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Summary
Honestly, Sam didn’t know how to rank this birthday. If the year his parents finally broke down and bought him a pair of Barkley’s (even though they didn’t believe in spending that kind of money on what they referred to as “gym shoes,” and barely believed Barkley and his foul mouth should be allowed to even play in the league) was a ten, and the first birthday without Riley, and the wings, or even a clear idea of what his next steps should be, was a negative ten, then he supposed this one was a… five. Maybe? So far anyway.
Or: Happy Birthday, Sam Wilson.
Series
- Part 5 of Happy Birthday, Sam Wilson!
