gotta get down for a mingle

[redactions]

Who: The crew of the SS Heron and visitors.
Broadcast: nope.
Action: Aboard the SS Heron.
When: After returning to the ship.

[ finally back on the right ship, except the corridors are all mysteriously cold and the ship seems smaller. Thanks, Atroma. New crew, visitors, starters in comments ]

Comments

[redactions]

Pie.

​[ He doesn't bring up the elephant in the room. She doesn't need to know things are hitting speedbumps. Not that she'd try to fix them or force them to, she'd just be stubborn, and he's had enough of people being stubborn for a while. ]

Apple. A little stereotypical, I know.

[mucked]

Some traditions are worthwhile. [ she reaches for an uncut apple -- pristine, and waiting for the slaughter with its brothers. peggy shines it on her blouse. ] Apple pie most certainly counts among that number.

What's the occasion?

[ or was there even one? ]

[redactions]

There's three of my friends who've never had Aunt Sarah's recipe. I think that's a damn shame, don't you?

[ He smiles at her, crookedly. ]

[mucked]

[ there isn't much left to render peggy carter speechless -- not after such deep and disquieting revelations as what came alongside reading the shield file on loki. or learning about the busy beauty of paris in the future. but just now (and just for a moment) she speaks more with her eyes than with her tongue.

eventually: ] Aha. [ how thoughtful of him. she wonders whether the impetus truly comes from the three who haven't had the pie, or else from the one friend who would be oh so familiar with it. who craved it, perhaps. ]

I bloody well better be counted in the number. [ and to punctuate this 'request', she takes a firm bite of apple. ]

[redactions]

Yes ma'am, [ he says, cheekily, watching her. It's nice to know he can still take people off-guard in good ways. Like the stone of them can be knit back together in his hands instead of crack under the unyielding force. ] would you like to help me?

[mucked]

Oh, certainly. Only if you don't mind risking culinary calamity by including me, Jim.

[ she has lots of skills. lots of strengths. cooking isn't one of them. ]

[redactions]

Just follow my lead, you'll be fine.

[mucked]

And how many times have I heart that, I wonder?

[ -- not from jim, necessarily. but from all sorts and in all times. but never with a puff of flour in the air. despite the chill, she begins the precise process of unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse and rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. ]

[redactions]

One more won't hurt.

[ They work comfortably after that; synchronised, like no time has passed between the War and now. Everything always transmutes: missions then are missions now to make the best damn dessert this side of the Marsiva. The pie assembles: the aroma fills the room as it cooks. ]

We make a good team.

[ The knife gets handed to her, to do the honours. ]

[mucked]

Is that what we are?

[ but the question isn't barbed. rather, she's charmed. the lone wolf has at long last adjusted back into a structure of teamwork. dependency. and when it comes to these men, she knows her trust is in good hands.

the pie crust cracks and snaps in the most delicious of ways as she sinks the knife's tip into the first cut. with precision, she twins that cut with another. ] Be a dear, though, and grab us a plate?

[redactions]

Yes'm.

[ He flashes her a crooked smile, and sets out plates and cutlery for them. ]

[mucked]

[ with a deft hand (and deftness that has nothing to do with culinary capers) she slides first one slice onto one plate, and then a second onto the second. crumbs follow, but she grabs a rag and uses its tented corner to brush them into a pile and collect them into her palm. ]

It does smell damned good. [ she concedes. ] How did you come to be in possession of the recipe, hm?

[redactions]

[ Simply, ]

Remembered it. Just needed the ingredients and facilities.

[mucked]

And a sous-chef. [ she drapes the rag on its peg and returns to the two laid-out plates. ]

[redactions]

And a sous-chef, [ he concedes. ] well? We should eat our own food, shouldn't we?

[mucked]

[ snark harbours itself in the back of her throat -- nothing dire, and nothing hurtful, but only the smallest knee-jerk desire to call into question the use of pastry crust above a crumble. how nationalistic of her; how defensive. she does it only to enforce the bubble around her, but she tamps down the instinct with the firm knowledge that it's a bubble she doesn't need while keeping his company.

so her fork sinks into the narrow point on her slice, and she holds a hand beneath its tines while she eats -- tidy, and appreciative. ]

[redactions]

​[ They eat quietly, content to share the space, and the silence. ]

So? What do you think?

[mucked]

Good. Nice. [ and then, as though recalling a long-learned lesson from some schoolmarm not to use the word 'nice' to describe something. how pedestrian and unhelpful. she spears another bite. ] Delicious, actually.

You missed your true calling. [ she lies; they both know what his better calling remains. ] But how are you with mince pies in place of apple?

[ 'tis almost the season, dear jim. ]

[redactions]

[ Delicious, she says, and by then the smile is stuck on his face, and can't be wiped off for the world. ]

Pretty decent, I'd say. I took up baking in the future. Scones, I need to master, but I can do cupcakes and pies.

[mucked]

Oh, scones. [ she echoes the word -- her voice replete with fresh hunger. wanting. ] You just made a bloody pie crust; scones can't be much more of a challenge by comparison.

[ her particular brand of encouragement isn't exactly encouraging. not by normal standards, at least.

except what the devil is a cupcake. ]

[redactions]

​[ Raising an eyebrow, ]

Is that a request?

[mucked]

Mmhm. [ she cracks the curve of the piece's outermost crust with one decisive motion. ] Verging upon a demand, really.

[redactions]

​[ Bossy, but not more so than a certain Steve Rogers. Jim hums to himself. ]

We'll need jam, won't we? I'll keep an eye out on the next planet.

[mucked]

Marmalade, especially. [ she smiles. ]

[redactions]

​[ Drawling, ]

Why, Agent Carter. I do believe you've just given me an exploitable weakness.