driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

[ she's got plenty of reasons to be disappointed -- few people enjoy their ruses being uncovered, after all. but there's something rather compelling in his challenge. more compelling still for how knowingly he issues it. peggy laughs and it's little more than a sound beneath her breath.

she kisses him. and soundly. peggy shares the fresh taste of lake water on her lips and grips his sides even as she sweeps a foot underneath him: she goes for his legs and counts on the water to mitigate his steady, solid mass. fingers tightening on his muscle, she attempts to chuck him sideways.

but it's alright if it fails; it's only plan a. ]

[ he may have been confident in telling her he can see the trap she had set for him but absurdly, he's still surprised. He had expected a firm push against his shoulders, had readied himself for her palms giving him a nudge and sending him underwater.

But when she kisses him, he still leans into it, still eagerly parts his lips to deepen it and the kiss ends as abruptly as that with a loss of leverage and suddenly, water.

He emerges with a rather loud splash, shaking water out of his hair. ]

-- Gotta say I didn't see it coming.

That's not true. [ there's a high flush on her cheeks -- hard to say, however, whether it's because of the kiss or her small victory. peggy eases her way into deeper water until she's treading to keep herself afloat. ] You saw something. A cynic would suggest you gave that one to me. A freebie.

I saw the end, not the means.

[ he wipes a hand over his face and eyes her. Indulgently - ]

Can I have the rest of my kiss back?

Certainly. [ ... ] Come and get it.

[ now here is something worth pursuing. He sighs, follows her into clear, deeper water, quick and agile and all too eager to catch up with her and lay claim to the kiss she offers. ]

And you'll let me have it without pushing me in again?

[ she floats a moment on her back -- not quite as agile as him, it seems, in the water. but confident enough that agility seems to be an afterthought. peggy hems and haws and concedes: ]

I promise I won't push.

Or topple.

[ he challenges. Peggy's wording is always intentional. A promise to avoid pushing doesn't necessarily mean she won't try to send him underwater in various, other ways. ]

Or kick.

[ he might be leaving something out. he may have an advantage in strength but she's creative in her attempts to work around that, after all. ]

Or topple. Or kick. [ she pauses a moment -- frowning. ] Or pull or tug or flip or trip or...shall I pop back to the fleet and fetch a thesaurus?

[ the trick is that there is no trick. not this time. after all, it had started out as a jolly good kiss. she wants the second half about as much as he does. ]

Never thought you'd need one.

[ he firmly believes her vocabulary is vaster than the rest of the them put together. some of the words she uses he never stumbled across before. he has a firm suspicion some of those idioms aren't even real. ]

I like to think you know most of the synonyms out there.

[ careful, steve. she's dangerously close to laughing. ]

Your faith is astounding. [ ... ] And a little dangerous.

dangerous?

[ it's an accusation he chooses to answer with sentimentality. ]

I'm not sure my faith in you can ever be that.

[ dangerous. ]

[ it's hard not to remember a conversation with phillips -- the ground was still mostly mud, and steve had been mia for too long. she'd been getting the dressing down of her life and was beginning to fear (a little) for her career when she'd been prompted to voice the exact same thing: her faith in steve rogers, that he would complete his self-assigned mission, and that he would return.

it paid off, in the end. ]

You know, [ she loops back 'round to the idea of her knowing all the words. ] I only just about barely finished Sixth Form before the war stared, yes? The way you talk about me, you'd think I'd had an Oxbridge education.

You sound as if you had.

[ beneath the water, he takes her hand in his, brushes a thumb over her knuckles. ]

I think it's astounding.

[ he's going to start picking up on some of these adjectives. ]

-- Unfortunately, I think that says more about the American school system than it says about me. [ truthfully, she doesn't know all that much about steve's childhood. up until which age he bothered with school. how often he might have been truant -- or, more likely, home sick in bed.

when she bobs her way back to him, peggy anchors herself in the water by reaching her arms around his shoulders. then, with an easy hop (made easier by buoyancy) she wraps her legs around his waist. no pushing, no pulling, no toppling, no kicking. but she never promised not to jump. ]

First you insult coffee and now this?

[ but his lips twist into a smile and a moment later she hops into his arms instinctively, he wraps them around her, urging her legs higher up his waist until, for the first time in many years, he's the one who has to look up at her. ]

What's the next holy thing gonna be? New York pizza?

Baseball. [ she's putting her full trust in him, now, because it would be so easy for him to dunk her once again. but courting that kind of mischief is precisely the point. and holding onto him like this is a little like declaring how certain she is that he wouldn't dare.

at least, not before they finish their kiss. but before that can happen: ] The rules are stupid and the players are out-of-shape.

You should try playing once - it's the national pastime for a reason.

[ he could, in fact, dunk her but once is more than enough for now and he's rather enticed by this chance to hold her like this. ]

And the Yankees are not outta shape.

[ rude. ]

It's not my national pastime.

[ she pulls her fingers through his wet hair. slicking it back -- and crinkling her nose at the sight. ]

You haven't even tried.

[ he tilts his head back at the first touch of her fingers, arches an eyebrow ]

Not a good style?

Not bad. [ ... ] But different.

[ she can feel the rise and fall of his breath. better yet, she can be the one to lift his chin and lean in for a kiss. or half a kiss that grows into two-thirds and beyond. it's novel to be the 'taller' of the two once again. ]

[ he has just enough time to shake his head, returning his hair to its usual ( albeit messier ) state before she nudges his chin up and grants him the promised second half of an earlier kiss but given the change of positions it feels like a brand new one - he can lean up now, meet her as she leans in. more than that, there's the solid, light weight of her in his arms, the firm press of her heels against his back and the little space between them, hardly any at all.

given the chance, he could have held her like this for hours. ]

thought you liked different.

[ it's a low whisper, pressed against her lips, a mere moment before he sinks into the embrace and steals another. ]

[ -- yes. as kisses go, this one is particularly sweet. she could almost forget the lake. the water. even the ring and the planet at its heart. she tightens her knees' grip and lets him do the work of keeping her upright, freeing her hands to move freely over his shoulders. ]

I do. [ she assures him in the same moment she breaks for breath. ] I do like different.

[ it may not be the traditional way lovers and sweethearts spend Valentine's Day but it fits her and him just fine. At the end of the day, the air is warm and there are beads of lake water shining on her skin. He catches one, kisses it away from her jaw. Beneath his fingers, he can feel her muscles when she tightens her hold of him. It's a slow, careful exploration. By now, he knows the taste of her kisses and the scent that lingers on her ( soap and at times, gun powder ) and the way her body fits against his at night but this is different.

In light of her words, he readily confesses the most basic truth of the day, ]

I love you.

[ there is a liberating feeling in the chance of saying it loud and clear and open instead of whispering it in her ear. ]

Oh, Hell. [ she makes a fuss. ] How many times must I say it? Hm?

[ her intention isn't half so exasperated as the tone suggests. peggy lets the moment sink in: light on clothing and heavy in sentiment. she's done a lot in her life but this feels singular. unique. ]

I love you, Steve Rogers. [ not at all a whisper. not a twinge. ] Does that suffice?

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