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Time Flies, Fire Flies, and Love Flies
This evening has been very nice, Steve thinks as he walks on a paved path, following close behind a running Pico. His son, who’s now five - jeez, time sure flies, doesn’t it? - skips, jumps, and strides across the sidewalk, turning to look at his papa with a cute smile as he’s being attended to. Clearly, Pico was enjoying this little walk as well, finally managing to convince his parents to hang out at the park.
It’s evening now, perhaps a little late to be visiting a park; but he and John had promised Pico, both of them having to delay the trip due to work for several days now. It was Pico’s puppy eyes that pushed him over the edge. Rarely did he fall for them, unlike Cap, but it was the building guilt that finally nudged Steve to come here.
Anyways, this isn’t too bad, the park this late. Almost nobody was here, sure, but really that just opened the door to do some crazy, “I’m alone” shit. They would have to wait for John, though, since a client had wanted him to stay longer for some “finishing touches”. Some of those damn bastards can be very fucking picky, especially when they kept Captain far away from him for too long, but whatever. It’s not like John wasn’t coming at all… hopefully.
Hot, fiery colors wash over the formerly blue sky; red, oranges, yellows, and pinks light the remainder of the day, extending the darkness of shadows as nighttime grows nearer. Steve halts to admire the sunset a little more, hiding his eyes under the shade of a raised hand to block any painful light.
Pico catches wind of his dad’s sudden stopping, and returns to his side quickly, hugging his arms around a long leg. He looks down at him, loving how the sky provides Pico a mask of warm colors, matching the brightness of his hair. Softly, Steve pushes a lock out of his son’s face, granting him a giddy smile in return.
“Pretty sunset!” The ginger cries bluntly, looking up at Steve with glorious grey eyes. “Pretty sunset,” the parent agrees with a grin, taking one of Pico’s hands to hold it. Now less rowdy, his son walks at his side, on the curved path of the park, walking to a more central part of the area.
At some point, Steve begins raising the arm that holds Pico, lifting up and swinging him as they walk. “Higher, higher!” Pico would request, laughing each time he gained an extra inch off the ground. The former soldier beams at his child’s joy.
They weren’t the only people or family here this late. A few kids had waved at Pico, one of them even complimented him with a loud “I like your shoes!” Steve, not much of a person to talk to random strangers, would wave back at the parents that acknowledge him and tried not to draw too much attention.
A few lone mothers, either alone or single, he couldn’t really assume, tried to stop them and start a parent-to-parent conversation. Some clearly thought he was a single dad, and they’d gush at him and how he interacted with Pico. He learned the hard way to not correct them with the truth, or else he’d be followed by superstitious assholes for the rest of the day.
After going through the center of the park, Pico had tugged his arm to guide him through another path. It was the one with all the gardens, trees, and fields of grass, the Captains’ favorite spot. He, John, and Pico had spent countless hours in those fucking fields, playing and even, on occasion, enjoying some picnics. It was a good place for Steve to write, for John to draw or paint, for Pico to spend all his energy on… fuck, he didn’t know this place could make him feel so sentimental!
“Papa look!” Pico pipes up, catching the adult’s attention. At this point, they’ve walked off the path and onto the grassy hills. Steve acknowledges his son’s pointed finger, directing them to that little bench under that one tree they really liked. The nearby lamppost lit the small area, some moths fluttering around its gleam, practically providing the bench a spotlight to beg for it to be sat on. So of course, Steve guides them there, letting them both sit there and pause their adventure.
Pico flops over his lap when they rest, making Steve laugh as he wriggles to adjust himself to look both at him and the setting sun. “You tired already?” Steve inquires, and Pico quickly shakes his head. “Nooo, this is the place you said to go if I’m lost. Daddy’s lost, so he’ll know where to go!”
He feels very satisfied with that answer, so Steve pokes his little nose, bringing a fit of giggles into the air. Both of his dads have really taught him well, and Steve couldn’t be more proud.
And they sit there, waiting for their lost third family to join them. They talk, about those shows Pico watch, about his friends, about what story Steve’s going to read him before bed, about how school is around the corner. Just some typical family topics, nothing unusual. Although, that little mischievous smirk tipped Steve into knowing Pico was planning something.
