[Luke doesn’t understand everything, and he doesn’t know he doesn’t understand, which is a terrible combination. He knows the way things are supposed to go after a lengthy parting. He’s read books and watched movies and watched his mother. Intellectually he’s seen all the difficulty and sorrow that follows.

But America looks almost the same and Luke is too young to really get it.

And this is enjoyable. America is saying nice things, smiling and squirming under his hands again, and c’mon, that overreaction is funny. Luke knew he would be a total drama queen about a few prods.]

Yeah, it’s not so fun, is it?

[He rolls his eyes at the threat and shoves his arm into America's chest as soon as he’s steady on his feet. Just because he can, and because America won’t flinch afterwards. He never thought he'd be able to do normal friend stuff with America, and it does nothing to lessen his desire to keep touching him.

Neither does a date. A date. It's a bit tame, but it's enough to flood him with joy. He does a quick sweep to make sure they’re alone, even though it’s impossible to check on peeping Toms when there are no corners, only endless open space everywhere. And those jerks with wings who like to show off. Luke thinks they all look ridiculous and is embarrassed for them.

Acting far braver than he feels, he kisses America’s jaw. Almost a platonic peck on the cheek, only it edges too far back to the sensitive skin of his neck. At least it’s not between his eyebrows. He’s not a freak.

And before America’s allowed to relax, he takes off down the corridor at a jaunty pace, calling over his shoulder.]

You’ll have to put up with whatever the cupboard decides to give us. Can’t get to the kitchen from here.