driftfleet | closed » you're the horizon line -- i'm the last sunset

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closed » you're the horizon line -- i'm the last sunset

Who: Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers
Broadcast: Definitely not.
Action: Closed, aboard one of the occasional waypoint stations as the fleet drifts.
When: Mid-afternoon

[ today, peggy decides she's done with nudges and hypotheticals. done with veiled suggestions and unfulfilled promises. she and steve had danced around the concept of going steady; of being official; of committing. they danced around it without ever really dancing at all. he'd made overtures enough, even if his follow-through was rubbish. and she feels a concrete certainty about him, even though her overtures are shite. so, today, it changes. ]

...Steve? [ peggy rapsher knuckles loose against his bunk's doorway. she looks casual (by her standards) with her hair plaited and her sleeves rolled up. she watches him from the threshold, tilting her head with a flicker of affectionate admiration. ] Let's get out of here for the rest of the day. Just us.

[ although she doesn't use the word 'date', she decides it's been suggested often enough that she needn't so crassly underline her intentions in this very moment. to do so would surely insult his intelligence.

...right? ]

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No.

[ he should be paying attention to the table. Instead, his eyes follow her fingers as they tuck a curl behind her ear and oh well, a dinner is not a loss at all and if he wraps his arms around her and kiss that exact spot, he has a sure feeling she won't hit him. ]

No, never that.

[ no, he says. never that. her smile persists -- and she wishes this was a conventional table, so she might bide some time chalking the cue's tip. but a hologram doesn't need much chalking. instead, she walks half-way 'round the table and pops the 2-ball close to a side pocket -- but doesn't quite manage to sink it. bugger. ]

Just as well. I doubt a smack would do much good -- you're a little hardier than most.

I guess that means you're left with the other option.

[ thank you or smack you, she said, after all. A tiny nudge of the white ball against the 2-ball is enough to pocket it and he considers the 3-ball next, taking his time to find the right angle. ]

[ ah, yes. the other option. peggy presses her lips into a tight line -- masking her smile. as he lines up his next shot, she keeps out of his way. ]

Apologies, Captain, but I think I've already gone and forgotten the other option. Silly me.

Funny how those things happen -

[ he shakes his head, all open fondness and amusement. His shot for the 3-ball is precise enough and yet, perhaps because of the machine itself, the ball remains on the very edge of the pocket but not quite there. ]

Come on -

[ really? ]

Un-bloody-lucky.

[ and yet she's not so disappointed by his 'miss' -- peggy's ego isn't so tender that she won't take a helping hand from mechanical glitches. maybe she should be thanking the table, instead.

she breezes by him, not quite capable of stopping herself from drawing a finger across his elbow as she does so. ] Thank you, [ she makes good on her word, if a little archly. ] What a fine shot you've set up for me.

[ un-bloody-lucky, indeed. But the touch, small as it may be makes up for it and he leans against the table, accepts his lack of luck with a murmur of, ]

Yes ma'am.

[ fine, indeed. ]

Guess that one wasn't meant for me.

Have patience. [ she rests the heel of her palm against the green surface and once again bends over the table's edge. ] The right one will be along eventually.

[ the rhetoric is flirtatious. it reaches back to a common ground: of right men; right partners; right matches. and it should be her moment to shine, but something is definitely amok with the 2-ball. the cue barrels against it at what ought to be a firm clip, but the flickering hologram of a stone merely taps against the 3-ball as though it were a solid wall. the numbered ball doesn't move at all.

beneath her breath: ] God damn.

[ with a low whistle, she steps back. mind at top-pace. ] We might have to skip it. Move on the 5 and abandon that pocket altogether. It's well-guarded, now.

un-bloody-lucky.

[ said in the same imperious way she tends to talk and if there is a faux hint of an accent there, that's not his fault whatsoever. there is a definite aroma of humor here. ]

It's still your shot. That thing didn't move, after all.

[ and he did promise absolute fairness. ]

Oh, stuff your pity. [ she'd benefited from a glitch during one of his shots already. and, frankly, her ego won't quite allow for a second opportunity. peggy hangs back -- tapping her cue-handle impatiently against her thigh. ]

I don't need you throwing me extra chances. Take your turn.

It's called fairness in my book.

[ he counters even as he straightens. scanning the table, he spots the 5-ball and hums. not an easy shot, this one. circling the table, he halts by her side. ]

you know, you're getting worked up about this whole thing.

[ it is, he dare not say it, cute. but then telling her alla that might actually get him beat up. with another thoughtful hum, he takes a step back, leans down and let's the cue send one white ball flying across the table, sending the 5-ball into a pocket. he was going for a double shot with the 7-ball but alas, not meant to be. ]</small.

Oh, please. [ she rolls her eyes once more. she is absolutely getting worked up -- but only in that telling manner which suggests she's feeling rather comfortable in the moment. otherwise, she might have been tight-lipped. graceful. ] It's only a game.

[ a game that's marching quickly towards its end, the nearer and nearer they get to the 9. her cheeks puff. ]

That it is.

[ a calm to her metaphorical storm at the moment. the whole thing is almost unrealistic to him, standing here by a semi-functioning billiard table with her in the middle of space. ]

alright, let's see if I can get that 7-ball.

[ this time it's not the table's fault, it's a miscalculation that results in too much force that sends the white ball rushing in an awkward angle to give too big off a nudge to the 7-ball. an ordinary ball might fly to the ground, the hologram bothers to send it flying but not without returning it to its original place a second later. ]

-- think it's its way of telling me it was a foul shot?

