Birthday birthday happy birthday yay. Enjoy~

Chapter 10
Steve's favourite day of the week is the one he gets to see Luke on.

Which is admittedly incredibly sappy, and means that he usually has multiple favourite days of the week, but it does not make it any less true. He tries, very hard, to keep in mind that this may not last, that them dating officially does not mean 'forever,' because it is something he has always needed to work on. It's easy to get lost in the rush of dating someone, of loving all their good parts; this is not difficult, in that initial getting-to-know stage (and it really is the getting-to-know stage with Luke when he firsts asks). The hard part is after, so Steve reminds himself (daily, hourly, every time he looks and finds Luke's (Dark Hooker's Green) eyes looking back at him) that this does not mean forever and it will be okay if it isn't forever because it's wonderful right now and Luke is clearly adjusting and getting more comfortable. So even if this goes poorly, he will have helped and that's pretty much enough to make Steve happy.

(And sometimes he wonders if maybe this will be the One, though he shouldn't, because it's been weeks, nearly two months, Luke's birthday is coming up in a week and he has plans though Luke has made no mention of doing anything, because he still mostly has little problem with Luke and can still love being with him. Because when he calls Luke out on things, Luke actually listens and tries to understand and actively takes it in and uses it in the future (like when Luke said something so casually classist you could have knocked Steve over with a feather, and it makes sense that Luke would be, he grew up a prince, but when Steve ended up getting so angry and impassioned (and he really shouldn't have let it get under his skin so much) Luke just listened and tried to understand and is still struggling to grasp, but that's the thing he, he does try, desperately hard). Because Luke will admit his faults (like how he can't cook, or how he's terrible at drawing, or how he gets so irrationally angry and upset sometimes). Because Luke understands Steve's desire to not announce this from the rooftops, the desire to keep it private and mostly between them and a few close friends. And all those things, all those little things, they make it so he doesn't end up disappointed in Luke, ever, and it's twisting him up inside, that he hasn't actually dated someone who has tried so much or been quite so suited. He can't help but wonder in the quiet part of his mind if maybe Luke is the One even though he shouldn't.)

So he enjoys the now, knowing it might not last.

XXXXXX

Luke frowning ever so slightly and ink smudged on his nose while he leans over sheets of empty staffs waiting to be filled with notes, fingers playing through complicated snippets of music on his piano before he jots down what he actually likes.

The way all those long, lean lines seem to collapse on themselves when they watch a movie on the couch, blanket tossed over, Luke's head nestled in the crook of Steve's neck and hair tickling his throat.

How Luke's mouth is so pleasantly cold and tastes of green tea and mint, impulsive kiss after Luke's first bite of ice cream because the look of surprise and utter delight is irresistible.

Luke's fingertips as they run over his hands (again), and how absolutely intently Luke follows the lines, as if he could map out everything there is to know by memorizing Steve's hands.

Luke with a maddening cat smile, glancing at him when Steve huffs in frustration because yet again he's got the lines wrong for Luke's face while he doodles on the corner of a napkin in a restaurant.

The narrow of eyes when they start to debate—never argue—over something and Luke knows he's right and Steve's wrong and the tiny huff of irritation that Steve can't see that.

How Luke looks at him, entire face puzzled, as if he doesn't understand how all this has happened whenever Luke doesn't think Steve can see.

Luke's breath when he does doze off against Steve's shoulder in the car when they've been out far too late again, soft and quiet and even, face slack and utterly trusting.

XXXXXX

Steve has cleared his entire schedule for today, and a bit of talking with both Lethe and Olek has revealed that Luke is going to hole himself in his apartment as if it isn't his birthday. This suits him just fine, as it means Luke has nowhere to be and can be more easily taken out and about.

In the backseat of the car there's an honest-to-goodness picnic basket and the blanket that they usually curl under while they watch movies. He's got so much food in that basket that he had worried he might not be able to close it, including a lemon meringue pie—Luke's favourite, who can't seem to get enough of the slightly sour-sweet confection and who adores the white spongy peaks on top best.

(See, there are a lot of things he could get Luke, plenty, but the point of it is Luke doesn't lack for the material. Luke generally gets by enough that he doesn't want for things he might need, and he generally has little interest in objects anyway. But experiences are something he lacks, because Luke used to be Loki, Loki who lived in a golden city as a prince his entire life and who still fumbles in his lack of knowledge of how things go that others take for granted, and Steve is basically certain that Loki (and thus Luke) has never been on a picnic. It's something he knows the other will like, because Luke loves the outdoors and is generally interested whenever they go to the botanical garden or the park, plus if it fails, well, he's got food—and Luke adores food. This is food Steve's mom would cook and it's food you can't get at a restaurant, not properly anyway, so even if one experience isn't enough, he's got a second (and in his pocket he's got a gift, a little thing, and he only hopes Luke doesn't freak out about that, because Luke can get so very nervous and anxious over things that Steve thinks are pretty standard dating protocol)).

Luke answers the door in a robe with a cup of coffee, hair still in disarray, and gets that little frown on his face that he gets whenever he is Not Amused. Steve just grins at him.

"You should get dressed. I need to take you somewhere."

Luke scowls at him and Steve resists the urge to push a stray strand of hair behind Luke's ear. Instead, he makes his way inside and to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Luke follows after him, scowl deepening.

