driftfleet | You can check out anytime you'd like.. [Hotel Corona Mingle]

[ there's a moment where it's all very warm and comfortable. there's a breath of laughter from her and a short tap of fingernails and then she's -

gone. gone? shaken out of a momentary daze, he looks at where she stands, eyes following that finger and it takes another moment for him to finally catch up with her and oh, lord. ]

Do you really remember any time when you and I have been ordinary?

[ he smiles a bit, doesn't follow her just yet. ]

Peggy, the first time I met you sucker punched a fella in the teeth.

[ look, just saying. ]

I meant -- [ out from under the atroma's possible presumed eye. ] Oh, Hell. You damn well know what I meant.

[ a bit of edge, if only because she knows he knows he's making this challenging for her instead of simply reading between her stiff, stifled words. there is no romance to be found, she decides, in declaring to him that she would have gladly (enthusiastically!) consummated their odd little relationship had it not been for the mood-crushing surveillance state that is the drifting fleet.

she flips through a leather-backed book describing what room service has to offer, but barely reads a word. ]

[ it's a mood, again. he shakes his head, decides Nat will hear from about if only because of this entire turmoil she seemed to have thrown them into. but this will not do at all, this business-like, semi-annoyed mood. when he does get up, it's filled with intent. he takes the book from her hand, places it down and takes both her hands in his. ]

I know.

[ and it's mutual, really, save for the tiny matter of - ]

Your honor aside, it's entirely mutual.

[ but the 'mood' isn't so quick to abate. for a moment, she might've calmed by degrees -- but then he comes out a-swinging with his bizarre over-protective bollocks and... ]

My honour? [ she laughs. sharp, and percussive like gunfire. she's so boggled by the notion, that she believes it must be a joke. despite all her training and instincts, she doesn't for a moment read his tone as sincere. ] Who does that make me? Queen bloody Elizabeth?

[ the first, of course. as the second is still but a princess. but the danger lurking under her laughter is well-apparent considering steve only moments ago referenced a man who named her for a dead queen. he got punched. ]

What?

[ he should be able to read the warning signs by now, considering he had seen the worst of her temper before when she shot at him but the confusion grows and he can't really tell if she's amused or annoyed or whether he should duck and head for cover. ]

It has nothing to with that, a lady 's a lady.

[ he's frowning down at her, obviously lost. ]

A lady's a lady? [ hmm. ] What does that mean? It's too facile to be tautological so it'll have to settle for being merely ridiculous. Unless...

[ her chin lifts. something about her softens, if only because she's realized steve truly isn't trying to tell a joke, however bad. he actually thinks... ]

Oh. Heavens. [ nope, nevermind. she thought she was ready for this conversation but she clearly isn't -- turns out it's easier to tell the man you love you'd happily sleep with him if it wasn't for the presumed cameras than it is to confront the fact that the same man might actually have mistaken you for someone who's never taken that particular plunge.

peggy clears her throat. the realization is more telling about him, she decides, than about herself. somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, his assumption annoys her -- but she can almost forgive it. right now, he reminds her most painfully of that awkward young man in the back seat of an ssr car. stumbling over his implications. ]

So, [ she rapidly changes topics, ] about dinner...?

Edited 2016-12-19 21:40 (UTC)

[ there is a moment when he is still entirely confused about it all, she seems to shift between one mood and another before the why makes itself clear and he almost startled when he understands just how much trouble he worded himself into. but honestly, assuming the otherwise would have been so terribly disrespectful and he almost wants to tell her alla that before deciding that it's safer to leave it for the time being.

the amount of babbling this might induce would be embarrassing and this is already so so bad that he could kick himself.

he's pretty sure Nat might actually kick him if she ever finds out about all of this. He can already imagine a very dry, deadpan, smooth, Rogers.

she'd be right, which is even more annoying. ]

Right, we should, go and do that.

[ outside. where it's safe and he can maybe salvage a bit of self-respect. ]

Maybe we'll avoid room service, [ she suggests, reading the hesitant atmosphere now ripe around them. removing themselves from the bedroom and its fleeting (and not so fleeting) implications might be precisely the cure needed for all this twisted, tangled tension. ] Spare Romanoff's pocketbook the further expense.

[ peggy steps beyond him and grabs her jacket. ]

Don't wanna know what she spent so far.

[ he agrees, follows her, trying to shake away the awkwardness and fall into the comfortable pace he usually leads with her. at the same time, there is a quiet realization. The next time this entire subject comes up, whether it's in that room or outside of it, he'll have a whole other answer for her.

after all, it really can't get any more awkward than it is just did and that will have to be a comfort, for now. ]

You think there's anything around here that's familiar?

