driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

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. ]

[ they stand toe-to-toe. peggy is relegated to looking up once again -- and as is her way, she doesn't exactly raise her chin but she certainly raises her eyes. the resulting expression is impish. happy. water drips down her ruined curls and down her bare(ish) shoulders and down the dull grey of her camisole. the same water drips down him, too. and peggy dabs at a droplet with the edge of her thumb. ]

How thoughtful of you. [ she doesn't need to ask whose sweatshirt he means; peggy owns none of those shirts, barring the standard issue sweats. ] But if it's all the same to you, I think I might enjoy the sunshine a little longer. Maybe change into something more...dry.

Seems like we have a while longer.

[ before the sun sets and the air cools. It's a safe subject of conversation while he holds her gaze, resisting an urge to look anywhere else. Her clothes cling to her skin and if he looks at her, he'll probably end up staring. ]

It feels like summer.

[ long days, short nights, warm weather. ]

-- Certainly makes for a funny sort of February. [ but peggy doesn't complain. the weather's allowed a great many chips to fall in place -- although she suspects it could have been ten below, and snowing, and she would have invited steve camping all the same. nevertheless, she's grateful for the breeze and the sun and her bare feet on the ground; makes this camping trip a far sight nicer than taking shelter in france in the height of winter.

he's gentleman-like and he keeps his eyes squarely fixed on hers. peggy's not so polite, perhaps, because she lets her attention wander once again. and each time ends with her squaring her shoulders a little more. standing straighter.

but a hand resting against her collarbone lets her toy with the necklace's charm. it's a telling aberration in her otherwise almost parade-ground posture. ]

It's -- nice. To care about the holiday again. Daft as it.

Maybe this planet is a warm one all year long.

[ or perhaps it's summer here, july or late august but in the end, it doesn't matter. according to their own schedule, the way they count the days, it's february, warm or otherwise. ]

We've had a few of those.

[ they're said something about dry clothes and hair brushes but steve still reaches for her hand, counts them on the tips of her fingers. ]

July 4th, right? Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's. I guess the next one is your birthday

[ st. patrick's, she almost drawls. but his certainty catches her off guard. april's not far away at all -- he's right about that. but more alarmingly... ]

I didn't think you knew it. [ her birthday. like last year, she'd intended to simply let it slip by without comment. it hardly seems important -- it never really did, after michael died and she signed on with soe and the ssr and then there wasn't anyone left who knew her birthday. no one she had regular contact with, anyway. ] I never told you.

[ which means he's been reading files -- a rather morose sort of image. or maybe she tells him in the future. perhaps her elderly self has gone soft on matters like birthdays. ]

You didn't.

[ and he seems all too pleased with himself. Back when he read her files, those were all details that he never got to ask her about and now one of them has a rather practical use. ]

It's before Easter so it's next on the list.

[ there's no lapel to grab nor collar to yank. so, instead, she gives the corner of his chin a devilish tweak. peggy clears her throat and tries to sound disappointed. ]

You've been snooping. [ she accuses him of doing the very thing she's done on more than one occasion. not too often, of course, because it's never pleasant to have a fellow agent catch you in the act of reading over old files. ] I suppose they'll give just about anyone security clearance by your modern era.

It's not what it used to be.

[ cheeky and undeterred, he wraps an arm around her waist and presses his lips to her cheek. ]

We celebrated my birthday. Yours isn't an exception.

Your birthday is a little bit -- different. To mine. [ at least, it falls differently. but it's a difficult argument to make when they hug each other close. damp skin and wet hair. she wants to argue that his birthday is damn well a matter of public record. and her records? classified. or they ought to be.

but it all feels a little moot when he's being so tender. ] It's still so far away. Let's you and I take it one holiday at a time, shall we?

[ far away, yes; but ideas are already forming in his mind for the day itself. Some are traditional and some are creative but all of them present.

Still, no reason for her to know alla that yet. As innocently and casually as he can, ]

Right. We said something about a fire didn't we?

[ there is palpable relief in her sigh. and in the way her shoulders slump. peggy extricates herself from his hold and becomes preoccupied with zipping open one of the duffel bags. she hunts for a towel. ]

We agreed the loser would build one.

[ guess who. ]

We did.

[ he watches her for a moment before smiling and heading over to the neat pile of logs he arranged earlier. ]

Found everything?

[ in the bag, that is. There are indeed towels and a single hair brush, her clothes and his, all carefully folded away. Beneath them are sketch books and pencils as well as steve's phone. ]

-- You brought your sketchpads.

[ less of a question; more of a statement. peggy runs the towel roughly over her limbs to buff away the excess water. her hair gets only a marginally more delicate treatment -- and although it's still damp, it no longer drips.

she's standing there, wringing her hair out with the towel, while she asks: ] Hoping to capture some of the alien flora and fauna?

I try to take them everywhere. I guess you never know what you might see and want to capture.

[ he looks at her as he works, setting an area for the fire with rocks and then arranging the logs. ]

There's always something I'd like to try drawing. I like to be prepared for it.

[ there are jokes that could be made -- about preparedness, and about him. but she lets them slide. better to wait out her better moments than to squander all her teasing on one easy joke. ]

Artistic opportunism. [ she drapes the towel over her shoulders and reaches for the hair brush -- yes, the hair brush -- and works out a few preliminary tangles. ] Got your sights set on anything yet?

[ he reaches for the matches and looks at her with an arched eyebrow. ]

I think so, yeah.

[ ironically, his sight is currently quite set on what - or who - he plans to choose as a subject. It's long overdue, after all. ]

-- Steve.

[ she says his name. and only his name. because her innocent line of inquiry manages to unearth something of interest. just until the moment he arched his brow, peggy had indeed only been thinking about the strange landscapes available to them in this system: the brilliant blue lake, perhaps, and the way the ring's horizon stretched out ahead of of it all.

but his look is telling. she's never been bad at reading people, but she's gotten a hell of a lot better at reading him. lately. she watches him with a pointed look on her face.

peggy waits for him to explain himself. ]

Peggy?

[ he turns to look at her once more with a smile that's positively sunny and not as naive as what he was going for. There's good light here and that, mixed with the way she looks ( natural, beautiful ) makes it an easy decision to make.

But apparently he's going to have her ask.

Spit it out.

[ his question. because yes, indeed, he's going to have to ask. without her heels and without her clothing and without her lipstick and without her curls -- without all of her usual armour -- she still manages hold her ground with steel and gravitas.

however manufactured. ]

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