driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

[ 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. ]

[ matches in hand, he starts the fire first and once that's done, he turns in place entirely. ]

I've wanted to when we first met, you know.

[ back when he was all angles and edges. ]

I guess now I get to ask you if you'd sit for me.

[ -- crumbs, but he still manages to get the drop on her. they'd both known to where the conversation had been winding, but he zigged when she expected him to zag. when we first met he says, and she can practically still smell the dust and exhaust kicked into the air at camp lehigh. or the way the later drive through new york had smelled like rubbish and hot copper.

as cool as she can manage, peggy answers: ] The uniform would have made for a more dignified portrait.

[ rather than her soaked-through camisole and underwear. and the damp hair she curls behind one ear. ] Question -- how still do I have to sit? And for how long?

I'll make another one then.

[ though he rather likes this even more. Perhaps because it'll have to be kept secret, tucked away and private due its less than formal nature. Something between him and her. ]

Pretty still but not for too long.

[ it's not the wildest thing she might have done in her considerable and storied career. and it's nothing she might have suggested herself -- but his inclination to suggest it is something she doesn't want to discourage. peggy likes it when she recognizes boldness in him. boldness, it seems, in all quarters.

she plucks at her camisole's hem -- hums -- and then eyes the unzipped duffel. ] I ought to change first. Don't you think?

Probably, you might get cold.

[ and with drier clothes, it would be easier to look at her without the risk of unsteady fingers around a pencil. he may not be famous for being smooth with women but at the very least, he should manage a certain level of professionalism when it comes to this chance.

he would be hard-pressed to find a warmer, more comfortable time for her to sit still. ]

[ he takes the gallant route -- peggy suspected he would. but she doesn't intend to follow him. not with a lovely set of dark blue lingerie packed (albeit a little clumsily) between sweatshirts and towels.

she grabs the second of those towels, now, and tosses it at steve. ] Turn 'round, then, and dry off while you're at it. Give us some privacy.

[ she waits foe him to do as ordered -- hearing little more but the sound of her own breath and the crackle of a fresh fire. ]

Sorry -

[ it's a hurried apology as he turns at once, busies himself with drying of - the movements are quick and casual, leaving him with messy hair and the towel wrapped around his shoulders, tucked behind his neck. ]

You know, I've never really drawn people before. You'd be the second one.

[ she peels the wet underclothes off her skin -- wringing them out piece by piece before draping them over one of the tent lines. peggy is perfunctory and quick as she pulls on the deep blue lace and sundry she has, indeed, worn before. but never quite so well-displayed as under an alien sun on an alien ring orbiting an alien planet.

while she shimmies her way into the dry underwear, she asks: ] Who was the first?

My mom but I was a kid and -

[ how should he explain it? he frowns, looks up at the sky for a moment and hums in thought. ]

Never had a problem with my eyesight but after the serum it was as if the world just sharpened. The colors are brighter and there seem to be more of them. It's a little hard to explain.

[ but it makes a difference, especially when it comes to this particular hobby. ]

[ his mother! well, the company she's fated to join, then, is rather illustrious. well-regarded. peggy smiles (although it goes unseen) and eases blue straps into place over her shoulders. ]

Peak eyesight. It's spectacular, really, all the little details meant to make a better soldier -- and how they come with their own unanticipated windfalls. Makes me curious. [ she wants to know what other after-effects might be lurking there beneath his skin.

peggy fills her lungs for one last breath of unobserved air. and then she lets him now, in a slightly strained tone: ] You can turn back.

About my eyesight?

[ it's a tease that starts and is destined to go unfinished because he does as she says and turns, seemingly about to say something and at once, stops short. he had expected, what? clothes, to begin with, the dry ones that he packed. it's not that he isn't familiar with the comfortable, intimate press of her body to his at nights but this isn't the darkened room aboard the starstruck, not by far.

instead he just takes a moment to openly stare and only after it passes does he remember to release the breath he's been holding. ]

It's going to be a bit challenging to complete anything like this -

[ a drawing or a straight thought. ]

[ she suffers a flicker of uncertainty -- had she strode a step to far? peggy rarely lets her hesitation bubble to the surface. and while she's by no means uncomfortable with being seen by him, she does worry about toeing the line between bold enough and too bold by far.

though she does settle her loose fists on her nearly-bare hips. hardly the softest of 'poses', really. ]

And after all this talk of the serum -- I'd think you'd be able to boast a steadier hand than most. [ no matter what (or who) he's sketching. ] But if you're not up to the challenge, I can always put on something, well, more.

Usually I can.

[ it's all going to be a bit more challenging under present circumstances and if he is to manage this, the least he can do is say something and not only stare at her. he shakes his head, smiling a bit at her. ]

Is this how you're going to stay the whole time? your feet will start complaining.

-- Don't worry about my feet. Good God. [ she rolls her eyes. her feet? really? but peggy does break her stance just long enough to grab his notebook and pencils. barefoot (and bare a lot of other things) she marches the supplies over to steve and pushes them gently against his chest.

once again, she looks up at him. her brows rise. there's a great deal that she doesn't say. ]

[ and to think, they only just discussed the little details he can see thanks to serum. He can almost tell the texture of the fabric just by looking at it but that is far less interesting than the way the sun kisses her skin.

This won't do. Setting aside both the pencils and his sketch book, he crosses the distance between them and skims his fingertips down her sides. He settles both hands at her hips and tugs her closer to the fire and then settles down, giving her a little nudge to coax her to do the same. ]

Better.

[ he takes lovely liberties -- leaping from a wandering eye to wandering hands. he reels her in, and she eyes the cast-aside sketchbook. not quite the gradual ramp-up she'd envisioned, but she finds herself unlikely to resist this fresh temptation.

peggy grips his wrist with a firm hold before easing down beside him. the waning sun is still warm -- and the fire is warmer. she leans her chin on his shoulder. ]

A little tough for you to sketch anything with me nearly sitting in your lap, Steve.

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