I'm Here | ✓

23 - Dessert

"One double scoop of watermelon in a waffle cone," the girl behind the counter parrots as she hands Steve the ice cream he ordered. "Aaand... a double scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone for you, sir." I keep my head lowered as I grab my dessert, but Steve has no problem throwing her a glowing smile as he pays.

"You're gonna spoil our dinner," I tease.

"Do you mind?" Steve cocks his eyebrow and licks a drop of his pink ice cream that's slipping down his cone. I can't help but watch and wish those lips were on mine.

He grabs a few napkins and nods to the woman at the counter. He tilts his head, shoving open the door leading outside and holding it open like a gentleman. I smirk and take a bite of my ice cream in response. "Thanks for lunch. And the motel. And this. And... well, thanks for paying for pretty much everything. If you haven't noticed, I'm kinda broke."

Steve half-chuckles. "If it wasn't for this whole conflict with the Avengers, we'd be rolling in money. I'm entitled to millions in back pay for the time I spent in the ice; the government should be writing me a check right now." He slides into the driver's seat of the little blue car and I prop my feet up on the dash as best as I can.

"I can't even imagine that much money. It's so hard to believe that there are some people all the way at the top of the ladder, and then there are people like us, back in the forties... we could barely afford shoes, and even that took some saving up." I sighed. "At least people make more now. I remember when the waiters at that one restaurant down the block got into a fight because their manager couldn't pay 'em more than ten cents each that day. Got real bloody, too."

"Gotta look on the bright side. A lot's changed since then."

I glance sideways at Steve. "What would you do with that money?"

He shrugged. "Maybe find a place to settle down. Invest in a car. Donate the rest of it, probably. There's a lot of people less fortunate than us, even today, and the places I've gone, I've seen a lot of people that need help. I want to do something for them. What about you?"

"Stability. That's it. That is all I ever wanted. I'd do the same thing; find myself a small place away from the crowds where nobody would ever think to look for me. I'd like to be as noble as you, but honestly, I'd probably stuff the rest of the money in a bank account somewhere, let it collect interest for a while."

We sat in silence for a while, letting that soak in, until Steve laughed. "Who am I kidding? The government would never pay me, not at a time like this."

"You'd prolly be too nice to even accept the money." I wipe some ice cream off the tips of my fingers with a napkin, smirking down at my cone. Steve sighs happily, and I know he saw my joking expression.

"It's for that boy, Steven, yes?" The man behind the counter asks, ringing up the cough drops. I search through the pockets of my jacket for a few extra dollars.

I find a couple of quarters and flatten them out on the counter, counting the money mentally. It's barely enough. "Yeah. He's sick again." Looks like I'm gonna be working a double shift at the grocery store tonight to make up for it. I can't pressure Ms. Rogers into paying for it. They can't even afford food right now. It's the least I can do.

The cashier pushes the money back at me and I look back up at him in confusion. "Steven, he gets sick a lot, I take it?" I nod. "I knew it. You're always in here buying medicine, and you look like a healthy boy yourself."

"I guess I just got lucky. We're friends. I just wanna help him out, ya know? They can't really afford it right now."

The man shakes his head. "None of us can, and yet you're in here so frequently. How do pay for it all?"

I shrug nonchalantly, but he's the first who has ever asked. "I just work double, sometimes triple shifts. Steve is sick a lot of the time, and Ms. Rogers is dealing with her husband's death, so I figured I'd help out."

The man at the counter nods like he's thinking. After a moment, he pushes the cough drops and the money a little closer to me. "Keep the money," he says. "You're a good, honest boy. Give these to your friend Steven. You truly believe in him. I see the way you look at him."

I'm halfway through taking the bag of cough drops when he says that. I back away from the counter. Oh my God, he knows.

He shakes his hand at me. "No, no, no, don't run. I won't tell anyone, and I'm not going to hurt you." I take a cautious step forward to grab the rest of the money left lying on the counter. Still, I watch his every movement. I've seen guys get beaten for being queer, and I really need medicine for Steve. "I wish you two luck and safety. Cherish your moments together. You're welcome back here anytime."

I walk out stiffly, feeling bad that I didn't say anything more. Is it that obvious? Does Steve know? Does Ms. Rogers know? Oh my God, this is horrible.

I swallow my fears and pace back towards their house with the cough drops. I'm never going to mention this to Steve, ever. I don't want to keep secrets, but this is one that could hurt us both if it got out.

I look over at Steve. He's staring at me too.

"Whatcha thinkin about, Buck?"

I smile faintly. "You remember Robert from the drug store downtown, right? Where I'd always go to get your medicine?" Steve nods, so I continue. "I swore that I'd never tell you this, but here we are. He told me one day that you and I, we should cherish our moments together. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I kept it close to heart for a while."

Steve bit his lip. God, those lips. I keep going, despite the nervous feeling in my stomach.

"You said we could be something more. Also, I've been wondering how watermelon ice cream tastes since you ordered it."

It tasted even better on him. I leaned over and he leaned into me, our lips colliding in the middle. I closed my eyes and trailed one hand up the back of his neck, my fingers entangling with his hair, drawing him closer to me. He put his hand on my back, pulling me closer, wanting this too. He tasted more like strawberry, not watermelon, and a little bit of sugar. How ironic. The two most gorgeously twisted soldiers, polar opposites, torn away from a world that should've been ours for the taking, meeting back up here, crashing together in a kiss that could last a lifetime if we wanted it to. This is what everything has been leading up to. We cling to each other, each push against the other more passionate than the last, until finally, we pull away simultaneously, gasping and smiling and falling back again, our bodies melting into each other. This was a kiss 80 years in the making, and I wanted to make sure my Steve Rogers knew it.