Work Text:
4 July 2012
Percy didn't actually have to do it by hand, but there was something relaxing about the gesture, the dexterity, the control.
Besides, it was their first time together, and Percy wanted it to be perfect.
He still remembered receiving the first Iris Messages from his friends at Camp on their first birthday after they'd met.
Percy was moved.
He hadn't had many friends, so seeing them appreciate him, remembering him enough to wish him a happy birthday, was truly incredible.
Steve had definitely had more friends than Percy, or maybe for longer, during his life, but now he was in a completely different century, and everyone he'd known when he was young was old enough to be his grandparents, while the children of his old friends could have been his parents.
Percy didn't even want to imagine how lonely Steve felt.
And that was why Percy had Mrs. O'Leary take him to an orchard, carrying a basket of fruit Kate had woven for him, a gift just in case, which Percy was using for the first time ever that day.
Katie had also told him how to pick apples: the apple was supposed to be held in one hand, lifted it slightly, and twisted it. If the apple was ripe, the stalk would separate from the branch on its own, without forcing anything or harming the tree.
From Katie's fierce gaze, Percy had decided to faithfully follow her instructions, occasionally chatting with the nearby apple dryads, who had approached the hero and seemed intrigued by his presence.
Apparently, the Avengers had saved quite a few trees while fighting the aliens, and the dryads were so happy that Percy Jackson, yes, that Percy Jackson, was one of those venerable heroes.
Percy had loved telling them that Thor was also a member of the team. The horrified expressions on the dryads' faces when they complimented a Norse god were something Percy would have loved to photograph, had the Myst not obscured the images and made such a verification impossible.
Percy, meanwhile, picked up one apple at a time, turning it gently between his fingers until he heard a small snap as the stem broke free from the branch.
Since he had a considerable number of apples to pick, and his means of transportation was a hellhound, Percy had the basket slung over his arm, which was gradually filled with apples.
The apple orchard Percy had gone to was near Upstate New York.
If he hadn't been busy preparing the next meal, Percy would have taken Steve there.
Steve loved drawing, and that apple orchard, surrounded by nature as it was, would allow Steve to indulge in his hobby.
The low hills, the scattered farms, the red barns, the neat rows of apple trees were evocative, even for an art-literate as Percy was.
Moreover, the smell of ripe apples and damp earth allowed Percy to take deep breaths even after the extensive damage Tartarus had left on his lungs.
Steve, still fresh from his time in the ice, would have loved the warm warmth and those colors, in shades of red, orange, and gold.
With a sigh, Percy looked down at the harvested apples.
He had enough for what he had in mind, and maybe more.
***
The house on Grove Street was still decidedly clean.
Percy wasn't sure if it was because Poseidon sent someone to clean it or if Steve ran to their house, compulsively cleaned it, and then returned to Stark, now renamed Avengers, Tower.
Anyway, Percy headed into the kitchen, humming a Hawaiian song as he grabbed the recipe he'd handwritten just for that occasion.
Percy was working on the filling, after the pastry had been prepared, rolled out, and used to line the pie pan, when Steve walked in.
“Percy? Are you here?” Steve's voice came from the door.
Percy answered, raising his voice to be heard. “In the kitchen!”
With hesitant but quick steps, Steve appeared at the kitchen entrance, cautiously looking around them, as if something was about to activate and attack them.
Since Percy was a demigod, Steve was a supersoldier, and some dam aliens had attacked them, Percy wasn't that surprised.
He'd been looking for possible rogue appliances himself.
If all myths could be true, then Percy believed in Toy Story and didn't want his knives to organize a revolt against him.
“Where did you go this morning?” Steve asked. “Tony was… nervous.”
Of course Tony was nervous, Percy snorted.
Tony seemed the most convinced that Percy was in the greatest danger when he was out of Tony's sight.
He wasn't wrong, of course, but the Chitauri had happened when Tony was there, so Tony's presence didn't mean Percy wasn't in the least danger of being brutally murdered.
It only made the anticipation of the moment more fun.
“I went to Upstate New York,” Percy said, pointing to the peeled and quartered apples. “I had to pick apples.”
“Why did you have to pick apples?” Steve asked. “And how did you go? The cars and motorcycles were all there.”
“My dog took me,” Percy replied calmly. “And of course I went to pick apples for your birthday cake.”
Steve blushed, as if the thought of someone picking apples for him was inconceivable, at least in this century.
Percy knew it was.
That was precisely why he’d done it.
Steve shuffled closer to Percy, craning his head past him to look at the recipe.
Percy watched, amused, as his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he read the recipe, before saying: “These aren't the recipes of this century.”
“And I bet that wasn't something you ever thought you'd say in your life,” Percy said cheerfully, neither confirming nor denying Steve's suspicions.
“This isn't even the recipe published in any cookbook.” Steve's eyes widened, perhaps realizing where he'd seen that recipe. “How did you get my mom's recipe?”
“She's in Elysium.” Percy replied calmly. “She says she's proud of you, that you've gotten into a lot of trouble, and she'd normally ask me to keep an eye on you, but I'm not James, so I'll fail.” Percy paused. “And she complimented me on having a Percy face and therefore not getting a nickname from you that would become my new name for the rest of everyone’s life.”
“Bucky is James,” Steve said, his voice hoarse. “And he didn't have a James face.”
Percy hummed, pondering the best way to cheer Steve up. He hadn't seen Bucky in Elysium and knew there was no way he was anywhere else.
But Hades hadn't been happy about letting him speak to a dead spirit just to get a recipe for an apple pie, even though Percy had promised to mail him a whole one.
"From the pictures, I think you're right," Percy muttered. "He really doesn't have a James face, and Bucky is much better than Buchanan."
Steve snorted, momentarily losing the melancholy he'd finally expressed and preferring to laugh. "That's exactly what I said when Bucky kept complaining. His girlfriends were so confused when he wouldn't turn around at the name James anymore."
"Considering the names of the Howling Commandos, I'd say you had a great idea." If Percy remembered correctly, aside from Gabe, Dugan, and Steve himself, everyone else was named James.
Steve laughed. Then, wasting no time, he wrapped Percy in a huge, almost bear-like hug, enveloping him completely.
Considering how tall Percy was compared to the other demigods, with only a few exceptions, Percy wasn't used to being wrapped in someone's arms.
It was a pleasant feeling. So pleasant that Percy gladly returned the hug.
"Thank you, Percy," Steve whispered, holding Percy in his arms, "I would have expected something like that from Bucky."
Percy smiled. "Don't thank me for being your friend, Steve," he muttered, his voice muffled by the shirt Steve had worn. "There is no greater honor."