[ for now, her armour is raised. as much as she does love steve -- and even alone in her thoughts she harbours no question of its existence -- she can't help but scold herself for being too relaxed; too unguarded; too honest. it's easy to forget how much ground they have yet to cover. she had colleagues, back home, she'd known for longer than the total sum of her and steve's association.

and that despite modernization's best efforts, he is still that skinnier version of himself beneath it all. still the man who talked himself into awkward corners. it doesn't mean she'd go easier on him -- far from it. but it means she can, at least, empathize with his more graceless moments. ]

At this point, I'll settle for edible.

[ she pockets the room's keycard. the atmosphere may be chilly, but it's not hostile. ]

[ he had unwittingly managed, it would seem, to work himself right into what he assumes to be a rather large amount of annoyance. it's hardly the first time this had happened but unlike the last time when defending himself had proven to make things even worse ( life lesson: never blame a woman of fonduing a shared friend after you were caught kissing another woman ), this time he accepts it as it is. after all, god knows he earned this one. the method here has to be winning her back, one degree after another and it'll take time and patience and they have both.

well, they have the latter. he always hopes they still have the former, too.

there will have to be an apology, but not now. he knows her well enough to know it's not the time yet.

but knowing what not to do, while a good start, isn't the same as knowing what to do without escalating this and moving from her frosty side straight into ire.

and captain america or not, steve isn't interested in risking her ire.

he should say something. something that will be sweet enough to maybe win him back a smile or a glance or anything but this. ]

That still means no protein goo.

[ well it's a start. ]

Heavens. [ she agrees. vehemently. ] That still means no protein goo.

[ peggy's strides are as long and as confident as ever. she meets each new discomfort with the same old posture -- even this one. but she doesn't rush ahead of steve, choosing intead to walk abreast of him. calculated steps means she doesn't let him lag behind her the way some soldiers (when they know their rank) are given to walking just a few paces after. ]

Steak, maybe. Or whatever passes for one. The animals in their bloody little ersatz forest are all made of gears and wires.

[ well, it's a bit better. perhaps one degree or so. he tries to think what it'll take, to win her back this mixture of professionalism and what he assumes is her being ticked off at him. you had to go for the honor card, he shakes his head and smiles a moment afterwards. ]

Well, with the record the planets have for safety, maybe we should be happy they're not real animals. Can you imagine?

In case the animals broke out of the zoo? [ an almost-smile -- but even had it manifested, it would have been razor sharp. crooked, too. like a half-sprung pocket knife. ]

I think I'd take the animals' side in that one.

[ he almost seemed startled at how quickly chilliness slips into something else. apology, he decides, now, before he gives her any more chances to get angrier.

carefully, he tries for a gentle, coaxing, ]

Peggy,

[ and it's only that infamous captain america courage that makes him reach and place a hand on her wrist before this far too quick of a walk will land them in a place with people. ]

I'm sorry.

-- Don't. [ apologize. when she rolls her wrist, a thin joint clicks. old injury, maybe. or merely repetitive strain. peggy turns to face him -- a little horrified, actually, that this is happening in the middle of a damned hallway -- but she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin and tries not to care too much about the difference in height. ]

You surprised me. A-and my read on the situation was wrong. Two things that very rarely happen, Steve.

[ she's not upset with him. she's not angry. she's embarrassed. somehow, she'd done the mental arithmetic of the situation -- judging his reluctance, his bashfulness, his comment about her honour -- and came to the wrong sum. ]

Edited 2016-12-19 23:49 (UTC)

[ it's a bit ridiculous, the way that this happens. she's sharp and proud and a minute ago he wanted so very much to be out here and now all he wants is to go back inside and understand this a bit better, the thing that makes her falter for half a moment. he stays planted where he is, opens his mouth, closes it again and then - ]

It wasn't - I was being an idiot.

[ and probably a bit of a jerk, too. what on earth made him assume anything about her private life? oh, here it is, what made her so angry - he did assume things about her private life, didn't he? ]

You were, yes. A colossal idiot. For a moment. [ no punches pulled; no feelings spared. they have no time to pussyfoot around problems, which is (perhaps) another reason why she's so hot under the collar about his easy assumptions. ] But I rather pride myself on seeing those moments before they happen. Spare us both.

[ so she can nip them in the bud. shoot him down before he shoots himself in the foot. cruel to be kind, really, but she somehow lost the plot back in the room. off balance, because of what she'd been trying to tell him. too comfortable, she'd thought he'd been joking. she's answered him as though he'd been joking and then was caught slack-jawed when she realized she'd read him wrongly. somehow, in all the months prior to now -- and all the time before that, she simply never thought it possible steve would have even ascribed her any sexual definition, let alone decide he thought her inexperienced. it's a possibility she'd never planned for. and why? it's a branching conversational path she'd never planned to take.

