Logs:No Kind of Place

No Kind of Place
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve	2022-07-01 "Steve Rogers, did you bring me a present for your birthday?"
Location <NYC> Rooftop - S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ - Times Square
There's an unexpected oasis at the top of this gleaming high-rise, the whole of it carpeted in thick, soft, layered ground cover of sedums, grass, and moss. A small, carefully manicured grove serves as the centerpiece, with benches, tables and chairs scattered around in the shade. Beside it a professionally landscaped garden boasts a pond and quite a few planters that either used to hold plants or still hold dying ones. The greenhouse is somewhat sparsely and eclectically populated with tropical plants, flanked by garden beds even more sparsely planted. An open lawn on the side overlooking Times Square makes a great spot for a picnic. The otherwise unsightly structure housing the roof access, a single stall bathroom, and tool shed has been covered on three sides with turf and shaped into a little promontory offering a breathtaking view of the city. Way down below the city looks like a toy, cars and people wending in miniature around its sidewalks and streets. Up here it doesn't look much more real, the rooftop painted in too-bright colors, the now-flourishing plants in the garden glowing in neon hues, a kaleidoscope of otherworldly butterflies with wings like gossamer and lace and shimmering water fluttering through the plants. Somewhere amid this Jackson is perched on the edge of a garden bed; judging by the dirt flecking his hands he was once working but now is just lying along the wood, earbuds in his ear, large mirrored sunglasses on his face, dressed in black cutoff shortalls flecked with rainbowy paint hanging off one shoulder and a bright green tee underneath that reads 'SOCIAL JUSTICE PSION' in large block letters and beneath, in cursive, 'changing the way you think'. One hand taps idly against his stomach, the butterflies around him shifting colors in time with the rhythm of his tapping. Steve emerges from the side of the roof access...hill. In stark contrast to the monochrome ranks of SHIELD agents, support personnel, and consultants, he's wearing a yellow t-shirt with a field of wildflowers -- in riotous bloom -- the word 'shelter' written across the sky above them, and soft faded jeans. The shield slung across his back is still in its Pride month rainbow color scheme, and he carries a flat parcel wrapped in silver paper covered with small black lightning bolts. He comes up short, eyes wide at the spectacle of the rooftop. Slow, meandering steps carry him to the garden bed, where he comes up short again. "Jax." His voice is soft, here, as if he's not completely sure whether it's necessary to announce himself. "Hey." Jax has not moved, his eye not opened, but even before Steve has spoken several of the otherworldly butterflies have flitted over to alight on his shoulders, his shield, to meld with his shirt and perch on the flowers there. It's only when he's actually by the garden, though, that a quick smile brightens Jax's face and he pushes himself upright, plucking his earbuds from his ears. "Gosh, but this is a nice sur--" He cuts himself off short, peering at the wrapped parcel in Steve's hands. "Steve Rogers, did you bring me a present for your birthday?" Steve's face lights up, his answering smile quick, too. "Oh this?" He looks down at the item in hi hands if he'd forgotten about it until Jax pointed it out. "No -- I mean, it is my birthday. And this is for you, but --" His cheeks are flushing. "-- it was supposed to be for your birthday." He might have intended to offer the gift, but somewhere in the middle he reaches for Jax instead and pulls him into a fierce hug. Jax looks like he is about to say something, but instead just melts into the hug, his arms wrapping tightly around Steve and his face pressing up against the other man's shoulder. He's slow to let go, exhaling shakily as he pulls back. "Sorry," he says with a faint blush, "being here it's just been kinda -- oh, no, I got your shirt all --" He moves to brush some stray dirt off of Steve's shirt. "'fraid your present's gonna have to take a raincheck till my world's got a bit bigger again." Steve lets Jax go with some reluctance. "Don't worry about it. Any shirt that survives me for this long can handle a little dirt." Though he isn't stopping Jax, either. "Getting to see you is a pretty good birthday present, though it'd be a whole lot better if --" He draws a breath and lets it out. "-- if your world were a bit bigger. I've missed you." He takes another look around the garden. "I can't tell how much of this is the work of your powers and how much your green thumb, but SHIELD ought to pay you." Finally remembering the wrapped parcel, he presents it with another faint blush. "It's not anything fancy..." It's easy to tell just by touch that the gift is a book before it's even unwrapped. It's hand-bound in shimmery black fabric with the words "this book kills fascists" embossed in metallic rainbow letters along the spine. The pages inside are of fine, heavy pressed paper, though they are not quite perfectly squared. They are all blank save the first, most of which is taken up by a colored ink sketch: a large brindled pitbull in a deep play bow and a rotund one-eyed beagle trying to pounce on her, his ears and tongue alike flopping to comical effect. Beneath this, in Steve's hand: "Happy birthday to the most extraordinary man I know. You are not forgotten, and we won't stop fighting. Yours, Steve". "Oh --" Jax blushes as the brilliantly colorful garden around them fades to just a lush greenery, flourishing under his recent care. The alien butterflies have faded, save for the ones he has added to the chaos of flowers on Steve's