It had been… Years, decades. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually celebrated his birthday. As it stood, he didn’t really want to celebrate. He just saw the day as a reminder that he was growing older, that he was still alive and, in Sam’s words, living an over-extended life.

He was never one for big gatherings and huge celebrations, he didn’t have nearly enough energy to deal with even a small get-together.

That didn’t stop you from celebrating, though, just in your own way - one that didn’t involve any socialising and just acknowledgement of the day. You couldn’t have let him stay adverse to the one day dedicated just for him.

Bucky woke up early in the morning, as he did, but found that you’d left the bed before him. He was a little confused, and concerned as to where you’d gone, immediately scooting out of bed to find you.

And find you, he did. Breakfast was made and set out on the counter, next to… A cake, and gifts.

Bucky furrowed his brows, and approaching the kitchen where you stood, he scratched his head in confusion - still groggy from just waking up.

“What- What’s all this?” He asked in a small mumble, picking up a wrapped present and turning it around in his hands, testing the weight.