(damn, but romanoff is good at her job. peggy can't help but admire her in this moment.)

all of this trouble. all of this hassle! and she hasn't yet managed to properly reflect on the fact that he'd said the feeling was mutual. ]

You're predicting when I'm going to make an ass out of myself?

[ he arches an eyebrow, amused, maybe before he softens. he doesn't like this, any of this. he doesn't like feeling of hitting a soft spot without intending to, doesn't like that she has to think ahead and make sure this won't happen, doesn't like that he's not sure what this stiff-upper-lip is hiding and more than anything, he hates that they're having this conversation in the hallway. ]

Peggy - I am sorry. For being an idiot this time and at - any other time before now. I - it's because you're -

[ there's something to say here but it's frighteningly close to something they only addressed once, in Morse code, of all things and he lays a hand on her wrist again. ]

Let's go back for a moment.

[ little things betray her. her fingers flutter to the back of her neck -- tracing the plane of her nape. but she's quick to realize her body language has gone rogue, and so settles her hands on her hips instead. longingly, she looks down the hallway: to the lift, to the promise of a dinner-table too public to allow such sensitive conversation. she's about to say no, I'm starved, let's eat but ultimately she isn't prepared to be so cowardly.

her nose twitches. she frowns, willing to register her dismay all the same. ]

Fine. [ ... ] For a moment.

[ she doesn't want to talk about her feelings. ]

[ it's a mixture of things. there's endless relief that they won't have to spend an evening doing, what? small talk over dinner with this looming over their heads and a healthy amount of uncertainty. there are things he needs to tell her but the how is a riddle.

and there's a whole lot of annoyance at Natasha, too, for good measure.

a moment later and they're back inside the room that served as a catalyst to this entire thing, whatever this is and steve sits, jacket and all.

he avoids another apology, by now it might be redundant and instead fixes her with a look, curls his fingers and uncurls them. ]

I shouldn't have assumed anything about your private life, Peggy, it doesn't even matter to me.

[ this way or another. ]

I guess I got used to it, I guess I'm still not used to -

[ he gestures towards her. her entire being. here. reachable. if he rises again, he can touch her cheek; from where he's sitting, he can smell her perfume. ]

[ the door is shut and here they are again: surrounded by unseen contraband. contraband -- now, there's a knee-jerk thought. army-talk. under better circumstances, she would have indulged in laughter. instead, she focuses on him. meets his eyes. peggy doesn't follow suit; she doesn't take a chair. but she watches him, comfortable enough. ]

I've lived a life. [ she doesn't say i was engaged, once. though the words settle on the back of her throat. and even then, fred wells wasn't the first. peggy didn't agree to re-enter this room just to provide a list of past conquests -- and she doesn't expect that list is anything near what steve wants to hear. like he said: it doesn't even matter to him. ]

And a life isn't easily lived, here. [ and it isn't about the sex. not really. instead, it's about the holding pattern. they were important to one another, but the very nature of the fleet made it difficult to grow. to live. a hundred little reasons make them hesitant, despite natasha's nudges. ]

[ there's a moment when something shifts, that he feeezes and looks incredibly - what? Pained. Haunted, even. It strikes at a place he usually keeps well-guarded, at conversations she'll have with him in years and years. my only regret is that you didn't live yours, she told him and his heart was - is - broken at the thought that he has given her something to regret at all instead of what he was supposed to; instead of happiness and comfort and love. He looks away for a moment, banishes the past in favour of the present. ]

Yes.

[ he agrees snd perhaps it's the memory that makes him admit, ]

But I know what a life without you feels like, too. It isn't easy but Peggy this - this is the second time I ended up somewhere I shouldn't be in only this time, I already know what I've been missing.

A life lived under surveillance, or a life that isn't lived. [ if she laughs now, it'll be from sheer exhaustion of the topic. of chances not taken, and opportunities ignored. but one opportunity leads to the next which leads to another -- and where do they end up, except back here surrounded by implications? ] What a choice.

[ only she sees him freeze. she sees his pain and it's not the first time it's happened, but it's the first time she chooses not to ignore it. to not pretend like it didn't happen. she waves a finger at him. ] Just now, what were you thinking?

An easy one. I'll take the first. I know the second one a bit too well.

[ he looks at her for a moment and knows that he is not going to lie to her. All of this, this magnitude of what he's feeling for her has been kept from her until now and what good has it done? ]

Waking up, one of the first things I told them is that I had a date.

[ and while no one understood, he already knows she will. ]

And I looked for you. I found your file and I -

[ it's not something he told anyone about, the meetings, the hours he spent with her. They were private and terribly painful. ]

And I went to see you. I got you peonies, the first time.

[ he shifts, looks at her. ]

You were still - you still tell me I'm way too dramatic and your smile is the same. These moments they're - I'm just grateful for them, for every each one.

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