It's Wednesday and I'm freaking out. Over the last few days, I've put a lot of time into this and I hope it works without my completely messing something up. I've set up as much as I can beforehand and I just have to grab my picnic basket off the counter and pick up my- friend. It still feels a bit weird calling him that.
I knock on Steve's door at seven-thirty on the dot. I may or may not have waited in the hall for a minute and a half before so I wouldn't be early.
"Hello Anne, you're right on time," he answers the door with a warm smile. He looks dashing, of course, in jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows; his hair combed just so.
"Hi Steve!"
'That was way too cheery. Tone it down a bit.'
"Are you ready to go?" I try again.
'Better. Closer to normal, at least.'
"Of course," he answers, closing and locking his door behind him. "So, where are we going?" He asks with an eye on the basket slung over my arm.
"Well, the stairs, for starters." I smirk at him.
He looks a little surprised that I'm being cheeky, but he also looks amused so I keep my smirk.
As I move to the stairwell, I call over my shoulder, "Come along my Yankee Doodle Dandy, we've a schedule to keep!"
Steve jogs up behind me, rather quietly for such a big guy. "'Yankee Doodle Dandy'?" he asks with merely a quirked brow as we start up the stairs. He takes the basket from me without a word. It's pretty heavy, so I let him.
I smile again. "Mhmm. You know, like the song:
'I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,
A Yankee Doodle do or die;
A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam,
Born on the Fourth of July!' - Ring any bells?"
He looks a little confused until I reach the last line of the chorus, which I strongly emphasize. At that, his eyes light up in pleased wonder. "How'd you know today is my birthday?"
"Steve, Steve, Steve, my little Dandy;" I'm totally milking this new nickname for all it's worth. "How ill you know me. I'm actually quite devious."
He doesn't look convinced.
That's good; means he's not an idiot. I'm about as devious as George Washington.
"Okay, I may have snuck a look at your driver's license and just happened to see your birthdate. I'm sorry for snooping, by the way." I actually did feel a bit guilty about it. "But in all fairness, you should've told me it was your birthday; it's what friends do." My words stop a bit abruptly as I make the uncomfortable realization that perhaps he didn't really think of me as a friend. Perhaps, being the perfectly nice person that he is, he only stuck around because he felt sorry for me.
'As unfortunate as that may be, you still owe him.'
Before he has a chance to respond, we've reached our destination- the door to the roof. I hold it open for him, gesturing through it. "After you, birthday boy."
There isn't much on the roof; our lessor doesn't like to clutter it up. But I had managed to bring up a couple of folding chairs and a card table for dinner. The settings aren't anything special, just some of my own dishes.
"I hope you like chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes," I say as I take the basket from him.
"Well, I guess you'll find out tonight." Is he being...coy? My relief at his acceptance and excitement at the prospect of finally being able to do something for him must be rubbing off on him a bit.
"It's the fanciest thing that I know how to make, and it's really not that fancy," I admit with a smile. I serve up our plates before placing the containers back into the basket and setting it next to the table. As I pull out a couple of glass bottles, I say, "I was guessing that you don't drink alcohol since you've never asked me for any when we've done our movie night. So I'm hoping cream soda is okay?"
"Perfect," he answers with a grin.
Steve did, in fact, enjoy the chicken fried steak quite a bit. So, you know, 'score!' or, whatever. By the time we had finished our dinner, the sun had just finished setting.
"I hope you like fireworks." I turn my chair so that I'm facing to what was my right side, looking over the city.
I can the hear the smile in his voice as he says, "I suppose one might consider me to be patriotic." Something tells me this is some joke he's just made with himself. He turns his chair to face in the same direction as mine.
"I did some searching online and from what I read, the best fireworks will be from Stark Industries; I guess they do some annual display or something. And, as far as I can tell, their building is in that-" I gesture in front of us, "-general direction. They're set to start at eight thirty." I glance at my wristwatch, shifting it to try to catch some ambient light. "So that should be any minute now."
To be honest, I was expecting the end of my sentence to be dramatically punctuated with the opening fireworks. I was disappointed. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the show starts.
It certainly is spectacular. I guess being a multibillion-dollar company would mean that you would be able to afford some high quality fireworks. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if, um, what's-his-face Stark designed them himself. From the little I've heard of him, he seems the type.
The building is quite a ways off, but towards the end of the display, I notice something. "Is there someone flying around amongst the fireworks?..."
Steve leans forwards a bit. "Yeah, I think there is..." he trails off like I did.
They weave in and out of the explosions like some bizarre dance. "It must be Iron Man." Aside from the fact that I can't think of anyone else who can fly, I also can't think of anyone else who would do something so vainglorious. The fireworks finally end with, well, a bang. Iron Man shoots straight up and he himself shoots off the last of the fireworks, exploding out in every direction from his suit.
