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Summary
The club is fucking crowded when they arrive. Robin announces to the security man at the door that it's his best friend's birthday, and to Steve's dismay, she starts telling everyone who's listening that it's actually Steve's twentieth five birthday.
Fuck. Steve wishes to have twenty five years again.
"There you are, birthday boy!" He announces with a pretty smile that makes Steve go hot all over. Maybe he should take off his jacket.
Steve looks at his drink, the glass decorated with a silly pink umbrella, and smiles, reaching for his wallet and opening over the bar to pay.
“This one it’s on the house, handsome!” The bartender yells at him, putting his hand over Steve’s, stopping him. "Happy birthday!"
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Is Steve's 33th birthday!
