Distracting Disambiguation | Steve and Clint
When you happened to share a birthday with a national holiday, things could dependably coincide, especially if friends of Steve’s acted just as they always had.
Last year brought in a lot of themed gifts. This year, apparently, was different. He got a few birthday wishes online, and little else. It was sort of a relief, Steve mused, absently surfing the channels on the flatscreen in his room. No muss, no fuss. More like the days before Steve Rogers was anything but a kid from Brooklyn, where sharing popcorn and cotton candy with Bucky and watching the fireworks light up over the East River constituted a birthday celebration.
Luckily, and unlike nearly everything else, the fireworks hadn’t changed a bit.
Steve was just settling into a rerun of Star Trek when Clint called. A phone call turned into Clint wearing Steve down on going for at least one drink on his birthday, and sooner than Steve expected, they were hailing a cab a block from the Tower to get to the nearest bar they could find.
“Here?” Steve asked, a bit skeptically. A dive, sure, but nowhere near the level of the Zone when he and Jessica went snooping a few months ago. Nothing like the places Steve and Sam had staked out in hopes of finding Bucky, to no avail. Not exactly a scene he’d attribute to Clint Barton, either, though Steve wasn’t as familiar with Clint as he should be, leader to teammate.
Today was as good a day as any to get to know the guy, Steve concluded, and kept any further judgements to himself. They found empty places at the counter and ordered drinks, conversation separated from the regulars by a handful of unoccupied seats.
“So,” said Steve, curiosity finally getting the better of him, “what made you think of doing this?”