"I'm sure Gandalf would've done far better," I can't help but mutter to myself. "Well, are you ready for dessert?"
Steve turns to me, looking a bit surprised. "There's more?"
"Duh. It is your birthday. We can't exactly celebrate it properly without some sort of sweet, now can we?" I lean over the basket, searching for the one container I had left unopened. "It isn't cake, I'm afraid. I didn't know if you liked cake or what your favorite might be and cakes aren't what I do best anyway. But maybe next time."
'Next time? That's a whole year from now. You're getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Anne.'
"So I made you cookies. This time they're sugar cookies."
'I don't know of anyone who doesn't like sugar cookies, but just in case-'
"But I've made some chocolate chip as well if you don't like these." I pop open the lid and hand it to him, waiting for his judgment. I had decorated them, somewhat painstakingly, with stars and stripes and other appropriately patriotic things as well as some with the words 'happy birthday!'. "I don't have any candles for you to blow out, I'm afraid."
He smiles as he looks at them all. With a small shake of his head, he looks up at me. "Thank you so much, Anne. You really didn't have to go through all of this trouble for me."
I wave him off. "It isn't that much, really. Besides, this was a perfect opportunity for me to show you my gratitude." My eyes drift to the table between us as I continue; my hands on the table as they twist and fiddle mindlessly. "You've been, well, kind of amazing this past month with everything that happened with- with my mom and distracting me so I'm not always thinking about it. Even though I'm sure you consider it to have been no big deal, I can't tell you how much it's meant to me. I-" I clear my throat to stop it from cracking. "-I haven't had much experience with what it's like to have a, uh, friend, so my perspective may be a bit skewed, but I feel like I need you to know that you're honestly one of the best friends I've ever had."
'The best friend I've ever had, really.'
"The way you can make it effortless for me to be around you is actually a hitherto unobserved phenomenon. I-I'm really quite fond of you, and, well, I hope we'll continue to be friends for a lot longer." My eyes drift nervously up to his, hoping I haven't said anything to make him uncomfortable.
He's all kindness and warmth, smiling a smile that I haven't seen on him before. It looks a bit, deeper, maybe, than his other smiles; like it isn't just from politeness or fleeting amusement, but something sturdier and perhaps more heartfelt. Steve leans across the table to squeeze my hands, stilling my fidgeting, saying more in one action than I had said in paragraphs.
"Of course we will, Anne." A weight, I hadn't noticed until it was gone, lifts from my chest, leaving me breathing freer. He leans back in his chair and pulls his hands from mine before I can grow uncomfortable from his touch. He takes out a sugar cookie and hands it to me before taking one for himself. He seems to enjoy it, but I doubt he'd spit it in his napkin even if tasted like sulfur- he's just too polite for anything else.
"So did you practice that speech?" he teases lightly.
I make a face. "Oh, shush. I didn't get you a card so I had to convey sentiment somehow. So you better have liked it because it's the last nice thing I'll say to you for a year."
Steve raises his eyebrows, playing along. "Is that how that works?"
I shrug. "What can I say? I'm exceedingly stingy. Oh, and one more thing." I pull a present from the basket. In response to Steve's widened eyes, I reassure him with a laugh and, "it's the last, I promise." I had wrapped it as best as I could in plain blue paper. My mom always wrapped things so perfectly; I'm not sure how she was- is, so good at it.
Steve takes it from me with an almost indulgent smile and tears the paper carefully away.
"It's okay if you don't like it," I immediately say as he sees what it is. "I, I wasn't sure if you like to read, but these are my favorite books and I wanted to eh, share that with you, I guess. But if you don't like it I can just, get you a shirt, or something." I know I shouldn't be freaking out, but sharing my favorite books is like revealing a piece of my soul. It may sound overly dramatic, but I mean it.
"'The Lord of the Rings'?" he asks.
"Yeah. They've also been made into movies, but the books blow the movies completely out of the water. There's so much depth and so many beautiful themes that-" I stop myself. "I'm sorry, I'm being a bit of a fangirl. I think they're amazing, but I can understand if they look rather intimidating. But I think you'd like them. One of the main themes is the power of good in everyday things and everyday people in keeping overwhelming evil at bay." In spending time with Steve, this idea seems like something that he would really appreciate in a story.
This seems to catch his interest. He turns 'The Fellowship of the Ring' over, looking at its back cover. "I'll definitely give it a shot, thank you Anne." He smiles at me again.
'Yes, embrace the dork side... Okay, ease up there, you creep.'
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A/N: I just wanted to put in a little apology for something that's been bugging me. I know this isn't very good - the descriptions are almost non existent and things are moving fast enough to impress Pietro - so I'm sorry for that. But this is just something I started writing and enjoyed it a heck of a lot and thought maybe others would enjoy it also. Anyway, this is mostly just for fun, but I'd still like to hear constructive criticism or what you like about it. So, yup. I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. Thanks for reading! :)