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“Bananas.”
Connie blinks. “What?”
“We should have brought bananas,” Steven says, with an eyebrow raised as if his meaning should have been obvious.
“You’re a banana,” Connie snorts, elbowing the basket in front of her as she crams another can of lemonade into it. “We can go and get some if you’d like.”
“I... don’t think they’d fit in the basket.”
“Carry them. You have arms, don’t you?”
Steven sticks his tongue out, shaking his arms wildly in a way that Connie can only call dancing- albeit, not good dancing. “My arms are broken.”
“Oh, no. How will you ever survive?”
“It’s a tragedy,” Steven agrees, and Connie lets out a short laugh as he moves over to her, socks sliding on the floor. His arms wrap gently around her waist, his face nuzzling into the back of her neck, and she cranes round to stick her tongue out at him playfully, bumping her forehead against his.
“Your arms seem to be working just fine now.”
“You healed them,” Steven says, and Connie shivers at the feeling of his words against her skin. “You’re magic.”
“Pretty sure that’s you.” She feels him smile, and pushes the basket away as she turns around fully, facing Steven and taking his face into her hands, brushing strands of hair away from his eyes. “Well, hey, now that your arms are working again, how about this. Go make sandwiches.”
Steven pulls a face. “Oh, I forgot.”
“Go make sandwiches, or we won’t have any to take on the picnic. And that would be even more of a tragedy than your broken arms.”
“We can get fry bits.”
“I will demand that they don’t give you any.”
Steven grins. “I’d get them anyway. I can be very convincing.”
“So can I,” Connie says, and without warning she’s rushing forwards, pulling him closer, kissing him in a way that she’s done so many times before, in a way that never fails to amaze her. She feels Steven stiffen and then relax, his hand resting gently on her side, and she holds him to her for a few seconds longer before pulling away, eyes gleaming. “Sandwiches, Steven.”
“Sandwiches,” he agrees, touching a hand to his lips gently. “What kind of sandwiches?”
“Is there even any question? Jam!”
Steven laughs, and Connie feels something light up inside of her; a spark of adoration, love, joy, a feeling that doubles and triples and flies out of control when Steven squeezes her hand quickly before moving over to the cupboard, pulling a load of bread from a shelf. Even just looking at him fills her with so much emotion she can barely put it into words, and she knows he feels the same. She can read him, she can see it in the way he bumps his hip against hers as they navigate their paths around the kitchen, the way his lips brush her cheek in a soft kiss as he walks by her, the way that I love you, falls so easily from his mouth, sweet words that they’ve both been waiting a lifetime to say and hear.
She loves him, and it fills up her mind so much that she doesn’t even realise when she starts humming, a steady tune that Steven sings along to almost immediately.
“The sun is bright
our shirts are clean
we’re sitting up above the sea
come on and share this jam with me.”
She can’t help but laugh. “Oh God, is that what I was humming?”
Steven raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice?”
“I’d almost forgotten...”
Steven’s mouth drops open, and Connie lets out another laugh at the look of mock offence on his face. “It’s been so long! I’m surprised you remember.”
“You think I’d forget the Jam Song? The most important thing I’ve ever sung?”
“Most important, huh?”
“Well, yeah. It was something that I sung with you. Ergo, most important.”
“Ergo?” Connie says incredulously, turning to face Steven fully. “Since when do you say ergo?”
Steven sticks his tongue out, shifting forward to rest his arms on Connie’s shoulders. “Since I have a super smart girlfriend. Ergo, I use smart words.” The pressure of his arms lifts away, and Connie blinks as he returns to his cutting board, pulling a knife from a drawer. “What kind of jam do you want?”
The song is back on her lips immediately.
“Peach or plum or strawberry,
any kind is fine, you see
come on and share this jam with me.”
Steven laughs so softly it’s almost a giggle, staring down at the jars of jam on the counter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Here’s your answer,” Connie says, taking his hand in hers.
“I’ll do my best
to give this jam the sweetness it deserves.”
Her lips ghost against his, and she smiles at him, radiating in his closeness before kissing him, a hand against his chest and his back pressed against the counter. She shivers as one of his hands comes to rest on her back, a gentle presence, and she pulls away just slightly; she needs to breathe, even if he doesn’t.
Steven’s voice is slightly breathless when he sings, and Connie feels a burst of pride rise up in her as she looks at the lovestruck expression on his face, an expression kept just for her.
“And I’ll keep it fresh
I’m jammin’ on these tasty preserves.”
“We should go outside,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as her head rests against his. “Picnic time.”
“I haven’t made the sandwiches yet.”
“Ah, shoot. We got distracted.”
“You’re a very good distraction.”
“Do it together?”
Steven smiles. “Do it together.”
—
The sun looks like it’s floating. Only half visible as it rests on the horizon, reflections of light shimmering against the water as the tides roll in slowly. Connie stretches on the blanket, legs kicking out, and her head finds the crook of Steven’s neck, a place of comfort and warmth, a place she fits perfectly.
Her voice is soft, quiet, gentle as she hums, glancing up at him before following his gaze to the picnic basket, the sand, the empty paper plates, the setting sun. She doesn’t need to look at him to know he’ll join in, and his voice is a comforting familiarity when she hears it.
“Ingredients in harmony,
we mix together perfectly
come on and share this jam with me.”