driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

[ she slides her palm away from his back -- only so she can hold it up as though taking an oath. ]

I give my word, Steve Rogers, that next time I'll tell you exactly what I want.

[ -- and she doesn't hide how much of a double-edged sword that might be. except now she's retreating by a step and sitting down in the lush green grass, inviting him to join her on the ground. there's a whole strange and beautiful sky to witness. ]

You make it sound so ominous.

[ by right, he should be a bit worried by how it all turned out but the day is too nice and the sun is too warm and he figures that peggy carter will always be three steps ahead of him anyway.

he sits by her side but a moment later lies down, folding both arms behind his head. ]

Dunno how you manage it.

[ she cants her head against the crook of his arm -- glad to use him as a cushion. ]

How I manage what?

[ genuine curiousity. after the little back-and-forth about her lingerie, her urge to challenge him seems to have settled into a pleasant camaraderie. ]

You always win.

[ honestly, he might have gotten better at holding his own against her without being reduced to a babbling mess but winning against her seems like a rather far-fetched aspiration.

he turns his head and smiles. this, here, some would view as complicated when in reality, it feels simple and gratifying. ]

Dunno how you do it.

I don't always win -- [ she replies. but she says it with just enough of a conciliatory tone to suggest she's being sportsmanlike. peggy rolls onto her side to face him and tucks her fingers under his upper arm. ] And you're holding your own more than you used to. Don't think I haven't noticed.

[ a drop of praise, then, before the clincher: ] Besides. Tell me, does it ever feel as though you've lost when I've won?

[ peggy suspects not. those aren't the sorts of victories she chases with him. not any more. ]

No.

[ it's an easy truth to admit to, especially now, when they're face to face like this. it's a quiet, breathless moment. he and Peggy has been an almost for so long that simply being like this, inches away from one another, is enough to make him release the breath that he's been holding and confess, once more, ]

Not at all.

[ peggy settles her palm against the angle of his side. there's a miraculous sky above them with the planet's ring stretching out into a bizarre and inverted horizon. but she'd rather watch the blue of his eyes and commit every variation in hue to memory. ]

So? We win. Both of us. [ she might have told mister jarvis that she lacks a romantic side, but there's something undeniably sentimental in her voice just now. doubtful it'll last for long. ] Together.

Edited 2017-02-17 19:43 (UTC)

[ there is a deeper meaning there that serves as an almost physical tug, drawing him closer to her. perhaps it's the concept of we and perhaps it's that of victory but something about this sudden softness melts away any reminder of banter. ]

Yeah.

[ he shifts, turning sideways freeing one arm, using the leverage to loop it around her waist. ]

Maybe that's really what it's all about.

[ today; more than the date and the holiday an far more important than silly cards and boxes of sweets. ]

[ as lessons go, this one had been hard-won. even after the war, peggy had been disinclined to do anything together. she'd struck out fiercely independent -- unwilling to depend on anyone else. but then came edwin jarvis. and angie. daniel. rose. good god, even howard. by the time she wound up in the fleet, she'd been primed to reach out. connect a little. or, as is the case of late, connect a lot.

peggy supposes it's just about time to admit as much. she sidles nearer -- almost nose-to-nose. ]

I think it might be, yes. [ a crinkle of uncertainty. she touches his upper arm -- ginger as she does it. ] You know, I once thought you could carry the world on these shoulders alone. Which doesn't mean I'm about to suggest I'm at all disappointed. I'm really not. But because I thought you could do it, I started to think I ought to as well.

[ she furrows her brow and shakes away a bad memory. peggy's fingers walk themselves up to his cheek, where she presses her palm with similar tenderness. ]

Sometimes it felt like I should.

[ it has been a bit of a nagging feeling at first. he had the least to lose out of all of the avengers, out of time and out of place and without connections or a personal life to put in jeopardy of anything were to go wrong.

but then there was Natasha and Sam and Bucky and the others and slowly, the team became more than a group of allies. allies don't break apart as fiercely as they did; what happened between him and tony was a falling out between friends and it's that friendship that he would try to salvage one day, when the time is right.

his frown clears, however - he seems to realize something. ]

It's funny. You know, it's not very different than how I used to think of you. Everything you ever told me - I guess I've been trying to make good on those. Still am.

