living with the Avengers.

You smile and fiddle with your new necklace for a moment. "Much better than last year's," you decide finally.

Steve grins for a moment before he sighs and his weight drops—he's asleep.

You kiss him again before nuzzling deeper into his hold. Subconsciously his arms wrap a little tighter around you.

"I love you, Steve," you whisper.

He wakes up just enough to whisper back, "I love you too, Callie."

End Note: So, a very happy birthday, my friend! (Revel in all that 5,500-word glory!) I meant every word I wrote in that birthday card! I hope your day is as awesome as you! You deserve it!

Looking back on this project (which I loved doing!), I could make a whole multi-chapter story out of this. Heck, maybe I will (or at the very least, something similar with similar relationship dynamics). I guess we'll see.

Have a fantastic day, my friend!

~Cass