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

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

Who: The Fleet!
Broadcast: If you want
Action: Hotel Corona or Planet Ikke
When: December 7th onward

a wheel-shaped space station

[After the mystery and isolation of their last destination, the Marsiva seems determined to head to brighter, busier territory. After a long journey through remote, nebula-painted space, speeding along at a brisk pace for the Host ship, the Marsiva brings her Fleet to a sudden and prominent point of traffic.

It seems that the Fleet has happened upon some sort of vacation destination! Maybe Atroma thinks that the passengers deserve some rest and relaxation... or just wants to distract them with something huge and shiny.

Welcome to Hotel Corona! Feel free to enjoy yourselves and enjoy the sites! If a hotel resort isn't your thing, you can head on over to the nearby planet and explore it's icy wonders.

In order words: it's a mingle!! Everyone get in! ]

[>> Plot Post]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ there is a flinty look in her eyes. not directed at him, exactly, but it revealed something just beneath the surface of her reaction. she isn't comfortable with her reaction. she fits to look stern, because she can barely stomach crying in front of him. in front of anyone.

her cheeks are hot. and when she speaks, she is unhappily reminded of how her voice broke back in the new york office when she'd had to explain to the others why she'd stolen the vial of steve's blood. a second chance... ]

-- The compass. [ she uses her thumb, thoughtless of her nail, and pops the device open. she knows what she'll find there. even to her eyes, she looks so young. she'd been naive, back then, in many ways.

more tellingly, however, she betrays no surprise at the compass's existence. he'd never shown it to her -- not personally, at least. by all rights, she shouldn't recognize it. but she does. ] You still have it?

I had it with me at home. It never made it all the way here but -

[ he smiles. ]

I won it back. Best pinball game I ever played.

[ but curiously enough - ]

You've seen it before?

Never in the flesh. So to speak.

[ she examines the seam. and the needle, too, although it seems to suffer from a lack of honest bearings. without an northern pole to point to, it swerves and spins. hesitant. ]

But I caught sight of it more than once on the film reels. [ she swallows some of her more self-guarded instincts, and admits: ] We always watched them before passing the reels on to be edited. You, the Commandos, whatever missions that managed to be caught on tape.

[ there'd been a long swathe of months, there, where she and he had barely spoken. they'd been busy, certainly, but it had been hot on the heels of her unloading a clip at him. by all accounts, their rapport had been frosty. but, sitting next to colonel phillips, she'd noticed the compass and the picture housed within it. they'd all noticed it. no-bloody-wonder word got 'round after the war about her and steve... ]

I'd watched very one.

[ not only because it had been her duty. gently, she presses the compass back into his palm. ]

They got that on film?

[ he never actually realized. But it is something to remain smiling about. They had so many things they never got to talk about before and can now. ]

I never thought about it.

[ her being familiar with it. He pockets the compass. ]

They got plenty on film. [ it's a throwaway remark; it's enough to test her voice, and its certainty. something still fluttered at the end of the sentence. leftover sentiment, along with her wet eyes. she breathes deep. steadies herself.

but there's still electricity just beneath her skin. caught by impulse, peggy rises onto the tips of her shoes and kisses his cheek. it's got nothing to do with their current words, and everything to do with the persistent understanding that she will see him again. somewhere beneath her attempt at a professional mask, she feels giddy. light-headed. ]

It's how I knew you still -- [ what? still cared? peggy shakes her head. ] It's how I knew you were still interested, I suppose.

[ after the emptied clip. it made it all that much easier to kiss him before he boarded the valkyrie. that kiss had come with confidence. certainty that she'd remained in his thoughts even in the field. ]

That's a word for it.