-- Want to know something a little strange? [ she hums in the wake of watching his realization fall into place. peggy wonders how she ever stood so far away from steve all throughout the war, depriving herself of a view like this one. ] It was actually Mister Jarvis who explained that to me. Of all people. He'd never met you, but he had your measure. Better than I did, perhaps.

[ which meant he had her measure, too. that used to bother her more than it does now. something else to add to the list. ]

Probably because he had yours.

[ and one led to the other, as naturally as that. it's a bit of a relief that someone understood a fraction of what they meant to one another. He turns his head, presses a kiss to the very center of her palm, as well as his next question. ]

Better than you?

It's entirely possible that my judgement might be -- clouded.

[ it's an inch. she offers him an inch. and as she does, she draws the tip of her middle finger down the bridge of his well-formed nose. ]

Clouded?

[ it's a question asked with a false air of innocence and confusion. his smile gives him away as easily as that, however. ]

Can't imagine how that happened.

You can't? [ a pointed look. ] Not even a little bit? Come on, now, an artist like you should be able to spare at least a bit of imagination. Figure it out.

Let me see.

[ he takes a moment, eyeing her all the while and trying ( and failing ) to bite back his smile at this little pretense. ]

Nope. Nothing.

[ tragic, really. ]

You'll have to clue me in.

Mmn, I think not. [ something pleasant snaps. peggy snags his almost-smile with her parted lips. stretched out in the alien grass, she kisses him soundly. she hadn't really intended for things to devolve so quickly into a snog of any sort -- but she's adapting. ] Give it time; the shoe will eventually drop.

[ there is something he was about to say about her refusal but it is cut short and all too soon forgotten. The kiss quickly steals away both his words and his breath. It's not careful and it's not flirty, it's languid and deep, one moment melting into another. He moves his hand from her hips to touch her cheeks and slide upwards into her hair. ]

You know,

[ he doesn't hurry to complete the sentence, chases his words into her lips again. ]

I think it just did.

[ it's not like she hasn't said it before. i love you. but every time she does say it, it feels fresh and raw. so she rations them out -- and just now she managed to sidestep another instance with playfulness and grace. and for her efforts she gets a kiss. despite the temperate air, goosebumps rise on her skin. peggy plies her tongue against his. the touch feels as though it makes the very blood in her veins leap. twitch. ]

See? I had faith your imagination wouldn't fail you.

Not sure if it's imagination so much as inspiration.

[ he moves his hand, traces his fingers up and down the slope of her neck. It's a constant, stable touch, a way to maintain contact until the next kiss. ]

Or maybe it's both of them.

[ a gentle noise in the back of her throat -- like agreement, sing-sung and hummed. peggy so sorely wants to steady herself against his body and maybe roll onto him; lean down from above, and kiss him more soundly. but she resists (for now) and instead gleans every bit of sweetness from this moment, first. ]

Careful, you're beginning to sound all sorts of sentimental again. [ says peggy, who only moments earlier had dared to commit their partnership to words. nothing so crass as boyfriend or lovers or anything else, but instead as a term of victory. ]

Am I?

[ he is, indeed. It fact, this moment feels a little like standing on the edge of a cliff, a moment before the leap. A fraction of a minute more and this sentimentality will become overwhelming. ]

I think it might stay like this for the rest of the day.

[ -- she uses a very light touch to brush her fingers through his hair. ]

Then it's good we got the busywork out of the way already.

[ the firewood. the tent. because she can empathize with his spoken desire to stay just as they are -- with perhaps the question of stumbling into the tent revisted once the sun begins to set. ]

[ his breath catches and quickly turns into a low hum of agreement at the back of his throat. ]

Another good plan.

[ one seems to lead to the other, today and it all eventually ends right here; the two of them inches apart from one another, peggy's fingers in his hair, his ghosting along the fine line of her neck. ]

[ she smiles. it's difficult not to -- not only because of his touch, but because this feels like half-a-dozen dreams she used to have at night. perhaps not with an alien planet on the horizon or alien ground beneath them -- but instead a heathered heath in some quiet corner of england. or a on a sunny day in central park. and every dream that 'comes true' makes it a little easier to put off the urgency of returning home. after all, her career works itself out. zero matter doesn't destroy the world. what rush is there?

(she tries not to feel guilty for this onset of procrastination -- tries to tell herself they deserve this detour, still.)

peggy pulls gently on his lower lip, letting it slip free from her mouth with a little pop. ] I hope it hasn't interfered with any plans of yours.

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