Birthdays aren't always appreciated. Thanks to the folks over at The Beta Branch for the beta reads.
Bruce stopped short when he entered the room. Balloons, party hats, and a banner strung across one wall suggested that somebody had been at it again. He was afraid to see what the cake looked like.
He'd thought he had kept it secret. But, he reminded himself, there were times that the word "secret" meant "only about 20 people knew it instead of 50," and the little things like birthdays fell under that category.
Bruce had never really seen the point of birthdays once he had turned 21. So he made it through another year, that didn't mean that he wanted to celebrate that fact. Or if he did – the first couple years after the Other Guy had come out seemed to have been important – he preferred to keep it simple and quiet. Just a small treat of some sort that he'd normally turn down.
Before he could turn around and make his retreat, though, people had seen him and started singing. That song was another thing that Bruce couldn't see the point of, especially once people hit adulthood, and the urge to leave grew even more. He also hated the fact that they were singing at him, and he throttled his mild annoyance at the situation back to where it belonged. He hoped that it hadn't shown on his face.
When the singing stopped, Bruce nodded. "Thanks, I think." He just had to keep reminding himself that at the end of the day, this was only an hour or two out of his entire life, and everybody looked so happy. Why destroy their enjoyment and their traditions with his personal desires? With a sigh, he moved forward into the room and accepted the slice of cake he was handed with a sharp nod. Maybe he could goad one of the scientists he saw into an argument with Tony and slip out during the resulting chaos. Or…no. There was Barton, back to the wall. He'd be a better accomplice, with or without his knowledge.