He knew something was coming, but he didn’t expect it so soon.
“Hey!” Steve shouts when his glasses are ripped from his face. The lasting shock prevents him from catching the scrambling Pico, who runs off somewhere that he couldn’t see. Steve’s vision is purely, just, ass, it was purely fucking ass. He could hardly see past his fully outstretched arm, making seeing far away hard for him without glasses.
Steve hears giggling some distance away from him. The only solace he had was that Pico’s hair was orange, an uncommon spot of color that makes him stand out from the rest of the blurriness. So he stands to commence a chase, using that blurb of orange to his advantage. “Alright kiddo, you want some, because I’ll give you some!” He lunges towards the little, laughing orange blur, missing completely as he tumbles to the ground.
“Missed me, missed me! Never gonna catch m-AAH!” Steve nearly grabs a hold of him, close enough to see freckles and missing-tooth gaps in his smile. That cackling starts again, Pico jumping away whenever his papa swipes at him. Steve misses on purpose occasionally, and Pico never runs too far.
“C’mere!” Steve shouts again, revelling in those laughs, “Or is this a chicken I’m chasing?” The offended gasp nearly sends him to the moon. This little romp was very fair and fun, and Steve hates to admit he was enjoying himself even when he’s practically tripping and being pranced around.
Enough is enough, eventually, and Steve finally allows himself to catch Pico. Pinned to the ground, the thief finally relents with a point of his tongue. “I’m not a chicken!” The father chuckles at Pico’s pouting, made cuter by the crooked too-big-to-fit glasses placed on his face. He plucks the rounded rims off his son’s face, returning the spectacles to its rightful owner.
“I know you’re not,” Steve agrees, “because you’re a cute little bunny instead!”
Pico’s reached some phase where being called an animal was either really stupid or the coolest shit ever. Apparently, both chicken and bunny were really stupid. Pushed away, Steve stands and amusingly watches his son follow his motions, arguing that, no, he wasn’t a bunny because he didn’t have long ears or a fuzzy tail. The ordeal was cute, which didn’t support Pico’s claim that he wasn’t a cute little bunny.
After the little chase, Steve recalls himself to the bench, lounging and being extra cautious of grabby hands in the near future. Pico pouts a little more, but recovers easily from his failed stunt. Instead of returning to the bench, Pico turns and runs off, kneeling in the grass and beginning to crawl. Of course, even from the bench, Steve doesn’t let him out of his sight, musing himself as to what Pico is doing.
He’s relaxed and observed a playing Pico on this bench more times then he can count. Morning, noon, and night, this spot under the oak tree has become a pool for memories. Whether it was Pico hopping in the fallen leaves with John during autumn, making a a crooked snowman during winter, collecting flowers and making bouquets during spring, or crawling and rolling in the grass like he’s doing this summer, this bench provided him a lovely path down memory lane.
(Speaking of seasons… years later, he still isn’t used to them. Steve liked summer a lot, though; the warmth of the sun and air he was more accustomed to, but the heat is now balanced out by the various greens and blooms of flowers instead of scorching desert sands. Even better, it gave him an excuse to go outside more instead of hiding inside his office at home.)
“Papa!” a voice calls, and Steve’s zoning out ends there. Pico runs towards him, his smile wide, orange hair flying behind him, and a bounce in his rapid steps as he makes his way to his father. Steve reciprocates that bright smile, his son’s excitement infectious. He notices Pico’s hands were cupped in front of him. Hm, what’s he holding? The answer to that question could either be very bad, or very good.
“Whatcha got, Peekaboo?” Steve asks when Pico reaches the bench, tousling his vivid curls. Pico giggles and hops onto the space next to him, shushing him and beckoning him to lean closer. Understanding the request, Steve lowers his head to hear whatever Pico was going to whisper to him. “I caught a firefly!” He smiles, kicking and bouncing next to him.
