driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

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?

[ they've went through a lot, him and her, to be able to be this loud and clear about a love that has been kept secret for years and was always mixed with grief.

She's not wrong at all, he thinks, to call this a victory. In a way, there couldn't have been an easier question. He shifts, tilts up his head and kisses her collarbone. ]

No.

[ her head lolls a moment -- and she's torn between a sound of exasperation and a happy sigh. all the usual tricks and deflections aren't worth mud when tallied up against his kisses and the clear present touch of his fingers. maybe the lake is a mercy because all the water surrounding them also weighs down the rest of her temptation. keeps things cool. ]

You know I'm not that person. [ peggy doesn't describe who she means, but the empty spaces around her words paint the best picture: the person who lingers in the sheets or who says a hundred i love yous before lunch. she's not the person for whom you buy chocolates or bring flowers.

she is, however, enamoured with the pendant. and so deeply head-over-heels for him. saying it was always harder than showing it. saying it, after all, had become something of a black mark once the war was over. carter knew a lot of men during the war, someone might say. and she grew a little less talkative each time. ]

I don't wax poetic. [ says the woman who give him an anthology of sonnets for christmas. someone else's words; someone else's wax. ] You're going to have to make your peace with that fact.

[ she'll help, of course. help usher peace in with a kiss. and another. and another. soft and slow and just a little bit hungry. ]

Dunno if I believe you.

[ it's a tease that he tries to stay committed to. It's a bit difficult to focus his attention on it, however, to make it more than a few words. It's a blissful afternoon and he's keen on not disturbing this peace, not to give her any reason to slip away from this embrace.

There is energy buzzing beneath his skin, rushing at her touch, at the way his lips slant against hers. The water allow him to free one arm from beneath her, trail it up her back and over her sides, as if he's mapping a trail that will be followed again later on. ]

This was your idea and it's damn poetic to me.

What a thrillingly low bar you've allowed me to set.

[ this? poetic? so be it. peggy won't argue if it means accomplishing what she wants accomplished can be synonymous with being poetic. she shivers under his fingertips and reins in the rush in her breath.

she leans her elbows on his shoulders -- eyeing the tent from this distance. and as casually as she can manage, she suggests: ] Think we ought to head back to shore?

Hardly.

[ she may not be like anyone he has ever met but that was always a part of her appeal. There is a happy hum at the back of his throat and he nods. ]

Yeah, probably. Before it starts getting dark.

[ he doesn't give her back her legs, however. Merely shifts his hold of her and starts walking back. ]

You can start a fire. We can dry off.

[ she's tempted to fight his grip. tempted to try and seize her nominal freedom, more on principle than preference. but she still likes feeling his heart beating against hers. and likes the warm skin of his sides against her thighs. peggy holds onto him and vows to herself that should he ever draw attention to this concession, she might clean his clock. ]

There should be a towel in the bag.

[ it's still warm outside which makes it that much easier to walk out of the water. He pauses only to bend down and pick the little bundle of clothes, maintaining a firm hold on her. ]

And I'm pretty sure I got your hair brush.

Pretty sure, the man says. [ she adjusts her matched grip on him when he bends down to grab the clothing they abandoned on their way into the water. peggy's breath is a little too quick for comfort. she noses the curve of his neck. ] I don't see how there's room for any doubt -- either you took a brush or you didn't. There's not much that can be mistaken for a brush.

[ but in the end, it doesn't much matter. towels. hair brushes. more mascara. out here, on the planet, she feels far enough removed from the fleet's society. and when they reach their little campsite, peggy at long last makes her attempt to find the ground with her bare feet. ]

Can't really remember at the moment.

[ it's an easy confession to make, the situation being what it is and if he walks a bit slower back to the campsite, it's mostly so he can himself more time to memorize this, her fit in his arms. It doesn't last once they reach the tent and he bends a little, hears the soft thud when her feet meet the ground. ]

There's a sweatshirt in there, if it gets colder.

[ his own, much too large but still practical. ]

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