"Come on, get dressed." He takes a sip of the coffee, debating adding some milk and sugar. "We'll have fun, I promise. I'm not taking you in public." And it's a bit dirty but he gives Luke his nearly patented Puppy Dog eyes. He can see the resolve beginning to totter so he adds, "Please?"

Luke glares at him more, just to make sure Steve is entirely aware that he does Not Approve, but the coffee mug ends up on the counter and Luke's bedroom door slams behind him.

This is going to be a fantastic day.

XXXXXX

Luke sulks the entire ride until they're out of the city and the suburbs. Then he straightens a little, peering out the window instead of examining his nails or fiddling with the radio, looking curious. Steve keeps humming to the radio like he hasn't noticed, but he turns the air off and rolls the windows down—this is the moment he knows that Luke is going to love the picnic because he doesn't even get a look of irritation. Luke hates being in the car with the windows down, hates how it musses his hair and his clothes, but instead he's just half-leaning out and pushing his hair out of his face while he watches the countryside roll by.

He takes one hand off the wheel and slips it into Luke's; Luke doesn't even glance over, just twines their fingers together, and the rest of the ride is silent but for the radio and sound of air whipping past.

XXXXXX

Steve picked this spot long before he ever started to date Luke.

It's one of the only places that's still the same as it was—a hill with a giant tree that twists and sprawls at the top. And maybe it's not exactly the same—the tree has certainly gotten a lot bigger—but otherwise it's untouched. There's still a farm about a mile away, still a stone wall that you can see in the distance along the edge of their property, still silence and just one lone gravel road without a real name. His mother brought him here a few times when he was growing up. Steve put off coming back for nearly a year after he woke up because he didn't want to see this place changed too.

He doesn't tell Luke any of this as they walk up the hill, Luke carrying the blanket and Steve the picnic basket, but he can tell that Luke knows this isn't the sort of place just stumbled upon. It's too out of the way and the roads are all unmarked country roads that twine on themselves, determined to get a person lost unless they belong, and Steve didn't take a single wrong turn anywhere. He knows this place, visits it once a month or so no matter the weather. It's good to have something stable in life.

Luke spreads the blanket out and Steve starts to unpack the basket. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, zucchini boats, an endless parade of simple food that is no less good for it's simplicity, and not anything like what they usually eat when they go out. Not like what Steve usually cooks—he likes to spoil Luke with food, because Luke is fascinated by the complicated dishes he can put together and way more appreciative than the team. Luke is watching curiously while Steve sorts, lips pursed just slightly. Steve kisses those pouty lips when he hands him a plate and it gets him a flicker of a smile.

"It's called a picnic. I thought you'd like it," Steve says, getting his own plate, answering the unspoken question.

They don't talk as they eat, but they sit close together, the tree big enough they can both lean against it. Luke steals a forkful of homemade mac n cheese off Steve's plate, smirking slightly, and Steve laughs, stealing one of Luke's stuffed mushrooms in return. Luke looks mock aghast, then it's hardly a few minutes later and it's nearly full-scale war.

"Hey!" Steve says, holding his plate away, Luke laughing half in his lap. He sets the plate down and then pulls him the rest of the way, so Luke's back rests to his chest, wraps his arms around the middle and buries his face in his favourite curve—the gentle one joining neck to shoulder. Relishes the feel of Luke relaxing into him, feeling the tension drain, because Luke is usually drawn as tight as one of his violin strings. He hums appreciatively.

"You may feed me," Luke says imperiously with a haughty tilt of his chin.

Steve chuckles, but he does it anyway, not minding this. He loves that Luke trusts him enough for this—because it is trust, so much of this is Luke trusting him and him trusting Luke—and also loves the way Luke will occasionally nip at his fingers, never hard, but enough to tease. Luke doesn't say anything but eventually Steve stops, knowing Luke doesn't want anything else except to be like this, to look at the land that sprawls away from them and be held (it's in the way he leans his head back to rest against Steve's chest and the soft sigh that escapes his lips, the way his arms rest comfortably on the Steve's wrapped about his middle).

"This is acceptable."

Steve smiles into the curve of Luke's neck and squeezes him a little tighter. He moves one hand and digs in his pocket, pulls out the smallish box, wrapped in green. Holds it in front of Luke on the flat of his palm.

"Happy birthday," Steve says as Luke takes it carefully with those long, long fingers, examines it. "It won't bite."

Luke snorts but he pulls the wrapping away delicately, works tape away from paper and manages to avoid tearing it much. He opens the box and blinks at the bracelet inside, a cord of dark-nearly-black leather. Simple, worn. Worn a lot. A long time ago, it'd been Bucky's; he thinks his long-gone friend would appreciate it getting some use again. Luke doesn't ask whose it was or what it means—but Steve can tell Luke knows that this is something precious, something important. Steve isn't one for idle gifts (and Luke seems to recognize this, seems to recognize that Steve will never so casually give gifts like Luke gives gifts and never once seems to resent it).

When Luke twists around and catches him in a kiss, eyes lit up like it's Christmas and face betraying every drop of joy that Steve has caused, Steve can't help how his heart twists on itself with warmth.

(And in the quiet part of his mind, even though he shouldn't, he wonders if Luke might the One.)