Intrigue piqued by that statement, Steve gently unclasps Pico’s little fingers, revealing a lone firefly, which glows and walks on the boy’s tiny palms. Eventually it flies off, to wherever the little thing called home. Pico’s grin is wide as he watches the bug fly away. Steve suddenly noticed how many of them were in the air now; they practically surrounded them. The sun has completely disappeared, allowing the fireflies to truly shine during the night. “Heh, this really is a nice evening,” Steve audibly states.
Steve rises, aiming his sights to one of the many little lightning bugs, and takes one in his hands. Pico squeals a little when he shows him the luminous insect, and tries to recapture it when it flies from his own palms. Steve chuckles when Pico jumps upwards, clamping his hands together, then disappointment washes over him when the bug was revealed to not be in his hold. His son looks at him sourly, then sets his eyes to the dozens of other fireflies.
“I would love - hnyeh! - if we had a jar,” Pico jumps and misses again, lamenting and watching as another of the bright bugs chose to avoid his inviting small hands. Steve hums thoughtfully, regarding one of the fireflies that chose to sit on his thumb. A missed opportunity indeed. It would be lovely to see them float in the jar before releasing them, where they would spill out like a glowing funnel.
However, as much as Steve really enjoyed this, a certain someone still wasn’t here with them. The ex-soldier holds back a laugh, thinking of whatever innuendo Captain would be hiding if he was here and talking. Like he’d ever be mad at him for too long, Steve deliberates, walking further away from the bench. Marking his path, many hidden fireflies unveil themselves from the grass, making Pico gasp in glee. Damn, these things were pretty cool, being all fancy and shit.
The ginger suddenly takes to run circles around them, releasing flocks of fireflies from their hiding spots in the grass. They were like floating lamps, but tiny! Steve twirls to watch Pico run around in a bout of givgles, cupping his hands like a net and trying to catch as many as he could.
Some of the bugs caught on his arms, and Pico flapped his arms like a bird to dispel them, provoking the fireflies to buzz around in the air once more. The sight was so cute, father and son surrounded by fireflies in the field. Really, the only thing missing is John, the blonde relents, wondering where his husband could be.
Steve doesn’t catch onto this mischievous smirk from Pico, who suddenly grabs his attention by literally asking for it.
“Papa, hey papa look!” He does, already was, and Steve watches as the tiny boy hops and attempts to catch more of the lightning bugs. When he tries to help, Pico shakes his head. “No, Papa, watch me I - hup! - got it,” Pico clasps his hands around empty air again, puffing his cheeks and trying again.
Steve raises a brow, confusion obvious. Thankfully he had not realized his son’s efforts were a distraction. Before the blonde man can piece it together, it was already too late.
Steve suddenly feels strong arms encircle him from behind.
“GYAH!” He jumps in shock, and John takes this opportunity to sweep his husband’s feet off the ground. Now held in bridal style, Steve gasps at the sudden appearance of his partner, who mercilessly places dozens of kisses onto his embarrassed red face. Flushed and agitated, he wraps his arms around Captain’s neck to stabilize himself and not flail like a moron.
That bastard, fucking scaring him like that!
“Miss me, sunshine?” If this was a Steve from years ago, he would have punched the smug, cheeky Captain right in his face. But this is Steve now, a safe, civilized, and stable Steve, who chooses to cross his arms and huff in annoyance instead. His surprised heart still races, but any anger he would have fades at the sound of laughter coming from both Pico and Cap.
A smile tugs at Steve’s lips, and he gives at the pleasant joy warming his heart. Like an idiot, he joins their laughing spiel. They were all here now, isn't that what really matters? A beat later, the three finish their fit of merriment.
To move on, Steve then exclaims, “Yes, in fact I did!” He takes John’s beaming face between his hands and pulls him closer to kiss him on the lips, sweetly, deeply, lovingly. Steve’s feet are dropped to the ground, and he feels Captain’s smile against his own. This fucking idiot, his idiot, but a fucking idiot nonetheless.
“Blyeck! How much of the cooties do you two have!?” They separate and turn towards their son, who covers his eyes and sticks his tongue out. Pico peeks a single silver eye between his fingers once, then conceals it again when John smacks his lips loudly on Steve’s cheek. The younger man laughs again, at his husband’s teasing and his son’s abashed reaction to said teasing.