[ interested. He says it and goes quiet for a moment, devotes his attention to the affection she presses into his cheek. Instinctively, he drops a hand to the small of her back, maintaining their proximity without another word. ]

[ a twitch in her jaw. here is one moment, like a half-dozen previous, that would have more than merited nudging him backwards until the behinds of his knees buckled against the mattress's edge. this one moment begs for escalation -- for more -- and she does the same thing she's done the entire time: she resists. ]

As gestures go, it's rather... endearing, [ she confesses. softly spoken, for a heartbeat or three, while she tilts her forehead against his. ]

[ there is a moment to be seized here, in this little bubble of safety they've created. It's a moment for things to unfold, for him to tell her of a faraway future where he and her see each other again, where she can tell him how she came to know of his compass. Steve looks at her for a moment, at her drying tears and her quiet sort of turmoil and sees nothing but strength and sincerity. In a moment, it might all shift back to a more familiar ground and it's not a moment that should go to waste.

They're standing close, still. Close enough for him listen to her breaths, the changing tempo of them as her tone softens. It would an effortless way to tie this evening together, to simply banish the remaining distance and kiss her and leave everything else unspoken.

It won't do. There is something tugging at his heart and he knows it has everything to do with the fact that he could finally bring himself to tell her how life will lead him back to her again. It's a tight sort of feeling at the back of his throat that leads him to lean into her embrace and tell her what he should have told her weeks and weeks ago. ]

I love you, [ he breathes it against her temple and then, again, steadier, ] that hasn't changed.

[ strangely enough, she decides she lacks either the courage or the heart to ask him precisely what he means by it: 'that hasn't changed.'

in decades? in months? in the context of their funny little reunion, here amid the stars, or back home when she is old and at the end of her adventure? peggy lacks the fortitude to ask because she doesn't want to know. she's happy with the shifting sands beneath the answer. happy with it being one, or the other, or both at the same time.

in the end, it's enough to be loved. it's enough to feel love in return. quite separate from themselves, they've lived impossible lives. love is just another impossibility, crowning all the rest. gilded bloody lilies.

she squeezes his hand in hers. she doesn't need to live seven more decades to know that when the day comes, she'll love him too. neither will that change. ]

And I love you, [ she sounds too serious. too dour. clearing her throat, she adds: ] You daft, silly man.

Daft -

[ he laughs, quiet and private, a huff of warm air between them. ]

I've never known anyone who could tell someone they loved them while insulting them, you know.

[ though he supposes that all in all, he earned that one fair and square. ]

Don't tell lies; you've known me long enough.

[ here's a handy-hold. a crevice, in the conversation, where she might fit her fingers and claw back a bit of the old posture. something grows solid and certain in her voice. ]

I don't know what else you were expecting. Me suddenly waxing poetic? [ a sharp laugh, like she's got an inside joke in mind. and doesn't much care to share it with the room. ]

I'd be concerned if you did.

[ he admits. Steve had always known this about the woman he dubbed his best girl, tough as nails and unlike any other soul he would meet, timelines be damned. ]

[ words weren't really enough, in the end. just now she could feel her love for him like a visceral truth in her gut. like a knot in her stomach or a lump in her throat. the mere understanding that he should be so moved to find her alive -- as moved as she would be, she decides -- should move her to more action than this. but she feels stuck in place for all manner of reasons.

oh, she thinks, the things she'd do to him if only -- ]

At the risk of sounding sentimental, [ she clears her throat once more. it's becoming a telltale sign of her more vulnerable moments. ] Doesn't matter what came before. [ i've lived a life. ] All of it pales compared to this.

[ she gives his hand, caught up in hers, a rough shake. ] All of it.

[ every kiss. every date. every beau. every fumble behind the school chapel. every dull afternoon with freddie wells. none of it came anywhere near the nerve-tingling certainty felt when she so much as holds his hand.

the right bloody partner, indeed. ]

Edited 2016-12-21 00:38 (UTC)

[ this time, he can feel it, too. He can sense the slope in the road they would have taken if the setting had been more forgiving. It's becoming evident by the little additions to this conversation, his hand is still held in hers and he brings it up, rests their entwined fingers against his shoulder. ]

You should risk it more often.