shirt. His smile is a little crooked when he looks back up at Steve. "What, you mean the free room an' board ain't paying me?" His fingers run over the wrapping paper as he takes the gift, and he's careful in unwrapping it, slipping his fingers neatly below the tape to pluck at it without tearing the paper. His smile grows when the book is revealed, and he traces the embossed lettering with a fingertip before opening the cover. There's another hug to follow, fierce and tight, his eyes bright with tears when he pulls back. "It's perfect, sugar." "Not that paying for you would be enough --" Steve stammers, but ultimately decides not to finish the sentence. His smile returns, gentler, when the illusion falls away the reveal the thriving, if less colorful garden underneath. "It seems like no matter where you go, you just make everything around you...better" He goes quiet, watching Jax unwrap the gift, and breathes soft sigh at his reaction. It look like he is trying for words again, but lets that attempt go, too, and curls his arms around Jax. "I was -- you know, I was getting ready to explain all the ways it's not perfect, but what matters is you like it. One of my backup options was was flipping Fury's desk, which I'd still happily do, even if that feels more like a present for me." A bright laugh bubbles out of Jax, effervescing into a brief shimmer of iridescent light around him. "Well, it is your birthday, you should have a li'l somethin' for you, too, don't you think? I mean, I got a real busy schedule and all but I'm sure I could find some time to pencil in a trip down to Fury's office with you if you think some desk-flipping would be cathartic." He's hugging the book close to his chest, fingers brushing lightly against its cover. "I like it," he says, softer. "But a visit from you, now, well, as presents go that is pretty near perfect." Steve brightens -- not quite as literally as Jax, but it's striking all the same. "Would it be more perfect with a picnic? You know I'm not half bad as a sous chef, or we can order takeout." He frowns. "If they let you do that here? I know Luci and Ms. Hua negotiated some concessions, and you are mighty good at winning hearts and minds. If not...well, Coulson will do just about anything I ask." He smiles again, just slightly mischievous. "Probably also includes letting me take you down to see Fury afterwards. At this point they'd wouldn't know what to do with themselves if I actually made an appointment." "Oh, they let me have --" For just a beat Jax's smile falters, his head tipping down and a very faint hitch of breath breaking up his words. His tone is cheerful as before when he looks back up again, though, only Steve's own face reflected in the large blank mask of his mirrored sunglasses. "-- gosh, pretty much my druthers when it comes to things. s'pose that means a picnic could be in the works." A slight flush rises to his cheeks, teeth catching briefly at his lower lip. "-- do owe you a date, after all. Did kinda stand you up for Valentine's." The glow around him is fading as he turns slowly toward the door back inside. "C'mon. I've got to know my way 'round the kitchen here pretty good by now." "Gosh, my ma would be spinning in her grave if I showed up for a date dressed like this." Steve falls into step beside Jax. "I just want to spend some time with you, maybe distract you from this bullshit." He takes Jax's free hand and gently tucks it into the crook of his arm. "I do still want to take you out, even if it can't really be a proper date under the circumstances. But you don't owe me, and we don't have to do anything in particular. Just..." He slows and pulls Jax around to face him. "Be with me now? For a little while." Jax's breath shivers out slowly when he's turned around. The flush has returned to his cheeks -- has spread, a faint rosy flutter in the air around him. In the crook of Steve's arm his hand has a slight tremor, and he draws it slowly out. He takes a small step closer to the other man, his fingers trailing feather-light up along Steve's arm, tracing from the swell of his biceps to the broad plane of his chest with a care as delicate as though he imagines the much larger man might break under the gentle touch. His head tips up as his hand lifts, breath held, now, as his fingers brush against the line of Steve's jaw. Stop, just short of the curve of the other man's lips. When he pulls back it's abrupt, with a small but ragged indrawing of breath that seems like it physically hurts. The glow drains from around him, and takes with it much of the rest of his trappings of color, too, characteristically bright makeup and bright hair accents and the embellished vividness of his clothing draining back to more prosaicly earthly hues as if some spell has just been shattered. For just a second he glances away, towards one of the ubiquitous security cameras lacing this building, and then his head dips, his fingers running up through his shaggy dark hair and his quick flash of smile crooked and his tone jarringly light. "Oh, gosh, sugar, this ain't no kind of place to be. Half the time I ain't even sure I'm still really here at all. Let's get some food into you, yeah?" Steve blinks down, eyes a little wide, his own blush vivid enough though it stops at the skin. The hand he settles on Jax's shoulder is firm and far from tentative, but so deliberately relaxed it feels almost like its own kind of tension. When Jax's hand lifts, his slides down the smaller man's back, his fingertips pressing in ever so lightly as he tips his head down, hardly breathing himself. He doesn't step back when Jax does, but he drops his hand away. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "You're right, it's no kind of place at all." His smile doesn't come as easily, but it does come, at a small delay. "But -- yeah. I'd like that."