rogers— @AncientElixir
• there isn't anything i wouldn't do to keep my friends safe. a u — m v Joined July 2017-
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|| I'm gonna reply in DMs for this, just because it's more convenient with characters and all that. Is that alright?
Steve took it and munched happily, humming his approval.
Tony smiled, and pulled the candle out. “All yours, oldie.” Hands it over.
He listened happily and blew out the candle when he finished.
“I’m already late—,” He chuckled, and kept the cupcake up as he began to sing happy birthday.
He looked over at the clock. "Yeah, you do." He smiled and sat with him, kind of excited.
"You're gonna sing for me?" He put his book down.
“I got you a cupcake and I wanted to sing before all the wax got on the top.” He gestured.
Steve looked up and smiled. "Hi, Tony. What brings you down here?"
Be his guest. Not like he's overbooked.
????? Incorrect. Tony’s coming to join him, a Fourth of July cupcake in hand with a candle in it.
"I'll see you then, Tony." He smiled and watched him leave before shutting the door and going back to his couch to finish the treat.
"You made this cupcake? I'm. . . Pleasantly surprised. I know what I'm gonna be doing from now on." Guilting Tony into baking for him.
He chuckled again and nodded. "Thank you, Tony. Really. Where did you get this cupcake, anyway?" He took another bite.
He chuckled and finished chewing. "Okay, okay. But don't take me anywhere fancy! Potbelly's or Chinese food are fine."
"No, no, I'm fine. I already feel weird living here, I hate it when people spend money on me and I can't repay them." He unwrapped the cake and took a bite, licking the frosting off of his lips and giving a thumbs up, as a way of saying it was good.
Steve's grin widened, and his cheeks tinted slightly pink. "Thank you. It means a lot." He took the cupcake from him.
The man looked up at the knock and set down his book and pencil, getting up from the couch to go answer the door. "Tony," he said with a smile. "What are you doing here so late?"
He's been sketching all day, and his wrist feels like it's going to fall off. He finally glances up at the clock, 11:05pm, and sighs to himself. He has no one, and no one has— or wants, really— him. Not a very happy birthday at all.
"Happy birthday to me," he spoke softly to himself, curling up on his couch with a sketchbook in hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear.
That's great!! Steve's proud of him.
Well, if he stops drinking and takes better care of himself, he probably will.
Triple digits. Tony’s lucky if he even makes it to his late eighties/early nineties.
What?
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