[ his other hand moves to her cheek, a gentle caress of his thumb against her cheekbone as he cups it. ]

[ maybe a vivid imagination is consolation enough -- the idea that she can remember the planes of his muscles from the same day he stepped out of the machine. the idea that she knows the way his physical architecture makes him move. peggy realizes she's capable of building a hundred different scenarios in her head and...

and good lord, she's going to need to plunder this room before heading back to the starstruck. the thought hits her with an almost-frown. peggy turns her cheek and rests her lower lip against his thumb. ]

Not exactly my strongest suit.

[ sentimentality. ]

Don't know.

[ it's a point of pride, that he manages not to say anything stupid again, faced with all this nervous, tingling energy. but he already insulted her once again, he isn't about to go for a second time so quickly for the exact same reason. he watches her for a moment, releases a breath he has been holding for a moment and kisses her cheek. ]

It's a good look on you.

[ somehow, this is a conversation she finds more difficult than all the rest. it can't quite be weaponized like the rest. and so peggy pauses -- she walks her fingers slowly across his shoulder.

then, with a quick exhale, she announces. ] I'm going to go take a shower. [ a cold one, if she can stomach it. ] And then we are finally at long-bloody-last going to dinner. Alright?

[ she asks him like she might ask a soldier to steady himself before he leaves the trench. ]

[ it's the tone that makes him answer her with a dutiful, amused, ]

Yes, ma'am.

[ and if he watches her when she stalks off, it's really just unavoidable at this point.

well, at least he managed to save the situation before she took a swing at him. ]

[ turns out, the shower couldn't quite get cold enough. as though the hotel was so obliging, its plumbing didn't even want to deviate from a carefully preset range of temperatures. but some time apart -- alone, surrounded by the pitter-patter of water -- settles her nerves. the amenities are nice and their scent reminds her of sweet-peas and ginger root.

and after her shower, she wraps herself in a fluffy hotel robe and sits on the side of the tub -- comms device in her hand. she texts barnes. the ability to complain freely about steve with someone who understands the paradox of loving him and dreading his next act of stupidity? it clears her mind all the more.

so when she emerges from the steam-laced bathroom dressed in a fresh green blouse and a dark skirt, her composure has returned to her. but her curls are gone -- leaving her hair to dry straight on her shoulders. ]

Hey -

[ he has been reading, of course he had. his communicator shows one document or another but he lifts his eyes from it the moment she walks out and at once, brightens. there's something warm and comfortable about this moment, a new domestic edge that he finds he likes. ]

You look beautiful.

Save the compliments for after the war paint's put on, please and thank you -- [ but it's only a light chiding. the very nature of the fleet means she's less often made-up like she once was. mascara's at a premium, and so is lipstick.

she crosses the room to their simple collection of luggage and goes a-rifling. ] I hope you're still hungry.

Sorry, can't do. It's just as appropriate now.

[ she looks softer, somehow, without the fierce red of her lipstick that he's usually so fond of. he watches her as she moves around, puts aside the communication. ]

After weeks of those protein cubes pretending to be chicken, I'm starved.

So put an order in to room service.

[ they'd discussed eating in. and then leaving the room. they'd flipped; they'd flopped. but after her almost dizzying conversation with barnes, she finds herself eager to stay in company where she doesn't need to wear her best mask. already, the day's been exhausting.

and truly, she only wants to spend the evening with him. strangers and waiters and hotel-staff be damned. ]

Settle our supper plans once and for all.

They offer just about anything, it's actually impressive.

[ he comments as he flips through the book she had discarded earlier. some of those things are named almost like they should be, as if someone wanted to create good imitations but never got the names quite right. ]

You should see all of this - do you have anything in mind?

-- Perhaps...the closest thing you can find to a steak and kidney pie. [ and while he flips through the 'menu', she leans in towards a broad mirror that proves itself almost too accurate in its reflection. although it looks like an ordinary mirror, she can't help but imagine there's something technologically advanced about it.

she frowns at the mirror while tossing her still-damp hair into loose plait. ]

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