“Cooties? What is Pico talking about?” Pico gives daggers at his dad’s question - and THAT glare was one thing he got from Steve. “You know exactly what I mean!” Yup, Steve thinks as he chuckles, he gets that from me. John waltzes over to Pico, hands on his hips and faking sudden realization. “Oh! Those cooties? There’s nothing wrong with those!”
Pico protests in frustration, “I- uh, but they’re gross!” The older man shoots Steve a wicked smirk, then asks Pico, “Gross? Would you like to be the judge of that?”
Before he could get very far, John lifts Pico up and takes him to the ground with him, ensnaring the boy and ruthlessly kissing his squirming son’s face. “Noooo! Not the coot- I don’t want ‘em! Stop it, daddy, ya’, you, you cootie- graaah- monster!” Pico insults, failing to prevent laughter. This further encourages Captain, who hugs their son tighter and places another long kiss on his freckled cheek.
Steve hollers at his antics, falling to the grass next to John, who still holds the complaining Pico (who tries but fails to hide a smile, he might add). Moments later, Pico breaks out from Captain’s arms and escapes to refuge in Steve’s instead. John pretends to pout. “Aww, I miss you Peekaboo, come back!“ Pico raspberries and hides his face in his chest. “Nuh-uh, no! Papa, tell him for me, I'm not coming back.”
Steve smirks at Captain, mischief shining in his blue eyes. “Pico’s not coming back to the cootie monster, dad, because he’s going to be with the tickle monster, instead.” Silver eyes widen, the boy realizing the situation he’s put himself in. Pico laughs when Steve’s fingers hold him down and starts to tickle his sides. The ginger kicks and tries to flee, but is pulled back by the blonde when he got too far. “Gaaaahaha! No, this isn- HAHA- this isnt fairrr hehehe! Papa, stop!”
John and Steve cackle alongside their boy, and they finally let him off to run away. Pico leaps away and trips, falling to the grass once more. Another flurry of fireflies fly from the grass as he falls, replacing the fake anger he had towards his parents with glee. Captain reels back from the unexpected glowing bugs, prompting Steve to snort at his reaction. Steve puts his head on the black-haired veteran’s shoulder, feeling content and watching as Pico attempts to catch a firefly once more.
When he does, Pico presents his cupped hands to Captain, then uncovers them to reveal the little bug, like he had towards Steve earlier. Said firefly blinks in the boy’s palms, then flies off to join its companions once more. John watches it fly away, leaning back until he lays fully on the grass.
Grey eyes twinkle with reflections of the starry sky and golden glowing bugs. Steve stares a moment, then follows suit, falling to return his head to its place on his lover’s shoulder. More fireflies emerge from the grass, making Pico excited at the greater chance of catching another. He feels Cap’s hand squeeze around his own, and there was a kiss on the crown of his head.
(Sometimes little moments like this, outside the “war”, made Steve fall in love with John all over again. They make him forget where they started. While he did treasure those memories in their own way, he often did not like looking back on them, instead preferring the now and what will come to them, with Pico under their care.)
They lay there, occasionally lifting their heads to monitor Pico and his whereabouts, catching fireflies and causing more to appear. Steve relishes in this moment, laying with his Cap in the park and watching Pico run around and play. It was pure, unfiltered, and pleasant. At some point it would be ruined, by the need to sleep at home or a ranger would come by and kick them out. But he’ll enjoy this as much as he can, before they need to leave.
“Oi, Stevie?” He responds to his name, softly humming. John kisses him again, on the temple this time, leaving whatever he had on his mind unsaid. Steve smiles, crossing his arm across his husband’s wide, strong chest, reciprocating those thoughts with silence of his own. The couple watch the fireflies dance beneath the singing stars, both accompanied by Pico’s abundance of joy.
Minutes later, they left the park, the moment short lived but worth every second. John shoulders an exhausted Pico when they leave, using his free hand to hold Steve’s. Their trip home is silent, a fitting end to their fine evening. Arriving home is bittersweet, a closing of one chapter, but a beginning of a new one, leaving Steve satisfied; his husband, his son, his home, what more can a man like him need?