That, [ she answers, ] or it doesn't know how to calibrate against your strength.

[ a fouled shot means she gets a little more leeway in where the cue ball goes. wolfish, she smiles as she takes that liberty. keeping it behind the regulation line, it feels mostly as though she's tapping air when she nudges the ball into a fair spot from which she might soon pot the 6. ]

Whatever it is, seems like I'm in for it.

[ judging by that smile alone. he returns to his usual posture, leans against the table, watches the hologram-ball takes its place. ]

It's too bad they don't let us keep one of these on the ship, would have been a good way to pass the time.

[ she bows to the work of winning -- or, at least, to attempt a win. peggy taps the cue ball, which in turn sends the 6 rattling comfortably into a corner pocket. her smile persists. ]

You know, they may. Some of the upgrades might allow it -- or we could always consider having one of our own built. [ ... ] Could be a noble pursuit.

[ and then, abruptly, she pots the 7 as as well. unfortunately, her luck runs out with the 8. ]

Well, I don't know much about these holograms - but I gotta say, the idea of building a classic one sure isn't bad.

[ and then, almost without him noticing, the 7 is pocketed as well as the 6. ]

Nice.

[ that leaves two and one that could possibly win him a victory here. ]

Give us something to do between planets.

[ he eyes the 8-ball and after a moment of thought, moves to the other side of the table and sends the cue ball, gently this time to give it the nudge it needs to roll dutifully into the nearby pocket. ]

nearly there.

Nice, yourself. [ she feels herself on tenterhooks. cautious, but thrilled -- that coiled understanding in the pit of her stomach that she might win or lose within the next two moves. she chokes her grip on her own cue. ] Go on, then. Let's see if you can't sink the next one. No pressure.

[ there is just one, just the 9-ball, sitting there in an awkward angle, a mark of victory. he looks at it for a long moment, considering. no victory is without effort and this is not something that can be left for luck, after all. there's a coffee date on the table. ]

I'm not planning on missing the same date twice.

[ it's a good incentive as any. enough to make him change his mind and walk to the other end of the table for that shot.

he narrows his eyes only for a moment and sends the cue ball rolling towards the 9 ball, sending it into a collision with the frame which in turn sends it into the opposite pocket. ]

well.

[ hands in pockets and back he goes to lean against the table ]

Not a bad one.

[ he's pleased with himself, alright, but it's very subtle. ]

[ not quite subtle enough. she reads him even in the little details -- and if he is smug, now, then she supposes he deserves to be. in easy submission, she rolls her cue onto the table. peggy stands beside steve, leaning her hip against the table. ]

You do realize, of course, [ she drawls -- and glances up into his eyes. ] This was a date.

Yeah -

[ and then she's right there beside him and oh to hell with it, there's no one there but the two of them and he's too happy with the whole thing, this day more so than his little victory. It's as easy as that, ducking just a bit, just low enough to kiss her, short and sweet ]

Still is, I think.

[ -- it's nice, indeed, to be on the receiving side of his kisses. but peggy only briefly entertains this one. her fingers flutter a moment, and she nearly touches his shoulder...but then the kiss broken, and she ducks her head. she stifles a smile. ]

Still is. [ she confirms. cedes, really, to his optimistic view of the day. ] And so -- I suppose this is us...

[ she can't quite articulate it. not properly. she means us, together. but the important word gets stuck in her throat. clearing it, she steps back and brushes her hands stiffly over her skirt. almost -- almost! -- nervous. ] Us, dating.

[ this is us, she says and there is much that goes unsaid but is still there between them. It's what they should have had once and didn't, a memory of a vision instilled in his mind long ago by wanda of everything he wanted and could have had in a life that he lost long ago.

And yet here they are, as if the years between them had disappeared, she's finally within his reach. us, she says, dating and it feels as if she had sent his heart on a marathon with those two words. Dating is an easier notion to most people but twice as significant to them. This, here, together, will never be taken for granted.

When he draws her near it's for an embrace rather than for a kiss, a gentle hold as he affirms, ]

Us.

[ here, together, at last. He's not sure if he could ever let her go but that thought is banished away for now. ]

I don't think I can remember a day where I didn't want this.

[ her, like this. Solid, real. ]

[ somehow, the hug is better than the kiss. she crushes against him -- wrapping one arm around the small of his back and embracing him, in turn, with a far less gentle grip. since the day he crashed the valkyrie, she'd so tightly woven her grief into every aspect of her character. even now, she finds it difficult to shrug the weight it had put on her shoulders. but, maybe, she can sidestep it for the time being -- so long as she had him, here, alongside her. natasha was right; who did they help by waiting? who did they hurt by reaching for the brass ring?

peggy isn't often weepy -- but she feels emotional just now. pressing her cheek against his chest helps her pretend as though tears don't threaten to fall. her voice is a touch hoarse when she scolds him: ] There's no need to be so dramatic -- you lived all kinds of days before we ever met. We both did.

[ rich, interesting, divergent lives. and yet they found each other. lost each other. found each other again. it hardly seems fair, but she's done questioning serendipity. ]

[ there is a shift there, in her voice. Something that makes him tighten his hold of her. it's been so long, she had told him, a heartbroken cry that had broken something in him in return. He swallowes the lump in his throat, replaces it with a little smile and presses it to her hair. ]

Seems to happen to me all the time 'round you.

[ the dramatics, that is. ]

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