Happy Birthday//Welcome Home!

[alittlehinky]

The garden is flourishing, a riot of blooms at one end, plants heavy with fruit at the other. The chickens are in place, over two dozen of them in an oversized coop at one end of the property. The barn is unfinished, but the moonshining shed is massive, shiny and new, with locks on the doors and storm shutters on the windows, in case of another winter like the last.

The house is not huge, a sturdy two-bedroom place built with thick stone walls. It contains single floor for living, a small attic, and a deep split-level cellar. The furniture has been moved in; it's all secondhand but repaired and refinished.

By Cricket's own standards, the place is practically a palace. He never dreamed he would own so much land--granted, this is the Nexus so the topography and acreage may fluctuate, his claim may be challenged legally, whatever--it belongs to him right now, he bought it with money he earned, and he's got the living space upon it arranged to his liking.

It's sunset, and there are fairy lights strung up on the porch and in the yard, tables with food and moonshine set out, and beneath the treeline off to the right of the house there are fireflies flickering. There's a radio playing music, and lots of blankets spread on the grass for sitting or watching the stars. It's meant to be a low-key affair, but enough people wanted to see Cricket's place he felt like a party was the right idea. A small one. A quiet one.

(This is the Nexus, and there are Lokis. There is always a chance small and quiet may not stay small and quiet.)

The cake, in case anyone wants to know, is vanilla with blackberry filling. There's no writing on it, but it's the centerpiece of the food table. Cricket's not in the habit of demanding attention on his birthday, but...blackberry cake.

[[ETA: Please feel free to assume if your character knows Cricket they were invited via text or face-to-face discussion. If your character doesn't know Cricket personally but you want them to drop in, feel free to PM me and we'll figure out a reason to get them there.]

Comments

[alittlehinky]

The multiverse is so big, and Cricket is so small. He's always been aware of his smallness--hard not to be in the face of the mountains themselves, towering and ancient as they are--but here in the Nexus it's become a kind of protection. He can help his neighbors and greet strangers, give whatever money he can spare and donate time to help people repair things, but he's not going to be saving any worlds. His is the Little Way, gentle and personal and low-stakes, but he gives it all he's got.

"Comin' right up," he tells him warmly, moving off to fetch first the lemonade, then cutting a very generous slice of the cake for Steve. He still remembers him starving in the Winter, lethargic and past the point of being able to work, all but bedridden and still trying. There is as much magnificence, in a way, in weakness as there is in strength, when it pushes past its own boundaries with such determination.

"Exactly that," he admits as he sets the plate and fork in Steve's hand, and finds a place in the chair beside him, propping his legs up on the lower rung of the porch railing. "There was no way I'd ever have anything like this back home. Never had no real prospects. I had work, at least, fixin' engines and such, but it wasn't gonna get me but so far. Not in 1931."

"It's all I ever wanted, this," he says. "My friend Jack, he used to talk about fancy cars and when he had money he'd buy himself a nice suit. He liked flash. That ain't for me, though."

[juststeverogers]

Pushing on through weakness is something Steve doesn't know how to stop doing. Even now when he's more lost than he's ever been he can't be still. He doesn't feel like he's good enough anymore so he went and took up Sam's mantle instead. Whatever it takes to make a difference. And if it happens to enable Steve to stay firmly rooted in the past no matter how much others tell him to move on, well.

Steve certainly isn't going to admit it's a factor for doing the work he's doing.

"I had work off and on. Freelance jobs makin' signs or little comics for the papers. Was too weak to work down on the docks or any of the labor work that was available. Bedridden as many days as not." There's equal parts sadness and peace talking about the past. He's not quite as bad as he was. Steve stays in the present this time even though they're talking about days long since past.

It's a choice not to escape to those memories. One he's strong enough to make now.

"There's nothing wrong with flash if it makes you happy. I had a pretty nice apartment in DC for a couple of years. But even then, there wasn't a whole lot extra. If anything, most of the money I spent was on antiques. Things that reminded me of...well. Home." Fixing up the old radio he'd found had been a real treat. Long gone now, of course. "Thanks, pal."

For the cake and for the drink. There was a time Steve would have gotten embarrassed over being given such a large portion of food even if it's more in line to how he eats when he's alone. He's always hated how much energy it takes to fuel this body of his. Never quite gotten past how wasteful and greedy it feels for a kid who grew up during the Depression to eat the way he does. It's one more thing Steve just doesn't have in him to fret about anymore.

The cake's damn good, too.

"I hope you've had some of this yourself. It's a real treat."