I need Steve taking a deep breath in a field full of flowers and tear up. Because his lungs can take it. He won't get allergic anymore
I need Steve moving around, jumping and parkouring and crouching and rolling and after coming home, getting teary. His back doesn't hurt now. No more scoliosis
I need Steve eating with all the hot sauce and spices he wants with a huge smile and teary eyes. His stomach won't burn and hurt from the ulcer anymore no matter what he eats
I need Steve running for miles with Sam, and grinning proudly as he wipes his eyes. Because his heart doesn't skip several beats and palpilates like it's one second away from flat-lining anymore, his heart is strong now
I need Steve playing in the snow without a care in the world, smiling through glossy eyes because he won't get bed-ridden sick and fevers from cold anymore
I need Steve rough housing with Bucky and almost bursting out in tears because he can actually move now without Bucky having to hold back almost all of his strength. He's big and strong now
I need Steve laughing with tears in his eyes as he tries to turn off the smoke alarm in his apartment activated by the pasta he accidently burned. Because he doesn't fall into a coughing fit or have an asthma attack from the smoke anymore
I need Steve walking past a pharmacy and almost having a break down because he doesn't need countless pills and monthly check ups to make sure he's still functional anymore
I need Steve spending a day out with his friends, in the beach or anywhere at all, spending the entire day playing and moving around without once having to think about how tired he is or will be. Breaking out into tears once he's home and crying against Bucky's shoulder with the goofiest smile in his face. Because he doesn't need to worry about the pain that will follow tomorrow and weeks after anymore
I need Steve feeling proud if himself while carrying an injured civilian in his arms. Because he finally has the power and strength to help people like he always wanted now
I need Steve walking up three flight of stairs without breaking a sweat, and getting teary because he doesn't feel like his body is going to collapse from the fatigue that used to come from just three steps of stairs
I need Steve looking a picture of himself pre-serum while smiling in tears, and thanking him for not giving up. Thanking him for keeping going. Thanking him for giving him the body he has now. Thanking his mother for never giving up on him. For making him the man he is today. Oh how he wishes she could see him now
I need Steve enjoying his life he never got to before, and feeling grateful for the tiniest things with a glowing ball of warmth in his heart and tears in his eyes