Logs:Making Up is Hard to Do

Making Up is Hard to Do
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve
In Absentia	2022-02-06 "Oh gosh. Steve Rogers, are you askin' me on a date?"
Location <NYC> St. Martin's Church - Harlem
St. Martin de Porres Catholic Church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the altar, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air. Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand. The gray morning has grown a little brighter and warmer, but also started producing gentle drifts of flurries. All the same, Steve is lingering after service on the church's tiny lawn, leaning up against a snow-dusted oak tree. He's left his camel coat unbuttoned, the suit underneath black with blue pencil stripes, a blue star-patterned tie, and black dress boots. He has a trilby today to match his coat, and a soft blue knit scarf with white snowflakes, the shield slung over his shoulder patterned with a red-and-gold lantern on a black background ringed with concentric bands of red and gold. His phone is in his left hand, scrolling idly at intervals, though he pulls his attention readily away to bid his fellow parishioners goodbye as they pass. Jackson has been keeping to himself the past couple weeks and today is no exception, tucked into a back pew where he can more-or-less avoid the awkward stares that have followed him since the news of Prometheus broke. He's skipping the post-Mass coffee and snacks, just buttoning his red peacoat snug around himself as he makes his way out of the building, knit cap pulled low over his shaggy hair and his smile small and quick for the few people who do pause to offer him polite salutations. Steve slips his phone back into a pocket when Jackson draws near, and after his nod of greeting he pivots to fall into step with grace and agility that belies his stature. He's already blushing before he says, "Hey. Mind if I walk with you for a moment?" Jackson looks up with a wider flutter of his eye, a faint pinkening of his own pale cheeks. "Oh! Hey, sugar. Uhm --" He blinks, his smile widening a little lopsidedly. "Think your place is the other way but I'on mind. How you been?" "I don't mind the exercise," Steve replies with earnest cheer. "No fan of the cold, but the snow sure is pretty. I have been ah -- basically alright, all things considering." He clears his throat. "Thinking of you, actually. How have you been? All things considering." "Oh, reporters stopped campin' out outside the school so I think things are lookin' up," Jax replies, his tone light. "Still tend to get snoopers out by the house but I think they're all for Ryan so that's kind of inevitable." He tucks one hand into his pocket as he walks, the other toying with the tassel ends of his soft scarf. His head bows as he walks, gaze fixed more on the sidewalk in front of him than on Steve. "S'even prettier out by the school. Obie's been lovin' it. You get Zenobia out to play in it much?" "That's -- that's good. I'm sure you've got plenty on your mind without needing to worry about the media dogging your every step." Steve nods, resettling his hat into the exact same position it was in before he touched it. "Oh, I can imagine. Snow comes down cleaner up there, and stays clean longer. I take Zen out to the dog park whenever I can, but it gets slushy there fast. I'm sure she'd like a play date with Obie, if that's in the cards." He hesitates, blushing deeper. "I'd like to see you, too. If that's in the cards." "M'sure Ryan could bring him by to play some time," comes Jax's easy answer. His steps stutter for a moment when Steve continues, his eye flicking up from the sidewalk toward the taller man. "You're seein' me right now, aren't you?" His brows dip, scrunching in towards each other as he pauses to turn towards Steve. "You aright, sugar? Somethin' going on?" Steve nods readily. "Oh, of course, I'm fine." He gives a soft, embarrassed chuckle. Starts to run a hand through his hair but touches the brim of his hat instead and bows his head. "It's just --I realize I've been boorish to you in the past. I'm sorry, and I'd like to try making it up to you. If you're interested!" Jax's fingers scrunch slowly into the end of his scarf, his eyebrows hiking up higher. "Oh. Oh. Gosh, that's --" His cheeks flush a little darker, hand lifting to rub the scarf against the side of his face. "... you been talkin' to Luci?" There's a glimmer of amusement lightening his tone even as he sinks back heavily against an ice-rimed parking sign. "What does makin' it up to me look like, exactly?" "Yeah. He's got the benevolent meddling prowess of half a dozen church ladies and the patience of Job to boot." Steve blushes all the way up to his ears. "Well, I am open to other suggestions, but -- would you like to have supper with me?" He fishes a red greeting card envelope from the pocket of his coat and offers it. "Maybe next Monday, if you haven't got plans..." Jax reaches somewhat automatically for the envelope when it's profferred to him, though his hand freezes still holding the card halfway between them as Steve talks. His eye has gone wide, his teeth biting down at his lower lip. He's slow to draw the envelope back towards his chest, his gaze fluttering down toward it. "Monday? Oh gosh. Steve Rogers, are you askin' me on a date?" Steve nods, just once down, emphatic. "I thought it might make a nice break from...your whole year so far? And truth is, I've carried a torch for you a while now. There's foolish reasons I didn't tell you. Decent ones, too." The color is beginning to fade from his cheeks. "But I've been thinking, life is short. Sometimes it's better to go off half-cocked than never take the shot." He plucks off his hat and holds it between his hands. Squares his broad shoulders and clears his throat. "You're an amazing man, I'm blessed to call you my friend and want to be a better one to you no matter your answer. But I'd be honored if you'll be my valentine, too." Jax's mouth has fallen slightly agape during this speech, and when Steve is through he clamps his jaw shut, his cheeks burning with all the color that has faded from the other man's. "Oh gosh," he says again, softer. "Really has been kinda a year, ain't it? I think a year ago I would have jumped at --" The pink is starting to climb out into the air around him and he stops, shakes his head with a small and lopsided smile. "I'm -- real sorry, I don't mean to be -- this is just real unexpected, can I... get back to you?" He taps the envelope lightly against one palm. "About the date. Friends is for sure." Steve's bravado does not desert him, but he flushes again along with Jax. "You don't have to apologize, I'm the one who went and made it awkward." His smile is bright and sincere and just a touch sheepish. "So -- yes! Take your time, please. I'm flexible, and I really am glad you're considering it." His head bows slightly as he replaces his hat, a suggestion in the gesture of long familiarity made strange by long absence. "I'll ah, probably see you next week either way, and I hope this one goes well." For all his embarrassment, he does not seem too self-conscious when he offers a hug. "Be safe." Jax rises up slightly onto his toes as he returns the hug one-armed, squeezing Steve tight but brief. He's still holding the red envelope to his chest, careful as though it's something precious. "You too, sugar. Be seeing you soon."